I had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity two weeks ago to travel to Ethiopia on a touristic visit. Never in my life had I imagined that I would buy a plane ticket to Addis Ababa, but when a friend suggested that I visit, I couldn’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t go.
Heading to Heathrow to catch my flight, I was complaining about how crowded the tube was, and the main worry in my head was what I would do for 12 hours as I waited in Amsterdam to catch my connection. Little did I imagine that some 48 hours later my main worry would be to find some rice cooked in clean water and electricity.
All my life as a backpacker I boasted about how Westerners should give up some luxury in order to experience reality in the country they would visit. Yet the gray walls illuminated by fluorescent lights of Addis Ababa airport, the screams coming from all those around me, and the sheer unfriendliness in the air made me quickly realise that I hadn’t been walking the walk.
As if this weren’t enough, in the couple of minutes of me arriving in Ethiopia, I would see hungry people fainting by the side of the road, the countless prostitutes at every street corner and the obvious lack of any infrastructure. I had indeed arrived in a location far from what I was used to.
In the daylight of the next day I was better able to judge my surroundings. As I walked down the street, I was constantly surrounded by those who wanted money. While some were obviously trying to make quick cash from a foreigner, many were very obviously poor.
And yet, in the middle of dire poverty, there was incredible hope. Once can read on the faces of the friendly Ethiopian people, they are proud to be there. They are incredibly optimistic about the future of their country. One doctor I spoke to put it like this: “We have nothing, we are at zero at the moment. The only way to go from here is up.”
I got food poisoning from dirty water on my second day, and all I could do was shiver until I was able to find some simple rice cooked in clean water. The fact that I lived in a “western country” would not have helped me in that situation, and it was clear to me that the worries in my life were petty in comparison to those who have to deal with that water everyday.
I often hear people around me talk about how petty the things we worry about in the West are. Turns out this is an understatement. In order to truly appreciate optimism, one needs to be plunged into poverty – only to discover that people who are already there look at hope in a much more meaningful way.
Şeref İşler is a broadcast journalist at the BBC World Service’s Turkish section.