Ethiopia's Sustainability Potential Post-COVID

Ethiopia was ready to be seen as the world-class tourist destination it's always been. Amidst investments from China, Ethiopians were building homes, fortifying schools and preparing the next generation for a country on the verge of rapid growth. With travel now on a temporary hold due to COVID-19, experts worry about the financial loss in Africa, especially in the wildlife and conservation sectors. Could it be that Ethiopia has a rare opportunity to assess the effects of their short-term accelerated tourism?

Ethiopia has a lot to be proud of: it is one of only two countries in Africa to evade colonization. The town of Lalibela, home to a mesmerizing church complex carved into the ground, already drew large crowds early on in the country's push for tourists. Religion guides almost everything Ethiopians do, so perhaps it's fitting they take the phrase "daily bread" to heart. Injera is a crepe-like fermented bread made from a grain called teff. It becomes both the serving plate and the utensil as you rip a piece of injera to pick up spicy chicken or beef with puréed lentils. Food and religion are among the reasons travelers were watching Ethiopia. The country is also said to be where coffee and humankind itself originated.

My tour guide, Hamid, who was starting a travel agency before the pandemic, knows tourists rarely consider Ethiopia, and he's committed to changing that mindset. According to him, tourism is one of the top degrees at university. With an educated and passionate tourism workforce, Ethiopia could potentially set a new standard for sustainable travel before the hordes of anxious, home-bound tourists are let loose.

Despite common misconceptions, the capital city of Addis Ababa is modern and thriving. Blaring car horns, skyscrapers and crowds of shoppers all give Addis that "bustling" characteristic city-dwellers crave. With a population of over 4 million, the foot traffic flows into the streets as people transport goods or rush to work. Addis Ababa's big city energy reaches its climax at Mercato, Africa's largest open-air market.

People carrying mattresses or large containers on their heads swerve in between honking vehicles, all vying to inch further on bumpy roads. Elaborate mannequins compete for space with the textile vendor's carefully folded rugs. A man leans over his spices to have a lively discussion with the woman selling kitchen supplies next door. All this commotion becomes the soundtrack for yet another day in Addis Ababa.

This country has a tense history, and with the upcoming elections, Ethiopia might see more turbulent times ahead. Economically, however, most Ethiopians felt like these were "the good times." In my conversations with locals before the pandemic, the busy market, sweeping urbanization and heightened tourism were signs of a promising future. Though this promise might seem distant at the moment, it inspired a determined work ethic throughout Ethiopia, one that requires lots of fuel.

No matter where you are, the smell of freshly brewed coffee regularly perfumes the air. This scent always leads to someone crushing beans by hand and arranging dainty cups on an altar-like table. Ethiopians perform these coffee ceremonies as a sign of welcome for guests. It is served at the arrival gate when I land at Bole International Airport. I drank it as the hotel employee brought my bags to the room. I chugged some more before eating dinner, and I ended the meal with yet another jolt. The only place where I wasn't offered coffee upon entrance was the bathroom.

From the first sip, I understood the Ethiopian connection to coffee. Somehow, a deep earthiness carries over from the bean to the brew, a distinct quality that gets lost in over-processed coffee. With such easy access to high-quality beans, it makes sense that Ethiopians capitalize on third-wave coffee establishments. Hence, the country's premier cafe, Tomoca.

Locals pack into this popular cafe to toss back thick espressos and milky macchiatos while catching up with loved ones. Meanwhile, tourists line up at the counter to purchase travel-friendly ground coffee. Tomoca's patrons are evidence that coffee is not only a cultural cornerstone; it's a vital source of tourism dollars.

From the ground up, Ethiopians were factoring tourism into their daily routines. The Dorze tribe in the mountains of Arba Minch already turned their lifestyle into an immersive tourist attraction. Groups can take a guided tour of the Dorze bamboo huts and participate in making 'false banana bread' from enset, the area's main crop. The package includes shots of the homemade alcohol, araki, and a musical performance. While I never turn down moonshine and dancing, it's evident that I'm not the only one privy to this experience. Yes, I learned about tribal mountain life, but I also noticed how our tour lead us directly to getting tipsy in the middle of the gift shop. (So of course, I ended up buying four scarves.)

In the northern city of Gondar, one can witness Ethiopia's drastically evolving infrastructure firsthand. Currently, nearest to the airport, the area consists of land and farmers herding livestock. The further we drove into the city center, the more buildings that would soon be schools, offices and churches surrounded us. I was shocked to see so much construction going on all at once. Our new guide, Sammy told us none of this was here five years ago. "Wait until you see the blue mosquitoes," he said, referring to the hundreds of tuks tuks, or cabs, that now swarm Gondar.

Alongside tuk tuks, trucks carrying materials from construction sites scattered across Gondar fill the streets. Busses with tourists ride past businesses with relatively new-looking facades, and I couldn't believe I was still in the same city. It was even more unbelievable to imagine how another five years of development would alter this city. It's no secret why Gondar was receiving such a thorough makeover. It is perfectly placed for accommodation to visit the nearby Simien Mountains National Park.

As it currently operates, visitors are accompanied by a guide for the hike through the mountains. Scenery like this is why portable cameras exist. Erosion played its part in beautifully shaping the peaks and valleys of this landscape, which is home to animals endemic to Ethiopia. If you're lucky, you might see the Walia ibex or the Ethiopian wolf. However, you're more likely to get up close and personal with the gelada baboon.

The sound of camera shutters signaled that the group ahead of us found baboons. They huddled in a semi-circle around what appeared to be dinnertime. I carefully inched towards the baboons, switching from my camera to my iPhone. As I hit the record button, my subject stops grazing to look up and assess me. Seemingly deciding that I didn't pose a threat, he returned to his meal.

After taking extensive video, I sat back to appreciate this intimate encounter with nature. Suddenly, the attack and defensive sounds of baboons disrupted the tranquility. Someone threw fruit into the grazing area, despite having been told not to feed the baboons. As I watched the tour guide reprimand the culprit, I felt accomplice to the entire scandal. What at first felt like a once-in-a-lifetime experience now feels like an irresponsible invasion of once-endangered land.

The United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) recognizes Simien Mountains National Park as a World Heritage site. Subsequently, in 1996, the organization also added it to the List of World Heritage in Danger due to the area's decreasing Walia ibex population and increasing human presence. By 2017, UNESCO removed the park from the danger list after extensive conservation efforts, but could heightened tourism have put this site at risk again?

Wildlife conservation and environmental sustainability funding are generated almost exclusively from tourism revenue. The recent pandemic has forced most of the world indoors, which means less travel but also less pollution and development in natural areas. This indefinite pause could be the key to a more critical analysis of the overall relationship between tourism and environmental funding. Commoditization had already crept up on every facet of Ethiopian life, and now that tourism is no longer a reliable source of revenue, can the country be a role model for innovation in the funding of sustainability?

The preservation of national landmarks that draw tourists will be critical for the Ethiopian economy; and for Africa's as a continent. Ultimately, sustainability funding might be the only answer; and sustainable tourism is a community effort. From locals to foreigners, we must all commit to the preservation of cultures and natural areas. Postponing, rather than canceling any bookings in Africa, gives us the chance to read about sustainable practices and implement them as soon as travel is safe again. Large corporations and developers will be watching what we do in those pivotal post-pandemic moments. What businesses we choose to support, which products we consume and the accommodation we book are all critical decisions. Our past and future contributions to Ethiopia could help the country emerge from the ashes of COVID-19 as a shining example of sustainability for the whole world.