They sat alongside other customers eating spicy meats wrapped in injera, smelling the scent of incense burning. Everyone had warned them about the risks of wandering in Mercato but, in reality, walking alongside the noisy throng, they felt quite safe.
They left the market exhilarated; the taste and smell of coffee still with them along with the sights and sounds of Ethiopians plying their trades.
Ayzore – ‘Be Strong’
AFTER THREE DAYS of meeting fellow students and touring Addis Ababa, it was time to prepare for the first field trip. Louise and Carmen registered for the one-day pre-fieldwork course titled Anthropology and Health, introduced themselves to the department registrar and collected handouts giving general information about Addis Ababa and Ethiopian life. Louise read: Other than religion, it is agriculture and pastoralism that fill the days of well over 80 per cent of the country’s eighty million people. Literacy levels are still well below 50 per cent. Women are highly respected in Ethiopian society, but the same cannot be said for gays and lesbians. Homosexuality is not acceptable …
She continued reading: Medical anthropology that we promote is concerned with the relationship between Ethiopian cultural factors, and the nature and extent of health and disease … especially in isolated rural regions.
In the refectory she found her colleagues skim-reading the notes and discussing Ethiopia’s different cultural and language groups.
‘These notes are detailed,’ said Rosalind, an English researcher from Manchester.
‘It’ll take a few days, at least, to absorb all this,’ replied Carmen.
‘Yes, and there’s so much more to learn in the field,’ said Rick, an American anthropologist from Baltimore’s Johns Hopkins University, who had previously completed fieldwork in Ethiopia.
Louise listened as Rick told Bassam, who had just arrived from Jordan, about the major and minor Amharic and Oromo dialects which varied from valley to valley.
‘How long will it take us to learn to speak some Amharic when we are with village people?’ asked Horst, a tall, open-faced, blond student from Hamburg.
‘That depends on who you meet, and whether you can quickly establish trust. Most village people are very isolated. You’ll learn to communicate if you watch them closely, that’s my experience,’ advised Rick.
‘So we get the best results if we stay in the background, observing rather than asking too many questions too soon?’ asked Louise.
‘Yes, slow, steady and quietly persistent – that’s the strategy,’ said Rick. ‘Anyway, Dr Wolde will give you excellent advice. He’s a great teacher who knows the fieldwork sites better than anyone. You’ll be in good hands.’
‘Is Dr Wolde the author of these notes?’ asked Carmen.
‘Yes, he’s the author, and our fieldwork supervisor. I met him when he visited my uni – that’s why I grabbed the opportunity when this trip became available.’
‘What did you like about him?’ Louise asked.
‘He’s a good communicator and a brilliant researcher.’
Carmen said, ‘Just listen to his introduction: The people in isolated valleys have little experience of centralised government and essentially live in a conglomeration of hundreds of independent small towns and villages, each sharing the running of their own affairs among its men folk, according to title, age and occupation. I wonder what role women play in these villages?’
Louise knew from her readings that village women had significant domestic responsibilities. ‘Okay, here’s a reference to women’s roles,’ she said, reading from the notes: Women are largely responsible for the organisation of agricultural routines … and the many markets which help to bind villages and local regions …’
‘I can’t understand all this information,’ said Bassam, who was struggling with the handouts written in English.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Louise, ‘we’re all struggling to get the picture, but by the time we return I’m sure you’ll have as much Ethiopian wisdom and understanding as the rest of us – we’re no different.’ They all laughed, Bassam included.
‘Zeno Wolde will expect us to have read his handouts so we have some framework for our initial fieldwork experience,’ said Rick. ‘He will support us. He won’t let you fail.’ Rick directed this last remark to the apprehensive Bassam.
Louise had read about Ethiopian village life before leaving London. She was careful, though, not to express her knowledge too openly, especially among students she did not really know.
In their room that evening, Louise said to Carmen, ‘In a few days we’ll be in the field and with people whose language we don’t understand.’
‘You mean we’ll be thrown in at the deep end?’
‘Probably, but I don’t mind. According to Rick, we just need to merge with village people, appreciate their customs,’ said Louise. ‘And it’s the women we have to get to know. I’m sure they are the bedrock of Ethiopia’s society, but also the most oppressed.’
‘Isn’t that always the case everywhere? Louise, you amaze me. You walk around the city, read Wolde’s notes, recognise the influence of the saints or kiddus as you call them and, in a few hours, you provide a rationale as to why you want to spend time with people in the Southern Tribal Lands. How do you do it?’
‘Thanks, Carmen, but like everyone else I’m on a steep learning curve.’
‘Don’t I know it! Now, what do you understand by doomfata, or Fekkare Iyesus or debtera or even azmari?’ They both laughed.
Louise shared her concerns that the fieldwork would be demanding. Yet, she envisaged they would be at ease when they met village people and agreed with Carmen that no matter how well prepared they were, there would be pitfalls.
‘Yes,’ said Carmen, ‘I suppose there are always pitfalls – like catching giardia or even malaria.’
‘Are you afraid of catching a disease?’
‘Maybe, but I guess I’m not as confident as you about staying healthy in remote regions. There are plenty of people who have taken every precaution and still get malaria or cholera.’
Louise reminded Carmen of the Amharic expression Ayzore, which means ‘Be strong!’ It is a call of encouragement to Ethiopian women when they are in labour. And it’s also a call of encouragement when people walk from village to village over steep and rocky ground, just like, thought Louise, her grandmother’s advice that hardship could be endured.
‘My dad’s advice was to not get above yourself and things will be okay,’ said Carmen. ‘He’s a true Lancastrian, a foreman in a foundry, and that’s not getting above yourself.’
Louise remembered the hollow faces of women in photographs her London University supervisor Mike Boetcher had shown her – colour photos of mothers and babies waiting to be seen at a makeshift Médecins Sans Frontières clinic in Jinka, Southern Ethiopia, and of Ethiopians from Tigray and Amhara fleeing the famine-ravaged north; of decorated Hamar and Banna women at
