Hands Free

Besides running, or rather, dragging myself up to the 8th floor to go back to my room (this altitude is killing me!) we didn't get much excercice during the 2 weeks course in Addis. Elevators are tricky, can't risk to be in a box like that when there is a powercut, which is quite often, hence my claustrophobia is resulting in an increased red blood cell count. 

Every night after classes we have been storming into a cosy local bar for a cold Ethiopian beer, right next to the hotel where we were staying (Bole area). We only needed some good old P-Square songs to get us dancing the daily research questions away: 'Personally' and 'Chop My Money' always works! It didn't matter that everyone was watching and laughing at our crazy moves, because it resulted in free shots (at least for the women) from the barman and a lesson in Ethiopian shoulder dislocation movements.

I think I was getting the hang of it, because when I now pass by the bar the guards are always smiling, showing some brown, but happy teeth. Yesterday he even stopped me and wanted to shake my hand. All of a sudden I froze and didn't know how to react. This kind man with twinkling eyes wanted to shake my hand, probably to congratulate me on my great dance moves, and the first thing I thought was: 'no, don't touch me, ebola is real!'

But I pulled myself together, took his both hands in mine and stood there for a good 2 minutes, enjoying the normal human friendly contact and smiling back, white and happy teeth. 

*thx Django

Addis Ababa, March 2015