When people hear about my experiences in Ethiopia, they often assume that I only carry good memories. They see my love for Ethiopian coffee, my deep academic research, and my long-standing relationships with the people there. But life is never just a collection of beautiful moments—there are difficult ones, too. And Ethiopia, like anywhere else in the world, holds both.
More than ten years ago, I was in Ethiopia for fieldwork, traveling from the countryside back to Addis Ababa. I arrived at a bus terminal near the Piazza area, waiting for a minibus to take me toward my hotel. A few men asked where I was going, and, without a second thought, I told them my destination.
A while later, I found myself boarding what seemed to be a regular minibus. But it wasn’t. It was a “project bus”—a carefully orchestrated scam. Except for me, everyone on that bus was part of a criminal group running the operation.
I realized too late. Before I could react, hands reached for me. Knives slashed through my clothes and bag—quick, precise, practiced. My phone, my camera, my USB drive, my laptop—everything was taken. They didn’t need me anymore. They told me to get off the bus.
I stood there, disoriented, trying to understand what had just happened. The rain poured heavily, drenching everything. I sat down on the ground and cried.
And then, something unexpected happened. People gathered around me. Strangers—people who had nothing to do with what had just taken place—helped me pick up the scattered remnants of my belongings. They didn’t ask for anything in return. They simply walked with me, step by step, as I held on tightly to what I had left, all the way back to my hotel.
For a while, I was too scared to go out. When I did, I called taxis instead of walking. I checked my surroundings carefully before leaving anywhere. I moved from Taitu Hotel—where I had been treated as a VIP guest—to a hotel near Bole, seeking a little more security.
Yet, this experience didn’t take Ethiopia away from me. My feelings toward the country didn’t change. I returned, again and again. But it did change me. Even now, when I step onto a minibus, a thought lingers in my mind: What if the people on this bus…?
We all carry scars from experiences that frightened us, that made us question our sense of safety. But fear and love are not opposites. They coexist. Ethiopia is not just my happiest memories, nor is it just this one painful incident—it is all of it. And I accept it as part of my journey.
Do you have anything that scares you?
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