Louise glanced at Carmen and was about to say something when Zeno asked again, ‘Why have you come to Ethiopia? Are you here because Ethiopia is considered to be the cradle of civilisation, or are you here because, at this time, Ethiopia is considered one of the poorest countries in the world and you want to see what poverty is like?’
No one responded. Zeno carried on. ‘Or is it our history that you want to explore and the fact that we are the only African country that has not been colonised? Or have you been provoked to try and understand the nature and extent of Ethiopia’s disastrous famines in 1974 and again in 1984, when over a million people starved to death?’
A deep hush enveloped the room. Zeno appeared despondent when he spoke about the famines. In one of his essays, part of which was in his introductory notes, he had suggested that decisions that people didn’t make, and events that didn’t happen – like improved education and agricultural practice – were largely responsible for the famines. Louise recalled reading that Zeno had hiked across the country and lived with peasant people and knew their history.
‘Don’t be frightened to ask questions. Interaction is essential. That’s what we’re here for.’
They were unsure how to respond. Zeno noticed Louise looking at him. He looked at her, a head-to-toe gaze. He liked what he saw and found himself face-to-face with a young woman of allure. Louise was conscious of his gaze.
Because of Zeno’s interested stare she floundered a little. ‘This is a general question,’ she said nervously. But then, encouraged by his smile, her self-assurance returned. ‘What are your priorities for us and on which particular areas will we focus?’
‘Okay, that’s a good question,’ he said, looking directly at Louise. He explained that while his overall fieldwork priorities were in the far south in the Omo Valley, he would begin by taking them to rarely visited settlements in a valley below the Bada Ridge to the south-east of Addis Ababa. He wanted to provide a contrast with the nomadic tribes of the south. As he spoke, he pointed to places on a large wall map.
‘Your priorities are to observe and record conditions that influence the physical and emotional health of isolated rural populations. Respect and enjoy these people. Remember, being among them is a privilege. That thinking will reward you. Think of yourselves as explorers. In your notebooks, record images, ideas, and if possible snatches of dialogue to paint unique pictures. Make sure your notebooks are always within reach. Record small details about people’s homes, the landscape around their homes, what they are wearing, what they eat and drink, and relationships between men, women and children. Record whether you think a village is holding together, or because of the famine is about to unravel. Find out about the origins of the village. Listen to the people. Be patient. Date your notes. And above all, try to think of yourselves as cameras and help readers to feel as if they are there with you. To begin with, observe a whole village, then focus on detail, and generate life from that detail. I want you to shake up people’s perceptions of Ethiopian rural life. My notes and references should help. Are there any questions?’
‘Wow, what a performance,’ Carmen whispered to Louise. ‘What are we supposed to ask him after that? He reminds me of Brutus in Julius Caesar imploring from the pulpit … Countrymen and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear … awake your senses.’
‘That’s brilliant, Carmen.’
‘Thanks, the quote just came to me. It seemed appropriate. We used to have to learn chunks of Shakespeare like that in my high school English classes.’
‘You’ve caught his mood and high expectations for us.’
‘I don’t know if I will fulfil his expectations, but I like him,’ said Carmen.
No one asked Zeno a question. They remained in awe of his zeal for promoting the uniqueness and value of Ethiopian rural life – people of another world, he had called them.
Zeno smiled and continued, expecting the students to adopt his enthusiasm and commitment. ‘We will drive south-east from Addis to Mojo and then Nazret. Then we’ll take a track to Sodere, so that you can see the settlements in the Awash River Valley. If reports of the roads to Asela and to Kofele are satisfactory, we’ll explore the villages below the Bada Ridge.’
These names and places were just dots on a map to the students. A yawning gap existed between Zeno’s life experiences and those of the bright but inexperienced students. He didn’t expect them to bridge it in a few short weeks but wanted them to become involved with village people. He wondered whether any of them had the passion and commitment he expected.
‘Our goal is to reach Jinka, the main town in the lower Omo. We’ll stay there and, if time permits, we’ll visit the small Hamar towns of Turmi and possibly Dimeka, on the border of the Hamar and Banna tribes. There you’ll experience the tribal markets.’ Zeno’s face lit up with enthusiasm. ‘You will find all these places on the maps in your fieldwork packs. We’ll be away for three weeks.’
Louise hoped that Zeno Wolde would support her, introduce her to significant people and help find references for her writing, so she could return to London and Adelaide as an ambassador for some of the poorest but most resilient people in Africa.
She recalled that Ambassador, in its original English definition, was: a messenger sent on a mission to represent a country or people. Was this what Zeno Wolde expected of his students? Would Louise Davitt, Carmen Smith or even Bassam Hashoud become messengers in their writing and advocacy?
Driving South
IT WOULD TAKE six or seven hours to reach their campsite just south of Sodore. Five people in the first 4WD were Abebe the driver and camp cook, Louise, Carmen, Horst from Hamburg, and Zeno. Degu, a part-time driver, drove the second 4WD containing four more students. The loaded vehicles moved at varying speeds as they wound through early morning Addis traffic. Abebe sounded the horn continually to avoid donkeys, horses, goats, pedestrians and other vehicles.
Then they reached the open road and dusty plains which sloped away to gaunt etched hills above Debre Zeyit. Even farmers less than a hundred miles from Addis struggled to harvest meagre, shrivelled crops. Louise stared at the barren and often stony landscape, noticing every bend in the road, every small child herding goats, every field and distant village. Although she’d read about rural Ethiopia, she now realised the scale of the country could be overwhelming. The riddle of Ethiopia’s splendour, harshness, deprivation and opportunity was before her.
‘And here we are, less than two hours drive from Addis, and we see all this,’ she said to Carmen.
‘It’s bad enough when you read about famine in the papers, but when you come face to face with drought and such obvious poverty,’ Carmen said, ‘that really brings it home to you. It’s like being reminded of Dimbleby’s BBC documentary at Korem in Tigray all over again. Remember that?’
‘Yes, most people who saw the film thought starvation just happened in a faraway country.’ Louise was realistic.
As they drove they watched the early morning sun glow on hillsides and nearby mountains, on the narrow dusty roads in need of repair, on fields with acacia bushes, stunted trees and savannah grass. They saw smoke from distant villages rising in columns. Zeno told them stories in clear accented English, punctuated with Oromo and Amharic names of places and people. Louise, Carmen and Horst listened, captivated by his zest as, with a flourish of his hands, he related the life and history of the landscape and its people.
Louise whispered to Carmen, ‘If you wanted to choose an Ethiopian tour guide, no one could be better than Zeno Wolde. Aren’t we lucky?’
They gazed at fields with heaped stones, thorn bushes, drooping crops and distant farm workers harvesting maize and sorghum. Louise stared, trying to absorb the glare, the delight and also the harshness of a farmer’s day. She wondered whether they would continue farming as their forebears had done, and just accept drought, either surviving their short harsh life or dying where they worked.
Or