The other afternoon, around 5 p.m., I found myself walking along Bole Road in Addis Ababa, just as rush hour reached its chaotic peak. A sea of vehicles was trapped in a standstill—horns blaring, tempers rising. The absence of a functioning traffic light at one intersection had only made things worse, with pedestrians weaving between idle cars and drivers inching forward, each trying to outmaneuver the other.
Eventually, a traffic officer arrived and began directing vehicles—halting one direction to allow another to move. Amid the congestion, one driver stood out, relentlessly leaning on his horn, as though sheer noise could clear the way. The officer approached his car with calm authority. “Abet!” he said—loosely translated as “yes!”?” The tone was enough. The driver, perhaps realizing the futility of his impatience, fell silent.
I didn’t linger to see what happened next. Maybe the man was rushing to an emergency. Maybe not. But it struck me how impatience—whether on the road or in life—rarely solves the problem. It often adds to it.
I’ve learned, often the hard way, that impatience stems not only from urgency but from deeper habits: poor planning, procrastination, and disorganization. The last-minute scramble, the impulsive replies, the panicked reactions—they’re all symptoms of a life not structured to accommodate time’s natural flow.
Benjamin Franklin once said, “For every minute spent in organizing, an hour is earned.” It’s true. When we plan ahead, we gain not just time but peace. We become less reactive and more composed. And with that comes the capacity to wait—calmly, purposefully, even gratefully.
In Ethiopia, there’s growing recognition that patience is not merely a virtue, but a civic necessity. The national driver’s manual even includes a section called sine bahri—which roughly translates to “driver etiquette or moral behavior.” It’s not just about technical driving skills. It’s about mindset: the ability to remain composed, courteous, and steady in the face of stress.
After all, the logic of traffic lights is built on the assumption that people will wait their turn. Without that agreement—without discipline—everyone suffers, not just the one breaking the rule.
Years ago, chaos reigned at taxi stops across Addis. It was every man for himself—literally. Women, the elderly, and anyone less physically assertive were routinely pushed aside. Boarding a minibus was a daily struggle.
Today, that’s changing. At most major taxi stands, people line up. Sometimes there’s a uniformed attendant, but often there isn’t—and still, the line holds. I’ve seen passengers take it upon themselves to preserve the order. One local car assembler even introduced a rechargeable fare card system, allowing passengers to board efficiently with a quick scan—no cash, no scramble.
Technology, too, is nudging the culture forward. From banks to government offices, queuing systems now assign numbers and call people in order. It’s a simple mechanism, but the impact is profound: fewer arguments, more fairness, greater trust.
This small civil act—waiting in line—is one of the clearest markers of a society learning to coexist.
A Virtue Disguised as Delay
Patience, as defined by the Cambridge Dictionary, is “the ability to accept delay, suffering, or annoyance without complaining or becoming angry.” But it’s more than that. True patience is not passive—it’s a form of quiet resilience, of purposeful waiting.
Consider the Advent calendar in Western cultures: 24 chocolates behind 24 little windows, one for each day leading up to Christmas Eve. It’s a child’s exercise in delayed gratification, a sweet introduction to self-control. The lesson? Value the journey, not just the destination.
In Ethiopia, it’s now kiremt, the rainy season. Farmers have planted their seeds—some weeks ago, some just now. But none expect a harvest tomorrow. Depending on the crop, it will take months. And in those months, there is only one choice: wait. Wait and trust.
This is nature’s way of instilling discipline. And yet, how often do we forget it? How often do we demand instant results—in work, in relationships, in our own self-growth?
Impatience is not a solitary failure. Like a reckless driver running a red light, its consequences often fall on others. A hasty word can ruin a relationship. A rushed decision can sabotage months of progress. A culture that prizes speed over substance breeds exhaustion and burnout.
I’ve seen opportunities lost—not for lack of talent, but for lack of waiting. I’ve seen goals crumble because their pursuit was not grounded in patience, but in desperation.
There is no great achievement, no lasting accomplishment, that did not require sustained effort over time. None. The greater the goal, the greater the dose of patience required.
Waiting, in itself, is inevitable. What sets us apart is how we wait. Do we complain, grumble, lash out—or do we accept the moment with gratitude, believing that the future holds promise?
“Wait or exit,” a friend once told me. It’s crude, but true. Life offers few shortcuts. But it offers countless opportunities to grow while we wait.
The question is not whether we will face delays and disappointments. We will. The question is: can we hold ourselves together—quietly, steadily—while time does its work?
That, I believe, is the heart of patience. And it’s a discipline worth practicing. On the road. In the line. And in life.
Contributed by Selamawit Kidane
