It is impossible to experience Ethiopia without being moved. My senses have been assaulted from every direction. I have been surprised by its magical landscapes, humbled by the kindness of its people, uplifted by their unwavering faith and how it shapes everyday lives. Ethiopian culture is steeped in old traditions. The way people greet each other says a lot about a nation. The way they dance tells a million stories. Their sense of community is demonstrated by how they eat and drink. This is not a society that has been built on individualism but one where people look out for each other. Where brotherhood and sisterhood is shaped just by dint of being an Ethiopian and they generously extend this to all their guests.

I have felt at ease here; I have felt welcome, they have humoured me and honoured me in more ways than I can explain.

Yet I also feel uneasy. I have seen great poverty, sitting alongside great wealth. Let me not be hypocritical here, I have seen Ethiopia from a position of privilege. Black privilege. There is a lot of it and really, if we want to make a difference to our world we have to also look at ourselves critically. We cannot continue to apportion blame or benefit from the very things that we claim to be abhorrent. We need to make a collective decision on how we stand on our feet, how we empower our old so that they can inspire our young. It’s not good enough that I have seen children hawking goods in markets, shining shoes and plenty more besides. It is you, the men and women that get their shoes shone by these young children, you the person that buys their goods and you, the well-meaning tourist that gives them money, sweets or small gifts. It is all of us limiting their potential so that we can wear shiny shoes or feel good about ourselves because we did something charitable. 

I am ashamed to be part of this, and I am saddened. Yet in the middle of all this I know that it is only a matter of time before we see change. That change is represented by three young people I encountered on my last night in Addis. They in fact came to my rescue; small action I can hear you say, but really I needed someone with a working phone to call for that taxi as I was determined to have Doro Wat on my last evening. Our brief encounter was uplifting. We spoke mainly about politics, but first they told me I was one of them and asked how their old dictator Mengistu was doing. I told them they needed to take him back and the chorused emphatic ‘no’  response said it all. To be fair, if I was a former dictator I would probably want to stay in Zimbabwe. Safe territory. 

These young people had different political views, they voted differently yet they had a deep connection. They challenged each other’s political stance and laughed out loud when the other passed cutting retorts. Yet they were united in their friendship and their belief that there is plenty more to do and political difference is just fine.

I leave Ethiopia feeling I have changed. I don’t quite know what that change is but my heart does not feel heavy.

To see Ethiopia is a privilege and a fast track lesson in the history of humanity and  the world. Do you know about the Axumite Empire; well it turns out not many people do. I will do my best to explain, this is all new to me.

So the Axumites were at their peak between the 1st and 7th century AD, apparently they were trading with the Indians, the Persians and Rome using the Red Sea as their trade route. They were quite a sophisticated bunch, I saw with my very own eyes, the minted gold, silver and bronze coins they used as their currency. Through trade, they were exposed to Christianity and lo and behold they decided to give it a chance. They liked it so much that the King converted to Orthodox Christianity and made it his mission to learn the word. 

The nobles liked to differentiate themselves from the masses; and how else can you show your greatness but in death. They had the most elaborate and imposing obelisk carved out of a single mountain rock to mark their tombs. In keeping with protocol, the peasants had pretty rough little ones.

As beautiful as the obelisk were, their new found religion demanded that all Christians get buried on church grounds and so the work began. Ethiopia has mountains abound and why bother starting from scratch when you can just carve your church from the mountain. These rock hewn churches are truly remarkable and show what a sophisticated place Ethiopia was and still is. 

To today, Orthodox Christianity thrives; it is impossible to visit Tigrary or Lalibella and not be moved. My clubbing days are long gone so going to an all night mass seemed like the right thing to do; obviously after a bit of traditional folk music and tej (honey wine).

At weekends, all the bishops and high priests and priestesses get together to pray, chant and just show their devotion. All are welcome, it really is about love. 

I leave feeling quite intoxicated and wondering why the world does not know more about this great nation.

We really do live in a one dimensional world.

You like African massage? I thought I had misunderstood, but no, my tuk tuk driver was asking if I wanted an African massage, he repeated it several times. I didn’t quite know what to say. It had come out of the blue, one minute we are laughing, the next he is offering me a massage. I mean, seriously.

He sensed danger and nervously said, the road, bumpy, African massage. 

And then it clicked! We laughed really hard, me from relief and he, grateful for being out of danger. It turns out that I am quite a pro at getting the African massage. Tarmac roads in Lalibela, Ethiopia’s most visited tourist attraction are pretty much non-existent and the few uphill cobbled roads available are a very rough massage. 

But no matter, look east and tadaa,  the African massage will soon be a distant memory. Xi’s Yuan is everywhere, Lalibela is getting shiny new roads soon and there are plenty more roads being constructed elsewhere.

I say tread carefully my friends! It could be a long and slippery road.

Ethiopia is the only African country not to have been colonised. They wear this badge with pride and are admired across the world for holding their own. I have heard elaborate stories of how they humiliated the Italians at the battle of Adwa in 1896. Apparently the Italians wanted some but the Ethiopians kinda liked their set-up so they fought like lions. 

Like Arnie, some dude called Benito, a total nobody who was really close to other reprobates like Adolf and Stalin felt the need to ‘be back’ and so he was, 40 years later. A dark cloud covered Ethiopia and this great nation was occupied by Italy between 1936-1941. Luckily for the Ethiopians, fascism was no longer the done thing and thanks to British military support, the Italians had to leave (oh the irony!). 

Ethiopians are truly generous, one man informed me that they love everyone; even the Italians. Now that is a lesson for the world. 

I arrived at Mekele airport with my small backpack and excitement in my belly. I was headed to the Afar region were Dallol and Erta Ale are located. But first I needed to go and negotiate with the mafioso travel agents who call the shots in this town. I had intel from the lovely Miriam on how much I should not pay for the tour and I was ready to bargain hard. First to my hotel. With the formalities out of the way, the hotel manager asked what my plans were. Before I could explain that I had everything under control, a guy with a shiny car had arrived and he was ready to whisk me to his office to negotiate. I grudgingly obliged and on arrival I chose my itinerary. He asked where I was from; from the school of hard knocks, I said, I live in South London. I clearly did not show my street cred as he proceeded to give me a stupid price. I thanked him and told him it was a no deal. He dropped me at a local restaurant that only has an Amharic language menu so he came in to help me to navigate it (kind these mafia types). We said our goodbyes and he said he would be waiting.

I got back to my hotel and they wanted to know if the deal had been done. No I said, I don’t have that kind of money. The disappointment was written on their faces; they would not be getting their cut.

I called another agent and told her my itinerary. She gave me a less stupid price but I knew there was room to negotiate. I told her my budget and she laughed; she told me to come in for negotiations. Seriously, I was beginning to feel like Michel Barnier with the constant negotiations. I arrived at the office and promptly declared that I needed a good price. They gave me a good price and the tour was worth every penny.

I was in the most inhospitable place on earth and I could have stayed there for eternity. An experience that I will always cherish.

I consider myself to be relatively kind, I would help if someone was in need and I occasionally smile at tourists. Like the next person, I am time poor so would definitely not clear a whole day to help out some blow in from out of town. Not so for Sisai, who I was introduced to by my go to guy for Africa. On my very first morning in Addis Ababa, Sisai turned up at my Airbnb with a driver buddy in tow. He greeted me as if I was long lost family and declared that today was my day. My British sensibility kicked in and I wanted to know what the catch was, I mean, why would a dude devote a whole day to a stranger. Soon enough, I was grateful to have Sisai by my side. Addis is an impossible city to navigate for a novice, particularly one who struggles to identify their left from their right. My first port of call was a travel agency run by a Spanish woman, Miriam. In Addis they don’t have the same numbering system as we do in Blighty, so you rely on landmarks and micro local knowledge for directions. Just as we were about to give up, we found Miriam’s place and what a find she turned out to be. I gave her my aspirational itinerary and she gave me a reality check. Ethiopia is expensive for solo travellers particularly ones on a shoe string budget but with a phobia for pedestrian chic.

Miriam soon put me in my place and then she hit me with that kindness thing that Sisai had shown. She decided to give me her intellectual assets for no charge. Her reward was the fact that she was helping a solo traveller, the help she needed many years ago when she and her sister did Ethiopia. She loaned me a small back pack which is imperative for agile travelling. I have a date with Miriam on my return to Addis and can’t wait to tell her about my many amazing experiences.

With half my gear left for safe keeping with my lovely Airbnb hosts in Addis, a great adventure ahead of me and a SIM card from Sisai, I was ready to do take on Ethiopia.

Hello Danakil!