driving. land cruiser style. packs and camping gear roped down to the
roof. African exodus. eight people riding inside. our captain, Gash Umar, drives
us up the mountains, around fierce bends, down the sides of the sharp
mountains, narrowly missing potholes and crazy suspension catastrophies.
I let my body bounce and dance to the pops, jerks and stops. my spine
feels the freedom and is thankful. we are headed toward Lake Tana- the
headwaters of the River Nile then the Semien Mountains after that. sacred
ground, water and breath awaits us. the feeding ground and womb of
Mother Africa and beyond…..
lam. lam. greens. browns. hills, mountains, the first sighting of the
Nile river. open air and stillness. country vibes. lone trees in the
middle of pastures. groups of cows, sheep and goats. expansion as far
as the eye can see. deep and dense bush interspersed with stark
grassland. the country folk own and care for the land. sheperds.
farmers. the dress is an obvious difference from the city. bright,
traditional apparel. head dresses like crowns. long staffs. blanket
outfits that wrap with simple originality. similar green, pleated
dresses among the girls. crosses and coins around the necks. woven
prints in bright colors wrapped around the head or the waist-
sometimes holding a child to it's mother. crowded spots of people and
animals cluster the roads. herds of cattle or goats travel in large
packs with their owners. our driver honks and plows on through the
crowds- sometimes making a harsh break when a cow fails to realize its
present reality. we stare from the car windows with anticipation and
fervor. there are waves and smiles from both sides. acknowledgement
and thankfulness from most. though there are some who are less than
pleased to see feringe driving through their lands. it is a mixed and
blatant bag.
I sink into these moments. it is so fresh and alive in this land.
human work. human life. humans being. this is truly awesome. it is
simple and divine. it is intense and moving. it stirs my soul.
existence in it's many flavors and displays. wow.
the colors and textures that we continue to interact with become
stronger. we approach more and more towns as we head north to Bhar
Dar. as it gets dark and the rains start, we enter the city.
Ghion Hotel is the spot. just what I'd imagine a hotel in Africa to be
like. lucky if you get hot water. open air seating for the restaurant.
a lobby with a few chairs, cement floors and waiters in suits that fit
oddly. bright flowers and plantings in the gardens. mosquito netting
over the beds. questionable cleanliness and plumbing. it's definitely
ligit. a certain charm exudes. we look out on lake Tana. my sleep has
never been better. there is a cleansing effect that occurs from this
place. it is subtle but brilliant.
a boat. the islands.
the little coca cola boat is ours. a baby blue boat with a young
captain that loves to say "gracias" and then laugh at himself. ahmed
scored a nice arrangement for our cruise to the islands. he is very
good about getting connected with just the right "guides." the ones
that seem to know a thing or two, aren't too greedy and of course need
the money. he knows how to pick 'em. we head out on the waters after a
proper British breakfast (chai latte, eggs and toast.) he lets us take
turns steering the engine. he calls to me and I take to the rutter. I
am the first female to drive this boat it seems. I decide at this
moment that Bhar Dar is the place for me. I shall return, buy a boat
and be a captain myself.
we plan to visit three or four islands and several churches. these
churches have been around for a very long time. they all house
replicas of the Arc of the Covenant which are under strict lock and
key. the stories of these living, spiritual sites are vast and varied.
but they all had a similar origin and purpose. the stories revolve
around Christian old testament history. the history is so mixed and
folkloric that at times it is hard to understand it all. historians
like to try to pinpoint dates and facts but the stories being told
don't always allow for that. each of the twenty five islands has at
least one church. some have several. the largest island is the home of
two churches and 10,000 people. it is said that the Arc of the
Covenant was housed here for 10 centuries. this is Zege Bitamariam
Betagrogez. we stop here first.
a crowd of people is waiting like vulchers on the volcanic rocks where
we dock. the guides are waiting eagerly to be selected by the
visitors. the ones peddling their wares are eager to pursue as well.
it is a free for all. we push our way through, ahmed picks the best
guide and we're off.
what we see: lush, jungly greenery. a sloppy, mud path dotted with
large volcanic rocks. the ever present aroma of animal or human waste.
alas, a round structure with a thatched roof. an ornate cross fixed to
the highest point of the roof. the kalash. stone steps. an outer
prayer area. the floor made of bamboo, lassoed together with sinew. we
are informed that over 700 cattle were killed for its making.
ahamdalah! the walls surrounding the secretive, inner chamber are
painted with the story of Christ, Mother Mary and Joseph. the faces
and depictions are simple, colorful and expressive. they make me
happy. it seems familiar. wood, straw, mud, sticks, clay and grasses
have been utilized for the structure. there is a stillness here. the
man at the door holds a long rifle. he is serious with twinkling eyes.
the next church on the island is similar. but more silent. there are
several children playing outside and a few trees bursting with lemons.
it too is a circle, thatched roof, simplistic- ornate cross kalash
anchord to the top of the roof. I choose to sit in the prayer area and
meditate on a piece of wood while the rest of the group hears the
guide discuss the details of the church. the little, armed guard
dressed in green is determined to watch me and ensure that I am not up
to buda (magic) no doubt. I am transcending deeply and experience this
place as it radiates out to the universe. I am brought to tears by the
majesty of it all. I open my eyes, the guard is standing at the door
watching me. he smiles. he knows. I put my shoes on and run after the
group. they are getting swarmed by artifact sellers. pieces of
parchment and hide with paintings on them. pages from holy books with
Ge'ez written on them. crosses and coins. pieces of painted wood. we
select our finds and get back in the boat. our lil' captain takes us
to the next island.
two more islands. Intorsee Yeseus and then Debra Mariam. Debra Mariam
was especially fulfilling. Mother Mary supposedly stayed on this
island with Jesus for nine days. we walked into the church and it
smelled of roses. her presence here was obvious. the monk watching
over the church was extremely humble, jovial and had a special twinkle
in his eyes. both Miranda and I were blessed by him. he would not
forget our names. and when we prayed, he would help us. it was sweet
and satisfying. so much silence and comfort. faith.
we learn from a guide we picked up at one of the islands that ancient
Ge'ez writings were done with a special ink that utilizes roasted
coffee beans. the monks would then mash them and mix it with dirt and
then a lemon like plant that would set it. the red writing on some of
the pages is red. this is from a black clay that is burned/fired and
then turns red.
Ge'ez is the ancient language that pre-dates Amaringia. it's roots are
in Sabai- Sheba's language and supposedly comes from her empire. it
was brought to the country by monk Yadid in the 6th century. He
organized Ge'ez into a language and put it into bible format. it has
been used ever since and is taken very seriously. the monks read and
recite in Ge'ez.
Bahr Dar. Sights and Sounds.
Churches and Mosques chanting in the early morning hours. darkness
fades as the light of dawn emerges. the chants and prayers are
broadcast for the whole town to hear. they bless the head waters of
the Nile. I meditate under the mosquito netting- with the priests and
monks. the vibezz.
quite possibly the best sleep of my life. deep and full. daybreak
brings blessings and clarity. brown, golden water as far as the eye
can see. small islands dot the horizon and my vision. motorboats take
the feringe and locals to the islands for spritual connections.
Heading North.
The grass is turning electric green. the horizon is taking dimension
and shape now as we head north toward the mountains. texturized
terrain. beautiful blankets and dresses. healthier cows and rapidly
flowing streams where people bathe and wash. clean laundry scattered
in the sun. little bwois with curly tufts of hair on top of their
shaved heads.
road block. we pass a bus accident that holds up traffic. groups of
people line the side of the road with their goods.
a blanket of purple flowers. long, yellow flowers pointing towards the
sun. large bundles atop heads. burdens tied to backs. donkey slaves.
human slaves. the loads are heavy. the road is long.
passing through Addis Zemen now. We begin the climb. rocky terrain. an
enormous boulder directs attention towards the heavens. curving roads.
steep ascent upwards. large, deep potholes. co-pilot (redalt) swati
jr. keeping Gash Umar company in the front of the cruiser. some needed
solitude from the crew.
cruising through Azezu. bright hollyhocks, turquoise houses. grass
growing out of the rain gutters. urban Aids/HIV clinic.
urban sprawl starts as we enter Gondar. a notoriously rough town.
gangs and the like. Ahmed tells us his story of the time he and Fati
were on the way to the Simien Mountains and they stayed the night in
Gondar. a large, gang of kids followed them to their pension, ripping
Fati's bag and threatening them. after realizing that the workers at
the pension were in cahoots with the gang, Fati and Aha and their
scout quickly went to a new pension, escorted by some police.
Counting Lessons.
a stop for lunch in Gondar. Italian restaurant. (the Italian invasion
left an epecurian impact on the country. macciato, pasta, breads,
pizza etc.) I step outside for some leg stretching and air. a new
friend approaches. a little girl selling "softs" (tissue) and gum. I
opt not to buy anything and instead create a conversation with her. we
start counting. we count from one to ten in Amharic. we count again.
and again. I ask her where she lives. she lives with her uncle. her
mother and father passed last year. she is six or seven. goes to
school. has one brother. I tell her to stay in school. I ask her
friend to tell her to stay in school. when Ahmed returns, I tell him
to tell her to stay in school. she gets it. we go across the street to
the stationary (general store.) I buy her two notebooks. she wants
five. I say two is enough. we take some photos. I give her three burr.
I load back into the cruiser and we head out. I stick my head out the
window and see her pass, counting a stack of burr. she waves at me,
winks and then blows me a kiss. I send her one back. later, the crew
laughs at me. in miranda's guide book, it warns of the scams in
Gondar. one of them is buying notebooks for kids who just return them
to the stationary for money. no wonder she wanted five! no worries.
all is perfect. in Sha'Allah.
feels the freedom and is thankful. we are headed toward Lake Tana- the
headwaters of the River Nile then the Semien Mountains after that. sacred
ground, water and breath awaits us. the feeding ground and womb of
Mother Africa and beyond…..
lam. lam. greens. browns. hills, mountains, the first sighting of the
Nile river. open air and stillness. country vibes. lone trees in the
middle of pastures. groups of cows, sheep and goats. expansion as far
as the eye can see. deep and dense bush interspersed with stark
grassland. the country folk own and care for the land. sheperds.
farmers. the dress is an obvious difference from the city. bright,
traditional apparel. head dresses like crowns. long staffs. blanket
outfits that wrap with simple originality. similar green, pleated
dresses among the girls. crosses and coins around the necks. woven
prints in bright colors wrapped around the head or the waist-
sometimes holding a child to it's mother. crowded spots of people and
animals cluster the roads. herds of cattle or goats travel in large
packs with their owners. our driver honks and plows on through the
crowds- sometimes making a harsh break when a cow fails to realize its
present reality. we stare from the car windows with anticipation and
fervor. there are waves and smiles from both sides. acknowledgement
and thankfulness from most. though there are some who are less than
pleased to see feringe driving through their lands. it is a mixed and
blatant bag.
I sink into these moments. it is so fresh and alive in this land.
human work. human life. humans being. this is truly awesome. it is
simple and divine. it is intense and moving. it stirs my soul.
existence in it's many flavors and displays. wow.
the colors and textures that we continue to interact with become
stronger. we approach more and more towns as we head north to Bhar
Dar. as it gets dark and the rains start, we enter the city.
Ghion Hotel is the spot. just what I'd imagine a hotel in Africa to be
like. lucky if you get hot water. open air seating for the restaurant.
a lobby with a few chairs, cement floors and waiters in suits that fit
oddly. bright flowers and plantings in the gardens. mosquito netting
over the beds. questionable cleanliness and plumbing. it's definitely
ligit. a certain charm exudes. we look out on lake Tana. my sleep has
never been better. there is a cleansing effect that occurs from this
place. it is subtle but brilliant.
a boat. the islands.
the little coca cola boat is ours. a baby blue boat with a young
captain that loves to say "gracias" and then laugh at himself. ahmed
scored a nice arrangement for our cruise to the islands. he is very
good about getting connected with just the right "guides." the ones
that seem to know a thing or two, aren't too greedy and of course need
the money. he knows how to pick 'em. we head out on the waters after a
proper British breakfast (chai latte, eggs and toast.) he lets us take
turns steering the engine. he calls to me and I take to the rutter. I
am the first female to drive this boat it seems. I decide at this
moment that Bhar Dar is the place for me. I shall return, buy a boat
and be a captain myself.
we plan to visit three or four islands and several churches. these
churches have been around for a very long time. they all house
replicas of the Arc of the Covenant which are under strict lock and
key. the stories of these living, spiritual sites are vast and varied.
but they all had a similar origin and purpose. the stories revolve
around Christian old testament history. the history is so mixed and
folkloric that at times it is hard to understand it all. historians
like to try to pinpoint dates and facts but the stories being told
don't always allow for that. each of the twenty five islands has at
least one church. some have several. the largest island is the home of
two churches and 10,000 people. it is said that the Arc of the
Covenant was housed here for 10 centuries. this is Zege Bitamariam
Betagrogez. we stop here first.
a crowd of people is waiting like vulchers on the volcanic rocks where
we dock. the guides are waiting eagerly to be selected by the
visitors. the ones peddling their wares are eager to pursue as well.
it is a free for all. we push our way through, ahmed picks the best
guide and we're off.
what we see: lush, jungly greenery. a sloppy, mud path dotted with
large volcanic rocks. the ever present aroma of animal or human waste.
alas, a round structure with a thatched roof. an ornate cross fixed to
the highest point of the roof. the kalash. stone steps. an outer
prayer area. the floor made of bamboo, lassoed together with sinew. we
are informed that over 700 cattle were killed for its making.
ahamdalah! the walls surrounding the secretive, inner chamber are
painted with the story of Christ, Mother Mary and Joseph. the faces
and depictions are simple, colorful and expressive. they make me
happy. it seems familiar. wood, straw, mud, sticks, clay and grasses
have been utilized for the structure. there is a stillness here. the
man at the door holds a long rifle. he is serious with twinkling eyes.
the next church on the island is similar. but more silent. there are
several children playing outside and a few trees bursting with lemons.
it too is a circle, thatched roof, simplistic- ornate cross kalash
anchord to the top of the roof. I choose to sit in the prayer area and
meditate on a piece of wood while the rest of the group hears the
guide discuss the details of the church. the little, armed guard
dressed in green is determined to watch me and ensure that I am not up
to buda (magic) no doubt. I am transcending deeply and experience this
place as it radiates out to the universe. I am brought to tears by the
majesty of it all. I open my eyes, the guard is standing at the door
watching me. he smiles. he knows. I put my shoes on and run after the
group. they are getting swarmed by artifact sellers. pieces of
parchment and hide with paintings on them. pages from holy books with
Ge'ez written on them. crosses and coins. pieces of painted wood. we
select our finds and get back in the boat. our lil' captain takes us
to the next island.
two more islands. Intorsee Yeseus and then Debra Mariam. Debra Mariam
was especially fulfilling. Mother Mary supposedly stayed on this
island with Jesus for nine days. we walked into the church and it
smelled of roses. her presence here was obvious. the monk watching
over the church was extremely humble, jovial and had a special twinkle
in his eyes. both Miranda and I were blessed by him. he would not
forget our names. and when we prayed, he would help us. it was sweet
and satisfying. so much silence and comfort. faith.
we learn from a guide we picked up at one of the islands that ancient
Ge'ez writings were done with a special ink that utilizes roasted
coffee beans. the monks would then mash them and mix it with dirt and
then a lemon like plant that would set it. the red writing on some of
the pages is red. this is from a black clay that is burned/fired and
then turns red.
Ge'ez is the ancient language that pre-dates Amaringia. it's roots are
in Sabai- Sheba's language and supposedly comes from her empire. it
was brought to the country by monk Yadid in the 6th century. He
organized Ge'ez into a language and put it into bible format. it has
been used ever since and is taken very seriously. the monks read and
recite in Ge'ez.
Bahr Dar. Sights and Sounds.
Churches and Mosques chanting in the early morning hours. darkness
fades as the light of dawn emerges. the chants and prayers are
broadcast for the whole town to hear. they bless the head waters of
the Nile. I meditate under the mosquito netting- with the priests and
monks. the vibezz.
quite possibly the best sleep of my life. deep and full. daybreak
brings blessings and clarity. brown, golden water as far as the eye
can see. small islands dot the horizon and my vision. motorboats take
the feringe and locals to the islands for spritual connections.
Heading North.
The grass is turning electric green. the horizon is taking dimension
and shape now as we head north toward the mountains. texturized
terrain. beautiful blankets and dresses. healthier cows and rapidly
flowing streams where people bathe and wash. clean laundry scattered
in the sun. little bwois with curly tufts of hair on top of their
shaved heads.
road block. we pass a bus accident that holds up traffic. groups of
people line the side of the road with their goods.
a blanket of purple flowers. long, yellow flowers pointing towards the
sun. large bundles atop heads. burdens tied to backs. donkey slaves.
human slaves. the loads are heavy. the road is long.
passing through Addis Zemen now. We begin the climb. rocky terrain. an
enormous boulder directs attention towards the heavens. curving roads.
steep ascent upwards. large, deep potholes. co-pilot (redalt) swati
jr. keeping Gash Umar company in the front of the cruiser. some needed
solitude from the crew.
cruising through Azezu. bright hollyhocks, turquoise houses. grass
growing out of the rain gutters. urban Aids/HIV clinic.
urban sprawl starts as we enter Gondar. a notoriously rough town.
gangs and the like. Ahmed tells us his story of the time he and Fati
were on the way to the Simien Mountains and they stayed the night in
Gondar. a large, gang of kids followed them to their pension, ripping
Fati's bag and threatening them. after realizing that the workers at
the pension were in cahoots with the gang, Fati and Aha and their
scout quickly went to a new pension, escorted by some police.
Counting Lessons.
a stop for lunch in Gondar. Italian restaurant. (the Italian invasion
left an epecurian impact on the country. macciato, pasta, breads,
pizza etc.) I step outside for some leg stretching and air. a new
friend approaches. a little girl selling "softs" (tissue) and gum. I
opt not to buy anything and instead create a conversation with her. we
start counting. we count from one to ten in Amharic. we count again.
and again. I ask her where she lives. she lives with her uncle. her
mother and father passed last year. she is six or seven. goes to
school. has one brother. I tell her to stay in school. I ask her
friend to tell her to stay in school. when Ahmed returns, I tell him
to tell her to stay in school. she gets it. we go across the street to
the stationary (general store.) I buy her two notebooks. she wants
five. I say two is enough. we take some photos. I give her three burr.
I load back into the cruiser and we head out. I stick my head out the
window and see her pass, counting a stack of burr. she waves at me,
winks and then blows me a kiss. I send her one back. later, the crew
laughs at me. in miranda's guide book, it warns of the scams in
Gondar. one of them is buying notebooks for kids who just return them
to the stationary for money. no wonder she wanted five! no worries.
all is perfect. in Sha'Allah.
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