"The Butcher, the Baker and the Candlestick Maker"

In our first six months in Ethiopia, we have done our part to keep all three of the Rub-a-Dub Tub men in business. During the first four and a half months, we were having every-other-day electricity cuts from about 7am ‘till 10pm (government rationing). So candlelight dinners were all too frequent to retain their romantic aura. Although we found ourselves going to bed rather early on power-out days, we still used candles for several hours of studying, letter writing or game playing in the evenings. In addition to the candlestick maker, we’ve definitely kept the baker employed as we stop by the bread shop for fresh bread about 3 times a week. When you can get hot-out-of-the-oven loaves of bread (think sub-bun size but not as hearty) for only 1 birr (that’s about 8 cents), it’s hard to resist its habit-forming addiction. So the candlestick maker and the baker were easy to support; the butcher on the other hand, took us about three months to warm up to him.

On our ten minute walk to school, we pass by three butcher stores, each displaying identical scenes. There is a man wearing a white lab coat standing at the open window. Behind him is a large rack upon which is hung the beef. If we’d ever wondered what the cow looks like from the inside, we wonder no more. At first we were disgusted as the recently butchered cow hung in open air for the flies to get the first taste. But then, week after week of passing by these butchers, our disgust turned to curiosity. And finally, in late July, our curiosity mustered up the courage to give it a try!

Knowing that Friday is a Orthodox and Muslim fasting day (in which they do not eat any meat), I knew that it was likely that Saturday morning we’d find a fresh cow hung up for sale. So, around 10am I made my way to the particular butcher who had always seemed most friendly to us as we passed by. He greeted me as usual and I greeted him back (greeting is VERY important in Ethiopian culture). I asked the price and said that I wanted ½ kilo (it’s about $1.45 per pound, not bad!). So he took his sickle-like knife and started to slice off pieces from all over the cow. A slice here, a slice there…I noticed that he was picking what looked like the best parts: a deep red color, no fat. Then after 4-5 pieces he cut off two pieces that were fattier and asked how much fat I wanted. At this point I started butchering the Amharic language which caused some confusion, but in the end I was VERY happy with my first local meat purchase (we had bought ground beef in the “sanitized” supermarkets before).

Like a hunter returning from a successful outing, I proudly showed my kill to Andrea as soon as I arrived home.  Andrea then readied the pressure cooker in which we cooked the meat for a good long time (to soften it up as well as to kill any unknown “things” that might have come along as extra “bonuses”). Later that night, Andrea made a killer stew out of that meat, carrots, onion and potatoes. Then the waiting game began. Will we get sick? Will we get worms? Will we…you fill in the blank. After several days of feeling “normal,” the butcher had won our trust and so began a pleasant relationship that continues right up until this morning’s purchase.

Now when we walk by the butchers on the way to school, we stop to think “do we need any meat for dinner?” rather than trying to count the number of flies eating their breakfast. And so, all three Rub-a-Dub Tub members are pleased by our stay here in Addis Ababa thus far.