Startled In The Dark

Morning and dusk are by far the best times of day in Africa. The sun is scorching, but these times allow you to live.

The gesture of a boy

We are heading in the direction of the Sabeta Waterfalls, twenty-five kilometres from Addis Ababa. Driving in Ethiopia you have to be prepared to make constant compromises. The roads are old and narrow, packed, to the point of overflowing, with vehicles and people, and, one way or another, they all have to be accommodated. Every so often the driver (or herdsman or passerby) has a problem, an obstacle, a puzzle: how is he to avoid colliding with that oncoming vehicle? What should he do not to tread on those children under his feet or the invalids who seem to be crawling everywhere, while driving his cattle (or his sheep or his camels)? How exactly is he meant to cross the road and not get knocked over by a passing lorry? Just when is he meant to step out of the way of that bull? And will he really be able to stop himself from knocking down that woman carrying a twenty-kilo parcel on her head? And yet no one gets angry or abusive. There are no shouts or curses or threats. Silently, patiently, everyone progresses in his or her own manner, manoeuvring, ducking and diving and dodging, pirouetting, twisting this way, then that way, but – above all – somehow moving forward. Holdups on the road are normally solved by amicably agreeing to advance – millimetre by millimetre.