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Dorothy Copus Brush Ethiopian cabbie a Our seat of national government, Washington,
DC, always offers something of interest. This year the National
Society of Newspaper Columnists held its annual conference there.
It was arranged by columnists headquartered in the city, people
who know all those personalities we see giving opinions on TV
or whose columns we read in our newspapers. Sometime I'll tell you about some of those
people who spoke at the conference, but this column is about
one of those unknown, but important, behind-the-scenes people
who keep things running smoothly in Washington because of the
services they provide. When I made my travel arrangements I chose
the least expensive rate. It was offered by SouthWest Airlines,
which meant I landed at the Baltimore-Washington International
Airport about 45 minutes from DC. Our conference hotel was located
only five minutes from Washington Reagan International Airport,
and I have never checked how much I actually saved since transportation
from Baltimore to Washington is not cheap. After gathering my luggage, I was standing
in the arrival lounge trying to decide which shuttle bus would
get me to my hotel. A gentleman approached and asked politely
if I needed transportation to the city. I told him I was going
to Pentagon City, and he quoted a price and said he already had
one passenger going there. We were soon speeding down the interstate.
The other passenger was a businessman from Oklahoma, and we chatted
easily during the ride. We arrived at his hotel first, and our
driver handed him his card. When we arrived at my hotel, the courteous
driver handed me his card and asked when I was returning and
what time my flight left. He then said, "I will pick you
up at 11 a.m. Sunday unless you make other arrangements. If you
do, call me Saturday evening." The other passenger and I
had been so busy talking the only thing I knew about this driver
was that he was Ethiopian. On Sunday morning I mentioned to the bellman
that I hoped I had a ride. I showed him the card and mentioned
the driver was Ethiopian. A huge smile crossed the bellman's
face and he said most emphatically, "He will be here!"
I smiled as I inquired if he was also Ethiopian, and indeed he
was. As for the driver he pulled in at exactly
11 a.m. This time I was the only passenger and the travel time
went fast as I asked questions about Ethiopia and his life here.
He came to the States 12 years ago, and his command of English
is excellent. I learned he is married to an Ethiopian woman.
They had not known each other in that country but met here, and
now they have two children. He said there are many dialects in Ethiopia
just as here. In their home they speak their native language
so the children are familiar with their heritage. They make regular
trips back home to visit their relatives. In Washington they
live in a section called Adams-Morgan, an ethnically diverse
area with an international flavor. He told of the number of restaurants
and shops that make them feel they are in Ethiopia. The Coptic
Church, the Ethiopian Christian church, is an important part
of their lives here. The time passed quickly as I soaked up the information about a distant land. Because of Wondwosen Tamarat, my short weekend began and ended on a pleasant note. His professional demeanor banished the many bad tales we hear so often about large cities. In my memory book he rates an A-plus as a goodwill ambassador. |