Illicit Antiquities
Research Centre
against the theft & traffic
of archaeology

Culture Without Context

Issue 9,
Autumn 2001

A holy cross and the necessity for international conventions

Jos van Beurden

Utrecht
The Netherlands

In the midst of the majestic mountains of northern Ethiopia are eleven churches. They are a remarkable phenomenon — carved out of solid rock in the twelfth century ad by some forty thousand craftsmen. Eleven times, gigantic square caverns were hollowed out to create churches with the three interior spaces characteristic of all Ethiopian Orthodox buildings: a porch; an area where the believers receive communion; and the most holy place, accessible to priests and deacons only. The churches are interconnected by corridors, and the place where they were built is named after their patron-king: Lalibela. In the eight hundred years of their existence, the bare feet of millions of worshippers — singing, praying, sacrificing, hoping and despairing — have passed through the rock churches of Lalibela. On the numerous holy days ecclesiastical dignitaries, dressed in colourful robes walk around the buildings, and are joined by thousands of believers.

Church of St George.

Since the introduction of Christianity to Ethiopia in the fourth century ad, numerous churches and monasteries have been built, their walls and ceilings often beautifully painted. Each has a range of ritual objects, sometimes made of silver or gold. Lalibela’s major church is the Bet Medhane Alem, measuring 33.5 metres long, 23.5 metres wide and 11 metres high. It is the only church with an external colonnade on all four sides. It has now been covered by transparent sheeting to protect it from the detrimental effects of climate. The Bet Medhane Alem harbours one of Ethiopia’s most precious valuables, the Afro Ayigeba, a heavy, sixty centimetre long and richly decorated cross. Its value is not only religious and historical, Ethiopians also ascribe to it a healing power. Two men permanently guard the cross.

On the night of 9 March 1997 one of the guards had gone home sick. His colleague, sheltering from the rain, had fallen asleep. Around midnight the inhabitants of the mountain town were abruptly woken by the sounds of a bell ringing, confused voices, and some shooting. Many ran to the church, where a priest had discovered that the door (which at that hour was always closed) stood open. He had run inside, to the place where the cross was kept, and discovered that it had disappeared. The shots heard were fired by the police, who arrested forty church officials.

For days the theft was front-page news in Ethiopia. As interrogations produced no results, the police were forced to release the forty prisoners, one of whom returned voluntarily shortly afterwards. His story was that there was a man in Lalibela whose daughter had been ill for a long time and who had repeatedly urged this cleric to take the cross to his house, hoping for the recovery of his daughter. Finally the priest had given in. On 9 March he had hidden himself in the church and, as soon as he was sure that the guards’ attention had wandered, had taken the valuable object. He had the daughter kiss the cross several times and blessed her ailing body. That is where his memory failed, as according to him the father had plied him with liquor and the next thing he knew was that he was back in the churchyard, without the cross.

The police held the cleric, and arrested and interrogated the father and brother of the girl. The pair claimed to have buried the cross in the backyard of their house, but police excavations recovered nothing. Ethiopia’s most important cross was gone. Christians in Lalibela and across Ethiopia felt injured by the loss. ‘The cross is part of us’, said museum director Ahmed Zekaria in Addis Ababa. ‘As long as it is not back, something is lacking.’ He was scared that the commotion and publicity would drive the thief to desperate measures, that he would melt the cross down into an ingot of metal. ‘In that case Ethiopia would have definitely lost part of its soul.’

Two years later, in June 1999, the continued efforts of the Ethiopian police were rewarded. They arrested some antique dealers, and after interrogation learned that the brother of the sick girl had smuggled the cross out of Lalibela. He had sold it for one thousand birr (around 115 US dollars) to an antique dealer in the neighbouring city of Desi. The latter had sold it for an unknown amount to an antique dealer in Addis Ababa, capital city of Ethiopia. This dealer had kept it hidden for a year, after which time a Belgian collector had purchased it for 25,000 US dollars.

It emerged that the Addis Ababa dealer had known the Belgian collector since 1994, but denied having sold the cross to him. The Ethiopian authorities investigated his bank statements and blocked an amount of 25,000 US dollars. They informed the Belgian authorities. When an international courier attempted to import a parcel addressed to the collector, it was intercepted by Customs officials at Brussels’ Zaventem airport. However, even though the accompanying documents were not fully in order, they had to let it go. Because of the absence of legal agreements between Belgium and Ethiopia they were unable do anything.

The Ethiopian Embassy in Brussels engaged a Belgian lawyer, who advised against starting legal proceedings against the collector. Such proceedings would take years and it would be very difficult to prove bad faith on the part of the collector. Instead, the lawyer advised that an approach be made to try to convince the collector that the holy cross ought to go back to Ethiopia. A representative of the Embassy visited him, spoke about the soul and spirit of the cross, and finally the Belgian agreed to hand it over on the condition that his money would be returned.

The Ethiopian authorities agreed and in 2001 the cross was flown back to Addis Ababa. There, the Belgian ambassador invited Ethiopian experts and members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church to inspect the cross. They confirmed that it was not a replica but the actual 800-year-old cross of Lalibela. Soon after, the Belgian envoy handed the precious object over to the Ethiopian government, in what he later informed the Foreign Affairs department in Brussels had been a moment de grand émotion.

The outcome of this case was rather unsatisfactory. The Belgian collector, who had visited Ethiopia several times earlier and was knowledgeable about Ethiopian artefacts, must have known about the theft of the holy cross and its value for Christians in the country. He may also have known that such a cross should never have left the country. Had both Belgium and Ethiopia signed the 1995 UNIDROIT Convention on Stolen and Illegally Exported Cultural Objects, the collector would have had to prove his good faith at the moment of purchasing, which would have been a difficult task. Now the collector has not only emerged unpunished, he even got his money back. Meanwhile, in Ethiopia seven people were sentenced to several years in jail.

First posted April 2002; Page design updated September 2006