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September 16, 2005
Ethiopia: Home of the Ark of the CovenantWAITE VISITS NORTHERN ETHIOPIA'S CHURCHES; FINDS EVIDENCE THE COUNTRY'S FAMINE IS OVER
By MARK WAITE
Ethiopians believe the original ark handed down by Moses lies in a small chapel in St. Mary of Zion Church in Aksum, a town in the northernmost part of the country. A monk who is supposedly the only person who has seen it, never leaves the compound and doesn't like to be photographed guards it. The mystery over the Ark of the Covenant is just one of the tales of this fabled land in northeastern Africa. Ethiopia includes everything from Orthodox Christian monks in robes in the north to naked tribesmen in the remote south. I arrived in the capital, Addis Ababa, in early June, four days after 26 people were killed, more than 100 injured and thousands were jailed during street demonstrations over claims the latest election was rigged. The capital was virtually shut down due to a strike for a few days, but things looked normal when I arrived. Immigration was a breeze, I was granted a three-month visa on arrival at modern Bole International Airport for $20. The only question the immigration officer asked was what hotel I would stay at. I didn't know. A taxi driver took me to the Itegue Taitu Hotel, the oldest hotel in Addis Ababa, where I booked a room in the creaky, wooden building for 46 Ethiopian birr, about $5.50 U.S., with the bathroom down the hall. Addis Ababa was a refreshing place at about 8,000 feet. Ethiopia was also a coffee lover's delight, with espresso available almost everywhere for about 15-cents a cup. Ethiopian food is also very unusual, as anyone who has eaten at the Ethiopian restaurant in the non-descript shopping center on Convention Center Drive in Las Vegas can attest. The staple food is wot and injera. Injera is the sponge-like looking bread on which spicy meat is served; the meat is rolled up in the injera. Ethiopia isn't a popular tourist destination so there were no ATMs. I had to cash travelers checks. I wasn't sure what the buses would be like but a clerk at the hotel lined me up with a seat in a Toyota Land Rover to Bahir Dar on the shores of Lake Tana, a one-day ride for 250 birr, about $30. I rode with an Ethiopian family through the eucalyptus forests, then down into the scenic Blue Nile River gorge. One of the boys in the family asked me why the world thinks Ethiopians don't have enough food to eat, or a place to live. Indeed, the famine in 1984-85 shaped the opinion of many in the world that Ethiopia is a poor country. And it is poor - 90 percent of the population lives in the countryside. Shepherds in white robes herding livestock were a common sight on the highway; indeed there seemed to be more donkeys in this country than anywhere else I've been. But while there were ample beggars, I didn't notice any starving people. Peasants were plowing the fields by hand led by cattle, as the rainy season had started. The family members in the Land Rover said they were Christian. When I asked what denomination I expected them to say something like Presbyterian, Methodist or Catholic, instead the boy replied, "Orthodox." The father, who was driving the pickup, stopped to donate coins to a couple of priests standing by the side of the road holding an umbrella upside down for donations. I asked one of the boys traveling with me what time it was. He told me it was 15 minutes past eight. That's impossible, I thought, it's the middle of the afternoon. I found out later, in Ethiopia they start counting the midnight hour with sunrise. That means when Ethiopian clocks or people say 8:15 it's actually six hours difference, so it was 2:15 p.m. It's also 1997 in Ethiopia, which uses the Julian calendar, so there is still a chance to celebrate the new millennium in three years. The family greeted their relatives in the traditional way, a kiss on the cheek three times, even between people of the same sex. A flock of white pelicans on a sand bank entertained patrons drinking beer at Mango Park on the shore of Lake Tana in Bahir Dar. A couple of women invited me to a traditional coffee ceremony, where incense, possibly frankincense, is burned, hay is laid on the floor, the coffee beans are ground and cups of the fresh brew are served. An Ethiopian goat herder, by the way, discovered coffee. The Blue Nile falls was an hour drive on a bumpy bus ride from Bahir Dar. Unfortunately three-fourths of the flow had been diverted to a dam constructed three years ago. There wasn't anything like what was depicted on the postcards. I booked a boat trip out to visit the monasteries on Lake Tana. Unfortunately, since there weren't any tourists in town, I spent $30 myself for a solitary boat ride for a half-day putt putting along with a 9.9 horsepower Johnson outboard motor. Lake Tana is about 60 miles from one end to another, with 29 monasteries on islands on the lake. We arrived on an island where we were greeted by the monk, with two bald eagles eyeing us from a tree. The sight reminded me I was in Africa where wildlife was abundant - and the old ways still hold strong. A sign on the path leading up the hill reminded visitors that women were forbidden to enter. The Kebran Gabriel Church was built in 1313, the resident monk explained. There were fantastic paintings on the church walls of St. George slaying the dragon, the last supper, Christ's crucifixion and resurrection and other Christian paintings. In a museum located in an unassuming building next door, the monk showed his collection of crosses representing the various styles from the Ethiopian cities of Gondar, Aksum and Lalibela. The monk also showed crowns from the previous kings as well as paintings and hand-painted manuscripts in well-worn Bibles. There was a visit to another, newer monastery, then to see where the Blue Nile entered Lake Tana, not that exciting except for the papyrus reed boats the locals were rowing. Near sunset, my guide led me by bicycle up a hill to see the palace of former emperor Haile Selasie, who was deposed in 1974. A couple of Ethiopians ran alongside us to the top of the hill hoping for a tip, but then Ethiopia is famed for its long distance runners. Fresh tilapia from the lake was on the menu at a local restaurant. Down the street I heard music and stopped in at one of the country's "cultural clubs." A man was playing a square-shaped wooden instrument with a single string and singing impromptu lyrics, taking friendly gibes at the patrons. "He says you are very beautiful but he is more handsome than you," said a club patron sitting next to me translating the singer's remarks. The singer then sang some lyrics to a couple sitting on the other side of me. The old city of Gondar was only four hours by bus from Bahir Dar. Boys at the bus station had to push start both the bus to the Blue Nile falls and then to Gondar. At least one passenger usually brought chickens on board each time. But at least the buses weren't overcrowded, everybody had to have a seat, no standing was allowed. The road to Gondar was also paved. It was pouring rain when we arrived. A young man offered to be my guide. I paid him 50 birr, just under $6 U.S., to show me around town. He showed me an authentic restaurant with hay on the floor for a coffee ceremony, animal skin seats, handcrafts on the walls and a waitress in traditional dress serving that unique Ethiopian food. The Birhan Selassie Church on a hill outside town featured more of the inspiring Christian paintings inside such as the Kebran Gabriel Monastery on Lake Tana. Besides the passion play of Christ and St. George among others, the Birhan Selasie Church also included heads of angels with Ethiopian faces, looking down from the ceiling. Before Ethiopians entered a church they went through an elaborate ritual, making the sign of the cross three times, genuflecting slightly, then kneeling down and kissing the ground twice and touching their forehead to the ground twice. Parishioners dress in white shawls when they attend church; the streets of Gondar were a sea of white on Sunday morning. The palace complex in Gondar is the main attraction. King Fasilidas constructed the first castle in the 17th century, the next five kings built their own castles, adding their own improvements like a banquet hall, horse stables, even a cage to hold lions representing the Lion of Judah. The castles represent Indian, Arabian and Portuguese styles, as Christopher de Gama, son of the famous Portuguese explorer Vasco de Gama, helped repel a Moslem invasion in the 16th century and influenced the building style. Some of the roofs were destroyed by Allied bombing during World War II when Ethiopia was briefly occupied by Italy. Queen Mentawib built her own palace outside town to get away from the royal infighting that even led to a poisoning of one of the kings by his successor. The queen's palace included another unique Ethiopian house of worship, the Church of Adiam Sayed Eyas, son of King Fasilidas, more than 300 years old. The caretaker showed me the bones of Queen Mentawib in the palace. I passed up a chance to visit Simien Mountains National Park, with Africa's fourth highest mountain, Ras Dashen, at just over 15,000 feet, since the cost with park fees, camping fees, a mandatory armed scout, English-speaking guide, cook, camping equipment, tent rental, sleeping bag rental, even a donkey and a man to tend the donkey, would amount to about $160 for a four-day hike. I saw a couple tourists driving into the park with a driver and the armed scout in the passenger seat, giving true meaning to the saying, "riding shotgun." The all-day bus trip from Gondar to the northernmost part of Ethiopia looked a little like traveling through the desert of the American Southwest, with escarpments, like mesas, and craggy peaks, like what we'd call buttes, especially just north of Gondar. The route zigzagging along switchbacks up and down the mountains was all dirt road. Camels were in abundance, along with some rusty metal military vehicles, which gave evidence to the war between Ethiopia and Eritrea, just north of here. Touts for different mini-buses fought over my luggage at the end of the bus ride in Shiri as they sought my business for the hour and a half ride by mini-bus farther to Aksum. A ticket for 50 birr, just under $6 U.S., allowed entry to many of the tourist sites in Aksum. The stele park is the most famous, a collection of obelisks that resembled the Washington Monument in Washington, D.C. The highest standing of the six obelisks was almost 70 feet tall. They were constructed in the third to fourth century to honor the graves of the pagan kings buried below. King Azana adopted Christianity and prescribed it as the state religion in the fourth century. The stone for the monuments was believed to have been transported to the site by elephant from a quarry in the nearby mountains. A few more sites in Aksum weren't as impressive. Queen Sheba's Palace was mostly crumbling brick. There was also Queen Sheba's baths. Ethiopians believe they are direct descendants of King Solomon and Queen Sheba. A guide took me to King Bazan's tomb, a king who ruled about the time of Christ, with stone inscriptions in the ancient languages of Sabean, Ge'ez and Greek. The archaeological sites were starting to take on the air of Egypt, which lies just north of The Sudan, Ethiopia's northern neighbor. I also visited the tomb of King Kaleb, Aksum's most famous king, who ruled when Aksumites occupied southern Arabia around 550 A.D. The first St. Mary of Zion Church was built in the fourth century, King Fasilidas built the third one. Paintings of St. Gabriel and Raphael protected the "Holy of Holies," the hidden altar where only priests and deacons were allowed, along with paintings of the Trinity and the Abyssinian saints. In front of the church, a deacon explained, was the Stone of David, where 237 Ethiopian kings were coronated in succession, the last one was Haile Selasie I. A new church constructed on the site by Haile Selasie, which looked a bit like a circular, modern, Greek Orthodox Church, housed a painting of the transportation of the Ark of the Covenant to Aksum by King Menelik I and 12,000 Falasha Jews. The deacon told me I was lucky, it was Wednesday and I could view the Book of Mary, a 33-pound tome made of goatskin, written with egg yoke and ox blood. Behind the new church was a collection of crowns, the oldest dated from the fourth century and came from Egypt. The deacon was a bit greedy however, asking for a 20 birr tip for both himself and an assistant on top of the 60 birr, almost $7, entry fee. When I asked when church services were held, I was told at 1 p.m., another half-hour. But while as a man I was eligible to attend, I would be barred from attendance this day since I hadn't fasted all day, under the strict rules of the Orthodox Christian religion. It would be a three-day bus ride to Lalibela, on the east side of the circular, historical route of northern Ethiopia. Each segment was only a half-day bus ride, but buses always left at 6 a.m. and didn't operate after dark, and I'd miss each connecting bus in the town where I'd arrive, traveling through Tigre province. So I decided to pay $70 and take a 40-minute flight on Ethiopian Airlines. Lalibela is the most famous of the Ethiopian cultural cities, for its 10 churches carved out of bedrock in the late 11th and early 12th century. King Lalibela attempted to create a new Jerusalem, as he was tired of seeing pilgrims perish while traveling to the Holy Land, a guide explained. They were constructed during the Zogwe dynasty, from 920 to 1260 A.D., after the decline of Aksum due to the Moslem invasions. They were all built in a span of 24 years. Legend has it that for every amount constructed during the day, angels would construct a similar amount at night. The first church we visited, Bet Medhane Alem, was the largest, our guide explained, 35 feet high and 107 feet long. We descended down to see the dark, musty insides of the church carved into the rock, which contained the gold cross of Lalibela. The second church, Bet Mariam, or House of Mary, included a pond outside the church, where, my guide pointed out, infertile women who wanted to conceive would put on special robes and take a dip in the pond, in a ceremony presided over by chanting priests. After the first five churches, we were led to a tej bet, a house where people drank the traditional honey wine that's unique to Ethiopia, where another traditional musician entertained the crowd. The next five churches were visited the next day. Many were accessible through tunnels carved into the rock. There was Bet Emanuel, built in the Aksumite style; Bet Mercurious, which included 12th century Byzantine paintings of the passion play; Bet Gabriel and Raphael, deeply cut in the front; Bet Libanos and finally, the highlight of the tour, the well photographed St. George Church, carved in the shape of a cross, with the height, width and length each 39 feet long. A few priests showed us their collections of crosses and Bibles. Four of us foreign tourists chartered a pickup truck and driver for $80 for the half-day trip on a rough road for the 26-mile drive to King Ibrehane Cristos Church. While there were many beggars in Gondar and Lalibela, the beggars here seemed the poorest. Ethiopia might be a good location for "humanitarian tourism." This would allow a visit to the ancient churches and a chance to donate to the poor at the same time. King Ibrehane Cristos Church was built inside a cave, 80 years before King Lalibela constructed his churches. Hundreds of skeletons were in the back of the cave, the guide explained people came to die in this sacred place. Another Sunday arrived and I was able to attend an Orthodox Christian church service, which like the others began at 5:30 a.m. and ended at 8 a.m. The dark, musty Bet Medhane Alem church was filled with parishioners in white robes. A priest recited prayers in Ge'ez, the ancient language, much like Roman Catholics used to listen to church prayers recited in Latin, a language no longer used. Occasionally, priests or deacons would bring crosses and Bibles out from the Holy of Holies for the worshippers to kiss, as they were unable to view them in the altar. Finally, there was a donkey trip to the Old Lalibela Church, on a hilltop overlooking Lalibela at more than 10,000 feet. An entourage of six people soon followed Kathleen Hicks, a tourist from Toronto, Canada, and myself as we rode up to the top, hoping to get money. Several people surrounded us as we paused to admire the mountain scenery, including a crippled beggar, a girl selling souvenirs and two guys who wanted to be guides. Kathleen hurriedly handed the group a $10 bill and hopped on a van to the airport after the tour, setting off an arguing frenzy over who received what money. Unfortunately, prospective guides and beggars in the historical towns of Lalibela and Gondar usually hounded tourists. The bus departed on schedule at 6 a.m. early the next morning for the two-day ride from Lalibela to Addis Ababa, back to the city, with an overnight stopover in a small city named Desse. Bus passengers waited as the driver first negotiated a settlement with peasants outside Lalibela after hitting a donkey during a previous trip. The dry, dusty, poor settlement of Lalibela later gave way to fields of dark green, moistened by the arrival of the rainy season from mid-June through August. It was a two-day ride to Addis Ababa - 48 hours that took me about 1,000 years into the present. |
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