I find myself greeting a middle-aged man on the road back to the hotel. His name is Dawit, and I’ve noticed that he’s draped his prayer shawl over a dress shirt and khaki pants. Two small boys hold his hands.This is the first time I am here since 10, 15 years, Dawit says. He is visiting from the capital, Addis Ababa, where he works as a civil servant.I tell him that Lalibela has impressed me in a way I can’t really explain, adding that I’m not a religious person I tell them about the monastery, pointing vaguely to a distant hilltop.