A comment on local hospitality

Senor Marco
The Italian occupation of Ethiopia from 1936 – 41 has more lasting effects than a now rather shabby chic hotel in the capital, some decent and some badly in need of maintenance roads, and a beautiful station at each end (I have to assume the same exists at the far end) of the railway line to the coast across the border in Djibouti. Djibouti is an interesting phenomenon. Since the border conflict with Eritrea has cut Ethiopian access to all seaports on the Red Sea Coast, this small independent nation state has provided the crossing point in either direction. I wonder if the conflict was suspended just long enough for this to be established so economic activity could continue. That would seem to be a very practical and civilized way to manage a dispute – make sure business can continue first, and then carry on the struggle.



But putting aside an issue that is far from trivial as this attempt at humorous comment might suggest, we come across another consequence of the occupation that is really not surprising but intriguing nonetheless. The Cunninghams have many friends in this place, and among them are a mixed race Ethiopian / Italian couple. Both sets of parents crossed the ethnic line in marriage and these are two of hundreds, or possibly thousands - I don’t know the numbers - of the offspring of these romantic matches. When the occupation ended, the back from exile Emperor made the strategic and pacifying gesture of inviting all Italians resident in Ethiopia to stay and become citizens. It was a smart move as the period of occupation had seen much investment and development across the country. Many took up the offer, and it is easy to imagine why. If the choice was between a war torn country with a fascist dictator leaning on the side of an unpalatable Nazi regime in Germany or a currently peaceful and relatively stable developing country in the historic heart of Africa, the choice must have been an easy one. Many stayed, and so along with the legacy of a tribe of Ethiopian Jews now returned from exile to Israel, there is a solid streak of the Italian gene pool in Ethiopia, including the cultural character that comes with that. It’s well blended now by three generations of residence, intermarriage and citizenship. My treat is to meet some of the people and experience the blend.

Senor Marco is probably somewhere around 50 years old. His wife looks slightly younger, though maybe about the same. His looks and body language are pure Italian although his skin is a little darker and his hair a little curlier. She is similar, but for the long straight black hair. Her classic looks are easilye recognizable southern Italian. Napoli would be my guess. Again a shade or two darker in complexion than an ‘undiluted’ Italian. Their hospitality is an excellent blend of the two cultures, summed up by the menu we are treated to for dinner at their house. Antipasto with a touch more chilli than usual. Fresh pasta with rich tomato sauce followed by the ubiquitous njera and spicy wat, fresh white bread rolls before njera, and salad on the side. The tablecloth is gingham; the language moves seamlessly between English, presumably for our benefit, Italian between each other and Amharic with the house staff. The little dog has an Italian name and lies on guard inside the door of a typical 1940s style African colonial house. Locked gates, high fences masked from view by lush tropical plants, some of the latter giving evidence that it hasn’t rained much lately. Inside is a cool bungalow style dwelling with beautiful timber floors showing the blemishes of mature age, large shady rooms comfortably furnished with style that is made to last.

This house is not the one described but is of similar style without the high wall.

This has not yet become the quick disposable consumer society I so despair of back home, so I can at least harbour a probably vain hope that it never will. At the moment nothing is wasted. Things that even I, who tries to respect the planet, would throw away find useful purpose here. I’ve witnessed the same in other countries where reuse and recycle are equally valid and sometimes more accessible options. I used to think this was pure necessity and a developing country thing, but a recent trip to Singapore blew that idea out of the water. Developing it may be, but not in the sense of impoverished neighbours! Senor Marco’s business is a good example. He runs an air conditioning installation and service company with clients among the major hotels and commercial operators. Service and repair are a significant part of what he does, rather than rip out and replace which has become so unnecessarily common elsewhere. Spare parts and regular services; remember those days before throw it away and start again become the common process?

The story of the Italian occupation and its aftermath provide another avenue of curiosity for me to explore. A visit to local bookstores (NOT the local branch of the international chain bookstore that seems to exist in every capital city on the planet) is on my list of things do to after business is complete on Monday. I hope to find some treasure chest of words that will elaborate this piece of the history puzzle and more. Perspective is important, and I don’t only want to explore this place from an outsider’s perspective, either personally or through the written word. Travelling with people that know the country in a different, and in this case intimate, way acts as an excellent experiential guide to just how different perspectives can be, and what lies beneath the surface of every situation. I find the comparison of culture to an iceberg a fair one. I hope to find something to provide more depth of insight than my own above the surface view.