The Legendary "Ye'Bole Lij"

When I was in high school, my friends and I would walk from Nazareth School all the way to 4 Kilo or Mariam Bete'Kristian to catch our respective taxis home. As a teen, I remember the ever-present feeling of being a part of some exclusive club— walking the grey streets of Addis in my maroon uniform. Even today, "ye'Nazareth temari" holds some weight that, at the time, made us feel everybody else was just a bootleg version of us. Perhaps the snobbery was not this intense, but I distinctly remember, in me and my peers, an air of detachment from the contextual reality around us.

Back in the day, it was this quality, this detachment, that would first alert you of the reality that you are/with ye'Bole lij. It's the English that flows much more freely and effortlessly from their mouth than from the English news anchor everyone aspired to; it's their confused frustration at the language barrier; it's the casual outfit that took neither the weather nor the culture into consideration; it's the air of confidence that was so uncommon that it often came across as arrogance; and it was all packaged in this indignant confusion at being thought different.

It's the teens who went to Edna Mall for a movie (because, back then, there was no place else to watch movies). It was their Nike sneakers and low-top Converse Chucks. It's the 20-somethings who hung out in their parents' cars outside Peacock, nursing their Kamikaze. Hair ironed to stick-straight perfection; eyes and lips lined heavy. It's the dates that happened at Bole Mini. The couple that would walk down and have their pictures taken at Procolor Photo Bet.

I still remember the day my sister— a quintessential "ye'Bole lij"— came home after getting her first pay with which she purchased her Nike sneakers for a whopping ETB 1,000! Some 15 years ago, this was [insert Trump voice] huge!

When I asked my husband, who grew up in what could be summed up as the polar opposite of Bole, what he thought of ye'Bole lijoch growing up, he said, "It was like the movie ???? ??? but in real life!" (Highly recommend this throwback movie, by the way!) He was implying what another colleague said, "Seeing ye'Bole lijoch was like "?????" but also knowing they don't understand the harsh realities of life or this world!" The endearment that surrounds the Bole lij!

Let me ask you now: where/who is the "ye'Bole lij" today?

Maybe nowadays its "ye'Addis Ababa lij" instead. Even then, those native to Addis lack the homogeneity of the once beloved aggregate of Bole's own. There was also a sweet mystique to the ye'Bole lij that Addis Ababans don't entirely embody... The Bole lij was elusive yet very much embedded in the culture and community, they were clearly different but not so different that there was an identity debate, and they were... harmless.

Over the years, Addis Ababa has been undergoing a notable socio-economic transformation— even notable to me in this short life I've lived. One of the most conspicuous shifts has been the dwindling middle class (and ye'Bole lij population). Several factors have contributed to this trend, including inflation, rising cost of living, limited affordable housing, and inconsistent economic policies. The gap between the wealthy elite and the impoverished has widened, making the disparity ever more visible. The burgeoning elite, often with connections to politics or global enterprises, enjoy luxuries and privileges that are out of reach for many. The shrinking middle class, which once played a crucial role in balancing the socio-economic structure, now finds itself either moving upwards into the elite or, more commonly, descending into the lower economic strata. This polarization poses long-term challenges for the city's stability, cultural richness, and overall prosperity.

But this is not a socio-economic analysis of our capital. It's an ode to the ye'Bole lij. You are sorely missed!

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