now for London and separation from family and friends, there were farewells. It was going to be difficult to say goodbye to Rob. She’d known and loved him for nearly five years. At times they talked about doing great things together, travelling, having children and a family life. Rob always thought of Louise as his partner, an unusual, beautiful young woman. And now she was going abroad on an indefinite stay. He wondered whether Louise would forget their beautiful times together, the range of their common interests, the welcoming and love from each of their families. ‘To give all this up, for what?’
‘I’ll write to you,’ she said again as they embraced in the airport departure lounge.
Rob watched her ascend the aircraft steps, stop at the top, turn and wave then disappear. On the flight Louise’s thoughts were pulled in two directions, sadness at leaving, but also excitement and determination.
Louise was a keen letter writer. Her first November in London in 1984 had been surprisingly wet. Louise praised the grey clouds and the water that flowed from old leaf-filled gutters. She wrote home to her parents and her Adelaide boyfriend Rob about … steady rain and kettle drum sounds that herald advancing thunder across London. They excite me. She continued: The thunder can roar across London’s squares and often the torrential rain seems to me as if it could knock down buildings. And it’s fun when, as I ride, my wet hair becomes horizontal in the surging winds that often accompany the rain. She concluded: And you know, the mist when the rain ceases hangs over the river, like it’s all part of London life.
Her letters helped her family, Rob and other friends feel they were in London with her.
Meeting Zeno Wolde
THE FIRST GLIMPSE Louise had of the group leader Dr Zeno Wolde was in a draughty portable hut on the Addis University campus adjacent to the Ethiopian Studies building. As she sat waiting for the instructions, maps and timelines for the field trip in the Lower Omo Valley, a striking athletic man walked in. Louise was surprised; she hadn’t expected someone so startlingly sensuous, so unacademic and riveting. He introduced himself with a friendly confidence and air of authority. His language was clear and he appeared to have boundless energy, like a replenished mountain stream bubbling along before them.
‘What do you think?’ Louise whispered to Carmen before Zeno began his talk about what he expected of them.
‘Every one of us,’ Zeno began, ‘every one of us, I’m sure, has been moved by the history, geography and culture of rural Ethiopia – attracted here in one way or another, by watching film and television, by photos, or by reading books and research reports. Ask yourselves what has brought you here. Share your answers with me and your colleagues.’
Louise glanced at Carmen and was about to say something when Zeno asked again, ‘Why have you come to Ethiopia? Are you here because Ethiopia is considered to be the cradle of civilisation, or are you here because, at this time, Ethiopia is considered one of the poorest countries in the world and you want to see what poverty is like?’
No one responded. Zeno carried on. ‘Or is it our history that you want to explore and the fact that we are the only African country that has not been colonised? Or have you been provoked to try and understand the nature and extent of Ethiopia’s disastrous famines in 1974 and again in 1984, when over a million people starved to death?’
A deep hush enveloped the room. Zeno appeared despondent when he spoke about the famines. In one of his essays, part of which was in his introductory notes, he had suggested that decisions that people didn’t make, and events that didn’t happen – like improved education and agricultural practice – were largely responsible for the famines. Louise recalled reading that Zeno had hiked across the country and lived with peasant people and knew their history.
‘Don’t be frightened to ask questions. Interaction is essential. That’s what we’re here for.’
They were unsure how to respond. Zeno noticed Louise looking at him. He looked at her, a head-to-toe gaze. He liked what he saw and found himself face-to-face with a young woman of allure. Louise was conscious of his gaze.
Because of Zeno’s interested stare she floundered a little. ‘This is a general question,’ she said nervously. But then, encouraged by his smile, her self-assurance returned. ‘What are your priorities for us and on which particular areas will we focus?’
‘Okay, that’s a good question,’ he said, looking directly at Louise. He explained that while his overall fieldwork priorities were in the far south in the Omo Valley, he would begin by taking them to rarely visited settlements in a valley below the Bada Ridge to the south-east of Addis Ababa. He wanted to provide a contrast with the nomadic tribes of the south. As he spoke, he pointed to places on a large wall map.
‘Your priorities are to observe and record conditions that influence the physical and emotional health of isolated rural populations. Respect and enjoy these people. Remember, being among them is a privilege. That thinking will reward you. Think of yourselves as explorers. In your notebooks, record images, ideas, and if possible snatches of dialogue to paint unique pictures. Make sure your notebooks are always within reach. Record small details about people’s homes, the landscape around their homes, what they are wearing, what they eat and drink, and relationships between men, women and children. Record whether you think a village is holding together, or because of the famine is about to unravel. Find out about the origins of the village. Listen to the people. Be patient. Date your notes. And above all, try to think of yourselves as cameras and help readers to feel as if they are there with you. To begin with, observe a whole village, then focus on detail, and generate life from that detail. I want you to shake up people’s perceptions of Ethiopian rural life. My notes and references should help. Are there any questions?’
‘Wow, what a performance,’ Carmen whispered to Louise. ‘What are we supposed to ask him after that? He reminds me of Brutus in Julius Caesar imploring from the pulpit … Countrymen and lovers! hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear … awake your senses.’
‘That’s brilliant, Carmen.’
‘Thanks, the quote just came to me. It seemed appropriate. We used to have to learn chunks of Shakespeare like that in my high school English classes.’
‘You’ve caught his mood and high expectations for us.’
‘I don’t know if I will fulfil his expectations, but I like him,’ said Carmen.
No one asked Zeno a question. They remained in awe of his zeal for promoting the uniqueness and value of Ethiopian rural life – people of another world, he had called them.
Zeno smiled and continued, expecting the students to adopt his enthusiasm and commitment. ‘We will drive south-east from Addis to Mojo and then Nazret. Then we’ll take a track to Sodere, so that you can see the settlements in the Awash River Valley. If reports of the roads to Asela and to Kofele are satisfactory, we’ll explore the villages below the Bada Ridge.’
These names and places were just dots on a map to the students. A yawning gap existed between Zeno’s life experiences and those of the bright but inexperienced students. He didn’t expect them to bridge it in a few short weeks but wanted them to become involved with village people. He wondered whether any of them had the passion and commitment he expected.
‘Our goal is to reach Jinka, the main town in the lower Omo. We’ll stay there and, if time permits, we’ll visit the small Hamar towns of Turmi and possibly
