Meskel celebration at St. Gabriel
If things have seemed a little quiet lately on these pages, that's because they have been. I had a bad cold the other week that caused me to miss two days of work and to stay inside most of last weekend. I feel much better now, and my recovery has coincided with Meskel መስቀል, an annual religious holiday in the Ethiopian Orthodox church calendar. Meskel commemorates the discovery of the cross on which Jesus is believed to have been crucified (the word means "cross" in the Ge'ez language, the ancient predecessor of Amharic). The eve of Meskel (which was this past Friday) is celebrated by the burning of a Demera, a pyramidal bonfire of branches that from a distance supposedly resembles a fir tree, topped with Meskel flowers (i.e. daisies). The biggest celebration takes place in Meskel Square, but on Friday evening Amber, Shu-E and I joined our neighbors and some colleagues from work to observe the festival at St. Gabriel ቅዱስ ገብኤል ቤተክርስትያን, an Orthodox church about a half hour on foot from our house.
Before leaving for the church we heard the sound of young girls chanting and singing. We could just make out the end of a procession moving south (away from our house) from our balcony (my apologies for the shaky camera work):
Demera were being prepared at many places in our area as we made our toward the church:
The celebration at St. Gabriel:
Vendors were outside the church to cater to the needs of worshippers:
We passed by a number of small celebrations on the way home from St. Gabriel. Meskel is a very festive occasion, with neighbors sitting around the smoldering embers of the bonfires, chatting and drinking. We also walked by this parked Lada - along with Toyotas, Lada taxis are a common sight on the streets of Addis Ababa አዲስ አበባ:
The BBC website on Saturday had this photo essay on a different type of Meskel celebration in Adigrat ዓዲግራት, close to the border with Eritrea.
Speaking of Saturday, not much happened. I did go out for a walk in the afternoon...:
...and unlike prior excursions on foot, this time I passed through some upscale neighborhoods, home to diplomatic residences, embassies, the middle class...and some goats:
St. Gabriel the day after its demera:
Sunday was a little more eventful, but not necessarily for the right reasons. One of the screws on my reading glasses fell out earlier in the week, and I've been having a hard time finding an optician that can replace it. I was told there were some shops that could do the repair in the Piazza area of Addis, so after lunch I took a taxi there. Unfortunately, I could only find one place open that was dealing in eyeglasses and they also couldn't help. Disappointed, I decided to at least get some exercise and walk the five kilometers or so (three miles) back home.
Just before the intersection of Churchill and Zambia Streets, a young man approached me on my right to try and sell me some tissues; immediately after, another man came up on my left and grabbed my arm in a "friendly" gesture. I shook him off and continued walking, but quickly realized my iPhone was missing from my right pocket. I turned around and started back, and one of the young men (I believe it was the one who had grabbed my left arm) handed me my phone with the bullshit story that he had retrieved it from the thief, and could I give him some money for some food? Instead, I walked over to a nearby police officer, told him my phone had been stolen and pointed out the two men, who were called over by the cop. In the end, I said I couldn't clearly identify which one had been the pickpocket, saving myself what would probably have been a long ordeal of having to fill out a complaint. I had my phone back and so continued on my way...
...and then on Roosevelt Street a car pulled up to the curb ahead of me, and a young man got out of the front passenger side to make a phone call. As I passed him, he started saying something about "vomit". It was then that I felt something liquidy on the back of my right leg, and realized I was being set up for the spitting scam. This involves someone spitting on you, and then "apologizing" and pointing out the spot on your body where it happened, creating a diversion for an accomplice to pick your pocket. I just kept walking, much to the man's agitation, and once I was a safe distance away, checked to see that, sure enough, I had been spat on.
Live and learn. I now know of a couple more things to be wary of when I'm about town...
An old Italian-era building in the Piazza
Tewodros Square ቴዎድሮስ አደባባይ
Next weekend we're off to Cape Town for a week on our first excursion from Ethiopia since arriving in this country at the end of July. Stay tuned...
No comments:
Post a Comment