Our mission work completed, Wednesday was scheduled to be simply a "tourist day." Segay insisted on seeing us to the airport for our flight to Lalibella. Because he had only one of the "Glimmer" vehicles at his disposal, we were somewhat concerned that it might cut things too closely since our group would have to be taken in two trips (the hotel had a shuttle, but Segay’s hospitality was not to be denied.)
As it turned out, there was not problem; our flight was delayed almost three hours. Once on board, the short hop took only about a half hour, but when we landed we found ourselves in much different countryside, surrounded by high mountains. We left the tiny airport with its gravel runway, and piled into a hotel shuttle for the half-hour ride to the town, which took us to the top of one of the tallest of those mountains. Considering the driver’s steering was as casual as any we have seen in Ethiopia, the view of the valley far below, with the dropoff starting only inches past the edge of the road, was… riveting.
Lalibella is a small town, a cluster of tiny rock houses and modest hotels clustered on any semi-level ground that can be found. It seems to be devoted almost solely to its tourist industry, but the effect of all the foreign money is obvious, as the houses were definitely a step or two above what we had come to expect (it is a curious thing to see a house made of mud with a satellite dish.) However, in some areas, we saw very traditional homes, neat round huts made of stone, often with an outside staircase curving around to lead to an upper floor. I mentioned to Mike that they reminded me of the Hobbit homes in the Lord of the Rings movies, and he told me that Tolkien had once visited Ethiopia, which explained not only the huts, but many of the familiar place names: Gondar, Roha, Goha.
The attraction in the town is the cluster of ancient Orthodox churches that King (now Saint) Lalibella had had constructed in the 12th century. The whole top of the mountain is made of rose basalt, very similar to the pink granite of Enchanted Rock, north of Fredericksburg. On his orders, 40,000 workers labored 23 years to carve churches directly out of the native stone, ALL IN ONE PIECE. (Some are no longer of a single piece; following an earthquake in the early 1950s, UNESCO arranged to have a few of the churches’ tumbled columns rebuilt with blocks of the same stone.) To build them, the workers carved straighht down 30, 40, 50 feet into the solid stone, leaving a block in the center, which was then hollowed out into a church complete with columns, arches, and engravings.
The most impressive of the churches is the Church of Saint George. Unlike the other churches, this one was built in the shape of a cross as seen from above, and has no internal columns. It also has many reminders of the story of the Great Flood: a large stone at one corner of the hole represents Mt. Ararat, where Noah’s ark came to rest, and the opposite corner has a semi-circle representing the rainbow. And of course, the windows on the lowest floor are not carved all the way through, to keep out the waters of the flood.
All of the churches are still actively used, nearly a thousand years after their construction. We saw many priests and monks, and had to remove our shoes and hats to enter each of them (a somber and silent man followed us from place to place, silently tending our shoes, and assisting on the narrow and uneven steps, paths and tunnels that lead from church to church.)
Exhausted from touring the churches, we retired to the hotel, a few of us sampling the goods at the souvenir shops across the street. The locals clearly look for any opportunity to forge a link with the spendthrift Americans, as both Obama and Oprah have namesake shops there. After a dinner that was, if not good, at least accurately described (none of us could complete the "Dry Cake" listed as the nmight’s dessert) we went to our rooms. About 3:00 in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of dogs (hyenas?) barking, and went to the window to enjoy one of Lalibella’s other great sights.
Gondar and Addis Abeba, while not modern by American standards, do have extensive lighting at night over the streets and on many of the building fronts, and so the sky is largely washed out with light pollution, as in the United States. But with the moon having already set, the sky in Lalibella was as dark as any I have ever seen. I remember seeing dark skies while camping as a boy, and sometimes even being able to make out the vague smudge of the Milky Way across the sky. But here it was so bright and distinct that I thought at first it must be a cloud, until I realized I was seeing stars in it. In fact, there were so many stars in the sky over Lalibella that I could not make out even the most familiar of the constellations, because of the thousands of "new" stars scattered among the old ones. This too will be one of the many memories I will carry home from Africa.
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Sometimes an in-country flight will simply be cancelled if there are not enough passengers. We had planned to fly back to Addis Abeba on Thursday, so that even were that flight cancelled, we would still be able to make it to the capital in plenty of time for our Friday night flight home. Fortunately, there were no problems, and so we have spent the last day relaxing, doing final shopping, and (for me) catching up on this blog. We fly out tonight for Washington DC, a sixteen-hour flight plus an hour in Rome for refueling, and then will have an eleven-hour layover at Dulles Airport before continuing to Austin late Saturday night (we’re going to be on the wrong end of an eight-hour time change too, so you can probably count on our NOT making it to church this Sunday.)
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
I have found Ethiopia to be a land with a surprisingly strong religious presence. The touch of the Ethiopian Orthodox church permeates everything. The people here are warm and welcoming, generous even in the midst of terrible poverty, and despite the troubles that plague this nation, confident and industrious. These are people who will touch your heart, and sometimes break it: we were advised not to give to the many beggars that line the street, as doing so only invites many others to gather (although none were ever persistent or threatening.) But when a dirty four-year-old child looks up at you with big brown eyes, holds out her hand, and says simply "Hungry," it would take a stronger person than I am not to give something.
When you consider how much difference even a small amount can make when given by us from the nonchalant wealth of our American lives, it becomes imperative that we do something to help these gentle people. I have sometimes guiltily reflected that for me this trip was something of a "boondoggle." The money that was spent to send me here would have easily covered the cost of another hand-dug well in another village; the cost of four tickets nearly equals the price of a deep-borehole well. I decided that my best purpose, the only way to justify my presence here, is to be enthusiastic about this good work, and to try to spread that enthusiasm to those I left behind in America. If you have enjoyed what I have written, and if it moves you to give something to the missions of "Water to Thrive," I have repaid a small part of the debt I owe.
Once again, allow me to express my gratitude to the people of Abiding Presence for funding this trip. Thank you to our hosts and guides (and new friends) Mike and Meredith Koch of "Water to Thrive," for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and to Dick Moeller for his patience with my long-windedness on his website. And thanks also to Jim Sorensen, who introduced us to this ancient and beautiful culture, and whose inspiring daily devotions helped us to see these new experiences in the light of scripture. We return to you as changed people.
Dohna’hun, Larry Cline
Our mission work completed, Wednesday was scheduled to be simply a "tourist day." Segay insisted on seeing us to the airport for our flight to Lalibella. Because he had only one of the "Glimmer" vehicles at his disposal, we were somewhat concerned that it might cut things too closely since our group would have to be taken in two trips (the hotel had a shuttle, but Segay’s hospitality was not to be denied.)
As it turned out, there was not problem; our flight was delayed almost three hours. Once on board, the short hop took only about a half hour, but when we landed we found ourselves in much different countryside, surrounded by high mountains. We left the tiny airport with its gravel runway, and piled into a hotel shuttle for the half-hour ride to the town, which took us to the top of one of the tallest of those mountains. Considering the driver’s steering was as casual as any we have seen in Ethiopia, the view of the valley far below, with the dropoff starting only inches past the edge of the road, was… riveting.
Lalibella is a small town, a cluster of tiny rock houses and modest hotels clustered on any semi-level ground that can be found. It seems to be devoted almost solely to its tourist industry, but the effect of all the foreign money is obvious, as the houses were definitely a step or two above what we had come to expect (it is a curious thing to see a house made of mud with a satellite dish.) However, in some areas, we saw very traditional homes, neat round huts made of stone, often with an outside staircase curving around to lead to an upper floor. I mentioned to Mike that they reminded me of the Hobbit homes in the Lord of the Rings movies, and he told me that Tolkien had once visited Ethiopia, which explained not only the huts, but many of the familiar place names: Gondar, Roha, Goha.
The attraction in the town is the cluster of ancient Orthodox churches that King (now Saint) Lalibella had had constructed in the 12th century. The whole top of the mountain is made of rose basalt, very similar to the pink granite of Enchanted Rock, north of Fredericksburg. On his orders, 40,000 workers labored 23 years to carve churches directly out of the native stone, ALL IN ONE PIECE. (Some are no longer of a single piece; following an earthquake in the early 1950s, UNESCO arranged to have a few of the churches’ tumbled columns rebuilt with blocks of the same stone.) To build them, the workers carved straighht down 30, 40, 50 feet into the solid stone, leaving a block in the center, which was then hollowed out into a church complete with columns, arches, and engravings.
The most impressive of the churches is the Church of Saint George. Unlike the other churches, this one was built in the shape of a cross as seen from above, and has no internal columns. It also has many reminders of the story of the Great Flood: a large stone at one corner of the hole represents Mt. Ararat, where Noah’s ark came to rest, and the opposite corner has a semi-circle representing the rainbow. And of course, the windows on the lowest floor are not carved all the way through, to keep out the waters of the flood.
All of the churches are still actively used, nearly a thousand years after their construction. We saw many priests and monks, and had to remove our shoes and hats to enter each of them (a somber and silent man followed us from place to place, silently tending our shoes, and assisting on the narrow and uneven steps, paths and tunnels that lead from church to church.)
Exhausted from touring the churches, we retired to the hotel, a few of us sampling the goods at the souvenir shops across the street. The locals clearly look for any opportunity to forge a link with the spendthrift Americans, as both Obama and Oprah have namesake shops there. After a dinner that was, if not good, at least accurately described (none of us could complete the "Dry Cake" listed as the nmight’s dessert) we went to our rooms. About 3:00 in the morning, I was awakened by the sound of dogs (hyenas?) barking, and went to the window to enjoy one of Lalibella’s other great sights.
Gondar and Addis Abeba, while not modern by American standards, do have extensive lighting at night over the streets and on many of the building fronts, and so the sky is largely washed out with light pollution, as in the United States. But with the moon having already set, the sky in Lalibella was as dark as any I have ever seen. I remember seeing dark skies while camping as a boy, and sometimes even being able to make out the vague smudge of the Milky Way across the sky. But here it was so bright and distinct that I thought at first it must be a cloud, until I realized I was seeing stars in it. In fact, there were so many stars in the sky over Lalibella that I could not make out even the most familiar of the constellations, because of the thousands of "new" stars scattered among the old ones. This too will be one of the many memories I will carry home from Africa.
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
Sometimes an in-country flight will simply be cancelled if there are not enough passengers. We had planned to fly back to Addis Abeba on Thursday, so that even were that flight cancelled, we would still be able to make it to the capital in plenty of time for our Friday night flight home. Fortunately, there were no problems, and so we have spent the last day relaxing, doing final shopping, and (for me) catching up on this blog. We fly out tonight for Washington DC, a sixteen-hour flight plus an hour in Rome for refueling, and then will have an eleven-hour layover at Dulles Airport before continuing to Austin late Saturday night (we’re going to be on the wrong end of an eight-hour time change too, so you can probably count on our NOT making it to church this Sunday.)
– – – – – – – – – – – – –
I have found Ethiopia to be a land with a surprisingly strong religious presence. The touch of the Ethiopian Orthodox church permeates everything. The people here are warm and welcoming, generous even in the midst of terrible poverty, and despite the troubles that plague this nation, confident and industrious. These are people who will touch your heart, and sometimes break it: we were advised not to give to the many beggars that line the street, as doing so only invites many others to gather (although none were ever persistent or threatening.) But when a dirty four-year-old child looks up at you with big brown eyes, holds out her hand, and says simply "Hungry," it would take a stronger person than I am not to give something.
When you consider how much difference even a small amount can make when given by us from the nonchalant wealth of our American lives, it becomes imperative that we do something to help these gentle people. I have sometimes guiltily reflected that for me this trip was something of a "boondoggle." The money that was spent to send me here would have easily covered the cost of another hand-dug well in another village; the cost of four tickets nearly equals the price of a deep-borehole well. I decided that my best purpose, the only way to justify my presence here, is to be enthusiastic about this good work, and to try to spread that enthusiasm to those I left behind in America. If you have enjoyed what I have written, and if it moves you to give something to the missions of "Water to Thrive," I have repaid a small part of the debt I owe.
Once again, allow me to express my gratitude to the people of Abiding Presence for funding this trip. Thank you to our hosts and guides (and new friends) Mike and Meredith Koch of "Water to Thrive," for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and to Dick Moeller for his patience with my long-windedness on his website. And thanks also to Jim Sorensen, who introduced us to this ancient and beautiful culture, and whose inspiring daily devotions helped us to see these new experiences in the light of scripture. We return to you as changed people.
Dohna’hun, Larry Cline
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