The monk throws the rope from the top. I look up. More 15 meter vertical wall separating me from the religious. It's the only way to climb to the monastery. I'm in your hands.
Perhaps I have written "string" too quickly. It is, actually, strips of oxhide intertwined that we must hold on to climb the rock as, from above, Izarte try to pulse like a sack by a rudimentary harness: a knot around the waist. I think briefly about how much it has cost me to get to this rocky landscape of northern Ethiopia bordering Eritrea. I think of a possible fall. Feed, especially, on why I'm here.
Fifteen years ago she had met the Comboni Juan González Núñez, one of the most knowledgeable and promoters of Ethiopian history in our country. From its unique "Ethiopia: men, places and myths "is a phrase stuck with me, almost a challenge:
"A few friends of Ethiopian history can boast of having reached Debre Damo and climbed the rock wall hanging naked on a string "
The missionary wrote this in the early years 80. A quarter century after, everything had changed. These desolate landscapes are no longer shelter the guerrillas of Tigray and Eritrea bloody war with (the remaining embers) is history. The facilities are now infinitely greater reach. And that these lands still harbor a number of mines in those bloody years. I had to try.
Fifty villagers with songs and prayers regrets the death of a loved one. It seems to me a requiem to the nth off a cliff about to tourist
On the route from Axum a Mekele, aim at Debre Damo forces head north, the border with Eritrea, which extends a long way in a country where no roads are traveled, be savored. The presence of gun-wielding soldiers is increasing.
After a hellish track treacherous stones and potholes have finally reached a ghost town which it sits, surrounded by a dry soil horizon, of chumberales and euphorbias- at the foot of Debre Damo. We must continue to climb on foot, with the looming presence of the stone mass of more than one kilometer long and 400 wide over our heads. Fifty villagers with songs and prayers regrets the death of a loved one. It seems to me a requiem to the nth off a cliff about to tourist.
It is, Debre Damo it, a monastery either. In the late V, a group of monks known as the "Nine Saints" were commissioned to evangelize the northern. One, San Miguel Aregawi, was the founder of this remote monastery located 2.200 meters.
In such a trance, spell me to climb the bare wall scared the temptation to do as a pitcher. What if the monk falters and release the string? What if it breaks and he plunges? But now I have other concerns. My Ethiopian friends have told me that no one with his conscience at peace should be afraid to fall. In case, Suddenly a rapid examination of conscience, an avalanche of mistakes and blunders, merely further uneasy.
I grab any prey as if my life depended. Snorting like a bull for the slaughterhouse, me hear it for the above
The legend says that Aregawi could climb to the top of a giant snake helped sent by God to found the monastery, that still prohibits women access to (I read that the monks did not even rise to Debre Damo female animals). But here there is no trace of snake enchanted.
Two teenagers, acolytes of the monastery, offered to go with me in exchange for dollars that have not yet asked, but is intuited. Someone up there asked if I'm ready. In no case, but who cares. I grab any prey like I was living while pulling me more and more pressure. Snorting like a bull for the slaughterhouse, me hear it for the above.
–Wait, wait, please-they continue to cry for not pulling.
Even I have to stand a couple of times. I never thought 17 meters to give both. The last meters are even more exposed, but at least I can see the faces of my two angels benefactors. I'm up. The kids smile. I, also. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
As we come to the meadow, are guessed and the red roofs of the church, flanked by a three-story tower square. They come to meet me four monks wrapped in humble garb. One of them came forward and offered to cross the two boys to kiss. I'm intrigued to know if it is prohibited female animals up.
'We have chickens and cats, recognizes one of the monks. Progress is underway.
One of the priests explained that the younger down every day for food for the whole community. In this nest monk-bird are benjamines which feed their largest.
While the priest fill out a visit with lang parsimony, one of the boys invited me to enter the church after off our shoes. Just no light. In Qeddest, holy place par excellence, any squeamishness shore boy and I discovered the Tabot, the sacred book of the liturgy, exposing her careful handwriting pages geez (Ethiopian Latin) flooded with color and prints. As, the guardian monk is bent on the role, without leaving the doorway, ceremony involving the collection of 100 entry birr (just eight euros at the exchange, a considerable saber around here).
We walked on a huge cemetery. I have received the monks living and the dead I am fired
We went to the nearby bell tower. At our feet, as far as the eye, rooms are more than 200 Monks, on one level and built in stone. A narrow path descends the rock of Debre Damo in the north, excels where shortly afterwards a beautiful chapel painted blue, perched on a natural terrace.
We walked on a huge cemetery, on the last rest of the monks who have already submitted their souls to God or the devil. The oldest graves took small caves overlooking a rebel femur or skull here waiting for further… I have received the monks living and the dead I am fired. No objection.
Down there is the monk-pulley, awaiting his due reward. I can order what you want, but is content with twenty birr. Your porter, advantage of the situation, ten claims. It has unleashed hunting "faranji".
The operation is now much easier and less tiring and in a blink of an eye and I'm down. Half a dozen jubilant girls sing and dance at the foot of Debre Damo, I do not know whether to celebrate the "faranji" has returned from a part or to contribute their bit for the common goal for me to go without a birr in the pockets.
After filling the latest tips, that raise a ten euro bill, I turn my back to the rock with the satisfaction of the old dream come true. The funeral has not dissolved yet. Men and women are crying to separate between cacti late tormented by the sun border.
