How I was hastily sneaked out of Addis, Ethiopia
Although we were supposed to stay in Ethiopia for two weeks, unavoidable circumstances forced me to leave earlier than planned.
After the confusion regarding the timing of our visit to a school in Bishoftu, a town about 40 kilometres from Addis Ababa, the rest of the events and activities took place in Addis Ababa.
After the Bishoftu incident, Smiffy would confirm the programme for the next day ahead and would triple-check to ensure we had the correct timings.
With Addisu, our contact fired the day before, Pius used his connections to find a replacement by the next morning—a man named Yohannes Alemayehu.
Yohannes was tall and slim, spoke very little, and seemed to dislike questions. He also mentioned that he was fasting, just like Addisu.
That day, we had to visit three schools.
After completing the visits, Yohannes surprisingly suggested we go for lunch, despite claiming to be fasting. Curious, I asked, “I thought you were fasting?”
“Yes, I only eat fasting foods,” he said. I was confused.
He took us to a restaurant whose name I can’t remember. He ordered a variety of dishes for us on one big plate but chose a smaller one for himself, which had only vegetables.
Pius, still puzzled, asked him how he was fasting while eating. Yohannes explained, “When fasting, we don’t eat animal products—no meat or milk. It’s allowed to eat other foods.”
“Also, no humans,” he added, laughing.
What shocked me even more was seeing adults feed each other.
“It’s called gursha,” Yohannes explained. “It’s not people feeding each other; it’s an act of sharing.”
While I didn’t mind the idea of sharing food with a lady or a child, the sight of one man feeding another was unsettling.
Yohannes tried to share food with me, but I declined. I joked that I would only accept if it were from a lady.
When we tried to pay for the meal using bank cards, all the attempts failed, so we had to withdraw cash from an ATM.
To my surprise, there were more than five ATMs within the restaurant—a standard feature in most good establishments.
Smiffy withdrew and paid with quite a stack of bulky notes.
The next day was free, and Pius suggested we visit the African Union Headquarters, where “Raila was the president.”
Yohannes corrected him, but Pius retorted, saying Raila would become president soon.
Yohannes disagreed, but still took us to the magnificent African Union Headquarters.
The place was breathtaking—modern, well-manicured, and beautiful.
“This will be our home soon,” remarked Pius – a staunch Raila supporter.
Later, he drove us to what he claimed was the tallest building in Africa. It was indeed very tall.
We took photos “touching” the top of the building, which I was told belonged to the KCB of Ethiopia.
In the evening, Yohannes took us to a cultural restaurant. This place was much larger and had a lively atmosphere.
We sat on low stools and were served food on large plates, from which we all shared.
“You need to try tej,” Yohannes said, referring to a bottle that was passing by.
“It is our traditional honey wine.” Pius ordered a bottle for me despite my hesitation, as I had avoided drinking since my experience on the flight to Ethiopia.
To my surprise, tej was sweet and delightful. Two glasses later, I started feeling good. I excused myself to use the rest-room, determined not to enter the wrong one.
To my shock, I found a lady inside cleaning. Thinking I had mistakenly entered the ladies’ restroom, I checked again and confirmed it was indeed the gents’.
Men were entering and doing their business without caring that a lady was inside.
Every time I returned to the restroom, the lady smiled at me. As the night progressed, she seemed to grow even more beautiful in my eyes.
I tipped her every time I went there, which was about every 25 minutes.
Eventually, the restaurant closed, and we moved to another club. Here, too, there were beautiful women cleaning the rest-rooms, which made me visit more frequently than usual.
One lady caught my attention, and I tipped her every time I went. I was disappointed when we left for the hotel—I tried to delay, but Pius gave me a menacing look.
At the hotel, some elegant ladies were seated at the reception, smiling at us. I wanted to talk to them, but Pius pulled me away. Sleep wouldn’t come; my mind was on the ladies we had left outside. I went back downstairs.
One of them, impressed by how I was dressed, talked to me. Her English was poor, and the only thing she asked for was 800.
I told her I didn’t have that amount, and she asked how much I had.
I said 500, knowing I could pay whether she wanted it in Kenyan shillings or Ethiopian birr.
She asked for my room number and said she would come.
About 20 minutes later, she knocked. I was very excited to see her. But first, she asked for the 500. I handed her Sh500, which she refused. “Dollar,” she said. I gave her 1,000 Ethiopian birr, which she also refused and demanded dollars. “Dollar 500?”
I shook my head, indicating I didn’t have any dollars.
She walked to the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later, wrapped in only a towel, and started shouting and wailing loudly in Amharic.
I didn’t know what she was saying, and I couldn’t calm her down. Security arrived quickly.
She was talking to them in Amharic, screaming. From what I gathered, she claimed I had promised her $500 but offered 500 birr instead.
I was mortified. Before I could explain, the two security guys started dragging me to the office, with the lady following along the corridor, wailing and waking up other guests.
Smiffy and Pius also came out, and were shocked to see me. I only had my vest and torn boxers.
We entered an office, and I was told I needed to pay the $500 or go to prison. I didn’t have the money. Pius and Smiffy intervened, claiming they knew me.
I was left in the office alone while they talked to the security team. At around 6 am., one security officer came, took me to my room, and told me to pack.
All my money—about Sh3,000 and 2,000 birr—had been taken, but I couldn’t protest. He then took me to a police vehicle.
Pius joined me, and told me he was upset with me, and although Smiffy had resolved the issue, I had been fired.
He added that security indicated I would be taken to prison if I stayed in Ethiopia for more than six hours.
I was taken to the airport, where Pius showed me the way to board the plane.
A few hours later, I landed in Nairobi—broke, upset to have returned early, sad to have been fired, angry at the lady, but happy to be back home, where no one would ask me for dollars!
