Habesha Driving

Driving in Ethiopia deserves its own short discourse. It’s a rodeo. Now to be fair, I’ve seen worse: Small-city China in 2005, Bangladesh, bumper cars at the state fair. But Ethiopia is remarkable for its danger, its unspoken rules, the shoddiness of the equipment, and the sheer novelty. At the time of my first trip in 2007, there were a handful of stoplights in Addis, a city of 8-10 million. They were cursory suggestions, merely slowing traffic but never stopping it. Today, there are tens, if not hundreds, of stoplights in the city. People come to complete stops at red lights, yield on turn signals, and generally follow the universal rules of the road. But heaven help you if you try to make a left turn without a light. That’s a process of slowly edging your nose out far enough into traffic until you nearly get rammed, and then magically, the next car swoops behind you, and then you’re home free. To be fair, you see fewer overturned trucks, shattered automobiles, or mangled bodies than you’d expect given the level of chaos. Maybe it’s happening and they’re going to hospitals other than Black Lion (of course nearly every trauma at Black Lion is the direct result of an “RTA” – road traffic accident). Or maybe they don’t survive long enough to get to a hospital, the crowds clean up the shattered glass, and everyone goes about their business because it’s so unremarkable. Or maybe people just don’t drive fast enough to have many serious accidents, similar to what is seen in some major US cities.  Beyond making a left hand turn with your eyes closed and hands clenched in prayer, there are a few other unspoken rules you should know. Lane markings should be treated and commented upon as nice “decoration” for the road. Not rules, guidelines, suggestions, or anything resembling a formal requirement. Everyone knows they should be followed but also mutually agrees that life is just so much easier if they are ignored. They function best if running directly under the car like an electric track race car (INSERT LINK TO TRACK RACER). In this function, they also make it difficult for other cars to pass you. If another car wants to pass, don’t worry, they will dart into oncoming traffic, zoom past, and then swing back directly in front of you just close enough to require an underwear change, a slamming of the breaks, and a helpful expletive.

Next, there are speed bumps. On major highways outside of Addis. Without any reflectors, paint, or signs. These tootsie rolls of concrete magically appear 20 miles from the nearest town, continue throughout town, and then are randomly sprinkled throughout the rest of your drive. If hit straight on, you’re talking about big time damage. But don’t worry, most of the bumps have been crushed so many times that there are clear ruts for cars going in either direction so that you only have to slow down to 15mph to line up your wheels with the rut. In addition to the speed bumps, other obstacles you can expect to encounter include herds of cows, goats, sheep, donkeys, and occasionally, camels. The road is invariably smoother than the surrounding fields and so the animals don’t hesitate to occupy all lanes.  

The average driving equipment leaves a lot to be desired. The import tax on any car brought to the country starts at 150,000 ETB (approx. $5,200+) for a junker car and probably goes up from there. I’ve heard that for most cars, there’s a 100% import tax (All figures and understanding of finances comes from a rambling conversation with my driver during which I understood about half of the math). Unless you’re driving for a big NGO or foreign/domestic government, it’s going to be an old, rickety, rusty carriage with an old engine spewing dark grey smog. 1970s Russian Ladas abound. While charming in their own right (very few cars on American roads have exposed stick shifts connecting to the gear box with a floor that may fall out at any point), the lack of seatbelts, functioning door handles, and airbags prevent it from getting a 5-star safety rating. There are some better cars but very, very few. For my 13-hour trip to Dinsho, I was riding shotgun in Ermias’ 1983 Toyota Carina which has an impressive 222,000 miles on it, but something makes me the think the odometer may have been asleep for a few extra thousand miles. Ermias’s dream car is a 2003 Toyota Corolla because that would vault him to the next level in terms of Ethiopia’s chauffeur game.

I hadn’t seen much bribery before but after driving 7hrs to Dinsho, it is a thing. Unlike what I’ve heard of some other countries, the police in Addis don’t hassle people frequently and don’t regularly shake them down for money. In five visits to Addis, I’ve never had to bribe any police officer or other government employees. But get outside of Addis and it’s a different story. We were stopped 5x by the federal traffic police heading to Dinsho. Each time they checked Ermias’s driver’s license, his registration, and insurance certificate. Four times they let him go without any problem. The fifth time, the officer gave him a hard time about not having a reflector to put behind the car in case he breaks down. Ermias had one but then the officer gave him a hard time for not having two! A lorry driver stopped on the other side of the road yelled across, “he just wants money, if you give him money, he’ll let you go.” Ermias started laughing, pulled out a 50 birrh note and gave it to the officer. Same thing happened at the same spot on the way back from Dinsho. When told that he had paid the officer on our way to Dinsho, the officer laughed and said, “yeah but I wasn’t working that day so you didn’t pay me!”

The friendliness of the other drivers on the road, like the truck driver at the bribery stop, is remarkable. There is a hilarious camaraderie against the police that I haven’t seen elsewhere. When driving out of Addis, Ermias tried passing a pickup truck. At the last second, the pickup truck switched lanes to cut us off and tapped his brakes. Ermias, pissed off, tried to pass him again, and again, the truck cut us off and tapped his brakes. Cursing under his breath, we went for 200 yards at a speed well below the speed limit. And then, Ermias saw the traffic police officer “hiding’ behind a light pole with a radar gun and it was clear that the truck in front of us had seen the cop and was cutting us off to prevent us from speeding and getting a ticket. After the cop, Ermias pulled up alongside the truck, the drivers yelled their appreciation back and forth, had a good laugh, and off we went.

When driving in the countryside, there are random potholes. And at these potholes, there are kids asking you to stop, and if you do, they will ask for money. According to Ermias, the idea is that these kids have been repairing these potholes and would like you to help sponsor their entrepreneurial road improvement project. However, he doesn’t give them money because if you give money, you incentivize them to create more potholes in the future and to demand payment for fixing those. In addition, there is no way to tell if the kids demanding money are the people who are in fact repairing the road or if it was actually their hardworking friend and they’re freeloading. It’s actually a fascinating example of an important role that government can and needs to play in maintaining a public good or writing contracts with maintenance companies that can keep the roads in good shape. If left to the free market, there is no way to know who damaged the road (and thus should bear an extra burden of the repair cost), which kid actually repaired the road, how much they should be paid, any quality control for the repair, and any incentives to prevent future potholes from being created. A few fellow travelers said the same entrepreneurial scheme exists in many other countries but this was the first time that I had seen it.

That’s all for now, happy and safe driving!