The faces of Ethiopia

The faces of Ethiopia
Ethiopia's northern highlands are a window on a land that time has forgotten. Over the course of two millennia, kings and emperors created a legacy of palaces, churches and monasteries.

Many of the sites are found in and around Lake Tana, Gonder and Aksum. However the jewel in Ethiopia's north is the village of Lalibela, set in a rocky and arid landscape dotted with groves of twisted olive trees.

Its ancient Christian churches, carved from soft reddish stone, remain one of the world's best kept secrets. They rival the ancient monuments of Petra, Jordan, and the temples of Karnak in Luxor, Egypt, with one important difference. You don't have to fight off hordes of tourists.

The largest of these churches, the 33-metre-long Bet Medhane Alem (Saviour of the World), is roughly one-third the size of the Parthenon of ancient Athens. Inside, a priest clutches an 900-year-old processional cross. This national treasure, believed to have healing powers, once belonged to King Lalibela -- the ruler who is thought to be responsible for the 11 spectacular churches in this mountainside town.

The priest shows me biblical texts written on goat-skin parchment as old as the cross. I'm awestruck by the detail and colour of the illuminated pages. There are images of Christ, the Virgin Mary and martyred saints. In countries, these ancient relics would be off limits to the public, but at Bet Medhane Alem, visitors come into direct contact with history.

For all Medhane Alem's treasures and architectural grandeur, however, Lalibela's most impressive monument is the lichen-spotted Bet Gyorgius, named after Ethiopia's patron saint, St. George. The church, in the shape of a Greek cross, was carved into a volcanic slope, creating the illusion of having sunk into the ground under its own weight. It also has what is probably the finest exterior detailing of any church in Lalibela and a striking courtyard dug around the outer walls. Inside a priest blesses supplicants, as has been the custom here for centuries.

A couple of days later I travel to the mountain-top monastery of Debre Damo, home to Ethiopia's oldest church established by Syrian missionaries in the 5th century. My interest is captured by the 24-metre climb up an ox-hide cord dangling from the monastery's eagle-nest entrance.

Our guide climbs the sheer mountain wall effortlessly. By the time I reach the timber and stone gate, I am winded. "For you it was like 70 metres," our guide says with a laugh.

Maybe, but the trip down will be easier. In the meantime, led by a bearded abbot, we visit the stone and timber church. We are only allowed to view the cramped ante-room containing ancient biblical texts wrapped in fabric. Its floor is covered by prayer rugs. Hidden behind a heavy curtain is the main body of the church -- strictly off limits to the 4WD crowd.

Our tour includes a look at the monastery's natural cisterns, used to gather water during the rainy season, and stone niches containing the sun-bleached skulls of dead monks. Today's monks avoid contact with the outside world. (No women are allowed to set foot on the grounds of Debre Damo.)