Strong winds whip through the streets, carrying clouds of dust and debris from demolished homes. Navigating the neighborhood feels like braving a dust storm, with visibility reduced and breathing impaired. The atmosphere is one of chaos, as residents hurry amid fallen rubble that was once their houses.
In the heart of the capital, a storied neighborhood of Piazza stands in the throes of transformation. The echoes of demolition reverberate through what were once vibrant streets, now shrouded in swirling dust and debris. Navigating this environment becomes a discomforting and perilous endeavor, beneath the punishing sun. Amidst this scene of destruction and upheaval, the cherished landmarks of yesteryears fade away, leaving behind a haunting emptiness that resonates through the now desolate Piassa streets.
Moving through the upheaval, an unsettling disquiet engulfs the senses amid the frenzied commotion of individuals, the cacophony of demolition, and the haphazard scattering of debris. It is an environment fraught with peril, where the constant threat of injury from falling objects or stumbling over scattered remnants looms ominously.
RELATED POSTS
The demolition of residential structures serves as a poignant testament to the metamorphosis unfurling within this neighborhood. A once thriving community now bears witness to the gradual reduction of its architectural heritage, as entire abodes vanish overnight, leaving behind naught but fragments of remembrance.
Piassa now bears an uncanny resemblance to a chaotic construction site. Houses crumble under the forceful grip of demolition, leaving behind immense mounds of rubble. The exodus of residents from the area further adds to the sense of upheaval. The resounding clamor of heavy machinery relentlessly reduces buildings to fragments, permeating the air with the acrid scent of crushed concrete and exposing the skeletal rebar structures within. The symphony of hammering resonates throughout the neighborhood as anxious inhabitants fervently salvage their remaining possessions from the wreckage and fallen edifices.
Anxiety-stricken countenances blur past, clutching boxes and chairs in a desperate bid to salvage their belongings. Many individuals wield hefty hammers to dismantle the shattered concrete structures, driven by the pursuit of retrieving valuable steel bars embedded within. They scavenge diligently, gathering scraps from diverse sources such as roofs, windows, and doors, each resolute strike yielding more salvageable materials.
Residents hurry about, swiftly dismantling their homes and loading their cherished possessions onto Isuzu cars and Toyota pickups.
An Isuzu truck stands laden with household items and utensils, meticulously packed within breathable bags. Sofas, beds, mattresses, pillows, clothing, plastic hand wash basins, buckets, and an array of kitchen utensils and tools are carefully loaded onto the truck. Its destination? Sululta, carrying the cherished possessions of Kebede Yosef, a weathered elderly man adorned with dark features and spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose.
Navigating through the disarray with the aid of a walking stick, Kebede relies heavily on its support, his eyes squinting against the swirling dust. Of relatively diminutive stature, the indelible marks of poverty and time etched upon his countenance, Kebede grapples with diminishing eyesight as the years pass by.
This neighborhood, his abode for half a century, has witnessed the growth of his five children. However, under the watchful gaze of Addis Ababa city administration officials overseeing the evacuation process, Kebede now faces the task of vacating the house, urged to relocate promptly.
Arriving in Addis Ababa at the tender age of eight, Kebede, now 75, once served as a property officer in a governmental institution. Presently, bereft of income, employment, or a pension, he relies on limited support from his children. Alongside his wife and their five children, Kebede and his family have called Piassa home for half a century, weaving their lives into the fabric of this vibrant neighborhood.
One month ago, city representatives informed residents of resettlement plans, promising alternative housing. Assurances of Kebele units or condominiums in other areas brought hope for a new chapter.
Amidst the ambiguity that shrouds the timeline of their resettlement, Kebede clings to a glimmer of hope, yearning for a brighter future to unfold. Anxiously awaiting news regarding the when, where, and nature of the house he will be allocated, Kebede finds himself amidst a climate of uncertainty.
The Piassa neighborhood has long been a haven for low-income residents, and the prospect of relocation has ignited concerns regarding affordability.
Kebede, much like numerous others residing in the area, previously rented his home at a nominal cost directly from the government. The residents of this area can be classified into three distinct groups: the majority consists of renters who lease their homes directly from the government, while others rent rooms from primary renters, and a few are fortunate enough to own their houses outright.
For those who owned their homes, alternative plots of land and financial aid were provided to facilitate the construction of new residences. Meanwhile, renters under the government’s jurisdiction reportedly have the opportunity to be considered for Kebele houses or condominiums, with some having already undergone relocation.
However, renters who leased from primary renters face formidable challenges, as they are not eligible for new housing allocations or any form of assistance. These individuals rented their homes from primary renters at meager rates and find themselves unable to afford alternative accommodations due to the soaring costs involved.
Piassa, a historic district dating back to the establishment of modern Addis Ababa under Emperor Menelik II, carries within its ancient contours a rich tapestry of cultural heritage. Originally inhabited by skilled craftsmen engaged in the production of textiles, wooden tools, and metalwork, Piazza’s roots run deep. Despite its venerable age, Piassa has an Italianate charm, albeit one in dire need of restoration and revitalization.
The neighborhood has long thrived on a delicate balance between two contrasting lifestyles. On one hand, it catered to the affluent, boasting high-end boutiques that showcased opulent jewelry. On the other hand, it provided solace and shelter for the less fortunate, becoming a haven for even the most destitute residents.
Piassa’s allure stems from its renowned cake houses, bakeries, boutiques, and jewelry shops, all of which contribute to its resplendent historical charm. Along the main road, Piassa exudes elegance and opulence. However, tucked away behind those exclusive jewelry shops and boutiques lies another facet of the neighborhood, one that serves the poorest of the poor.
This part of Piassa is plagued by extreme poverty, earning it the unfortunate reputation of being an ultimate slum. Houses, constructed from rudimentary materials such as mud and wood, stand amidst a backdrop of weathered and grimy corrugated steel sheets. The narrow streets, mostly paved with cobblestones, teem with activity and often evoke a sense of confinement. Regrettably, this impoverished enclave is also home to sex workers, further highlighting the complex social dynamics and challenges faced by the community.
Washed clothes hung along narrow streets on ropes stretching between homes, draped overhead along the lanes. Poverty is etched plainly on residents’ faces and in the deteriorating infrastructure around them.
Constructed nearly a century ago, many buildings held histories stretching back generations.
Taytu Hotel opened in 1908 designed by Armenian architect Minas Kherbekian, while Cinema Ampirereflected influences drawnfrom the brief Italian occupation, when the neighborhood significantly developed.
Landmarks like the centenarian Cinema and 1920s Greek Orthodox Church stood designated as heritage sites among the Italy-inspired structures lining main roads. Their architectural styles remained as vestiges of past eras.
Greeks, Armenians and South Asians once populated the area, operating numerous shops, boutiques, restaurants and more.
However, after political shifts in the 1960s, many properties changed hands as the diaspora populations departed, though influence on commerce persisted.
Haile Selassie Street stretching from Degol Square to RasMekonnen Bridge holds numerous structures dating over a century. Tewodros Woldie is relocating the family boutique situated at the street’s northern end, operated for generations from the centenarian house inherited from his grandfather.
Mass demolitions now span the neighborhood from Menelik Square through EriBekentu, WebeBerha, SerategnaSefer to DeroManekiyaacross the river, changing Piassa’sfamiliar landscape. Development projects like Friendship Park, Sheger Riverside and Adwa Museum are transforming and reshaping the area with further clearances made to make way for new projects.
The city government’s Corner Development Project covers a broad section, aiming to revitalize spaces surrounding the new Adwa Museum complex through standardized housing, commercial centers, parking and improved transit.
Though boosting the environs, these large-scale undertakings appear unable to sustain Piassa’s traditionally harmonious social fabric that united residents across divides for nearly a century. Longtime locals like Kebede and Tewodros now find themselves displaced from the community they once knew, as are many others amid these substantial changes reshaping their neighborhood.
While development aims to improve living standards, there is melancholy in losing what time and familiarity had etched so deeply into the neighborhood’s social fabric. As Kebede helps shuttle the last of his possessions away from the bustling city center streets that had been his world for 50 years, there is uncertainty about what the future holds in his new surroundings.
For Piassa’s residents both young and old, these transformations redraw the map they have always known. In the rubble and dust left behind, one can’t help but feel the ghostly impressions of lives and history now displaced. Yet in the faces of those beginning again elsewhere, perhaps some optimism remains that new roots may someday take hold.
For Piassa, a new chapter opens—but its deepest connections to the past are buried beneath the debris of progress.
