By Steven Uanna

My Childhood in Addis Ababa 1958 – 1961

The year was 1958. I was four years old and living outside of Washington DC in Springfield Forest, Virginia. That’s across Franconia Road from Robert E. Lee High School. My father was a security agent at the US Department of State in Washington and my mother Bonnie was a housewife. There was no Capital Beltway or I-95 then. Shirley Highway was the road you took into Washington DC from Virginia. The traffic nightmare known as the Springfield “mixing bowl” was decades in the future. My father’s coworkers asked him “Why do you want to live all the way out there?” One day my father came home from work and said “We’ve got two months to pack, we’re going to Ethiopia!” I didn’t know it at the time but at the State Department my father was the Chief of Physical Security, he protected the Secretary of State and official visitors to America like Queen Elizabeth. Now he was going to be a diplomat.

The Mayflower Moving truck left with our furniture and clothes a week before we did. We wouldn’t see them again for many months. My mother’s car was a compact 1951 Nash Rambler and it arrived in Addis shortly after we did. My father’s big 1949 Hudson went to my aunt in Baltimore. Nash and Hudson are no longer in business. Yes, it was late November 1958 when we departed from National Airport on Qantas. We were informed that this was one of the first transatlantic flights of Boeing’s new 707 jets. Dwight Eisenhower was midway into his second and final term as President and Haile Selassie was the Emperor of Ethiopia. I didn’t know anything about Haile Selassie but my parents did. My father’s uncle John said, “Say hello to Haile Selassie for me.”

The first house we lived in was in downtown Addis Ababa a few houses down a cobblestone alley from a traffic circle. The 1949 Hudson would have had trouble making it up and down the alley. The family next door were Ethiopians and had a well in their yard they drew water from. Across the street was a Greek family with two boys around 10 and 12 years old. All the houses had stone walls around them. Along the alley, the wall came up halfway and then had steel bars. I would crouch behind the wall and ambush people minding their own business walking down the alley. Gedele and I would yell and shoot at them through the bars with my cap pistol. They would curse me in Amharic. According to our “house boy” Bogale, the phrase “Where is your no-good father” was heard most often. Bogale and our (zebena) night watchman Gabri were our “servants” here. They would stay on with us until the end of our “tour of duty” in Addis three years later.

My mother received advice from women at the American Embassy about living in Addis. Most of it was warnings about people or places in Addis to avoid. Bogale helped her get around town. We lived close to the outdoor market called the Merkato. Here all kinds of goods were reasonably priced and my mother and Bogale would walk there. Ethiopian money was called “Ethie” and an Ethiopian dollar was worth 40 cents American. Most purchases were made with Ethie except at the American Commissary and Post Exchange (PX). My father William “Bud” Uanna was a pay grade GS15 and earned almost $15,000.00 a year. That was a very good salary in America in 1958. And he got twenty percent more because Addis was considered a hardship post.

Shortly after we arrived in Addis, I was attacked by fleas. They left my parents alone but bit me head to foot. DDT, a powdery new creation of modern science was applied to me and my room. The fleas kept biting. They finally finished and left. I was OK and a few pounds lighter. We learned years later that DDT was an insecticide and a dangerous chemical. We were putting it in our shoes. My mother learned that our water should be boiled and filtered. Milk was canned or powdered and if you wanted meat you buy it in a can at the American Commissary. But she and Bogale did butcher a live chicken from the Merkato. They cut off the head, threw the body under a washtub, and plucked the feathers. That was the first and last chicken butchered. This was not new to my mother. She was from Knoxville, Tennessee and her family were very poor. She met my father while she was in the “secretarial pool” at the Pentagon in 1946. My father was from Medford, Massachusetts and his family were poor too, but not as poor as my mother’s. My father would never have been able to attend Tufts College in Boston if he had not been able to get a football scholarship. They both came of age during the Great Depression in the 1930’s when jobs and money were scarce. Having any job, even digging a ditch, made you rich in their neighborhood. She spoke with a southern Tennessee accent and he had a Boston accent. Quite a contrast.

My parents started to go to diplomatic parties. My reward for waiting at home was the sugar coated almonds that most of the parties gave out. I attended a British kindergarten for a short time. With my blond hair and short pants, I looked like a British kid. The British school was very British and I talked with my mother’s Tennessee accent. I was a fish out of the water.
Suddenly everything changed. After six months in the alley, we moved to the country, out past Arat Kilo into a new house still under construction. Only temporary electrical power. This house had stone walls all around. Along the road, it had half walls that were topped by bars. It was on one acre and was called a “Compound” just like the Embassy compound. We could walk to the Kebena River where Ethiopian women washed their clothes on the rocks. Instead of cobblestones a gravel road led down to our house and a field with eucalyptus trees and Tukuls was across that road. A large open field was behind the house and all by itself in the middle was a circular walled compound where “the Belgians” lived. At night hyenas roamed that field. My mother’s only complaint was that she could not walk to the Merkato anymore. A power pole was put at the corner of our gate and lines strung. Now we had enough power and a telephone. We used little transformers to reduce the voltage. I waited behind the bars along the road to ambush people passing by but very few came. If they had asked me where my father was by now I knew he was probably in Asmara. He traveled there a lot on DC-3 military flights. Reluctantly I hung up my cap pistol and holster. I was entering a new phase of my life anyway, starting first grade at the Nazareth Catholic School. I wore a blue jacket and carried a book bag like the ones the two Greek boys from the alley in Addis had. I was a student now.

My father was now established in his corner office in the basement of the Embassy Administration Building. It had a door out the back onto the lawn behind the building. Also, a large closet that had a walk-in safe. He was the First Secretary and Administrative Officer and right below the American Ambassador Mr. Bliss. My father ran the Embassy and was also responsible for the State Department personnel in Asmara. Like I said he traveled to Asmara a lot and Kagnew Station seemed to be his main destination. America had a military base and a “listening post” at Kagnew Station.
My mother planted grass and landscaped with flowers and bushes and red clay water pots. We hired Tolassa and Adem as gardeners. We had a Tukul built around two trees in the front yard. It had a thatched roof with poles holding it up. My father used the Rambler to get to work at the Embassy. Cars were scarce in Addis but my father found a 1953 Chevrolet station wagon from someone leaving Addis. The big Chevrolet was as slow as a tortoise and kept getting its exhaust pipes damaged or muffler knocked off on the Addis cobblestones. One day my mother was out shopping and an Ethiopian man approached her driver’s door and asked to watch her car. While she was talking to him the man’s partner reached into the passenger side and stole her purse. It had 100 dollars Ethie in it but her wallet with ID cards was her main concern. A week later her wallet and cards were returned with the explanation that they had been dropped in a mailbox in Addis. This gave her a whole new perspective on Ethiopian street life. And was in sharp contrast to the night shortly after this. My father was in Asmara and an American Embassy car she recognized came to our compound with two Ethiopians. The passenger told my mother that my father had given him 10 dollars Ethie as a down payment on a lion skin. He now needed 50 more to complete the deal, which she gave him. When my father got back from Asmara he said he didn’t know anything about it. To her, this was worse than the theft of her purse. This was my parents first tour of duty as diplomats and this made her aware that living in Addis was going to have very unexpected challenges. She was as mad as a hornet but my father said “don’t worry about it.” So she didn’t.

As First Secretary, he was on the American Diplomatic List. This list included the American Embassy personnel who were invited along with the Ambassador to attend official diplomatic functions given by Emperor Haile Selassie or other embassies in Addis. My father and mother attended these and many other events. Like for the UN. Or the US Military MAAG, US civilian USIA, USIS or POINT FOUR or anyone in the diplomatic corps who were coming (reception), or leaving (farewell) to Addis. Or for dinners, cocktails, weddings, showers, birthday parties, cultural events, or the opening of new facilities in and around Addis. Or American Government people passing through Addis, this included members of the Congress. Or business managers like TWA and Ethiopian Airlines.

My mother was expected to host some of these events at our home. And don “volunteer” work with the Embassy Wives who were led by the Ambassadors wife. The Embassy Wives were wives connected to the American Embassy Community in Addis. Embassy wives volunteered to stock the Commissary, work at charities like the YMCA or the American Children’s Theater or the Ethiopian Children’s Home or the Ethiopian Red Cross or whatever else was happening. When American Evangelist Billy Graham came to Ethiopia and preached at the Jan Hoy Meda Racetrack the Embassy Wives volunteered to help. The Ethiopian Red Cross started calling my mother directly for volunteer work. She felt like they took her work for granted and they always made sure all Red Cross armbands and lapel pins were returned when volunteers left. She told them to go through the ambassadors wife, and she kept a Red Cross lapel pin. The wives were an important public face of the American community in Addis. And a party’s success was their responsibility.

While the wives were hosting and volunteering, the husbands were busy at work at the embassy. The American Embassy was surrounded by a tall brick wall with steel gates. The American flag that flew on the Embassy Compound had 48 stars in 1958. Hawaii and Alaska would join the Union in 1959 making a total of 50 stars.
In the Administration Building you were greeted by a US Marine behind the front desk. The Marine Security Guards looked after the embassy. They made sure the doors and windows and file cabinets were locked. They also defended the embassy if it was attacked. My father was in charge of the Marines and they were at our house a lot. There were 6 young Marines led by an older “gunny sergeant” They had their own house near the embassy. The Embassy community proudly called them “our Marines” and knew they could be counted upon in any emergency. While we were there one of the young Marines caught hepatitis and died. This was a shock and also a reminder of how vulnerable everyone’s health was. Especially when you were required to attend parties where you had to at least taste the food served. For medical care, we had the embassy nurse, Ms. Pat. She gave the “booster shots” that backed up the many inoculations we received before we left America. For serious medical care, there was Dr. Rigsby, a Seventh Day Adventist Medical Missionary. Seventh-Day Adventists were known for their healthy living and Dr. Rigsby, his wife, and even his kids were the examples we tried to follow.
Along with eating came drinking and a lot of alcohol was consumed at parties. My father didn’t drink. At parties, he carried a tomato juice or coke in a small glass along with a non-filter Camel cigarette. My mother only sipped a drink at parties. She did her drinking at home.

My father oversaw new construction at the embassy. A new Air Attaché office was being built next to the Embassy gate and my father and Mr. John who was my father’s assistant managed the project. Mr. John was a “jack of all trades” whose son Paul was my “best friend.” There was also Mr. Piero, an Italian brick mason who stayed on in East Africa after Mussolini’s army was thrown out. He was an employee of the embassy. There were lots of Italians in Ethiopia but there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings. Many Ethiopians spoke Italian. My father could speak a little Italian and he and Mr. Piero got along great speaking Italian and English together. My grandparents were Italian immigrants. Italians gesture with their hands and when my father and Mr. Piero talked my father would do it. There were also Ethiopians employed at the embassy. Teklu and Bekele were dependable mechanics who would go around Addis fixing the tires and replacing batteries, 6 or 12 volt, of the embassy personnel. I never knew the name of the man laying on the grass next to a big fire on the lawn behind the embassy. It was an Ethiopian holiday and he was drinking Tej from a clear glass bottle. My father asked what he was doing and he held up the bottle of Tej and laughed. Although not embassy employees there were many “house boys” at the residences that surrounded the Administration Building. My mother would hire some of them when she had large parties.

Main photo: Me during a Guinea fowl hunt in the outback.

(To be continued.)

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