I know why the caged lion sings

It’s startling to me that it takes a shell-shocking BBC-World News special on China’s “arming of the killers,” for me to see an element of sophistication in the wars of both the South of Sudan and that in the west, given the experienced daily impacts, rooted in fairly rudimentary measures of violence. In both cases, the humanitarian disaster hangs in the air, amidst dead trucks and a bullet riddled ground, with human tragedy looming everywhere. The stories and individuals profiled on this television special, Hilary Andersson’s inquiry into the role of China in Darfur, sound so similar to those I heard and spoke to every day. “I lost my husband and four children when the bombs dropped,” “I was raped with my sister while fetching water,” “Our home was destroyed, along with our neighbor’s homes, during the fighting.” War and Sudan are dizzying.
Then again, so is Ethiopia and forced tourism. While I’m happy to be far away from the bush I am looking forward to getting out of Africa, even if only for a minute, to get my spinning head to stop.



With that said, the spinning stalled on Tuesday, after my ten days in Ethiopian legal limbo; I went to court and immigration, and then court, and then immigration, and then court, and court, and court, and more immigration.

The judge ruled in my favor – according to my ‘representatives’ – sticking me with a one thousand Birr fine for entering the country illegally. I’ve been provided with a temporary business visa which requires me to be out of the country within the week. The plans Luellen and I made for traveling in the north of Ethiopia are being put on hold – indefinitely? – and we’ve been getting to learn Addis Ababa most thoroughly.

It's not the historical route, but the smack you in the head route. My friend Marcin coined it “dirty poverty.” The destituteness that is teeming across Addis Ababa is filthy. Of the 25 + countries I’ve visited, including a handful of African capital cities, I’ve never borne witness to such an upsetting and unending array of troubles; poverty’s grip on A.A. – ranging from the horrendous prevalence of leprosy to school children peddling banana-flavored chewing gum at every intersection - and the daily grey skies are wearing on me a bit. All of the polio, elephantitis, and psychosis is haunting.

This critique is all, of course, a partial justification for our activities, which will henceforth be referred to as the excellent adventures of Ju and Lu. During my half working-days, we luxuriated with posh cocktails at the Sheraton, lazy price-haggling for jewelry and market purchases, and glamour treatments at a range of spas. Lu’s friend, Lee, brought us out of the city for a waterfall-fed beer-factory tour. We were the only people in AA eating Chinese food during the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. We’ve been learning about Rastafarianism from the source and practicing our shoulder shaking. Marcin arrived from Khartoum, via Kampala, and put us in proper tourist mode. Orthodox churches, museums, more salient observations forthcoming. Photos for now.