St Stephen and umbrellas

Today, I am told, is St Stephens day. This information was provided by a broad-smiling Addis native who followed us to the steps of a large church. Since early morning sounds of singing and amplified sermonising had carried to our hotel, and it took no more than a short walk along the main road to locate the source.



As loud halers broadcast the service within, a collection of Addis Ababa's needy squatted outside on every available stair. Grubby children, covered outcasts, diseased beggars, impoverished family units. The scene would have been unfathomably grim if it were not for the profusion of umbrellas that surrounded them. 'What's so remarkable and uplifting about a few brollies?' you may ask. But never have I seen the humble umbrella dressed up with such extravagance. Brightly patterned fabrics, brocades and velvet ribbons festooned every one, each arc clashing wonderfully with its neighbour. This is the stuff of parades, I thought. Unfortunately mass was still underway and I had to get to my meeting. But as I sit in a subtly toned conference centre, I wonder if I'm missing a wild procession of colour in honour of St Stephen.