Map this
Yesterday, while coming down with what is looking like a chest cold (this is the flu season in Addis), I needed a victory to lift my spirits. So I went to the Ethiopian Mapping Authority, a huge, white, utilitarian building that has seen better days, black Soviet-style block letters foreshadowing its Kafka-esque, bureaucratic maze.I have been trying to find a map of Addis for two months now. Not that a street map will be overly helpful in terms of finding my way around, as no one uses street names, but I find that I really need a physical orientation of the neighborhoods and the cardinal directions in order to feel my way through confusing areas without having to stop and ask for directions I won’t understand anyway.
There are only two places that sell real maps of Addis: The Ethiopian Tourist Commission, and the Mapping Authority. As recently as 5 years ago, you couldn’t, as a foreigner, even buy an official map of Ethiopia without written approval from the Ministry of Immigration or some such institute. I have been to various branches of the ETC about 6 or 7 times, and every time I show up they are 1) closed for lunch 2) closed for vacation or 3) out of stock. The Mapping Authority, being a governmental department, has even more difficult hours for someone who works full-time and even has specific “Map-Selling Hours” outside of which it is not possible to request to buy a map.
Yesterday afternoon I fortunately showed up within said Map-Selling Hours, and had to first present my case to an elderly guardsman. Upon determining that I was not in fact a terrorist, he directed me to Room 305, down the corridor to the right. I walked into Room 305 and was greeted by two men, to whom I explained that I was planning on buying two maps, Ethiopia and Addis Ababa. The older man wrote me a slip of paper in Amharic and told me to go to Room 412, which was upstairs. I wandered a bit till I found the stairwell, got to the next floor and guessed correctly and found myself in Room 412, where a woman and a man sat behind pristine desks reading newspapers. I told them I was looking for these two maps, and the man disappeared, while the woman filled out a long receipt where I had to fill my name in several times. The man came back with the maps and laid them on the table. “Are these the ones you are looking for?” After I affirmed they were, I was told the maps stayed there, given the pink receipt and directed to Room 409, the cashier. I walked down the squeaky vinyl hallway to find Room 409, which was deserted. I eventually found the cashier next door, who allowed me to pay and wrote me another receipt, which I was to take back to Room 412. At Room 412 they took the other receipt, stapled them all together, rolled up the maps, and told me to go back downstairs. Downstairs, me, my maps, and my receipts were inspected by a female security guard and the first older guardsman, and after having determined that I did not raid their warehouse of maps, they let me leave. All 7 employees of the Mapping Authority required to sell me two maps had validated their salaries.
I walked out into the sunlight feeling like I had just emerged from the USSR, circa 1985. But triumphant, nonetheless.
posted by Margot @ 2:56 AM
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