It was night already as the bus bumped its way through the town of old Addis Ababa.
I was with Liam at the back. The open windows allowed us to peak out onto dim lit streets, street seller stalls dotted along the sidewalks, open spaced parks with meandering iron-post lamps followed their paths.
Read moreLiam and I had gone off to take a nap in the sleep house while Lizzie and Siobhan separately went shopping. But now we had to join them to see the play at the old theater.
I held Baby Liam in my arms on the bus and together we looked out through the windows of the bus.
And once we arrived at the old theater building there was already quite a crowd.
The building was yellow with red lined Ethiopian text above the huge double oak doors which also had red lined trim. The text was embossed against the flat of the wall.
The steps leading up to the doors were packed with people jostling to get in.
I spotted Lizzie, she was half way up the steps, and I called ahead to her. I knew that we had seats up in the balcony but we had to get the tickets first.
“We’re here. You got the tickets?” I yelled over to her and unexpectedly, she turned when she heard me.
Lizzie spread the tickets out in her hand, four of them, like they were a tarot deck, shiny and dark green and she reached over to us with them, as we pushed our way up the steps.
The four of us passed through the doors and together we climbed the stairs to the balcony.
All the seats were covered in white sheets, apart from a kid’s size wicker chair that was positioned in the aisle, next to our row. The chair was painted red and brown and must have been for the porter.
At the front there was a cream colored curtain and no view, apart from a slit at foot level were you could peak through to the ceiling of the stage.
Siobhan started complaining about the view.
“It’s the same with everyone,” I told her but the porter indicated the wicker chair for her if she wanted.
“I don’t want that!” she complained again.
We inched along our row, some three rows back from the front. Baby Liam went first and then myself, followed by Lizzie and Siobhan.
Liam was fussing by the time we were all seated. He sat next to an elderly couple who were sat by the wall. They wore brown turbans and long white jellabas and, on their robes, he sprayed grey felt pieces that he’d found from somewhere. They were from the seat cushions, I thought, as he continued to break apart more felt.
In front of us, from the balcony roof, were suspended ornate dark wooden lamps. They were unlit, and instead the balcony sconces were on.
“Liam is going to have swap places,” I called over to Siobhan.
“Why?” She was irritated.
“He’s making a mess with the couple next to him.”
So Liam and Lizzie swapped places just as the lights dimmed.
The cream colored curtain rose, and with it were raised the orchestra and the stage, so that both were directly in front us. The orchestra in front of the stage, a magnificent entrance.
And the view was perfect apart from where the cellist and the stringed instruments sat, where the tops of their instruments poked above the floor of the stage.
Then the musicians started up a low dirge but I wasn’t sure how long we would last.
I mean it wasn’t Broadway or the West End.
Photo by Steffen Wurzel via WikiMedia Commons.
