Getting around in Addis isn’t always easy. There are several wheeled options: private car, contract taxi, public taxi, and public bus. Few of the roads have any lines, and those that do, are ignored. So the most important rule is: if I get there first, I have the right away. So it’s a car culture of nudgers. Everyone is nosing their cars into traffic, fighting for that leverage so they can merge, or turn, or just stop for no apparent reason (yeah, it happens sometimes). People say its not as hard as it looks, but that doesn’t really help, because it looks damn hard.
My preferred method of travel is the minibus, a.k.a. public taxi. I don’t have a car, not enough money for contract taxis, and I don’t have any particular interest in riding in something called the “TB bus.” These minibuses have seats for 13 but occasionally carry as many as 25. Most have roof racks, so the old man buying a sheep for a neighborhood celebration can have someplace to toss his very-much-alive soon-to-be-meal during the trip. Most Ethiopians hate to ride with the windows open—there is a severe cultural fear of draft. Some are just barely hanging together by threads, and others are brand new and some even have a little digital media screen so the passengers can enjoy watching the “welcome” screen.
The minibuses connect this web of a city and travel along fixed routes, stopping along the way. A fare can cost anywhere between 7 cents (US) to 25 cents (US). Riding isn’t always comfortable, but that’s not the hardest part. During rush hour, the city is faced with a serious shortage of transport, so a bunch of Ethiopians and one foreigner (me), jog along side the bus while it pulls up to the curb. Then it begins. Men and women, old and young use pushing, shoving, elbows, and digging to fight their way in. The elderly use their canes as crowbars, the young dig through the legs of the old, and the rest of us do whatever we can to get in. It’s a blood sport, but the Ethiopians seem to almost enjoy it. And if a foreigner can fight his/her way in, victory will be congratulated with pats on the backs, impressed looks, and “gobez” (Amharic for “good job” or “clever”). And what’s the reward? A hot, cramped, bumpy ride down the road.
