Lalibela, Ethiopia – On the afternoon Feb. 21, I was catching up on some work in the office, when I was distracted by a man dressed in white rushing past the window, closely followed by Hafte, the guard’s son. I thought he was coming into the office, but when he didn’t, I didn’t think anything of it and simply carried on with my work.
A few minutes later he did come into the office – a tall Ethiopian man wrapped in a gabi, wearing a hat, and carrying a ‘cow tail’ stick which people swish around to get rid of the flies. He came over, shook my hand and said a lot of things to me in Amharic, while Hafte sniggered behind him. I’m used to random people coming up and speaking to me as if I am fluent in Amharic, so I went along with it, shaking his hand, saying hello etc. A totally normal part of my day!
Then he grabbed me and tried to pull me out of my chair, which is not so normal. I managed to rip my tee shirt out of his grip, and I pushed him away, more shocked that anything, while Hafte tried to guide him out of the office, telling me he’s got mental health problems (I believe the phrase was ‘he’s crazy’). Okay, I can deal with mental health stuff, no problem. So when he refused to leave the office and instead sat down at the desk opposite me, chattering all the while, I just got on with my work and left Hafte to deal with him.
Then he started to grab things – my bottle of water, my roll of tissue paper, and then my bag …
This is when it started getting a little silly. Hafte was holding my bag, stopping him from running off with it, and the man had stuck the bottle of water between his legs so we couldn’t get it (well, we could, but this man has thighs like a vice!). Hafte had stopped him running off with my bag, but the man was now refusing to leave the office, just sitting at the desk causing as much havoc as he could considering Hafte was pinning him to the chair.
Now, this was a bit of an inconvenience for me, in the sense that I wanted to get on with my work and the mad man sitting opposite me wasn’t helping, but I didn’t fear for my life or my things. He’d hurt me a bit when he grabbed me, but I guessed Hafte would stop him from disappearing with all my stuff, and other than that he was just annoying. I managed to move my laptop out of his reach and take my passport, money and phone out of my bag, though, just in case.
However, he didn’t leave (with or without my bag) and he started to get more and more aggressive, throwing a punch at Hafte and screaming about ‘faranjis’ – I didn’t ask for translation. So I went to get some help from my project manager’s house, thinking a few men would be able to lift him out of the office. Unfortunately, only H, his girlfriend was there. She went to get the police, while a merry band of people gathered around my office – the female teachers from our school, who had just come back from market, Yeshimembit, the woman who bakes injera for me, and a little girl who simply appeared from nowhere.
A little while later, as Hafte continued to hold this man and stop him from stealing my things, one of A’s friends arrived, closely followed by a policeman. Okay, I thought, they’ll get him out. I mean, all they have to do is lift him out of the office – there are two of them and one of him, right?
I moved out of the way, while the policeman asked the man to move out of the office. He obviously didn’t particularly want to go, and a few minutes later I saw him thrown out of the office by the two of them.I thought it was over, then the policeman smacked him round the head and pushed him so hard he fell to the floor. In a split second before it happened, I saw what was coming – the policeman kicked the man, hard, in the head. Then he did it again. I cried out – the man was out of the office, he was lying on the floor, he wasn’t doing anything. Stop it!
Nobody else thought this was a problem. They all stood there and watched as the policeman kicked and beat the man who was lying on the floor, posing no threat to anyone. I tried to stop the policeman myself, but Aman’s friend pulled me back, telling me to leave it. The policeman took two seconds to tell me ‘it’s no problem’, then pulled the man to his feet and started to push him down the stone stairs.
What could I do? I didn’t want the man hurt, I just wanted him out of the office and to stop trying to hurt me and Hafte, or trying to take my stuff. The man is sick, not bad. Instead, I stood by, helpless (apart from the noise I made), while he was beaten and then dragged off to a prison, where he is likely to be beaten again.
As everyone stood around, totally unconcerned, telling me ‘it’s normal in Ethiopia’ and ‘it’s no problem’, I shut myself in my office and sobbed.
It’s not seeing the physical violence that upsets me; I’ve seen dead children lying in the road in Addis Ababa, and I was there as a man drowned in front of his devastated daughter in Blackpool. What really affects me is the casual cruelty that Ethiopians are capable of inflicting on anyone who doesn’t conform.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen this here. I now refuse to go to John Café in Lalibela (which is a considerable sacrifice considering the size of this town!) after I saw the way the owner treated another mentally disabled man. My loud protests stopped her from hitting him in this instance, but she humiliated and treated him worse than a dog, and I refuse to give my money to someone who does that.
Objectively, these are isolated instances where two people have been cruel and violent towards someone they see is worth less than them. It’s not unusual in any country. The thing that distresses me, though, is how ‘mainstream’ this attitude is. This afternoon, educated people who would tell you that they believe everyone is equal, and human rights apply to all, stood around and watched as a policeman kicked a man in the head simply for being mentally ill — and more than that, thought it was the right thing to do. In the café, a crowd of people which included the town’s bank manager and members of local government, sat around and laughed at the spectacle. All of these people call themselves committed Christians. Didn’t Jesus say ‘what you do to the least of my people, you do to me‘?
‘He’s not normal’ is often offered by way of explanation. Anyone who is different is not considered a human being and not worthy of the protection everyone else expects. To be honest, it’s not usual here to argue against a policeman – I can get away with it, because they know I’m protected by my British Passport in ways the average Ethiopian is not. But even after the policeman had gone, my tears were seen as something bewildering. He’s not normal, you see, the policeman did what anyone would have done.
I know I am tired and shocked, but it is afternoons like these that make me want to pack up and head home. Why on earth should I have given up all my home comforts, my friends, my life and my job to come and help people who treat others this way?
(Click here for more on Jenny Higgins work in Ethiopia)