Exit Eudaimonia

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

The plane took off in the late morning of December 2nd. It had been a cold, damp morning. The sky over Frankfurt was heavily clouded. But an hour's flight south, the Alps held the cloud cover back, preventing it from expanding southward. The rest of the flight was cloudless. The clear winter air offered a magical view. The outlines of islands and countries were sharply demarcated from the sea. The boot of Italy, the islands off Croatia, and the three fingers of Chalkidiki in Greece were clearly visible. Venice from above, with its glittering waterways, was a delight. In Egypt, the fertile Nile Valley stood in stark contrast to the ochre-colored desert sand. It looked as if someone had framed the black Nile in Lower Egypt with thick, green brushstrokes. The cities they flew over were majestically illuminated by the sunlight, testifying to a powerful history: Thessaloniki, Athens, Alexandria, and Cairo. At the confluence of the White and Blue Nile, the sun set like a giant fireball into the desert. At that exact moment, the plane landed on the runway in Khartoum. In the Sudanese capital, the pilot was presumably mistakenly directed by the control tower to zigzag across the entire airfield, causing the large jet to make several loops. With a slight delay, they continued on into the darkness of the night towards Addis Ababa. There, in the arrival hall, an oversized government billboard greeted Nuno with the slogan "13 Months of Sunshine." The Ethiopian calendar indeed counts thirteen months. Like the Coptic calendar, it consists of twelve months of thirty days and a leap month of five or six days. The Ethiopian year begins on September 11 or 12. There are many hours of sunshine throughout the year, but clouds are indeed rare during the dry season between October and February. Ethiopia is largely mountainous. Despite its proximity to the equator, it gets bitterly cold at night in the highlands. The capital, Addis Ababa, is located in the center of the country and sits at almost 8,000 feet above sea level.

It was already very late at night when he finally passed through passport control as one of the last passengers on his flight. He had previously had to wait an eternity for his visa, which he applied for on-site upon arrival. Outside, the moon was blinding, and the stars shone as clearly as Nuno hadn't seen them in a long time. The air was clear and cold. It smelled of mountain dew, African savannah, and fire. When he waited in vain for a long time for a taxi, exhaustion and unease overtook him. Suddenly, he found himself alone in a dark corridor. All the other travelers seemed to have disappeared. A gloomy feeling crept over him on this arrival night on the most mystical of all continents. In the distance, he heard the laughter of hyenas and in the nearby bushes, there was rustling. Suddenly, a dark figure wrapped in a large blanket approached him from behind:
"Hey! Mister!"
Nuno was startled.
"Should I take you to the city?"
At first, Nuno wasn't sure if this was a trick, but then he saw no danger in the young face under the blanket.
"Yes, please."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't know. To some simple guesthouse."
"The guesthouses are already closed. Do you want to come to my place?"
With deep doubts, Nuno hesitantly accepted the offer. Next time, he thought in his tired state, he'd better book a five-star hotel in advance. But do they even have five-star hotels in Ethiopia?

The boy was fourteen but acted as if he were twenty-one, and his name was Tisfahel. They walked along a dark street for half an hour until they spotted a shared taxi. They hailed it and squeezed in, even though it was already full. When they arrived home, Tisfahel acted like a pasha. That evening, he was the oldest man in the family. The apartment was dirty. The only light in the room, which served as a living, sleeping, working, and dining area, was a flickering light bulb hanging naked from the ceiling. The television ran continuously in the background. There was an open fire in the room. The dwelling was on the ground floor of an apartment block. The amount of incense lumps burning in the fire filled the whole room with smoke, leaving Nuno breathless. A phenomenon he would encounter more often: Ethiopians cook over open fires in their one- or two-room homes or small houses without ventilation. They seem immune to smoke, as well as to dust, heat, and cold. The food Tisfahel's mother offered Nuno was tasty, but the self-brewed beer, Solé, nearly made him gag. However, over the coming weeks, he would get used to it. The convex tabletop, though, caused nearly every drink to spill or overflow. After the meal, Nuno asked to use the toilet. Tisfahel led him through a narrow doorframe, down three large steps into the kitchen, where there was also a small bed. As usual in Ethiopia, cooking is done on the floor. The bed was full of food being prepared. Crawling among the food and ingredients was a naked baby, who stared at Nuno with big eyes. The kitchen seemed to be bustling with people. Or was that just his imagination? From the kitchen, they went into an open passage that formed the gap to the next row of houses. It was dark, unpaved, and muddy. It stank. Animals were running everywhere – chickens, cats, maybe rats. Tisfahel showed him the latrine, made from crooked wooden planks, which seemed to serve the entire row of houses. Nuno could barely see his hand in front of his face due to the darkness. However, the pungent smell reliably revealed his position. With difficulty, he could make out a hole in the ground. The enclosure was narrow and much too low. As he attempted to squat over the hole, he slipped with his right foot and sank into a slimy mass, which he soon felt cold and wet on his foot. He was disgusted. He quickly relieved himself and tried to free his foot from the human waste by scraping it against anything angular, dry, or bushy. Although he did everything he could to clean his shoe, Nuno felt embarrassed about his mishap when he returned to the living room. He could barely focus on anything other than the supposed excrement and urine in and on his right shoe. He tried to discreetly sniff it to see if others could smell it too. But all he could smell was incense. Due to the dim light, he couldn't see anything either. He only noticed after a while that the cats, which had previously circled his legs begging for affection, now seemed to avoid him. He was relieved when the small and only bed in the kitchen was finally cleared of food for him, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Ethiopians are known for being calm, gentle, and friendly. They are very proud people. They take particular pride in the fact that Ethiopia is the only African country that has never succumbed to a colonial power. The diversity of its ninety ethnic groups impressively marks the transition from North Africa to sub-Saharan Africa, from lighter skin tones to more negroid facial features, from the cultures of the Orient to black Africa. The influence of Arabic and Semitic culture is as unmistakable in the languages, cuisine, religion, and history as the significance of black African dialects, customs, and ways of life. The majority of Ethiopians is Christian, followed by a Muslim community about half its size. Ethiopia was the second country to adopt Christianity as a state religion in the fourth century. And it is likely the only country where, immediately after the morning's metallic call of the muezzin, the church bells clang similarly metallically. The density of churches and monasteries is unmatched, some of which, especially the monolithic rock-hewn churches, are architectural masterpieces. Last but not least, the Ethiopian highlands are considered the cradle of humanity. It was here that Homo erectus learned to walk upright. From here, Homo sapiens conquered the world and subdued all other animals that he did not first exterminate. The significance of this land for humanity and religion weighed heavily on Nuno's heart once he became aware of it. He felt that, spiritually speaking, Ethiopia was the right choice. Besides, he enjoyed the food. The typical dish served at almost every meal is injera, a flat sourdough bread made from teff. Injera is used in place of utensils to scoop up Ethiopian-spiced stews. Nuno grew fond of seeking out restaurants near bus stations before setting off on long legs of his journey through Ethiopia. There, he would sit and eat leisurely until the bus was full and ready to depart. The public infrastructure, with few exceptions, was in poor condition. Most of the roads were unpaved. Buses constantly broke down with flat tires. As a result, his travel speed was very slow. Overall, he found the pace on the roads or in public life to be very leisurely. After the first somewhat challenging night with Tisfahel, Nuno found a guesthouse the following day. There, he mapped out his route. On the shady terrace of the guesthouse, he also began writing a few pages from his soul every morning. He then made entries in his journal. This became a habit that he not only kept up in Ethiopia but also continued for many years afterward. After a few days in the capital, he boarded a bus and resumed his journey. However, he did not forget to generously compensate Tisfahel for the accommodation.

The actual journey he undertook was to himself. He sought awareness and wanted to sense himself in order to find his center. Ethiopia offered an enchanting backdrop, pulling him out of the comfort and routines of everyday life and shielding him from worldly temptations. The route he had set for himself initially led him to northern Ethiopia. The multi-day bus ride was bumpy, dusty, and hot. The seats were made of wood or hard-padded plastic. The buses were almost always overcrowded with people, animals, luggage, and food. At bus stops and intersections, clusters of vendors and beggars pressed closely against the bus. In a roadside village where they stopped for a coffee break, all the houses were colorfully painted, and the vegetation was tropical. In the warm afternoon sun, the peaceful village reminded him of his birthplace in Brazil. The cozy bar where he sipped his coffee couldn't hide the association, as if it had come straight out of a Bacardi rum advertisement. Nuno enjoyed watching his fellow passengers on the bus. Unlike him, they had no excess fat on their bodies to jiggle with the jolts. When he looked at them, they smiled back. Most of them were friendly, helpful, and very interested in him.
"Mister, where you from?" was an often-heard question.
"Germany."
"Jammin good country."