Observations on life in Gondar

March 12th
Wandering around markets, shopping and generally looking at what people are doing, is one of the activities that make life interesting especially when in a new place. I realise this is one of the pleasures I have to forego for the time being. It is sad (for me) but I am white therefore I am rich, therefore shopkeepers, market stall holders and anybody else can ask what they like, including the beggars in the street who shout ‘you you’ and ‘money money’. I’ve written about this before but I return to it because it can be so incredibly wearing. It also means that I have to face up to my own situation. I am white and I am here. So I have a choice and that means that I have money. People here are poor. Some people are very poor.
Begging is considered an acceptable way of life particularly by the church.

Inflating prices to a silly extent for the ‘ferenji’ is also considered acceptable. No-one questions it or disapproves of it. I discussed this with my house guard, my colleague and my line manager. They were all of the opinion that the only way I could begin to manage on my allowance was to be accompanied at all times by an Ethiopian.

An example from this week. I have a pleasant enough veranda but no seats so I decided I would try and buy a couple of cheap seats so that I could sit outside comfortably. I saw something suitable in a shop on the main road so called in on Monday and asked how much. I was told 135 birr. That’s about £6 for a cheap plastic chair. I decided to leave it. I went back today to check. The price had gone up to 230 Birr! And I thought ‘if it had been 130 Birr, I would have bought it’ and probably gone back for another one later. Even though I knew it was probably at least twice as much as a local would pay. In the end, I described what I needed to Mekdes and she bought me two chairs for 170 Birr.

But begging is there in all sorts of different forms. From the boy in the street running alongside you and demanding money to the young priest standing at my gate with his hand out, the Headteacher wanting sponsorship for his son, my colleague wondering if I could help her daughter get to England.

Again, I need to emphasise that a lot of the people I meet are wonderful, helpful, friendly, curious and anxious that I should feel happy in their country. But the level and range of begging causes me to doubt the sincerity of people speaking to me and that is very sad.

It also strikes me that many of the people who ‘beg’ are not the most needy. I did give money today to a man who was walking along the road with his hand out. He was accompanied by a young man, possibly his son. I suspect given his pallor, this man was probably dying and almost certainly from AIDS