Images From Ethiopia: Genet

Genet (hard G, rhymes with senate) was my first maid and the second person I met in Ethiopia: after being driven to the guesthouse and sleeping 14 hours, I stumbled out of my bedroom to find her in the living room.  Her first words were, “Do you want eggs?”  Genet is a sweet, generous, brave soul and became one of my closest friends in Addis.  She has since gotten a better job as a driver – a rare job for a woman but something she always wanted to do.

People back in Canada have asked me whether it felt weird (often meaning, bourgeois) to have a maid.  Well, it sure didn’t take me long to get used to having someone around to cook and clean up, but as a human relationship I never got completely used to it.  Still, it seems a little different there.  Conveniences like washing machines and vacuum cleaners are rare and expensive in Addis, whereas unemployment is over 40% and the going rate for a maid (for an Ethiopian family) is 50 Birr ($6 US) per month.  So lots of families have a maid.  Genet’s family had a maid who came by a couple of times a week – though I suspect that maid didn’t have a maid.

Courtyard of Genet’s home.

When I accused Genet’s sister Mitu of being senef (lazy) she showed me her garden.  Note the distinctive stonework of the wall. Though 8 years Genet’s junior, Mitu is headstrong and tends to boss her around.  She does however have a trait I find charming and rare in Ethiopians: she more or less says what she thinks.

The big streets in Addis are much like those of rich-country cities, but as soon as you turn off them you find yourself in a maze of twisty little dirt roads, no two alike.  This road is in Genet’s neighborhood.

Strange rock formation near Genet’s home.  Presumably man-made?

In Genet’s home on her birthday, with Suhas, Ashwini, and our coworker Eden.  The lacy decorations on the chairs and mesob (traditional dinner table, between Ashwini and Eden) were crafted by Genet.  Ashwini liked them.  So some time after she stopped working for us, Genet spent several weeks making a few as gifts for Ashwini and Suhas’s families in time for their visit.  That’s Genet for you.

Suhas and Ashwini are Hindus, teetotalers and strict vegetarians.  This shot was taken right before Suhas unknowingly downed a large glass of tela (a disgusting local brew) and nearly passed out.  Shortly thereafter it became clear that the trembling sheep outside would be a part of the festivities and Ashwini decided they had better leave:  “I thought it would be less impolite to leave early than to vomit.”

“What’s that on the wall, Genet?”
“It is a lion.  A small lion.  My father killed it.”

Mitu, little brother Abu, a friend of Genet’s also called Genet, Misrak, Kidist, Genet, and her uncle Kebe. “And that?” “It is a man.  But, it has the head of a lion.”

Genet serving buna (coffee) in the traditional ceremony, performed everywhere you go.  The coffee is good and often served with sugared popcorn (fandisha) which I found totally addictive.  The container in the foreground holds a sort of ashy incense.

Genet with friends, including little nephew Bamlak.  Bamlak is adorably destructive, trailing splattered condiments and broken home accessories everywhere he goes.  This shot was taken either shortly before or after he shat his pants and spent the rest of the party creating even greater than usual disarray.

Bamlak zooming away from some neighborhood girls.

Mitu and Genet with Fekadu, their brother and Bamlak’s father.

Abu and his nephew Bamlak.

Genet’s parents with Abu.

Sometimes the camera made me feel dumb (“I have no personality, how about this electronic gadget instead?”) but it sure was popular.  In this case we took a bunch of shots and then I found out Abu was in the house crying because he hadn’t been in any yet.  Click, click and everything was all right.

I put down my camera for five minutes and Mitu took 15 photos of herself.  The computer, bed, book, glasses and house belonged to her neighbor, whose place she snuck into for these shots and whose girlfriend was not to see these at all costs.

View from Genet’s brother Fekadu’s house, in the Kotebe neighborhood on the eastern edge of Addis.

Fekadu’s house, apparently constructed by (or under the supervision of?) their father, a foreman.

Inside Fekadu’s house with an aunt. “What’s that on the door?” “It looks like a man.  But the head is like a...” “Rabbit?” “Yes.  And, he is upside down?”

Stream near Fekadu’s house.

Mitu, washing her feet in the jet from some kind of irrigation pipe.

These kids slowly gathered behind me as I walked around Fekadu’s neighborhood.  Eventually I turned around with my camera and they immediately grouped together for this photo.

Another trip to visit Genet’s family, this time in the countryside past Kotebe.  The shield is traditional (Oromo?).

Genet’s friend Yonas on one of her family’s horses.  Yonas is one of only a handful of men I met whose care of his appearance approached the standard of Ethiopian women.

I was in Yonas’s house and his little sister disappeared for a couple of minutes and came back in this outfit for me to take a picture.

Genet and Mitu with Genet’s friend from work on Enkutatash, Ethiopian New Year, September 11^th.  Ethiopia has its own calendar (it’s now 1997), its own system of 13 months, and even its own daily clock six hours off ours: noon is sidist saat (6 o’clock), 8 pm is hulet saat (2 o’clock), etc.  Since Addis is 7-8 hours ahead of New York this means that at 8:45 am New York time on September 11^th, 2001, the annual celebrations in Addis were in full swing.  Fortunately I don’t remember this making the news.

I ended up at Genet’s cousin Berhanu’s wedding (seated with his bride in the first picture), near Shola.  Neither of us really knew anyone but the vibe was good.  Lots of dancing and tela.

Drinking and, especially, smoking are somewhat frowned on by many Ethiopians, particularly for women.  One of the odder adjustments for me coming back to Canada was to get used to seeing women smoking again.  As far as I could tell the only women I saw smoking in Ethiopia were either rich and Westernized, or prostitutes.  Exchange with a female coworker:
“So do you ever drink alcohol?”
“Oh, no!”
“Or smoke?”
“Oh, nooo!”

Three unknown girls at Berhanu’s wedding performing one of the bizarre shoulder-shaking traditional dances – I’m guessing Oromo again but I could be wrong.  Ethiopian dancing I’ve seen tends to focus on movement of the head and shoulders rather than the feet and arms.

Genet helping to hang laundry at Kidist’s place.  The truck is Genet’s for her job, and she’s driven it as far as the Kenyan and Somali borders, in some cases alone – don’t try this at home, kids.  Near the Somali border the locals objected to her jeans and made her put on a sort of white gown but otherwise treated her well.  “Look at her!” said one man to his wives.  “She drove here all the way from Addis, and you only know how to make tea!”  Genet was flattered but made him stop for fear the wives would kill her.

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