Abora asked. He says no.
Roy took a wad of bills from his pocket and began counting them
out. The dabtara waved his hands in front of him. He would not
accept it.
Has he explained to you where it is? Roy asked Abora.
Why, yes. Actually. But I cannot
Yes you can. Lets go. Roy stood up and thanked the old man.
Denastelen, he said, bowing slightly. The old man frowned and
shuffled over to his wooden chest. He brought out three leather
bracelets ornamented with an assortment of tiny, tightly-wound
leather bags. Each bag bore strange markings. He affixed them to
each of their wrists.
These are ketabbracelets, Abora explained. They protect
against evil. He says we must wear them.
Roy responded to the dabtaras generosity by taking off his cheap
digital watch and handing it to him. The old man seemed genuinely
touched. He called out something to them as they left.
Abora translated. He said, Eat beans.
Thats the idea, Roy replied.
No. Not coffee. He meant beans in the general sense. Lentils and
such. Among Ethiopians it can be a profound blessing of good
wishes.
Eat beans, Roy repeated.
They walked about two kilometers up the road. Abora struggled
a bit with his withered leg, but he was clearly determined not to let it
slow him down.
Shall we walk more slowly? Roy suggested.
No! Abora protested, No, thank you. I am fine. God tests me.
If I must work a little harder, then that is my lot. It is also my glory.
Roy had not expected to become enamored of Abora. You are a
very inspiring young man, he said. Abora could not help but grin at
the compliment.
I was in a car accident, he explained, When I was young.
Yes, said Roy, Cars are terrible things.
Finally they arrived at a small circular hut by the side of the road and
Abora announced that this was their destination. The roof of the hut
was circular and pointed at the top and topped with a clay tip; it
looked like an enormous brown breast proffering its nipple to the
sky. Roy stood transfixed. Various men crouched outside sipping
ABYSSINIA
234