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Reviewing Unity Park

Reviewing Unity Park

Earlier this week, we crossed paths with some American friends of friends visiting Addis. Astronomers, here for a conference on black holes and African astrophysics, along with their young-ish kids. Prior to their arrival and in our newly-adopted role as Addis advisors, the question arose of what’s worth doing here as a family. While we’re always willing to take a swing at specialized recommendations, Addis is wafer-thin on the family entertainment front. However, if I were facing the same request today, I’d have a legit and new-car-smell pick for the top slot on that list of family-friendly yet still compelling Addis offerings.

The newly-branded “Unity Park” resides on the 40 hectacres (around 100 acres) of palace grounds set aside on a high, green hunk of the cityscape. Emperor Menelik II tagged it for The Grand Palace when Addis Ababa became Ethiopia’s new capital in the 19th century. This new attraction’s opening last week even generated coverage in the Washington Post and the UK’s Guardian (which took a much broader view of how this connects with Addis’s runaway train development writ large). After visiting Unity Park myself, I want to offer my own earnest recommendation for would-be visitors or curious current Addis residents. It’s worth seeing. Probably more than once. Even though Unity Park’s very much still a work in progress. My kudos come with some serious caveats attached. It nonetheless seems that a sincere effort was made to create a place to tease your brain and find some peace in the chaotic heart of Addis.

The February 2019 view of what would became Unity Park. Not pictured - the signs that read “Do Not Take Pictures” of the palace grounds across the road.

The February 2019 view of what would became Unity Park. Not pictured - the signs that read “Do Not Take Pictures” of the palace grounds across the road.

Quite surprisingly, Unity Park was transformed into a public space from its highly-secretive former role as the home of Emperors and Prime Ministers. When we visited Ethiopia for the first time back in February, I walked past a sizable hunk of this massive site. Armed guards sat in sentry towers and roadside signs warned passersby that photos were prohibited. The history of these grounds includes many chapters. Emperor Menelik II (considered the father of modern Ethiopia) built many of the structures still present today. Seven total Emperors and Prime Ministers lived there or oversaw its use. Haile Salessie wasn’t deposed by the Derg there in 1974 (that went down at the nearby National Palace - where the business of the Nation still occurs). But I’ve heard from many locals the terrifying legends of what was done on this site in the 1970s and ‘80s. It could very well have stayed behind closed doors, especially given what people here had become accustomed to avoiding.

Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed changed that trajectory with a plan to somehow transfer this palace to the people soon after entering office in 2018. When we moved to Addis this August, we were surprised to hear how soon this plan would come to fruition. It was less than a year from the beginning of construction on Unity Park to the point of opening last week. As luck would have it, PM Abiy had the opening ceremony just two days prior to being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

The speed with which things are opening up cannot be ignored, no matter how much work remains to be done. Debate swirls around projects like Unity Park. How fast is too fast? What are the priorities of a rapidly developing nation? For me, all I can do is interpret what’s open to me and try to do so fairly. Here again - that’s why I recommend people go check out Unity Park.

Simply getting a ticket for entry represents a challenging new platform for many. There are currently two ways of paying for a ticket - a foreign credit card (because no Ethiopian bank offers them) or using an account with the monopoly phone company (EthioTelecom). The website has some good content…really good content actually…but the links for purchases are totally janky. I tried to use my phone to make a purchase the morning before arrival, but saw that I could only do so for future dates. I noted the capacity maximum for the Park - a rather broad “1000 to 1500 people.” The prices for those tickets are also broadly defined, in two tiers. People can buy two types of tickets - normal or VIP. For foreigners, the prices are $20USD or $50, respectively. For Ethiopians or those with a Resident ID, you’re looking at 200 Birr or 500 Birr (under $7 or $17). I mentally prepared to be charged the highest price, even after reading that the VIP tickets merely included a guide. I wanted to see what I could learn on my own, no matter how much I value tour guides (having been one myself).

Just before 10am, I walked up to the entrance’s white tents arrayed with red carpet and velvet ropelines. There were only a few Ethiopians ahead of me, and I was quickly asked (in English) “do you have a card?” Assuming they meant a credit card, I said “awo” (yes, in Amharic). There were only two people ahead of me, and when my turn arose I was asked “VIP?" I replied in what I hoped would work for a self-guided tour - “And normal” (one normal ticket). The young woman took my credit card and asked in very broken English if I spoke Amharic. “Ay,” (no) I responded with a smile. Which at least earned a smile in return.

They rang me up at the 200 Birr rate. I refrained from high-fiving myself, given all the military clustered around the entry. I emptied my pockets and took off my belt. The soldier checking my bag called out to a superior sitting on one of the red velvet-topped chairs. “Colonel?” he yelled, and made a clamshell opening and closing motion with both hands for what I had with me. Motions were made and I was told that I’d need to leave me bag at the front. I did so reluctantly (it was fine…), but they let me keep my phone. Pictures were no longer off limits here, as evidenced by every single other visitor I would see snapping away throughout the Park. Some of my favorites follow.

Blue skies and green hills filled the frame. I imagined Emperors and politicians looking out above the heads of the teeming city in all directions. Numerous parts of the Park are not yet completed, yet there’s much to explore. The smells of new plantings and fresh masonry blended into a pleasing, earthy melange. Workers outnumbered the few dozen of us visitors. The tours were conducted in Amharic, but all the signs are in both Amharic and English. As a museum-loving nerd who’s happy for hours spent reading and slow-walking through a new space, I found my bliss.

The transformative use of this space impressed me immensely. The historical material in the Throne House hits the mark best of all. Other parts vary in their thoughtfulness and appeal. Yet where else in Addis can you find inviting green space? I can see going back repeatedly to enjoy the layout, even if the historical material isn’t expanded upon. The zoo’s still under construction, as is an extensive enclosure for “Black Lions” - an important symbol of Ethiopia that (if still to be found…) will be an iconic branding opportunity for the Park. I’m increasingly uncomfortable with zoos after spending so much time over the last many years interviewing animal rights activists and researching the response to them worldwide. And then yesterday I spoke with an Ethiopian friend who told me stories of her father’s lifetime spent as a hunter and conservationist in Ethiopia (beginning with his grandfather’s land use and a chance meeting with Emperor Selassie when her father was a teenager). When I told her of plans for the Unity Park zoo, she seemed very uncomfortable with the idea of this tokenism for a nation that’s been criminally over-hunted and depleted of its wealth of species. In other words, stick with the history and stay away from the zoo. It may not be shameful, by design. But it may well be ignorant of the story that it misses the chance to tell. Wait and see, I suppose.

Whatever the past and present state of Unity Park, there’s an opportunity for everyone there to not just feel comfortable. There’s a platform for education and history close at hand. I plan to revisit this space, most likely the next time we have visitors come through Addis. No matter how you feel about the evolution of the cityscape, there’s space there to breathe. That’s no small feat in a place roiling with change. Ciao.

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