Checking Out Early

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When I departed from my tour guide, giving him the tip he not only desperately needed but also deserved, I strolled down the hill to see the local food markets closing up for the day.

I was escorted by an un-invited young guy, probably only 19 or 20 named Umbrella.

“That’s really your name?”

“Really! Umbrella!”

He told me he was studying medicine to become one of the few doctors they had in Lalibela. I told him I don’t have money to give him and he genuinely looked hurt.

“I don’t want money from you. I am not like other people. I just want to talk to you… and really, you should be careful who you trust here”.

I let him show me around. We came across a small protest of about 50 people.

“What are they protesting about?”

“Some film makers came here and said that we are all beggars, that we annoy tourists for money and try to scam them, and now people are angry.”

“And they think this isn’t the truth?” I asked incredulously, hoping the tone in my voice wasn’t too cynical.

“No! Not the truth!” he too was clearly very angry.

For the whole walk, and the rest of that day, I kept getting text messages. They were from the man behind the desk in the entrance to the monasteries, the one who gave me the guide’s number. Before entering the area I had to fill in a form asking for my name, my passport details and unfortunately, my mobile number. I ignored his persistent texts, and phone calls.

On the walk back to my hotel we came across a group of boys, one of them his friend, practicing to be an azmari on his homemade instrument. They both walked me home and on the way I bought us some drinks and snacks and left them both at the entrance to my hotel. Before I left they informed me of a large Christian festival happening at sunrise the next day and ask if I would like to go. Of course I wanted to go! We arranged to meet at 4am, I was told that I had to wear a long white robe. I thought about the white cloth that was spread across my hotel bed and figured it would do. I was excited again.

“Will you come out tonight?” Umbrella pleaded.

“Not tonight. I have had a big day and we have to get up very early tomorrow… see you back here at 4am”

I walked in to my hotel and was met by a man at the door.

“I have been watching you all day”, he told me. “I want to invite you back to my house for traditional coffee ceremony. My sister will give it to you”.

“Um, no thanks. If you have seen me all day you know it has been a big day and I need to lay down and rest”. Although a small part of me was curious, a man whose opening line is ‘I have been watching  you all day’ is not someone I should be following into a strange house alone.

“I have a present for you” he held out his hand. Curled up in a web of string was a green stone cross.

“I can’t take it from you” I tried to protest.

“You must! It is a gift. You cannot say no”.

Reluctantly I took the cross, but I still excused myself to leave.

“First come here I have to show you something”.

I let him lead me to the front of the hotel. He pointed at the large stone house a few doors up. That is my house. After you rest you come over for traditional coffee ceremony.”

“Maybe” I said as I walked off, feeling him watching me all the way to my room.

In the small courtyard beside the door to my room three white women were sitting quietly reading. I was dying to speak to other travellers.

It turned out they were Dutch, one woman lived in Addis and her sister and their friend had come for a holiday to visit. The woman who lives in Ethiopia loves it, but the other two women didn’t speak so highly of Ethiopia and Ethiopians, which I actually found comforting.

Bitching with other tourists about other cultures and people sounds cruel, ignorant and almost colonialist. But it actually is a great stress reliever. It is venting: venting the frustrations of culture shock and exhaustion. For me, it was a way of re-empowering myself after feeling like a lost and helpless child for the last couple of weeks that I had wandered through Ethiopia alone and bewildered.

After an hour-long chat they all excused themselves to get ready to go out for dinner. I was hurt, I had expected and hoped for an invite out, and felt rejected when they walked right passed me out of the hotel.

I was restless inside my room. I had spent so many nights alone bored in hotel rooms by myself so I decided to take a walk out.

When I walked passed reception I walked right into Umbrella. He had been sitting there waiting for my ‘rest’ to end. A groan slipped out when I saw him and I felt so bad that he may have heard it that I actually agreed to get a drink with him.

We walked up the main street together when the man from a few doors up crossed our paths.

“You said you would come to my house!” He yelled at me!

“Well, actually I didn’t actually say I would”.

“You did! You said you would and now you are with him!”

He was fuming!

“Forget it!” I yelled back. I am going back to my hotel. Alone!! I don’t want either of you to follow me!”

I stormed off but Umbrella followed close behind.

“Wait Kai wait!” he called out.

I almost started to run when I saw the three Dutch women ahead of me.

They asked what the problem was and I told them I was sick of being followed by men.

“Come with us”.

They saw Umbrella and the woman who lives in Addis yelled at him to leave me alone.

I defended him, saying he is not that bad, it was another guy who had upset me. So umbrella joined the three Dutch women and myself to a tej bar to drink honey wine.

The Dutch women were meeting up with friends of theirs: 6 Ugandan priests that were jovial and kind. Umbrella sat awkwardly beside me guzzling his tej.

“What is it that you want from me?” I finally ask Umbrella. I know you want something, not just friendship, so why don’t you tell me what it is!”

“I don’t want money, I am not like that”. He protested almost innocently. “I just want you to buy me things”.

“I am not going to buy you things”.

“I don’t want much, just my school fees and books”.

“I am not going to. Sorry, really, but our friendship ends here. Do you understand?”

As I got up to leave the Dutch women asked when I would be leaving Lalibela.

“Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, I have to find a bus to Addis”.

That is when one of the Ugandan priests chimed in.

Tomorrow we drive to Addis, we can take you”.

“Really? Yes! That would be great! Are you sure you have room?”

We discussed the logistics of it and decided to meet at 5am.

Umbrella looked hurt. There was no way I could go to the religious ceremony in the morning. There was no way I could sponsor this kids education. I am sure he didn’t fully understand it. To him I was made of money and yet I refused to help him, and with something as important as his education.

When I got up to leave, Umbrella pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me; a white cross on a string necklace, my second that day.

“Umbrella, I can’t accept this!”

“Take it” he insisted. So I put it in my pocket and walked away.

At the hotel room I began to pack and it suddenly dawned on me that I paid for my hotel room twice. I remembered paying when I checked in, and then I remembered paying when I came in from my tour. The second time I had told the man that I hadn’t paid for the second day yet. For some reason I thought I had slept there two nights already, yet I hadn’t even slept there once yet. To top it off he took it probably knowing full well that I had paid twice.

Reception had closed up for the night, but I asked the guy on watch duty if he thought it was possible to get it back. He tried calling the boss but couldn’t get through (or so he said). He walked me to my room and let himself in sitting down on my bed. I faked a yawn a few times, but the message wasn’t clear enough. Eventually I had to order him out. I stood at the door, pointed outside and said “Go! Leave!”

I felt like I was losing my mind. It really did feel like time to go home.