riven maybe a third of the way and we were on a heavily trafficked road when the taxi suddenly broke down. The engine just died, and turning the ignition key did nothing. The driver jumped out and tried to push the car in order to jump start it. I soon joined him. We pushed and pushed but the engine showed no sign of life. We pushed it to the side and stopped. He opened the hood and checked various things. The car still would not start. When he realized this, that his car would not start anytime soon, that it probably needed serious repair, what was the next thing on his mind, his immediate top priority? Nope, it was not fixing his car. It was fixing a ride for us. Another taxi was parked nearby. Our driver went over and talked to that driver. Then our driver returned to us and explained: We would pay him 10 birr and we would pay the new driver 30 birr. This would make it a total of 40 birr, the same as the original price. I couldn't believe it. His car -- his livelihood -- had just broken down, and he had driven us pretty far, for sure more than a quarter of the way, and he arranged this deal that would mean he would only get a measly 10 birr. For him it was very important that Louise and I should not pay more than originally agreed, no matter how the circumstances had changed. Talk about being honorable. I insisted on paying him at a minimum 20 birr, but he absolutely refused to accept more than 10. This driver cemented what I had already begun to realize at this point: Most Ethiopians are refreshingly honest and honorable.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A broken taxi, an honorable driver
When Louise and I cabbed it back home afterwards, we agreed with the driver to pay 40 birr for the trip. The driver was typical of most taxi drivers we rode with on our vacation: he had hung a small cross from the rearview mirror, he smiled a lot and spoke a few words of broken English, and his car -- a Lada -- was in rough shape. (Virtually all taxis in Addis are Ladas, seemingly from the 1980's. I never got a satisfactory explanation for why that is, and if someone knows I'd like to hear it. My own theory is that the Soviet Union, which supported Ethiopia's Communist regime during its 1974-1991 reign, simply gave Ethiopia thousands of Ladas as economic assistance to this fellow Communist country. The Ethiopian government subsequently decided all those cars should be taxis. Again, this is just my theory, and I'm curious to learn more about it.) Any case, we had d
riven maybe a third of the way and we were on a heavily trafficked road when the taxi suddenly broke down. The engine just died, and turning the ignition key did nothing. The driver jumped out and tried to push the car in order to jump start it. I soon joined him. We pushed and pushed but the engine showed no sign of life. We pushed it to the side and stopped. He opened the hood and checked various things. The car still would not start. When he realized this, that his car would not start anytime soon, that it probably needed serious repair, what was the next thing on his mind, his immediate top priority? Nope, it was not fixing his car. It was fixing a ride for us. Another taxi was parked nearby. Our driver went over and talked to that driver. Then our driver returned to us and explained: We would pay him 10 birr and we would pay the new driver 30 birr. This would make it a total of 40 birr, the same as the original price. I couldn't believe it. His car -- his livelihood -- had just broken down, and he had driven us pretty far, for sure more than a quarter of the way, and he arranged this deal that would mean he would only get a measly 10 birr. For him it was very important that Louise and I should not pay more than originally agreed, no matter how the circumstances had changed. Talk about being honorable. I insisted on paying him at a minimum 20 birr, but he absolutely refused to accept more than 10. This driver cemented what I had already begun to realize at this point: Most Ethiopians are refreshingly honest and honorable.
riven maybe a third of the way and we were on a heavily trafficked road when the taxi suddenly broke down. The engine just died, and turning the ignition key did nothing. The driver jumped out and tried to push the car in order to jump start it. I soon joined him. We pushed and pushed but the engine showed no sign of life. We pushed it to the side and stopped. He opened the hood and checked various things. The car still would not start. When he realized this, that his car would not start anytime soon, that it probably needed serious repair, what was the next thing on his mind, his immediate top priority? Nope, it was not fixing his car. It was fixing a ride for us. Another taxi was parked nearby. Our driver went over and talked to that driver. Then our driver returned to us and explained: We would pay him 10 birr and we would pay the new driver 30 birr. This would make it a total of 40 birr, the same as the original price. I couldn't believe it. His car -- his livelihood -- had just broken down, and he had driven us pretty far, for sure more than a quarter of the way, and he arranged this deal that would mean he would only get a measly 10 birr. For him it was very important that Louise and I should not pay more than originally agreed, no matter how the circumstances had changed. Talk about being honorable. I insisted on paying him at a minimum 20 birr, but he absolutely refused to accept more than 10. This driver cemented what I had already begun to realize at this point: Most Ethiopians are refreshingly honest and honorable.
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1 comment:
Good post.
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