Addis Abeba Shifts in Shape

The weather is getting cold in Europe. The days are getting shorter and darker. The time difference between Addis Abeba and Brussels, Belgium, has now widened to two hours.

Leaves are falling off the branches of trees as the Autumn season surges in. I made my escape by returning home after a three-month stay. This time, the captain of the Ethiopian flag carrier flight was an Ethiopian by the name of Wossen.

There were only a few other Ethiopian passengers on board the flight to Addis Abeba, but the plane was full to capacity from Paris. Both the captain and the head of the cabin crew on duty that day were not French speaking.

At a time when the aviation industry is fighting tooth and nail to remain afloat in the sea of market competition, it is indeed incomprehensible not to deploy French speaking crew on a carrier where the majority of  passengers only speak French.

I sadly saw a hostess shaking her head to signal that she cannot speak French, when a gentleman was asking for something. Otherwise, the air travel, particularly the take-off and landing, was rather smooth and pleasing.

On arrival at Bole International Airport in the early hours of the day, it just so happened that many carriers had landed within a short space of time, crowding the immigration clearance windows. It took us about one hour and a half to finish the tedious process. The absence of passengers from Middle Eastern countries, unlike other times, was very conspicuous.

Outside the Airport, the sunlight gave the capital a bright golden color that swept the skyline and contrasted strongly with the foggy atmosphere, which covered the half-awake city. I tried to make a call from my mobile phone to a friend, but the call would not connect,

This happened to be the first event that reminded me of where I am. I am in Addis Abeba, after all.

The newly renovated Bole to Meskel Square Road (Africa Avenue), which was reported to be one of the most expensive projects in the capital in terms of cost per kilometre, seemed to be just a narrow little side road by European standards. One could not find where its glory could be except for its high cost and its convenient service for dignitaries coming from abroad – including ordinary passengers who happen to be side beneficiaries.

As time went on, the roads started to get more crowded – an exceptional event for that early time of the day. The reason was not hard to guess.

Motorists must have decided to wake up early in order to take advantage of the minimal traffic. This wisdom does not seem to hold true any longer. The early hours too are said to be more and more crowded as more drivers cottoned-on to the trick.

The traffic jam intensified around Mexico Square and the Abinet Hotel. The earth work for the light train track has forced the road authority to block some of the busiest connecting roads. Digging and earth moving activities seem to be the commanding powers of the roads, these days.

The rolling fleet of all conceivable makes and models of vehicles, including city buses, seem to be rubbing against each other and literally fuming all in one place. Some drivers blow their horns in vain.

What good will blowing horns do in the middle of a congested line, thick with non-moving traffic?

I had to stay put and watch. Big dump trucks laden with young men and women drove past, probably to the work sites. The women were clad with shawls around their heads. Most of them had put on wide-brimmed straw hats.

The young men wore gaudy coloured t-shirts, not minding the breezy air of the early morning. Some of these youngsters were eating bread and munching some food that they carried with them for lack of time to enjoy a proper breakfast.

Stray dogs chased away by school children were stealing the limelight as onlookers made a big fuss out of the scene. The children seemed to enjoy the show of two male dogs fighting it out to have priority over a poor, powerless female dog.

An elderly woman and a broom vendor walking by scolded the idling school children for wasting their time in watching the despicable scene. Some of them were embarrassed and ran away ashamed. Street sweepers carrying massive brushes and brooms, some pushing wheelbarrows, were also watching the mating canines without minding to intrude in the doings of nature.

The striking difference between what one encounters in Europe and in Addis Abeba is the brand of vehicles rolling on the streets. Here you have an assortment of vehicles, mostly aging junks, which may have seen their better days during the imperial era. Many of these vehicles would have given better service if traded in as scrap metal or spare parts in workshops, where the money could be used for some welfare undertaking.

The traffic jam looked bad as one came closer to the centre of the city. At the roads approaching Merkato, situations were worse.

I kept watching what was moving on the pavements. Men carrying huge sacks filled with merchandise hurried this way and that, barking, “make way, make way” and warning passersby not to create any obstruction as they passed. Roadside vendors and shoe shine boys were busy doing their business, knowing that early hours was their prime time.

Taxi drivers filled the roads. Some had parked in line waiting in turn. A fellow with a pencil in his hand ran up and down, assuming the position of organiser or some kind of a time keeper, and receiving tips from the taxi drivers in line. Horn blowing seems to be rampant and typical of Addis Abeba. I have been to many big cities and come back without listening to a single vehicle blowing its horn.

Blowing horns may be one way of making noise in the streets of the capital. Noises emanate from there sources as well.

All these events and scenes are just as old as they could be from times immemorial. But speaking from the infrastructural point of view, the picture is quite different.

This is more so in the light of the light train project and the thousands of condominium buildings in the making. Hundreds of old homes and villages have been demolished to make way for new ones, as well as the light train project. There is no doubt the city is moving, although I cannot assert whether or not the movement is forwards or backwards.

The line of houses alongside the pavements is an enticing scenery in itself. Some are just little kiosks sandwiched in between other houses of different heights, content and colour, not to speak of their varying ages.

Some of them have large windows and wide open doors and nothing else in the form of walls. Others have higher doors and unattractive roofs. As much time as the light train project may have taken already, it must have done a good deed for those dilapidated and unbecoming structures of a city serving as the seat of the African Union.

The adverse impacts of the project manifested in many ways, including the demolishing of shops and stores, is being endured and tolerated by a general public that hopes for a substantial solution to the city’s lingering transport problem.

But will it really curb the problem significantly?

We shall cross that bridge when we come to it.


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