🌆

skyjake.fi

Chaos that Wears an Alluring Mask

📅 2026-07-19

🏷 Life, Ethiopia

I've been exploring Addis Ababa for the past week and a half.

The capital of Ethiopia is a sprawling, busy city where modern high-end living can be found right next to rubble and poverty. The luxury Airbnb apartment where we are staying (a ridiculous 4-bedroom, 5-bathroom penthouse) is an example of wealthy upper class lifestyle. Looking out the window on the 6th floor, I can see a slum of slanted shacks built from metal sheets next to a field where lambs are grazing. The busy street below contributes a constant hum of cars and the occasional beep of a horn. All around the city, new buildings are being constructed. I am told the poor are being continually pushed out to clear way for new projects. There is no end in sight for the rapid growth and development of the city. It seems everywhere you look there are entrepreneurs, street vendors, or an opportunity waiting for the right person.

From a Nordic perspective, the slice of life I've witnessed has an improvised, organic quality. Functions often automated with machines in Europe, like ATM security and parking fees, are handled by actual people, sometimes just a person walking around the lot in a high-vis vest. Another example is the behavior of drivers on the streets: most cars are small and nimble, and the flow of traffic is akin to that of a mass of people walking on sidewalks, where cars intermingle haphazardly and, instead of relying on lights and signs, trust the cooperation of other drivers. It is not uncommon for one to U-turn directly into oncoming traffic, inching into the opposing lane until the cars decide to give way. Horns are commonly used to tell pedestrians that they've been seen and, no, we're not going to stop for you. People cross the streets and walk among the traffic with confidence, cars passing by only centimeters away. One time, I saw a person in a wheelchair proceeding along the middle divider of a busy street, apparently on purpose. Yet another example is grocery stores, where you find mismatched collections of items, and may receive a dozen eggs in a cardboard box originally intended for AA batteries. And speaking of stores, outside the city center you can see small stores everywhere: tiny rooms open to the street with collections of fruit, produce, flowers, car parts, clothing, and electronics. Often you see an entire stretch of street full of stores selling just wheel caps, ceiling lamps, jewelry, or a particular type of traditional white dress. There is structure to it, but it feels naturally grown, not architected and rigid like in Finland.

Mobile phones are everywhere, of course. Even in the suburbs, you can see people walking by or sitting outside, staring at their screens. (Typically black Android slabs.) It is perhaps the most jarring juxtaposition of modern and traditional life, but par for the course in 2026, I suppose. Cell tower coverage in the city is excellent, with 5G or 4G everywhere. Browsing Gemini is no different than back home, and hardly taxes my 1.5 GB roaming data plan. Latency to the home server in Finland is excellent despite being half a world away. We haven't ventured too far out of the city, except into the surrounding hills, but this level of cell coverage is obviously an urban privilege.

I've been very impressed by the multitude of parks inside the city. They are large and well-maintained, with many beautiful flowers and trees. However, one of the newest, Unity Park, struck me very much like an artificial tourist attraction in comparison to the others. Instead of focusing on pretty nature, Unity Park has a sizable children's playground, two zoos, and a set of modern artworks, with the actual historical buildings (the palace of King Menelik II and an archive related to the birth of the African Union) almost feeling like an awkward sideshow among the obviously arranged spots where tourists can take selfies. It is evidently working, though, because the place was filled with foreign visitors.

It is the rainy winter season now in July, so every day we've been having thunderstorms, rain showers, and cold evenings. The weather is eerily similar to Finland's summer, although ironically, it's been nearly 30 °C back home while here in Addis it's around ten degrees colder. The stark difference here is the sunlight. We are practically on the equator so the sun is directly overhead with an UV index of a crisp 10 or 11 on most days. The city is at the altitude of 2.2 km, and you can certainly feel it when climbing the steeper hills and longer stairs: immediately you find yourself breathing heavier in the thinner air. The highest peaks go above 3 km. In Entoto Park, north of the city, we got as high as 2.9 km, where they have paved walkways in the forest across the mountainside. It was a wonderful surprise encountering wild monkeys among the trees. The group, roughly six of them, eventually stopped leaping between branches and descended to the pathway, gazing warily at us. I suppose they are used to humans passing by.

There is a clear western and U.S.-style capitalist influence that permeates the city. In addition to the high rises, spa resorts, malls, and restaurants (including a KFC imitator called KKFC), take for example the former palace of Emperor Haile Selassie, deposed in 1974. The palace, its surrounding gardens, and the collection of treasures within — largely gifts from foreign rulers, like intricate ivory carvings and gold statuettes — was closed from the public until a couple of years ago, but now having been renovated, is a tourist trap for affluent visitors to explore. The commercialized nature of the site is highlighted by the presence of multiple restaurants and cafes on the premises, and there is even a fancy spa next to the main building inside the palace gardens. Overall, it is an impressive place for sure. Standing next to the personal car collection and white train cars of the former Emperor, peering into the kitchenette of the train where food was prepared for the esteemed passengers, you feel surrounded by the ghosts of the ruling class of Ethiopia.

The omnipresent coffee and the many cafes, seemingly a couple of them in every city block, are a personal highlight. I love coffee, and the strong, dark brew they make here is powerful and delicious. My caffeine intake must be off the charts but what can you do? (Have another Macchiato, perhaps.) When it comes to food, there is of course injera accompanied by various sauces and sweet fresh fruit. A ripe mango here is so much richer in flavor than the sad specimens available in Finland (shipped raw from overseas). One night, we went to a (touristy) restaurant where they play live music and perform traditional dances while you eat injera. It was memorable, though a tad loud. I must say that the tastiest injera and sauces were not available in the restaurants but at the home of the relatives we were visiting. I'm sure there are many small restaurants hidden among the unpaved side streets of the city, serving similarly excellent food, but finding such places is a challenge. Venturing off the busier streets, into muddier ones where stray dogs sniff around, water is running out of a broken pipe, and uneven stones may shift underfoot, requires a certain level of courage. The city is relatively safe — typical metropolitan pickpockets aside — but being the conspicuous fair-skinned foreigner does tend to induce some anxiety. If nothing else, it is a stark demonstration of what it feels like to belong in a minority.

What I've seen so far is really just the façade of the city — the manicured parks and posh restaurants, and the painted fences and billboards that hide the more unseemly areas, messy construction sites, and slums. Behind the glittering main streets and upscale clothing boutiques, the back streets are busy with normal life, dust and mud, people milling about. It strikes me that the entire city is also a façade. It is a polished, safe front for a country that’s otherwise full of wildlife, vast wilderness, smaller rural towns, unrest among the ethnic groups, and (rumor has it) forces gathering to oppose the current government.

All of this is vibrant, unruly chaos that wears an alluring mask.

CC-BY-SA 4.0