All things considered, I’ve always thought Ethiopia ranks reasonably well for the position of
women in society. I don’t have all the statistics or information, and I would never presume
to speak for Ethiopian women so this is my own personal opinion, but women can work,
they don’t have to cover themselves and at first glance, they are treated very respectfully.
But look a bit closer and the traditional roles and restrictions are still there. For instance,
men don’t cook in Ethiopia – and it’s definitely not for lack of skill! I know many Ethiopian
men in the UK who are fabulous cooks, much better than me! Admittedly, most middle class
Ethiopians here have housemaids to prepare food, but still it is all down to the women – the
men come home expecting their meals on the table.
As a white women, I escape a lot of the expectations of an Ethiopian woman (although
obviously I have my own hassles such as small children following me down the road
calling ‘you, you, you, you, you’ incessantly). However, it was only recently that an
Ethiopian explained that the reason I often wait ages for someone to serve me in a café is
not that Ethiopian service is slow (far from it, in fact!) but that as a woman on my own, I
must be waiting for a man, so I can’t possibly be ready to order yet!
When you drive around, you do notice that the cafés and restaurants are full of men, even
in the middle of the morning. When I mentioned this to Daniel, my cab driver, he said that
it was changing slowly, but that still most women stayed in the house. The house is for
women and the outside is for men!
He’s right, though, things are changing – albeit slowly. There are lots of twenty-something
Ethiopians who have studied or lived in Europe or America, and have returned with different
ideas about women and their place in the world. Previously, an Ethiopian women would
never have gone to a bar unless she was a prostitute, and although bars are still full of
prostitutes or ‘bar girls’, you now see groups of women going to clubs or having a drink
together which is apparently something you did not see as recently as 8 years ago.
I still get jealous of male travelers, though, who can easily do things that are difficult for
me, purely because they are men. For instance, when N was here, Daniel took us both
to have some lunch at a tiny café on Ethio-China Road. It was barely a café, just a set of
benches in an alley way, but the food was fantastic and very cheap. However, the place was
full of Ethiopian men who spent their lunch staring at us, and both N and I acknowledged
that we would not have felt comfortable coming in here on our own. A man, though,
probably would have had no problem.
It was a similar situation when Ute and I went to Harlem Jazz one Saturday night. Although
it’s a jazz club, on a Saturday night it has a fantastic reggae band from Shashmene playing.
I really wanted to dance, so we decided we would go for a drink, then head to the club.
The minute we arrived, we were surrounded by Ethiopian men. We weren’t the only faranji’s
in there, but we were the only women there on our own, and we were considered easy
pickings. Okay, so it’s not unlike going out in London (well, for some people … I don’t
generally have to bat away male attention!) but at least in the UK men generally take no for
an answer, and they certainly don’t attempt to grope you before even speaking to you! One
man came and sat with us, and I had to move his hand from my upper thigh THREE TIMES
before I finally had to tell him to go away.
Going on the dance floor had the same problem. There was a white guy in the middle of the
dance floor, surrounded by Ethiopians, really getting into the music and properly dancing.
That’s what I wanted to do, but the minute I moved from the edge of the room, I was pushing away groping hands and fighting to be allowed to dance on my own, without some Ethiopian man grinding behind me. It was exhausting.
The men I spoke to saw no problem with their actions – we were girls having a drink
in a club on our own (never mind we were only drinking coke!), which meant we
were ‘available’, not to mention the fact that we were white so therefore they consider us
much easier to get than Ethiopian women. This situation is exacerbated by the fact that
many faranji’s do indeed come to Ethiopia and have a fling with a local – some men even
leaving local girls with a baby as a leaving present …
I wasn’t dressed provocatively (I had jeans on!), I wasn’t drinking alcohol and I wasn’t
trying to pick anybody up. I simply wanted to dance and enjoy the music. However, my
evening was completely different to the experience of the white guy dancing in the middle
of the floor, purely because of my gender. And that makes me frustrated!
women in society. I don’t have all the statistics or information, and I would never presume
to speak for Ethiopian women so this is my own personal opinion, but women can work,
they don’t have to cover themselves and at first glance, they are treated very respectfully.
But look a bit closer and the traditional roles and restrictions are still there. For instance,
men don’t cook in Ethiopia – and it’s definitely not for lack of skill! I know many Ethiopian
men in the UK who are fabulous cooks, much better than me! Admittedly, most middle class
Ethiopians here have housemaids to prepare food, but still it is all down to the women – the
men come home expecting their meals on the table.
As a white women, I escape a lot of the expectations of an Ethiopian woman (although
obviously I have my own hassles such as small children following me down the road
calling ‘you, you, you, you, you’ incessantly). However, it was only recently that an
Ethiopian explained that the reason I often wait ages for someone to serve me in a café is
not that Ethiopian service is slow (far from it, in fact!) but that as a woman on my own, I
must be waiting for a man, so I can’t possibly be ready to order yet!
When you drive around, you do notice that the cafés and restaurants are full of men, even
in the middle of the morning. When I mentioned this to Daniel, my cab driver, he said that
it was changing slowly, but that still most women stayed in the house. The house is for
women and the outside is for men!
He’s right, though, things are changing – albeit slowly. There are lots of twenty-something
Ethiopians who have studied or lived in Europe or America, and have returned with different
ideas about women and their place in the world. Previously, an Ethiopian women would
never have gone to a bar unless she was a prostitute, and although bars are still full of
prostitutes or ‘bar girls’, you now see groups of women going to clubs or having a drink
together which is apparently something you did not see as recently as 8 years ago.
I still get jealous of male travelers, though, who can easily do things that are difficult for
me, purely because they are men. For instance, when N was here, Daniel took us both
to have some lunch at a tiny café on Ethio-China Road. It was barely a café, just a set of
benches in an alley way, but the food was fantastic and very cheap. However, the place was
full of Ethiopian men who spent their lunch staring at us, and both N and I acknowledged
that we would not have felt comfortable coming in here on our own. A man, though,
probably would have had no problem.
It was a similar situation when Ute and I went to Harlem Jazz one Saturday night. Although
it’s a jazz club, on a Saturday night it has a fantastic reggae band from Shashmene playing.
I really wanted to dance, so we decided we would go for a drink, then head to the club.
The minute we arrived, we were surrounded by Ethiopian men. We weren’t the only faranji’s
in there, but we were the only women there on our own, and we were considered easy
pickings. Okay, so it’s not unlike going out in London (well, for some people … I don’t
generally have to bat away male attention!) but at least in the UK men generally take no for
an answer, and they certainly don’t attempt to grope you before even speaking to you! One
man came and sat with us, and I had to move his hand from my upper thigh THREE TIMES
before I finally had to tell him to go away.
Going on the dance floor had the same problem. There was a white guy in the middle of the
dance floor, surrounded by Ethiopians, really getting into the music and properly dancing.
That’s what I wanted to do, but the minute I moved from the edge of the room, I was pushing away groping hands and fighting to be allowed to dance on my own, without some Ethiopian man grinding behind me. It was exhausting.
The men I spoke to saw no problem with their actions – we were girls having a drink
in a club on our own (never mind we were only drinking coke!), which meant we
were ‘available’, not to mention the fact that we were white so therefore they consider us
much easier to get than Ethiopian women. This situation is exacerbated by the fact that
many faranji’s do indeed come to Ethiopia and have a fling with a local – some men even
leaving local girls with a baby as a leaving present …
I wasn’t dressed provocatively (I had jeans on!), I wasn’t drinking alcohol and I wasn’t
trying to pick anybody up. I simply wanted to dance and enjoy the music. However, my
evening was completely different to the experience of the white guy dancing in the middle
of the floor, purely because of my gender. And that makes me frustrated!
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