Origin of Ethiopian Flag: Saxony-Anhalt, Germany
27 August, 2007 | 3 comments | Category: ethnicity, I.dentity
“Ethiopia has always been good at reinventing herself.
Green is for the high emerald fields, yellow is for the scorched nomad’s lands and red is for the colour of the Eritrean sea.
History, however, tells us that the Ethiopian flag, the emblem of Rastafarianism and a symbol of anti-colonialism, was invented in the 19th century by a military instructor with an eye for colour. Asked by Dejazmatch Wube, the pretender to the Ethiopian throne, to provide his army with a flag, the painter and erstwhile drill sergeant
Edward Zender paid homage to his native Germany through the flag of the dukedom in which he was born. Apparently he substituted the yellow for the original white band of Anhalt, a colour he disliked because of the egg whites his mother made him eat as a child – but such are the vagaries of the triumphant march of nations.
Then again, Sheba was probably a Yemeni, and the Lion of Judah originally roared in Israel.
Happy 2,000th birthday”
- an excerpt from a British in flight magazine article I found on Addis Journal
ok so the writer of this article plays with a specific perspective implicitly praising the other man with the tone of his article. Most probably seeing himself as an objective man who has all the facts right, his whiteness invisible to him, since such is the nature of race. The “happy 2000th bday” sounds like a satirical crack to imply happy 100th, 5000th or 2 millionth birthday would all have been accurate given Ethiopia’s constant metamorphosis.
Most importantly to me though is how I responded to this possible “fact” about the flag with emotional resistance. I reacted with a defiant “how dare a white British man claim the Ethiopian flag, a symbol of black power, independence and anti-colonialism , the artwork of a white German man?!” The symbol of black defiance was inspired by a German Duchy? in current day Saxony-Anhalt?…and of all preposterousness: egg-white dislikes by a little boy?
Then it dawned on me that I was reacting with the highly emotional nature of patriotism and pride.
Nobody knows the past, history is written by someone with his/her own prejudices and the fact of the matter lies in that the Ethiopian Imperial Dynasty & the Orthodox Church were successful architects of a “common consciousness” that served the rulers’ purposes. And because of patriotism, things like colors printed on pieces of cloth irk me out of my stable state. I now ask myself why I had never thought to go looking for the “recorded” history of the Ethiopian Flag. I had no desire to do so because assumption served my identity and pride. Its a fantastic tale; Ethiopians came up with their own flag which is a source of pride; many African nations adapted it as a symbol of independence! …In all honestly, I was cool with inflated pride- feels more comfortable than the rocky beds of a western world transcribing the vagaries of its ‘western’ authors!
below’s an image from saxony, germany 
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characterizing an Emotion
26 August, 2007 | No comments | Category: love.of.words!, nostalgia.personal, prose.tales, thinking...
it all started with a look back, a visual perception of impact
impact so unprecedented, so dented and bent like someone banged a punch into metal
the initiation was felt first by the heart which took a wild leap within the ribcage. it quickly rushes behind the ribs to find asylum- needs to hide, become camouflaged, disguised
letting the mushy goo-es of electricity take charge up in the skull, goo reacts with an impulse to blink again; maybe it wont be there
the shiny smoothness and composure, the sheen of elegance could not have been…destroyed?! shaken?
endure a seemly eternal spin on the thought carousel
…can not take a leap of faith off: the carousel will never stop going around and around…! falling, down. wrenched to the ground, thrown, rolled…can all that be worth it?
interlude: silence and nothingness.
in a blank state of consciousness contemplating existence and Him and a defiant egotistic proud relationship, a narrow-minded, self-absorbed seeking His solace, His hug and forgiveness
and the floodgates at the entry of the skull erupt, squirting out some sort of liquid
the gates; in conversation themselves, confused periodically by an oscillating repressed brain that aims to stop them from their natural…
the crystal clear stimuli of music sneakily poking out a peaking of feelings and emotions, shoving them to embrace their cores at the peak, their true being.
the carousel ceases to matter, the ever static circuit in the skull halts
escape….sleep….believe, the right reasons for faith?
wavering breath comes into vibrational friction with air, words are uttered with fear to unveil
guilt pinches the back of the neck, again and again
right behind the earlobes leaving a gnawing ache that runs all the way back down the spine
causing a nauseous taste of unsettled. a tongue goes numb.
a ball of colorless vacuum in the esophagus. something pricks the dizzy salivary glands
clenched jaws, no desire to swallow a lump. reject the contents of the vacuum-will not swallow! will not go inside!
break!—-too many hours
exhale
exhale…
exhale….
might need to swallow and digest it out, to allow it be gone forever.
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the power of words: dustyfooted k’naan
24 August, 2007 | 10 comments | Category: love.of.words!, musiqa, poetry
“Communicating verbally rather than visually has much to recommend it. Words, used properly, can accurately convey concepts and explain complex ideas. They can persuade with logic and argument. They can change minds and thereby lives. The pen is mightier than the sword, because force can only compel from without, whereas words can convert from within. No wonder conquering cultures sometimes suppress indigenous tongues; no wonder it’s claimed that all you need to destroy a people is undermine their language. We naturally reign supreme among the animals, with our sophisticated speech. It is even said that without words, there is no memory.” — Ann Atkins of BBC Radio 4′s Thought For The Day. From Lemn’s blog
I leave you with a piece I believe exemplifies this with passion, grace and patience
TOO Well Done
Justice has a sensitive belly.
I’ve noticed as a boy.
it has no use for me.
I am to it like fashion to the homeless.
Or an overcoat to the sun.
I’ve learned at an early age,
that I am an ambitious meal,
waiting to be tasted,
but occasions have come and gone.
Festivities and bloodstained victories,
elaborate celebrations and toasts,
in the name of hospital patients and ghosts,
in the name of hunger and misery,
suffering and diseases,
I’ve seen it all go by,
i’ve heard the crackling fire,
the meeting of the glasses,
the men in fine attire,
the burning cigar ashes.
Those were joyous days,
angels stripped to beasts,
the truth underneath the truth,
sold out seats and people,
no rights and wrongs, just good points,
opinions rush to form like soldiers,
and soldiers rush to kill for opinions,
that was the age of speech,
and communication, in a land where none dare speak,
and if a fool made the terrible mistake,
someone always screamed,
“can we please watch the war in peace”
the show must go on,
and everyone cheers for thieves,
I suppose I am surprised,
having endured time, and even wounds from the angel of death,
that justice has yet to taste me, touch me and smell my open veins,
ignoring me like my own shadow in the sunny mornings,
I remember my grandfather, sick and old with wisdom,
hammering his last nail into the wood of my old home,
his eyes dry of tears, nothing left to cry.
He said that I was exotic,
but like vomit, I was tough to swallow.
we sat in our pot,
boiling bothered and hot,
him dying, and me aspiring.
we dreamt and imagined far away places,
where justice ate away faces,
and guts and heads and arms too,
devouring on their discontent,
pecking and licking and chewing on their troubles,
gulping on their fears,
belching out assurance and security for all.
but this does not happen here,
justice does not dine here,
justice dies here,
it cannot take the sun,
or the poverty,
or the lack of sanitation,
but those are only excuses,
because really the truth is,
my ribs are too sour for it’s tongue,
my skin is too well done.
Suspicious newborns.
Flaming flowers.
Trusted snakes.
Death without brakes.
Bandits are leaders.
Rumors are law.
Sedatives are faith.
Rapers are praised.
Demons dress well.
Infants are nailed.
Spirits are jailed.
Grudges grow tails and wings and.
Things aren’t easy at my old home
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Horn Paradigm: Blow it!
21 August, 2007 | 3 comments | Category: ethnicity, I.dentity, peace & conflict
countries have issues staying countries…other regions have unions and communities ‘east african’, ‘west african’ ‘central american’ …some share cultural similarities through connections : former british east africa, southern african ‘mining’, latino culture etc … why isn’t there one for the horn? Why can’t i have a typical conversation with a djiboutian about the pop culture in the horn… about this for instance? I wanna be like these folks here….
Nigerian: ghana dey lookin good in that 2face video, sha!
Ghanian: fo real?…I no dey know he dey come from naija to film a video here! That’s off da hook! Crazy be dem pop singers exploding all over the place these days o?
ha! anyhow, enough on envy…what does one need for a common consciousness? common threads…to weave the pattern?…dibble with the same tune, step the the same rhythm? apparently …its the work of novelists and artists….
I dey be artist…follow me….
imaginary Ingredients:
coexisting muslim-christian for centuries, fusion cultures, anglophone-francophone, railroad & ports, diversity of peoples, beautiful women 
…then… some laughable stereotypes, spicy imagery and poetry…along with war, strife, drought and instability…. et Voila! you got a dynamite smoothie for peace!
as I have found out…one artist is actually blowing this horn, check out “blues 4 the horn” by K’naan
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ethiopiawi contradiction
17 August, 2007 | No comments | Category: I.dentity, poetry
duty-bound. respectful
seeks societal approval
leYlugnta
reserved. secretive
not loudly vocal. restrained
passionately “ethiopian” or “…”
release politico-emotional static, infra-radiation
righteous
deeply proud
iffy dialouge, choose debate
or silence
More…
humility, respect for elders
sharing, caring
giving. loving
Sacrificing everything.
Generous. faithful
Courteous. Polite
“the other”?…?
self-interested
image obsessed
peer-pressurable
americanizing. rebellious
rigid identity conception
identity conflicted
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