A country of grey and gold

An election in Ethiopia promises little change
May 28th 2010 | ADDIS ABABA | From The Economist online

THERE are two colours I associate with Ethiopia. Grey for the dust, the bare hills, stony soil and donkeys. Grey for the Soviet-era buildings in the towns and the fumes of ancient Lada cars. Then there is gold, in the fields at harvest time, in the sunshine at that lung-busting altitude, and the heavy jewellery worn by women. Gold especially for the churches, the icons, the luminous curls in the crosses and staves, and in the golden plumage of archangels who many Ethiopians believe overlook the inner workings of their lives.

Religion is central to life in Ethiopia, as it is in the rest of Africa. But it is of a very different type. Neighbouring Kenya became Christian just over a century ago. Its Christianity still has a stripped-down missionary flavour. The Amhara and Tigray regions of Ethiopia, by contrast, were Christian long before St Augustine of Canterbury landed in England. The Band Aid anthem to raise money for Ethiopian famine victims in 1984 was in some ways ill-judged: of course they knew it was Christmastime.

Yet Ethiopia is also a country of revolutionary zeal. It is ruled by an inner circle of former Marxist guerrillas who are not evidently religious. That sets up a tension in the country. After this week's election victory by the Ethiopian People's Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), I ask Ethiopians what they would like to ask their long-serving prime minister, Meles Zenawi. Most often they say they would like to quiz him about God. "I want to know if he is a believer," says my driver in Addis Ababa. Teddy—his name changed to protect his identity—is critical of the government. They have done many good things. But they like to control us." Even in heavy traffic Teddy takes his hands off the steering wheel and crosses himself when passing one of the many churches. He gently recounts his own story of last week's elections. The organisers of the taxi fleet he drives for are card-carrying members of the EPRDF. "We are not talking about many people. Maybe 20 out of a couple of hundred cabs. But they decide on a lot of things, including the renewal of licences. They told the rest of us we had to attend government rallies in a procession during the election campaign. Most of us refused. After the election they will come for us." What will he do then? Teddy shrugs. He is close to retirement, but has two small children. "A man cannot live on his knees."


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