It started out like any other Saturday grocery shopping
trip. My roommate, Joy and I, had hit up Shoa, where we get our meat, cheese,
and general foodstuffs. Then, we went to Fantu, where they have the good cereal
and other exotic foods. Finally, we made it to the Veggie Man to get our cheap,
fresh veggies, and the friendly customer service that I’ve really only found in
Ethiopia. They teach you the Amharic words for various fruits and vegetables,
carry your bags to the car for you, and usually throw in a complimentary
banana, just because they’re sweet.
On this
day, however, I turned around to head to our trusty Ford Ranger and saw that
the back left tire was completely flat. Not just a little deflated, no obvious nails
or gouges in the tire- but totally and utterly flat. Now being the responsible,
strong women that we are, we walked over to the car and investigated a bit,
seeing how we could work to solve the problem.
Having had
two flat tires this summer, I learned how to change it on my little Corolla. My
dad made sure that I received the lesson of a lifetime in our church parking
lot- loosen the lug nuts, get the jack under there, crank up the car, get the
tire off, put on the spare… I knew what I was doing. (My roommate assured me
that she had seen it before, but did not trust herself to be any sort of expert
in this situation.)
However, in
this situation, there were a couple deterrents. 1) The Ford Ranger was slightly
bigger than my Corolla, which means if it fell off the jack, it could really
hurt. Plus, the spare tires in these cars are in a very different place, adding
some initial confusion in step one of the process. 2) It was parked on the side
of an Ethiopian road, where cars come careening around the corner with only a
friendly beep to let you know they are there. 3) Being parked on the side of an
Ethiopian road means that underneath the car is Ethiopian dirt, filled with trash
and other things that I really do not want to be crawling on. So being the
responsible, strong women we are, we pulled out our cell phones and started
calling Bingham friends to find a big, strapping man to come rescue us.
Thankfully,
I live in a place where it does not only take a village to raise a child, it
also takes one to change a tire. Once our Ethiopian friends at the store across
the street realized our dilemma, they came over willing to jump in and solve
our problems. We pulled out the tools from inside the truck, and they got to
work. They were not deterred by the spare tire (apparently, on these vehicles,
you have to crank it down from under the car), or by the Ethiopian drivers
(there is enough beeping in this country, you get to a point that you join in
and it doesn’t even phase you), or by the Ethiopian dirt (they brought a flat
cardboard box to lay on- wise men).
 |
| The Trusty Ford Ranger... with a dusty spare tire successfully on. |
By the time
our Bingham friends came to rescue us (a shout out to Jenn for bringing Dave to
our aid), the helpful men just had to get the lock lug nut off (which would
have happened earlier, if I would have found the tools for it when the guy asked
me), and put the spare on. We cheered them on, paid them for a job well done,
and got our groceries home only 45 minutes later than we planned.
Thank God for helpful Ethiopian men and their willingness to help responsible, strong, ferenge women.
Thank God for helpful Ethiopian men and their willingness to help responsible, strong, ferenge women.
(Unfortunately, I did not have my camera on hand for the event, so there is only an after picture. But next time we go, I hope to take a picture with our helpful men. To be posted at a later date.)
