Highlands of Ethiopia

Ethiopia is very high. The terrain is rough, with sharp projections.  All the would-be Abyssinian occupiers, through the ages, have found these two things very challenging.  The third, and insurmountable peril for any imperialist: people. Unfortunately, and, not only in glossy guidebooks, the solitary history of the Ethiopian people takes expression in ghastly clichés: unique, defiant, single-minded. Let it simply be said, if people had designs on subjugation, Ethiopians were quick to stich them up. They even sent the gun-wielding spags packing with only a ragtag horde of camels and highland mules. And, yes, there is a feeling of being surrounded by a populace (80 million) who are not particularly interested in you. Conversation can be found, help can be sought, but no gratuitous smiling, zero empathy for the clearly bamboozled traveller. Ideal conditions.

So: Lalibela. Formerly, Roha. There are another two towns in the region – Gonder and Shire. Tolkien devotees, seems your man wasn’t so original after all. And, once more, were it not for the overly treacherous landscape, Ethiopia would have trounced New Zealand as a film location for the Trilogy.   

But, Lalibela. In the 12^th century, King Lalibela, named for some bees that swarmed him as a child, was at the apex of his power. He had the astonishing idea to hew churches from rock. This meant finding a monstrous rock and sculpting a church out of it – including a finely chiselled interior. Occasionally, I could picture Lalibela strolling the brownish highlands, actually seeing the finished product inside some giant boulder and delivering the order to his long suffering subject: “start chipping.” Regarding these logistics, science and culture diverge at this point. There is still a strong religious and cultural opinion for some kind of divine intervention in the rendering of these fiercely intricate structures. Academics put the workforce required, allegedly in 23 years, for such a project to be upwards of 40 000. As history has shown, the great feats of construction towered skywards on the shoulders of slaves. But there is one element that confounds when surveying the churches: craftsmanship. Symmetry, intricacy of interior design, the knowledge that one inch of error at the beginning would derail the entire structure on completion. And, no going back. Once, four walls are carved over years and you find out the doorframe doesn’t quite match up – no going back. And, there is simply no evidence of any error. The whole operation is flawless; surely confirming that this was the work of many and diversely skilled people. Not your average makeup of a band of slaves.

So, there seem to have been some wilful participants in this grand operation. In the name and for the lofty service of the Lord, perhaps; to fashion a legacy that really would stand for centuries; or maybe, spurred by that great human distinguisher, curiosity. Maybe Lalibela just wanted to see if it could be done. And, so artful and improbable was the doing, that Saint George himself – a frequent visitor – blurted out: “Majestic, Lalibela, majestic. But, where is mine”.

And today, if you finish the day with the Southern cluster of churches, you will come to a large flat rock on the edge of the valley. As furrow upon furrow of the misty blue highlands break free before you, there is a strangely symmetrical chasm. A good eighty metres in length and breadth and hollowed out to a depth of eleven metres. And, inside, you will behold Bet Giorgyis (House of George), the remaining rock that has actually been moulded into the shape of a crucifix, inside and out. Gazing down, and, in spite of myself, I had to agree with the guidebook: were these rock churches hewn in some other, more accessible tract of the earth, they would surely be one of the great wonders and famous the world over. Thank goodness they weren’t. Although, I couldn’t help but feel in a state of wonder for most of my time, deep in these stone furrows. Apart from the honour, St. George must have had a twinge of envy. And, who wouldn’t, for so many secrets are yet to be carved from the boulders of Lalibela. Yet, the people carry on, above, like everything is just fine. Occasionally, though, the elderly will hold your gaze for what feels a moment too long. Knowingly.