A Walk on the Wild Side

All cities have their murky, seamy side; their raw, dark underbelly and these need to be visited sometimes in order to get an idea of the way in which the ‘real’ people live. Well at least that’s the theory.

And so it was that I set out (with very little trepidation, really) earlier this week with a Habesha friend to visit the Abashawl area of Asmara and to sample some local Suwa in one of the many drinking dens to be found there.

Abashawl was known as “the Native Quarter” in Italian colonial times (Eritreans were not permitted to live in the main part of the Italian city at that time) and remains to this day a warren of unmade streets seemingly thrown down with little planning on a hillside on the edge of central Asmara. Its buildings are small and have painted plastered walls, with light-blue being the predominant colour, unlike the sherbet of the rest of Asmara, and with sometimes-rusting corrugated iron roofs.

It has also served as Asmara’s East End or Lower East Side with new arrivals from the country-side to the big city traditionally being able to take cheap accommodation here (often with many sharing a room) while they found their economic feet.

Suwa is a local alcoholic brew whose main ingredient is said to be sorghum. It’s really an unfiltered, cloudy beer and is typically not very strong although it’s highly variable in both strength and colour (from dark to a kind of muddy brown) since it’s home made.

Upon arrival it wasn’t long before my friend pointed out a few Suwa Houses. “How can you tell?” I asked. Well, it was explained that each has a sign consisting of an inverted metal drum with an inverted enamelled suwa cup on top of it just standing outside. So we stepped into the heart of darkness, where respectable Asmarinos fear to tread … actually it was more like stepping into somebody’s old and battered but very clean and well-kept front-room with the other (all male) participants in the drinking orgy sitting quietly on wooden benches sipping from suwa cups and being served by the very polite daughter of the household.

In general the occasion just seems to be a chance to catch up on gossip for a while – as far as I could gather subjects for conversation ranged from the current state of the harvests to the cold day that it had been, later the lady of the house came in with a charcoal stove, presumably to heat the room, and joined in the conversation. At one point the worry was expressed that prices would rise if too many “like me” came for suwa but it was agreed that I could come back provided I didn’t spread the word.

Later we went on a brief tour of Abashawl, before our return to downtown Asmara. The streets were alive with children playing and women with open fires preparing suwa and coffee and, in one street, there were girls standing provocatively in doorways; they were, perhaps, selling something a little different.

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An Intake of Breath

I’ve referred to the Tigrinya language and its strangulated, choking sounds before – essentially a lot of it comes about by closing the airways (including making those harsh pharyngeal stops) in different ways to those used in European languages. There are also the non-word sounds, which are also quite different, to consider.

When we lived in Japan it wasn’t just the language that we got used to hearing but also the other noises that people make. For example, “ee-ee-ee-eh?” - starting high and rising, usually uttered by women - is an expression of surprise, the more barked “arey?” being the male equivalent. Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm accompanying what the speaker is saying is agreement and an indication that the listener is in fact listening.

Here, we have Wa! (can almost sound like Mwa! or Bwa!) for surprise or for when something is going badly wrong. A click made with the tongue against the roof of the mouth (which certain volunteers, who shall remain nameless, developed to an over-use extreme) is agreement, sort of like “yes you’re right”. But the most subtle one is the Habesha-intake-of-breath which is a kind of agreement as well, but on the lines of “I understand”.

This last one takes a bit of getting used to – you start by asking yourself “well what have I just said that this person should be so shocked, I was only explaining a mundane point about MS Excel why is he / she so surprised?” but then you realise it’s just an occasional interjection to show understanding and the paying of attention.

Language evolves, of course, and things move on and perhaps the need to have an actual person to listen to is disappearing as demonstrated by one of Caroline’s colleagues who has been known to use the intake-of-breath to himself while sitting at his computer, probably in response to a point he’s just made in a document.