I have had the most wonderful day! Gonder is a city which buzzes with Ethiopian rhythm. I am greeted with vibrant chaos and unceasing music; helpful kids eager to earn a quick tip; and ancient buildings with vague histories.
As we arrived in Gonder two young schoolboys tracked us down and basically became our self-appointed guides. Ababa and David distinguished themselves as better lads than the rest by refusing the first tip that came their way. A clever tactic – it seems that they must have been holding out for the big handout at the end. However, in fairness to David and Ababa, they were very sharp guys who had learnt every subtle trick in the books. They took it upon themselves to look after us entirely, from discussing tourist sites to arranging our laundry. They even “got attacked at knife-point” in protecting my laundry from a thief – I apologise for my cynicism if this did in fact happen.
One afternoon as we were walking down the street with our little entourage in tow I decided that now would be a good time to braid my hair. Ababa wasted no time in convincing me that this would indeed be a superb idea and that I would look like “Miss
Following Ababa, I landed in some small backstreet of Gonder, further removed from the chaos of motor traffic, but right in the thick of donkeyville. Corrugated houses lined the streets selling anything from cloth to cosmetics. Shimmying around a slight curtain, I entered such a shack that was to become my salon. It was a great little hairdresser – three young women divvied up to the nines; a large mirror in front of a chair; and another large mirror on the back wall of a room which was not much more than 3 meters long.
I was seated in the throne, whilst all four of us collapsed in hysterics to a very confused Ababa – it seems that girlish fun, much missed on my part, is pretty universally understood by females and universally exclusive to males! No really, this was pretty classic! Through a combination of gestures at one of the hairdresser’s braids, and some lousy charades on my part, I gave up and decided to leave them to their own devices.
After continued amusement and endless photographs from budding cameraman Ababa, I emerged with neatly woven corn rows across my head. I think my hairdressers got more amusement out of the whole process than I did. And I was pretty amused. The equivalent of R20 and 20 minutes later, and my whole head of hair was stuck to my head in a way that left me feeling bizarrely self-conscious.
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