I Didnât Do It For You
How the World Used and Abused a Small African Nation
Michela Wrong
To Elena and Silvia Harty, as promised
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1 The City Above the Clouds
CHAPTER 4 This Horrible Escarpment
CHAPTER 5 The Curse of the Queen of Sheba
CHAPTER 6 The Feminist Fuzzy-Wuzzy
CHAPTER 7 âWhat do the baboons want?â
CHAPTER 9 The Gold Cadillac Site
CHAPTER 10 Blow Jobs, Bugging and Beer
CHAPTER 12 Of Bicycles and Thieves
CHAPTER 13 The End of the Affair
CHAPTER 14 The Green, Green Grass of Home
CHAPTER 16 âWhere are our socks?â
CHAPTER 17 A Village of No Interest
CHAPTER 18 âItâs good to be normalâ
P.S. Ideas, interviews & features â¦
EritreaâEthiopia border as defined by the International Boundary Commission on April 13, 2002
EritreaâEthiopia border as defined by the International Boundary Commission on April 13, 2002
It was well past midnight, and in Cairo airportâs transit lounge it was clear most passengers had already entered the trance-like state of passivity that accompanies long-distance travel. Outside, in the fluorescent glare of the hallway, a trio of stranded Senegalese women traders, majestic in their colourful boubous, were shouting, with operatic volume, at the Egyptian airport staff behind the counter, who were responding with an icy silence that said more about Arab attitudes towards black Africa than direct insults ever could. But here in transit, eyes had glazed over, the energy had leached from the air. A group of Nigerian youths, whose clothes gave off the nose-tickling aroma of dried fish, lay slumped in the plastic orange scoop seats, spines turned to jelly. They were being messed around by EgyptAir staff, who couldnât be bothered to check them in to the airport hotel their tickets entitled them to. They seemed past caring, anger had long since given way to exhaustion.
A few seats away, a middle-aged Pakistani businessman was fighting the prevailing mood of stupefied indifference. Visiting cards at the ready, he was in defiantly chatty mode, and was taking the fact that the airline had mislaid his luggage in his stride. (âEgyptAir no good,â he confided. âHmm, yes, I know.â) He worked for a company that manufactured soap powder, he said, and constantly travelled the African continent and the Middle East, sizing up possible markets for his multinational.
âAnd you, what do you do?â
âIâm a journalist. Iâm writing a book about Eritrea. Thatâs where Iâm going now.â
His brow furrowed, he must have misheard. âYou are writing a book about Algeria?â
âNo,