Or Was This Rock Bottom?

“When I have had time and space to calm down I will be horribly ashamed of my actions”, is what I had written that night.

The recently found energy that had gotten me on that plane to head down to the South of Ethiopia didn’t last long.

Half way through my flight when I was happily alone reading a man got out of his seat and sat in the empty one beside me. ‘You have got to be kidding!’ I moaned at myself as he started on the same usual questions every man asks in Ethiopia:

“Hello. How are you? Where are you from? Ah Kangaroos! What is your name? Where is your husband? What is your work? You are beautiful! I will always remember you. What is your number? And your number in Australia? What is your email?”

I had arrived in Abra Minch and was met by a large old man in a Hawaiian shirt that practically blinded me: Mamo’s friend. He was upset that the plane was late and he had waited an hour for me to arrive. He was definitely sulking on the way to the hotel room he had booked for me.

The room was basic but I had my own bathroom and it seemed safe enough. He told me he had already paid for the room, it cost 80 birr (AUD$5). I gave him the 80 and another 40 for the effort he went to picking me up. But he insisted that I owed him more than thirty, charging me for the time he had stood at the airport waiting for me.

I used the internet in a small café in town and laughed out loud when I had glanced at the screen in front of the young guy beside me who had done a Google search for ‘what to say to impress a girl’. It reminded me of the poetry about vampires and stars that Kingsley had sent me in Ghana.

After that though I checked an email from Mattius telling me that he promises to make me happy. I was annoyed that I always felt like I had to hide away in my hotel room for fear of men harassing me, men feeling as though they have a right to tell women what to do, pressure and stalk them. They may not see men and women as equal but I do and I had had the shits over this for moths now.

I also got an email from someone else I must have met on my trip, I don’t even remember who it was, but he was begging me for money.

I then saw on Facebook that my girlfriend was going out with the girl she had slept with recently and I felt that familiar brick of jealousy in my stomach.

I vowed not to check my Facebook again.

After that I took myself out to dinner, it was a large and relatively trendy café where I sat on the veranda and ordered a pizza… a pizza! In Ethiopia!

Of course I wasn’t alone for long. Three men at the table beside me beckoned me to join them. I tried to refuse but they told me how rude it was to deny an invite for dinner, and I knew that to be true in Ethiopia. I sat at their table and we had a few beers together, though their company was nice enough. Several times I tried to leave but they kept ordering more beer. Eventually the only way I could leave was by giving them my number and promising that I would have dinner with them again on my way back through to Addis.

I went back to my room about 10pm and the security guard let me in.

He stood at the door to my room and waited.

“What do you want?” I asked, really not knowing.

“You owe me money for the room!”

“I paid already! My friend, he paid you already – 80 birr”

“No! A black man paid for the room. 80 birr. But for white people it is 100 birr. You are white. You owe me 20 birr”.

This is where the shameful act begins.

I went off!

“So you are a racist and a thief!” I shouted. “If you came to my country we would treat you the same (maybe not entirely true) same price for white and black!”

He repeated again: “But you are white. Different price for white and black”

“You believe in God? The Ten Commandments say stealing is wrong. The bible says treat all people equal. What you are doing is wrong. You are bad!” I yelled.

He looked hurt, innocently hurt like a child “I am not bad”.

I pulled a wad of cash from my pocket. All in 1 and 2 birr notes. I quickly flicked through it and easily got twenty birr, no single note worth greater than 2 birr.

I threw the notes up in the air. Soft crumpled brown paper rained down on him, and for a second I thought how beautiful it looked, like a gust of wind had swept up a pile of autumn leaves.

“Take your fucking money! But you are bad!” I yelled at him.

“No, not bad! He started to gather the bills scattered on the floor at his feet. He extended his clenched fists full of crumpled paper notes, he tried to hand them back to me. He still looked hurt. Like when a dog gets yelled at by its owner and you can see that the pain in their eyes comes from confusion and betrayal more than anything tangible.

“Keep your money and go to hell!”

I literally slammed the door in his face.

I stood behind the closed door and stared at my room. It felt cold and bare like a prison cell. I was still angry, I felt like a pot boiling over only I wasn’t angry at him anymore, I was angry at myself. Mortified, humiliated, ashamed.

I contemplated rushing outside to apologise, taking it all back, begging for forgiveness. I still cannot believe that I threw money at someone in one of the world’s poorest countries. That I swore in someone’s face in a place so culturally conservative. That I used religion against someone in a country where religion is the only thing most people have. And that I insulted the pride of an Ethiopian, and Ethiopians are renowned for their pride.

And all that for 20 birr! A measly couple of dollars!

I wasn’t seriously considering heading home, I didn’t regret my decision to go South to find the tribes, but I was seriously wondering how close to the end of my tether I had come, and I wondered how out of control my mood swings were going to get.