Sinkata and the rock-hewn churches

I had a look round Bizzet, today in a fluster because it’s market day. The sellers are scattered on the  market pitch and have their goods spread out before them, usually on the ground, on a raised platform made of a heap of stones, or at the very best on a stall supported a structure of wooden poles and shaded by pieces of cloth.

On the road, we come to a halt when a long vehicle is stalled, unable to steer around a sharp bend, at the very spot where a lorry that suffered an accident two weeks ago has been left with its front hanging over the cliff, held back only by the weight of its body. The hold-up is resolved when a lorry tugs the stuck vehicle up the slope. All passengers heave a sigh of relief and get back into their cars. On the other side of a mountain pass the town of Adigrat appears spread out, with a domed Catholic church standing out as a landmark.

My last move takes me to Sinkata, where I find a friendly hotel with a helpful owner. It’s got only a few rooms around a small yard where two beautiful lambs are peacefully eating their grass. I have a look round the town, that in spite of lying on the main road is quite pleasant. It has a mosque, sign of a minority Muslim presence, and nice stone houses. Outcrops of stone form a natural paving to some streets.

I have dinner at the hotel, which also serves as a popular café and restaurant. The owner’s wife has a thousand attentions for me and makes me feel a bit handicapped in wanting to spoon out the shiro on the injera every time I finish it. Her son comes to my table and looks at me with his big sincere eyes. He talks about the church of the four animals that can be reached with a short walk and offers to take me there tomorrow.

The next day didn’t start off in the best way. I had to wait ages for my breakfast while I was getting impatient to leave for the churches. My plan was to see the three that lie to the side of the Wukro road and then add the one of the four animals. Moreover, at the bus station there was no bus, but I soon found a nice lorry driver on the main road who said he’d take me for free.

I was sitting in the cabin next to a frail old lady who was coming from the hospital. Her looks were destitute, her emaciated body wrapped in dusty ragged clothes. I couldn’t not take pity on her, as much as the driver had done when he took her onboard. This nice man had to lift her down the cabin.

I start my walk to the churches crossing a countryside of fields fenced off by cacti and other plants, sometimes in flower, that make it look like a garden. The first church is partly hewn into the rock, partly built outside the cliff. It’s reached by a wobbly staircase of wooden sticks and from its balcony a spectacular panorama can be enjoyed that reaches out to the distant height of the Geralta. The interior is decorated with colourful frescoes representing the saints and the stories of the Bible.

The third church is said to be one of the best in the region. It is preceded by a narrow gallery acting as a porch. From here you get into a very dark interior that isn’t particularly impressive if you judge in terms of colourful decoration. It’s actually got no paintings at all and it’s quite gloomy, but as the eyes get used to the darkness you see a ceiling all carved with geometrical motifs. The priest lighted wicks of waxed string that he glued at the end of a pole to illuminate the details.

Back in Sinkata I have a beer and order some food at the hotel. I feel so good here that I’d be tempted to stay another night sacrificing my eagerness to see more places. The owner’s son, who feels some admiration for me, comes with a spoonful of extra sauce and eats a few morsels out of my plate as if we were friends. He’s probably looking forward to taking me to that church he mentioned, and I’d be prepared to go for the sake of the company and in order not to let him down, short of a keen interest in another similar attraction. Still, he doesn’t come up with a plan and I wouldn’t like to suggest I want to be accompanied.

I want to pay the bill and when it comes I’m surprised at its amount that I sense has been artfully inflated. Now I am the one to be let down. How can these deer’s eyes be guilty of this base deceit? Unsure of my suspicion, I hand him the money, but the doubt has insinuated into my mind. The more I think about it, the more I become convinced that a trifling sum of 10 birr is rocking a relationship of esteem and trust that had established between us. I feel betrayed, only for 10 birr.

I  react indirectly by showing my discontent and I announce I’ll leave to Hausien by the first bus. The boy wants to take me to the station, but the conversation is not fluent anymore. All has been spoiled by silly greed.

I have a long wait before me. The station is all confusion with people travelling to and fro at the height of the wedding season before Lent sets in. After two hours a bus pulls in and is literally assaulted by passengers that scramble in to secure a seat. We’re all precariously stacked in and set out to this town that’s only 25 km away. Hausien is not as pretty as Sinkata with some ugly modern buildings and its impersonal aspect.