When he saw a stage being built in the Ethiopian capital to celebrate the 60th anniversary of Bob Marley's birthday, 53-year-old Belay Kidane began to weep. The Ethiopian shed tears not for the Jamaican reggae star, who died of cancer in 1981, but for late Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie, considered a living God by many of Marley's fellow Rastafarians and hailed in his songs.
"I cried when I remembered Haile Selassie's kindness, his honesty, he was a good father and we lost him," said Belay, describing how as a schoolboy he was once handed a chocolate cake by the emperor who was toppled in 1974.
Festivities in Addis Ababa to commemorate Marley's life have highlighted the strange mix of affection and suspicion shared by many Ethiopians for members of the tiny Rastafarian minority living in their country, or those visiting for the festival.
While those who argue that the 44-year reign of Haile Selassie was a golden age are happy that Rastafarians still glorify his name, others have reservations about guests whose waist-length dreadlocks and fondness for marijuana stand in sharp contrast to Ethiopia's conservative society.
Some Rastas say they feel very welcome in Ethiopia's capital, and the tremendous popularity of Marley as the developing world's first global superstar has generated a surge of anticipation for a concert marking his birthday on Sunday.
Members of the Marley family including his widow Rita, sons Ziggy, Damian and Stephen, and singers Angelique Kidjo and Luciano and Teddy Afro are due to perform at the free all-day concert in the city's newly renovated Meskel square.
But despite the enthusiasm, the Rastafarian faith raises eyebrows among some Ethiopians, especially those Orthodox Christians who feel offended by their belief that Haile Selassie, who died in 1975, is a manifestation of God.
"They can't say that our creator, our God is alive, many of us believe that is wrong," said Seyfe Gkasadik, 24, a human resources manager. "Even the emperor said he's a human being, he doesn't have supernatural powers."
Rastas who smoke marijuana - the "wisdom weed" - as a sacrament point to Bible passages like "eat every herb of the land" to explain the practice, but many Orthodox Christians regard the rite as more decadent than divine.
The lesson is not lost on a younger, rebellious generation of Ethiopians chafing against the elders' strictures, many of whom embrace Marley's message of empowerment encapsulated in lyrics like "emancipate yourself from mental slavery".
"Our grandmothers only see the negative side," said Kale Ab, 18, visiting a show of photographs chronicling Marley's career put on as part of the commemoration. "It's the ganja thing."
Even Rastafarians living in the community of Shashamane, donated to them as a gift by the emperor, complain that members of Ethiopia's Amhara tribe look down on them, or government red tape frustrates their development projects.
"The Amharas, they've got a problem, they're a bit racist themselves," said Jahlisha Israel, head of the Rastafari Nazarite Research Centre in Shashamane.
"If you've got black skin, if it's like really dark, they kind of look down at that," said Israel, who comes from Barbados and wears a cloak with clasps like lions' heads, the symbol of Haile Selassie - "Lion of the Tribe of Judah".
At several weeks of events here organised under the theme "Africa Unite", Marley's poignant and insurrectionary music may prove to be the most powerful force in the Rastas' favour.
"Usually in our country food is sacred," said local student Saba Maheri, sitting at a cafe near the new stage. "People love Bob Marley so much they even dance when they're eating."