Dour, 電通-controlled, family-centric Belgian Neocolonialism, enthusiastically jaded observations, support for state-owned neoliberalist media and occasional rants from the twisted mind of a privileged middle-class expatriate atheist projecting some leftist ideals with my ridicule of Tucker Carlson (from The Blogs Formerly Known As Sponge Bear and Kaminoge 物語)
*see disclaimer below
Today is Thanksgiving, that most American of holidays where families get together and recognize those things in their lives for which they should be feeling grateful. I should be doing the same - after all, I'm healthy, as are those I love and care about. But I'm finding it hard to look on the bright side, or find silver linings or any of those other hoary clichés. For one thing, my wife and daughter are almost 5500 miles away by air, leaving me to "celebrate" the holiday alone in a country at war with itself. For another, this year has been an annus horribilis, for reasons which should be obvious to most people on this planet. In my case, 2020 began to go wrong in late February, when my father died. My trip back to Washington state for the funeral coincided with the explosion of the coronavirus in the United States, and you know the rest of the story. We ended up spending six months cooped up in a small apartment in Arlington, Virginia - had I known our departure from Ethiopia was going to last as long as it did, I would've rented an Airbnb close to my sister's home in the Seattle area, and the girls could've spent the summer in Taiwan. Speaking of summer, because of COVID-19 I had to cancel a long-planned trip to Japan, one in which I would've taken Amber around the Central Alps 中央アルプス region, starting in Nagoya 名古屋 and finishing in Kyōto 京都. And as this year is drawing to a close, I've had to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing what I'll be doing and where I'll be going after our tour in Addis Ababa አዲስ አበባ comes to an end next summer. So screw 2020, and as for Thanksgiving, the only thing I have to be grateful for is that I'm still alive. That, and still having a job. Which, then again, is something I suppose I should appreciate. OK, I'm feeling a little better...
So with a weekday off, and having spent the past 48 days either working or just walking around the neighborhood, I decided it was time to play tourist again, virus be damned (bravado aside, I wore a mask all day and made sure my hands were always clean). Parking my car at the Sheraton Addis, I walked along busy Niger Street, looking at what passes for a skyline in Ethiopia's capital, while also checking out the soon-to-be-finished Friendship Square park:
My destination was the Holy Trinity Cathedral መንበረ ጸባኦት ቅድስት ሥላሴ, the second-most important church in Ethiopia, after the Old Church of St. Mary of Zion in Aksum (now threatened by the conflict in Tigray). The cornerstone of the vaguely Arabic-looking church was laid in 1931 by Emperor Haile Selassie ቀዳማዊ ኃይለ ሥላሴ.:
I had to locate a priest to unlock one of the doors so I could see the interior:
The mural on the opposite wall depicts the emperor and British officers raising the Ethiopian flag following the defeat of the Italians in North Africa in 1941:
Haile Selassie's imperial throne:
The tombs of the emperor and his wife. Haile Selassie was overthrown and imprisoned by the Derg, the military junta which ruled Ethiopia from 1974 to 1987, in September 1974. He died in August 1975, most likely after being strangled in his bed, and his body was buried under a concrete slab on the grounds of his imperial palace. He was eventually given a funeral by the Ethiopian Orthodox Church in November 2000, and his remains (along with those of the empress) are now resting in the Trinity Cathedral:
Stained glass windows depict scenes from the Old (like this one of Solomon) and New Testaments:
In the center of the church is Afewerk Tekle's አፈወርቅ ተክሌ depiction of the Holy Trinity:
A memorial to the British forces which helped liberate Ethiopia:
Posing with the priest who guided me around the interior of the cathedral:
Admission to the Holy Trinity Cathedral also includes entry to a museum housing various ecclesiastical and imperial artefacts (photography not allowed). From there, I found myself in the company of a "guide" named Daniel whom I couldn't shake off, so I decided I would have him show me the adjoining graveyard, home to the remains of various patriots, members of the Ethiopian aristocracy and notable public figures. The most prominent resident is former prime minister Meles Zenawi መለስ ዜናዊ, whose tomb it is forbidden to photograph (the shot below comes courtesy of someone who doesn't believe in following the rules):
The circular church of Mekane Selassie, built by Menelik II ዳግማዊ ምኒልክ in 1890, making it older than the Holy Trinity Cathedral:
This stone monument is dedicated to the first victims of the Derg regime, 60 former high officials of the imperial government who were executed by firing squad without trial on November 23, 1974, an event known as "Bloody Saturday" in Ethiopia. Photography isn't allowed here due to the prime minister's compound being located behind the memorial, but the armed guard was apparently taking a break (note the vacant green chair), so Daniel encouraged me to take a photo:
For Daniel's services, I tipped him 100 birr (he asked for 200, but he didn't show me the interior of the cathedral or the museum). Along with the 200 birr entrance fee, the 20 birr I tipped the museum guide who explained the exhibits, and the 10 birr I gave to the caretaker for unlocking the gate to the museum to allow me inside (the museum was supposedly closed due to the coronavirus, according to posted signs), my visit to the Holy Trinity Cathedral came to a grand total of 330 birr, or around $8.65, the same amount as I paid for a pizza and a Pepsi at Pizza Hut the other week. On the way out of the cathedral grounds, I stopped for a look at the grave of the British suffragette Sylvia Pankhurst, who was one of the few outside of Ethiopia to vociferously protest the Italian occupation in the 1930's. She moved to Addis Ababa in 1956 and died there four years later:
This memorial depicted flight attendants and airline pilots, so I assumed it was erected in the aftermath of a fatal airplane crash. It's possible it's dedicated to the victims of Ethiopian Airways Flight 302, though if that's the case, the memorial hasn't aged well:
From the cathedral I returned along Niger Street to the Sheraton, passing again by Friendship Square. Apparently the locals refer to it as "China Park", for obvious reasons:
I wasn't going to have a turkey dinner this Thanksgiving, but that didn't mean I couldn't treat myself to a decent lunch. I had Zil-Zil Tibs and an Anbessa beer at the hotel's Breezes outdoor restaurant. Could this be the start of a new tradition?:
Here's hoping Thanksgiving 2021 won't be another solo affair...
In the meantime, here are a few random photos from recent days gone by. One morning I awoke to find the air looking like this, apparently because it was a traditional day for residents to burn stuff:
This is what it normally looks like from my balcony (outside of the rainy season):
An attempt at taking a night photo from the same balcony:
The view along Roosevelt Street:
A Saturday afternoon cheeseburger and lime iced tea at Sishu:
Circling birds of prey are a common sight in my area:
Alexander Pushkin Street didn't look like this at the time we left on Authorized Departure back at the beginning of April. Now it's a challenge getting in and out of the neighborhood:
Meanwhile, back in Taiwan, the girls are doing fine. I talk to them everyday via Line, and occasionally Shu-E sends me photos of some of their activities, like when they visited a flower expo in Xīnshè 新社. Amber doesn't remember the first time she went there when she wasn't quite four years old, but I have the blog post to prove it:
They also visited a temple in Tōngxiāo 通霄, for reasons which weren't entirely clear to me, but it looks like they had a good time:
It's been 58 days since they left for Taiwan, but hopefully we'll be reunited as a family in less than a month's time. Until the next blog post, I'll leave you with a Thanksgiving song by that most English of songwriters, Ray Davies:
