It is unusual to discover a place that is not only home to one of the world’s most striking UNESCO world heritage sites, but can also lay claim to having benefited from the sporting legacy of 1980s English footballing legend and awkward rapper - John Barnes.
Having arrived late the previous night after an arduous journey, we were unprepared for the scale and ruggedness of the mountains which surrounded the little town of Lalibela, tucked away in a remote part of Northern Ethiopia. It felt good to escape the dive we were staying in, and the mountain air was pleasantly fresh as we walked along the steep road lined with chaotic restaurants, and little gift shops, in search of some breakfast, and of course coffee.
Our breakfast view showing the remote mountains of Lalibela...
Despite the chill of the morning shade, the towering peaks were rapidly being illuminated, betraying the approaching heat of the day. Our breakfast venue of choice was at the northern edge of the town; shaped like an ageing spaceship, the building provided an unadulterated panorama of the surrounding mountains, and the single sinuous road full of lorries winding their way north kicking up great plumes of dust as they went. The vastness of the view was matched by giant birds of prey making the most of the early morning thermals, soaring high into the air, before plummeting towards unsuspecting prey slowly waking up below. This spectacle was a perfect opening act for the main event and the reason we had dragged ourselves to this tiny mountainous outpost in the first place: the famous monolithic stone churches.
As we walked down the hill towards the ticket office, we were accosted by two avid football fans. After discovering we were from the UK, the two young boys began excitedly regaling us with stories of how, way back in 2008, the one and only Liverpool and England footballing legend John Barnes had visited Lalibela, played some football with them, and given out some balls to the local school.
They looked at us expectantly, perhaps under the impression that we knew John Barnes, or that we would be instantly star struck just by hearing his name uttered. Nick and I looked at each other and tried to telepathically decipher this odd turn of events; on the one hand, they were certainly committed to the story, and we had no reason not to believe them, but on the other hand…John Barnes?! Really? Here? In the middle of nowhere Ethiopia?! In 2008?! It just didn’t add up, and so we remained politely sceptical, but agreed to meet up with them later to play some football and see the hallowed pitch that JB himself had played on.
Who knows what secrets lie behind the doors of Lalibela's rock churches...
Outside the ticket office, a large group of people, all dressed in elegant white robes were quietly praying and chanting around a colourful coffin; the security guard at the gate noticed our interest, and confirmed that this was the start of a funeral which would be taking places at the churches today, an apparently common occurrence; further testament to the holiness of this place, and its importance as pilgrimage site. We handed over what felt like a small fortune for the entry fee, and secured the services of a guide called Mellise, who wasted no time in giving us the rundown of the churches.
Built by Saint Gebre Mesqel Lalibela, the town which now shares his name was the capital of Ethiopia during his reign as king in the late 12th century. Although difficult to date accurately, it is widely accepted that the churches and the town were built during Lalibela’s lifetime in a bid to create a new Jerusalem in response the capture of the original one in 1187. His Christian faith was instrumental in the building of the churches and the surrounding town, with many areas having Biblical names, the most apparent example of this being the river Jordan which to this day flows through the town. Mellise spoke passionately about the history of his town, and as we neared the first giant church looming out of the bedrock we both agreed this level of insight was bound to enhance our experience.
Carved from the surrounding bedrock as a single piece - difficult to comprehend...
Simply put, the churches at Lalibela are astonishing! Huge feats of engineering which have been hewn straight out of the solid geology, stand testament to religious commitment, mathematical understanding, and bloody hard work. Heading down into the channels surrounding the first monolithic church, which are also designed to complement the local hydrology creating wells whilst avoiding flooding, was like a surreal caving expedition; disappearing down a set of stairs we were well below ground level, and the shade afforded by the giant church was welcome relief from the hot sun. Towering three or four stories above us, the first church presented itself as a smooth wall of rock covered with the marks of simple tools which must have toiled for countless hours to create this monster man-made cuboid; devoid of bricks or joins, nothing betrayed the ‘mono’ element of this monolith.
A priest reads a holy text whilst protecting the entrance to one of the smaller churches...
Inside, the story continued with the church being split into three distinct ceremonial sections: The Chant, used for singing and music making, The Holy, used for worship and prayer, and The Holy of the Holy, an area which is always hidden behind curtains or doors, and reserved only for the devout priests who protect these churches. Mellise was speaking in hushed tones, and each time the word “Holy” came out of his mouth, it resonated against the stone and seemed to make everything more etherial. Exploring further, I was engrossed by the pillars, the religious carvings, the intricate window frames, and mostly by the perfectly curved ceilings; with the attention to detail and symmetry, I was struggling to convince myself that this had all been carved out of the same piece of rock over 900 years ago, with simple hand tools; beyond impressive.
An example of the vivid iconography on show inside these incredible churches...
Most of the churches are connected by a network of tunnels and stairways which have been worn smooth by almost a thousand years of people exploring their secrets. Traversing these tunnels, we were able to visit big churches and small churches, some with original art work and artefacts, all with serious looking priests. There was religious symbolism everywhere from angel eyes on the top of otherwise dull pillars, to a 75m long pitch black tunnel representing the journey into hell and God’s redemption the other side.
A young girl stands tentatively at the entrance to one of the many tunnels dug into the rocks around the stone churches...
Having Mellise with us definitely made the experience much more interesting, and he really came into his own when we visited the pin-up of the group: the church of Saint George. Built away from the others, this church is iconic not only by Ethiopian rock church standards, but also stands up as one of the best examples of monolithic architecture anywhere in the world. It is without doubt the most famous, and we had been seeing pictures of Saint George’s church from our very first day in Ethiopia. Appropriately carved into the shape of a cross, the rock disappears about 30m straight down to the entrance of the church. It is a beautiful thing to behold, and I was overcome with that feeling you get when you see something in real life that you have only known previously through pictures and stories.
A single worshipper in yellow robes kneels silently before the mighty church of Saint George...
Although we had missed the Timkat celebrations by a week or so, we were in luck as we found out the day we were visiting was St George’s day in Ethiopia, and as such, the church of St George was a hive of activity preparing for a festival. We decided to stay and watch, and found a shady spot up on the hill above the church from which to do so. As time moved on, more spectators began to arrive from the village and the surrounding area, and the number of people surrounding the church grew until there were hundreds of people filling every conceivable space, with very little regard to the precarious drop down to the church below. As the crowd grew, so did the noise, with large groups of men, singing, dancing, chanting, and waving sticks in the air for good measure. The atmosphere was half harvest festival and half cup final day, with the crowd working itself into a frenzy, how no one fell down into what is essentially a 30m deep hole, I have no idea, but the real excitement was just about to start.
A man in a white robe leads the crowd in energetic celebration which we were told would go on long into the night...
A cheer began to ripple through the crowd, and the singing and chanting intensified in volume as a procession of priests all dressed in beautifully elaborate tunics and carrying sparkling umbrellas entered the area. As well as the umbrellas, they were carrying with them that most holy of Orthodox relics: The Ark of the Covenant; the day had just taken a turn for the Indiana Jones.
Clearly this wasn’t the actual Ark (however Aksum in northern Ethiopia does claim to have the real one if you fancy embracing your inner adventuring archaeologist), but the replica being carried in front of us is thought to be as holy as the original, and the gathered crowds were treating it thus, bowing in reverence as it passed, and clearing a path through to the church that Moses would have been proud of. The priests formed a protective line around the edge of the church pit, and began to sing and sway to a regular drum beat as The Ark and a giant painted effigy of Saint George watched on. We had been observing the celebrations for hours, and after being told by the crowd that this could go on long into the night, we decided, with dehydration and sunburn getting the better of us, to leave the church in favour of a pint of avocado juice, a choice which was quickly becoming a staple.
The crowds gather at the precarious edge to catch a glimpse of Saint George and the 'Ark'...
The following morning, we were up before sunrise to take advantage of our 24 hour valid tickets, and the rising sun. We headed out into the cool dawn air, and made our way straight to Saint George’s Church, the site of the previous day’s energetic festivities. In contrast to the previous day, as we neared the church, the air was filled with the calm yet powerful sound of deep chanting. We passed groups of worshippers clad in white robes, some of whom were praying, some were being blessed by the priests, and some were simply sat in quiet contemplation. Aside from the small group of worshippers, we were the only other people around, it felt as if we had the entire place to ourselves. The sun hadn’t quite risen, and the air still had a chill to it as I sat on the edge of the precipice and became enchanted by the soft singing and sweet incense rising from the church below. It was a beautiful experience, and I closed my eyes in a bid to commit the feeling to memory. It was a profound moment, and I’m sure some people would want to interpret it within a religious context, but for me, I was happy to simply describe it as ‘significantly spiritual’ and allow my mind to wander without the constraints of any religion in particular.
After our period of quiet contemplation, we decided to take advantage of having one of the world’s most remarkable UNESCO heritage sites to ourselves, and set about exploring, this time without a guide so we were able to fully embrace our Indiana Jones side and climb, scramble, squeeze and trip our way through all the various tunnels, caves, and passages without hindrance, resulting in the most picturesque game of hide and seek you can imagine, the best hiding place being the small caves which had been sporadically carved out of the rock surrounding the churches to serve as living quarters for particularly devout monks.
Early morning contemplation at the church of Saint George...
We spent a good few hours getting some photos of the churches before it got too busy for our liking, when we headed back to the main entrance, took a cursory glance at the uninspiring museum, and headed off for some lunch and yet more coffee. As we were drinking our coffees, our footballing friends found us again, and after a brief kick about in the street, which finished quite abruptly after Nick punted the ball into a nearby souvenir shop full of breakables, we followed them down to the stadium to play a bit of football. The dusty stadium wasn’t up to much, and the ‘training area’ in which we found ourselves was nothing more than a sand pit, but we were put into teams and set about playing some ‘rocks for goalposts’ football.
Doing a dreadful job of playing hide and seek... (Photo Credit: Nick Colwill)
Despite my limited footballing ability, it was great fun to be doing some exercise again, even if the 2,500m of altitude was making the running harder than usual. We played until it was beyond dark, and the game had become essentially ‘give it to the farangi’ much to our amusement. Eventually we called time on the game, and the slight rain was a welcome refreshment. We walked back up the substantial hill to town, and chatted with our new team mates about life, ambitions, and why we weren't convinced by their John Barnes story. As a parting gift, the organiser of our ragtag group gave us each a small wooden Lalibela cross necklace as a gift, an important symbol of the ceremony we had witnessed the day before.
A simple gesture, which, although seemingly small, felt incredibly profound. Perhaps it was a hangover from the morning’s spiritual experience, but it felt important. I tried to convey this to our new friend, but failed miserably. We parted ways with a ‘faith in humanity restored’ smile on my face which even our shoddy accommodation in the rough end of town couldn’t damage, with a promise to try and validate the John Barnes story, and guess what…
A perfect end to a profound day.