A small café near the Vatican Embassy (Apostolic Nunciature) at the turn of the millennium takes me back to my carefree university days. It was my favorite retreat during school breaks, a place where I would sit on the veranda, sip coffee, and immerse myself in Russian literature, all while soaking in the fresh air and serenity of the neighbourhood. Having grown up there, I have a special connection to the area. The ubiquitous adhan (call to prayer) from the nearby Abadir Mosque was the familiar and soothing soundtrack of my childhood. The imposing presence of the Vatican and Indonesian Embassies added a distinct character to the surroundings.

From my childhood bedroom window, I could see the bicolored Indonesian flag fluttering gently above the embassy’s rooftop, a sight that still evokes nostalgia. It is an experience that keeps me grounded due to its close association with my past and the sheer beauty of the scene. Over the years, I took countless photographs of the scene, but capturing the perfect shot was always tricky – branches swayed in the wind, obscuring the flag from view.

The Vatican Embassy’s dense greenery only added to the mystery, blocking any glimpse of the papal residence. Ironically, despite living so close, I never set foot inside the Vatican Embassy in Addis Ababa, yet I visited the Vatican in Rome. We used to joke that the Addis compound seemed larger than the Vatican itself. Of course, anyone who has walked through St. Peter’s Square, the Sistine Chapel, and the Vatican Gardens would know otherwise.

For me, the quiet neighbourhood was an escape, but for one young man, the nephew of the woman who owned the café, it was stifling. Whenever I visited, he would eagerly sit next to me, desperate for conversation. He found the sparsely populated area eerie and longed for the bustling energy of Talian Sefer, where he was from. At first, his weekly trips there for a haircut puzzled his aunt, though she tacitly understood the real reason. He missed the close-knit, chaotic vibrancy of Talian Sefer, a stark contrast to the Vatican Embassy’s spacious stillness.

Talian Sefer, one of the oldest neighbourhoods, has a unique history. It traces its origins to Italian prisoners of war from the Battle of Adwa who remained in Ethiopia, working on roads and bridges. Over time, the neighbourhood became notorious for its poor housing, unemployment, and a thriving nightlife, with brothels and Azmari houses blaring music into the early hours. Yet, for all its rough edges, it fostered a strong sense of community, shaped by shared socioeconomic struggles. The young man, despite growing up in this tumultuous environment, was disciplined and deeply loyal to his roots.

Whenever we spoke, one name kept surfacing: Mary Armede. A legend of Ethiopian folk music, she was a Kirar player, singer, fashion designer, and entrepreneur – a pioneer who defied convention. She introduced cabaret dance clubs fused with Azmari music, an unheard of innovation at the time. Trained by a French woman in cabaret, Mary’s performances – where dancers wore brassieres, thongs, and high heels – sparked outrage. Yet, despite public denunciations, her nightclub was packed with nobility, intellectuals, and the city’s dapper fashionable elite.

The controversy raged for years with Mary in the spotlight for disrupting the status quo and norms of traditional society. Not long after municipal authorities banned cabaret dancing, leading to a decline in her club’s popularity. But Mary was not one to be deterred. She pivoted, dedicating herself to Kirar music, fashion, and mentoring young women in hairdressing and clothing design; an invaluable contribution in a country still awakening from its feudal past.

Mary’s origins are debated. Some say she was born in Wollo and moved to Addis at the age of two; others claim she was born in another run down eclectic Addis district, Doro Manekia. What is undisputed is that she embodied the quintessential Arada – a city girl who had seen and done it all, exuding an effortless blend of modernity, resilience, and social adaptability.