Culture Shock: Three Flashbacks

I didn't keep a diary or write a journal while I was living in Ethiopia (1971-1975), but I recently rediscovered these notes I had made on some dramatic occasions.

Addis Ababa, Sunday Evening, 23 January, 1972.

A small crowd of children and old women were gathered in the road leading to Trinity Cathedral, behind Parliament. The Emperor was back from his visit to Nigeria and had gone to pray. This may be his normal practice, or it may have something to do with the fact that Brigadier Sandford died yesterday, 22 January, aged 89.

We went to catch a glimpse of His Imperial Majesty as he left the cathedral. Outside the gate the police were behaving in an unnecessarily violent fashion, beating the onlookers back with heavy wooden sticks. There seemed to be no justification for the actions of the police, as the crowd was really very small. The Emperor's limousine stopped outside the gate of the cathedral and several high-ranking army officers jumped out and joined the police in beating back the small crowd. The Emperor simply sat in his car and seemed quite unconcerned at this treatment of his loyal subjects, who had been applauding and ululating enthusiastically.

The officers got back in the car and it drove on towards where we were standing. An old woman carrying a prayer-stick knelt down to try to give a letter to the Emperor as he passed. A policeman pushed her and she fell, her letter falling to the ground. The Emperor's face was grimly indifferent, even though his car nearly ran the woman down.

Haile Selassie Avenue, 29 February, 1974.

Thousands of students marched through the centre of Addis Ababa today, carrying placards and chanting demands for land reform and freedom of expression. Their demands were specific: that the killer of Telahun (the ex-President of the Students' Union) should be brought to court and that the ex-Prime Minister should be hanged, as well as the other Ministers. They did not approve of the new Prime minister: "Hang the lot of them!" was the theme of their chant. Later, military jeeps packed with soldiers of the regular army tried to pacify them. A loud-hailer was used to convey the message that all the armed forces were co-operating with the new Prime Minister and that they approved of the choice. This was the first time that such a demonstration and protest march had taken place in Addis Ababa. Would the army mow them down? The situation was unpredictable. I filmed the march and noted down some of the slogans and chants:

"Let there be a public voting system!"

"The Ethiopian public will win!"

"The political prisoners must be set free!"

"Hang Aklilu!"

"The spark of freedom has just been seen!"

"The Army is for the People!"

"Bring back all the money that is in foreign banks!"

"Until the public can vote, let the military take over!"

"Let us have freedom of speech!"

  

General Wingate School, Saturday 23 November, 1974

We were playing a game of six-a-side cricket in the grounds of the General Wingate School.

We could hear what we thought were rifle shots ring out at regular intervals. We carried on playing, regardless. Stiff upper lip.

While we were happily batting or fielding, the Derg was apparently in the process of executing sixty ministers, nobles, military and police chiefs and other members of the Imperial Government.

The sound of shooting continued in the distance. We didn't know what was going on; we were more interested in the sound and direction of a cricket ball being hit. My unscreened face had been badly burned and blistered by the UV rays of the sun at that high altitude (7546 feet or 2,300 metres). I lost several layers of skin. A painful and permanent reminder of that terrible, violent day, which became known as Bloody Saturday. The executions at Akaki prison continued well into the night.

In trying to check the accuracy of my impressions almost 40 years after these revolutionary events, I found Blair Thomson's account more accurate and helpful than Kapuscinski's The Emperor.