I feel sick in the depths of my stomach. I’ve got that I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening feeling — because I really can’t believe this is happening. I’m sitting inside my room at the Thewodros Hotel in Harar, a small town in eastern Ethiopia, and I want to get out of here. Yes, I was chirpy when I arrived late yesterday afternoon. But a series of events has left me with a sensation that seems soul-tormenting and mind-boggling and which is best described as totally tangible bullshit.
I’ve got that sensation that alerts you to get out fast! Run! Go! You know, that same feeling you have when you’re stuck in a dead-end job or a past-its-sell-by-date relationship, or when you’re at the receiving end of bad service at a restaurant claiming to have your interest at heart. The latter happened last night.
But what really ticked me off — the thing that pushed me to this point of rage blended with despair — was when I went to the Central Bank of Ethiopia this morning and was told that it couldn’t change my American dollars to Ethiopian birr because the notes were printed in 1996. “This could be forged,” said the guy in charge of foreign exchange at the bank.
Actually, it wasn’t the first time that I was confronted with this line. The first time was at the Addis View Hotel in Addis Ababa a few days ago. The owner was called when I wanted to change a $100 note to Ethiopian cash. The hotel owner had his doubts but said, after some inspection, that he’d take his chances “because you’re a customer at this hotel”.
This morning, before I went to the Central Bank of Ethiopia, which does international transactions et cetera, I popped in at the bank below the hotel where I slept last night. I checked out of that joint because I realised I could be paying less for a bed and shower. A tour guide helped me find the cheaper Thewodros Hotel. It doesn’t feel as comfy as the other spot and the numbers on the doors on this floor make no sense at all. Opposite my room 213 is room 117; to its right is room 14 and to the left is room 204. The highlight is the service-without-a-smile, but hey, I’m getting what I’m paying for.
At the first bank I went to this morning, the foreign-exchange folk also refused to accept the American dollars printed in 1996. Same reason: it could be fake. They advised me to trip over to the international bank. I did and, well, I ended up feeling this sickness that I am trying to exorcise. I am furious, though, at the Western Union branch and an established foreign-exchange set-up in Khartoum, Sudan, for giving me this damn American money that everybody seems to think has some incurable virus. These people even look at me like I am infected with an incurable virus. I am, after all, the one carrying these notes that could or could not be forged. Worse of all is that I have quite a few of them!
I don’t know what to do with these silly notes. It’s not even about the stupid American dollars any more. It’s about the accompanying discomfort of it all. And all I want now is something or some place that makes sense. The inadequacies that come with travelling in Africa can get you down on days like these.
I don’t even feel like being in Harar any more. But reality means that I am here and, dammit, I’d better make the most of it. The bus journey from Addis Ababa felt like it took forever, but to be precise, it took a little bit less than forever. Maybe it lasted about nine hours. The tour guide is waiting at the hotel reception to show me his birthplace.
PS: It’s now shortly after sunset and I am hooked on Harar. Walked inside the walls of the old walled town and soaked up enough to keep me inspired for another week. Just hope the Ethiopian birr doesn’t run out too soon!
Umm, I probably shouldn’t be saying this in a public space, but if you can’t change it at a bank, why not try the black market? In desperation naturally.
In Egypt, I used to change my money at a certain bank. I stopped checking after the 3rd or 4th time to see if the amount was right. Once, I only noticed after a week that a large corner bit of a 100LE note was torn off. I went to the bank a few days later & they changed it without a word. It was also service without a smile or sound, but they were certainly efficient.
Do you think that this happened to you because you look like from the middle east? I was in Ethiopian recently and had no problem with currency exchanges or smiles.
I visited Ethiopia twice last year. The first time, I ran into the same situation. Notes older that 1999 were not accepted. It was a major inconvienience for me but, that is just how it is. They only want to protect themselves from counterfiets. It is not personal.
Well,
I had the same problem six years ago, in South Africa. I was visiting family from the US. As soon as we got of the plane while waiting for our next flight to East London, I decided to exchange my US dollars for South African Rands. The dollar notes were withdrawn from a US ATM and they had some red ink on the edges. Well, the clerck and his supervisor gave me hell about the ink on my dollars plus the story didn’t make sense at al. yes, I was pissed.
Anyways, I decided to wait until I arrived home in East London to try the Standard Bank downtown. Well, thanks to the polite Std. bank employees, I was able to exhchange my dollars. All they asked for was my current passport and S.A ID. They could have asked for my airplane ticket if they wanted to.
Now when I think about it, I guess the folks in Johannesburg, saw me with my two toddlers, dressed so casually, with a baby o a sling, and though I must have either stolen the money or had to something to get it(US dollars). I guess I didn’t look like the type that would travel overseas and be able to earn US dollars with the way I looked. I wasn’t horrifying. Actually I was just so tired after travelling for almost 25 hours to get home and take a bath and get some goodnight sleep.
Thye messed with the wrong person, because the Lord almighty eas with me!
I’m glad you fell in love with the place in spite of the bureaucrats. Ethiopia has always sounded like one of the most special places on Earth. I believe it was the only country in Africa that was never colonised by the europeans. I too would like to travel through Africa one day – it is my retirement dream.
Welcome to Harar! Customer service in general is not that friendly in Ethiopia. They don’t call you by your name at the bank, and most won’t smile. However, the people in general are friendly and helpful. After living for more than 24 years in the States, i just moved to Harar. Although frustrating at time – i love it here!
It could easily be incompetence, and being dully careful. Which can easily be attributed to the constant stuggle with fraud developing countries face and they are ill-equipped for the challenge of combatting fraud in different shapes and forms.
*yawn*