A Little Trouble in Paradise

Big news! Mike finally arrived in Gondar Friday afternoon. It is just great to have him here!

Early morning found the group at Debra Birhan Selassie Church. Those of you who have read this blog in the past know about this church, built in the late 1600’s, and known world-wide for it’s often photographed painted ceiling panels of angels. We hoped to share in the reverence and beauty of morning prayers, but given the Orthodox are still in the midst of the holy 55 days of Lent and fasting, a service was in progress when we arrived and we weren’t allowed to enter until after the service was finished. 

While waiting, Adino took us on a tour of the forested compound behind the church. We visited the school where chosen young men live for three years and attend the church school, on their way to becoming monks. We were welcomed by many students and then were ushered into an outdoor classroom where we were joined by a student and a teacher, both of whom engaged in what we could only describe as a ‘spiritual poetry slam,’ aimed to both teach and bless us. Based on scripture and focused on the current moment (that of a group of ferengi’s come to visit them,) each engaged in an on-the-spot, spontaneous, recitation complete with sing-song cadence and emphatic gestures. Adino had a difficult time translating, both because the language used is the archaic language of the Orthodox Church—Ge’-ez—and because of the highly metaphoric meaning of the message. We were honored, nevertheless, and our presence inspired smiles and laughs and lots of hand shaking and shoulder bumping between us and the other students.

We followed Adino through the forest to the Holy Water site where a couple hundred white-clad worshippers had packed inside the small enclosure and spilled out into the surrounding grounds to be blessed by the baptists. We decided to come back a bit later and instead visited the students’ living quarters, a collection of small tukels—traditional round, thatch-roofed living structures—where by some miracle, up to five boys sleep. Then it was back to the Holy Water site.

Those seeking healing had mostly left and so we were allowed into the enclosure. The actal water was enclosed in yet another structure (in order to be deemed ‘holy,’ the water must flow directly out of a rock) and so the actual spring was not visible to us. However, the sounds of a child in distress were clearly audible. Inside (I did catch a glimpse) a stark naked boy of about 10 years, doused with the water from the spring by several adult men, was—to put it frankly—screaming. And it wasn’t for fun. 

Apparently, the boy had been identified as harboring an evil spirit and the men (including at least one priest) continuously touched parts of his body with a cross, then doused him with water, followed by slapping him—and by the sound of it, they weren’t being even close to being gentle—in an effort to drive the evil spirit out. The whole thing was very disturbing to all of us, and we didn’t linger. I just kept thinking: how in the world does one determine if a 10 year-old harbors an evil spirit? In my experience, pretty much every pre-adolescent on the planet harbors and evil spirit (at least the ones that lived in my house.)

We recovered over coffee, then headed to the Gondar market. Saturday is the main market day and the crush and chaos didn’t offer a particularly relaxing alternative to the child-beating. But our group of hardy ferengis quickly settled in and had quite the colorful time, the high point being the walk through the spice district. Stall upon stall with clusters of re-purposed rice bags, stuffed to overflowing with berberi, shiro, fenugreek, salt, and all manner of myriad other spices and grains. One area was packed with maybe fifty open bags of chilis; the air was so full of chili fumes, everyone’s eyes were streaming and all passers-by (including the locals) were wracked with coughing. We were invited inside a milling shack and were offered samples of freshly ground berberi, the finely ground chili powder found in most traditional dishes; we subsequently walked around the rest of the afternoon with burning lips.

On the way out of the market, we experienced our second violent act of the day, when two young men started a scrabbling in the dirt, fight to the finish melee—a conflict that included a large rock being thrown at the face of the unlucky fighter pinned to the ground. I didn’t see how it ended up, as we managed to find an escape route through the crowds.

Late afternoon found Mike and I at the apartment of Geta (one of SCOPE’s fellows and his wife. The Asrede family was very thankful to Daniel, Olivia and Jordan (our son, his girlfriend and our grandson) for a big bag of baby clothes I brought from home. And so, we were invited to celebrate Geta’s daughter’s fifth birthday yesterday. What a privilege! We shared oranges, bananas, birthday cake and sparklers (yes, the ones we light on July 4.) I might add, the sparklers were lit in the childrens’ hands, in the house, on the couch. It didn’t seem the safest atmosphere for spitting sparks, but hey. When in Rome . . .   

A second, even more profound Holy Water experience followed on Sunday, and I will try to reflect on that later, as reflection is necessary—turns out Holy Water sites do not necessarily convey the feeling of comfort, at least not in the context of the ferengi culture. In the meantime, we are off to the Simien Mountains and will be out of touch for a couple days.

Photos: Ceremonial drums at Debra Birhan Selassie Church, with the worshippers outside Debra Birhan Selassie, Adino and the group, young student engaging in the spiritual poetry slam, waiting for Holy Water x 2, monk at Debra Birhan Selassie, Nancy and Gail at Debra Birhan Selassie, woman making injera, Gondar market chaos, market spices, Solome's birthday (with friend Baruch), dinner at improbably named: Master Chef.