The passengers of the minibus are a motley crew, but they are good
fellow passengers and do not complain. In the front seat sit two prim
young Bole Belles. They chatter together, between two phone calls on
their iphones, in a créole of Amharic and globish. They ride high, on
high expectations and perhaps a little caffeine from Kaldi’s, and so do
their miniskirts. In the back seats, an Orthodox priest (just back from a
visit to the Abun in Arat Kilo), sits contentedly next to a Muslim
merchant en route to his shop in Senga Terra. Their thighs touch and
they are relaxed, on their common voyage. Behind them, perched nervously
on his seat, a young man in a shiny costume and thin tie talks
energetically into his phone, making sure everybody knows his status and
power to give orders. An old lady in elaborate white robes sits next to
him, and is too polite to say but nevertheless manages to make clear
what she things of this young whipper snapper and his phone manners with
an ever so slight moue on her composed face. A farmer in the capital to
welcome his successful brother back from America wears a felt hat,
heavy blue cloth trousers, a jacket of the same material and heavy lines
on his hands and face too. His wife has bright red spots on her cheeks
where the high altitude sun has burnt her working in the fields and she
has spicy butter in her hair. Out of 12 seats, 8 are filled with
youngsters, eager and bright eyed. A mobile phone, nice clothes and a
job is what they’re after – they still cross themselves passing a
church, but quickly revert to fingering their device. The fully covered
amiably talk with their scantily dressed friend. The traditional tattoes
sit – for ever, but with a light touch, on faces turned toward
tomorrow. The priest brushes a crumb off his robes, the Muslim merchant
next to him rearranges himself to give the priest more space; the Bole
Belles continue to chat on their phones, and the farmer’s wife to embalm
the air with her fragrant butter. In the minibus, modernity and ‘2 000
years of history’ rub shoulders, and maybe elbow each other a little
too. On the back seat – where four people are leveraged in – the young
boys eye the girls, the girls do the same – but without ever letting on –
and minibus Ethiopia rolls on.
από το http://uthiopia.com/?p=492
Ευχαριστούμε πολύ την φίλη Τερέζα που μας το έστειλε.
από το http://uthiopia.com/?p=492
Ευχαριστούμε πολύ την φίλη Τερέζα που μας το έστειλε.