senduQ

mind entropy of the ethiofrican

When I’m Back

16 April, 2010 | 23 comments | Category: Africa, I.dentity, i.mmigration, nation & ethnicity, nostalgia.personal, Senduq - E!

by E!

It is now 12:07 AM. I just had a brief conversation with tsepeaces and another Berkye SenduQawit. I managed to get out of the conversation in time for me to wash the dishes my friend and I used. Poor fellow had to eat a vegan dinner because I am fasting. I know I am not supposed to brag about lent, especially not announce it on a BLOG that is getting hot by the minute. UMMM but opportunities like this arise very rarely in my side of town.  May be my deacon friend will actually make note of the fact that I am fasting and inform Abba (of course with out my consent) and may be, Abba will reduce my segdet from 75 to 45 for the coming Fasika and the next few Fasikas I will actually spend in this town.

I have a vague suspicion that I am a hot commodity in the virtual world, because everyone wants to hear my stories from home. After all, what is better than a friend who just arrived from Addis Ababa? Of course it’s a bonus, if the friend came with teff injera and she updates you about so and so’s wedding while you take a huge gorsha of teff ingera with WZO X’s ebed yale key wet? Errre I should not have such HODE-related ideas in the first week of tsome (My deacon friend decrees such thoughts at this time of the year).

It has also become Ye Addebabye Mistere that I have very weak resistance le addis ababa goremsoch…and hence (I assume that she assumed) my three weeks stay would be full of drama. Well, Not Really. Mr. S has done un-repairable damage to my dating appetite. And besides, STD rates are on the rise eytebale yeweral. Of course, the person who gave me this info is a major ye’addis ababa dureye and he even challenged me to disprove this hypothesis. He said,  “as an aspiring scientist you should do a practical hypothesis testing”. Imagine my surprise when I heard this from Elem yale dureye negAde ….what y’know about hypothesis testing and scientific research? The hypothesis still remains untested…anyways we should move on, after all this is a well-respected blog. There are still some who constantly mistake ME for chewa & anget defi so let me not ruin their presumption.

I wanted to go home desperately because I wanted to confirm that home still exists.  As much as I love and appreciate my life here, I feel as if something is missing (May be something or someone is actually missing but that by itself calls for another entry). I have this nagging feeling of emptiness. I constantly reminded my self that my life here is temporary, I should not get too comfortable here because this is not home. Ethiopia is home. Or is it not? I had three weeks to find out.

When I arrived at the Bole International airport my mom was the first person I saw, she was holding a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.  She did not see me until I was steps away from her. The expression on her face when she saw me was priceless. I realized how much I have missed my mom when I saw her with flowers in her hands, lost in deep thought. My mother looked so much darker than I remembered, it has been two years since I last saw her, but within those two years, my mother has aged rapidly. She still looks very young for her age, but she has changed considerably.

The three weeks went by so fast and we were once again at the Bole international airport, this time at the departure section. I managed to send my luggage and I went to the airport café where my parents and brother were waiting. We sat in the café for a while until my brother finally rose from his chair and announced that it was time. It was past mid night and both my parents looked very exhausted. I knew another Goodbye was imminent.  I gave each one of them a hug, and watched my father and brother escort my mom who was sobbing quietly.

I arrived at the airport in my city on a sunny Sunday afternoon. I quickly collected my luggage, and left the arrival section. There was no one waiting for me at the airport. There were no flowers, kisses or hugs, not even a handshake. My heart sunk a bit lower with this realization, but I was nonetheless happy to be “home”. My apartment looked much bigger, sunnier and cleaner than I remembered. I realized how much I have missed its coziness, quietness and spaciousness. I went out and bought a calling card to tell my parents that I have arrived safely. I called a few friends to let them know that I am in town. I unpacked, took a hot long bath and then went out on my balcony and drew in a lung full of crisp winter air….euffoy and oddly enough it felt good to be back.

I was not able to permanently address this “empty” feeling, that I always had since I set a foot in North America. But I was able to understand why I constantly have that feeling. This “empty” feeling is due to lack of genuine love, attention and laughter I took for granted in Ethiopia. Over the seven years I have been here, besides a few good friends I have been all-alone. It is a dangerous realization but with all honesty, very few people would notice if I went missing or dead. So, this “constant feeling of emptiness” is also known to many as “loneliness”.

I have been back from my trip for over a month. I have now made peace with “loneliness” and we have made unwritten convention that it will occupy a small corner in my life. It will NOT take over completely; make me move to another city or date un-dateable guys. I will NOT deny its existence. “Loneliness” and me shook hands and sealed the deal, with out shemagelas, eyewitnesses or lawyers. I looked at a framed picture of my parents for approval. They smiled, so I guessed they also approve.

My trip has given me an opportunity to re-connect with family and friends. I especially had a fabulous time with my cousin with whom I shared great childhood memories. He was drifting away from my life and it felt righteous to place him back in my life (and this time permanently). It was also nice to see how some of my friends have become so successful and dedicated to their careers. Since most people do not work for more than a few hours a day, it was refreshing to see such commitment and persistence. I had an opportunity to go to ANde Yemengist mesribete to get some paper work done and we had to go multiple times during office hours to get very simple and basic service. There are lots of incompetent and lazy people and they demand loads of patience.

I closed my eyes and thought about my mother deep in thought, holding the beautiful bouquet. Another thought came, my parents, brother and I at the airport café. Sandwiched between the two, I had unbelievably beautiful time. It was a fabulous vacation and it made me realize that I am lonely but also happy here. I can handle loneliness. Surely, I have developed a thick skin over the course of seven years – I have lived alone after all. I also love the life I have created for myself here; I am in a setting that challenges me intellectually and emotionally. I have chosen this life for me and I must live it unapologetically. But yes, Ethiopia also has a room for me and I can go back to it whenever I am ready. For now though, “loneliness” and I will coexist.

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Opposite Sides of the Border

2 November, 2009 | 4 comments | Category: Africa, for.the.love.of.words!, I.dentity, i.mmigration, nation & ethnicity, poetry

by guest writer: Liya

cracked earth

Separated by our connection
Divided by common ground
Enmity no longer needs to be understood
Now accepted the way love once was
From opposite sides of the border
We mirror each other’s DNA
Still found soaking the Earth on both sides
Almond eyes traced in black
Hiding beneath the shadow of
A cliff-like brow
Without words we do not know our enemy
Let us sit in silence
For peace to dare return
Let us make sound only to celebrate
Ilil belu be ye-and-andachu qwankwa (rejoice in each of your languages)
Isn’t it beautiful when joy transcends
Like praise from broken hearts to
Silenced lips
Like music to the Heavens

photo: dreamyourealive

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Murky

16 September, 2009 | 4 comments | Category: for.the.love.of.words!, I.dentity, madness!, nostalgia.personal, poetry, thinking...

fallgreenflybird
by tpeace

floating above
the little balls
solid insolubles
swimming in water
young heroine
skims small solid things
which don’t exist
but burst and smear
a river before her eyes
a world clear as murk
shallow water drowning her mind
sticking her in this dazzling scene
of the real unreal
seething & foaming
subjective froth of a barely
objective reality
draping her
this little bird
whose eyes swim within two-odd decades
lost in the grey ugliness
until she grips hard
what fill the empty cervices & corners of her heart
from the edge of the green hill
she jumps
shrieking all the way down
praying to God that she can
fly skimming the edge of the waterfall
knowing only one single thing -
that she has to jump

—————————————

“I gotta free my mind. I gotta chase my soul. I gotta be myself. I gotta find my glow!”

Ayo’s ‘Slow Slow (Run Run)’
[she calls herself a Nigerian-German gypsy which is all too wicked on its own.]
 

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Dark Spirits

31 May, 2009 | 16 comments | Category: I.dentity, madness!, nostalgia.personal, prose.tales, Senduq- Semhal, thinking...

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by Semhal

My parents and siblings have had more effect on my development as an individual than any other experiences in my life. My mother’s stoicism and generosity & my father’s devotion to his work and to his family have allowed me to view the world in a way that I would scarcely dare.

My father’s sacrifices and sufferings especially stimulate me to wake up every morning with a positive spirit. Although my father never had the opportunity to go to college, he has always had the wisdom to understand the workings of the Universe. When no one else knew how I felt, and when I can’t foist my distress on my friends … you know one of those days where practically nothing happens your way and you feel overwhelmingly discouraged or betrayed, he understood the reasons.

“This is what the world sometimes is… dark spirits …but you should never let it make you bitter or depressed ” he says. He told me how Mother Theresa suffered from this for decades of her life. When I have my dark spirit days, I am obsessively agitated, restless, impatient, mean and I spend too much money shopping…oh the lengths I used to go to resist the calls of my dark spirits! These obsessions are often born out of avoidance. Whenever there is something else looming that I don’t want to think about or deal with or don’t know the answer of, I sink in to my obsessions: I feed them and cloth them without understanding their purpose, cause or origin.

It is my father who helped me understand that my dark spirits are the hammers that shape me …they are what make me who I am. Without them, I cannot understand and appreciate the joy of living. He says the only way you can overcome life’s darkness is through love, forgiveness, and hope. These are things you could give and share for free and repeatedly. Although they may not diminish your pain all the way, they will surely bring you a sense of its value.

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. – Kahlil Gibran

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Wayna & Dinaw: Slums of Paradise

8 December, 2008 | 9 comments | Category: book snip, for.the.love.of.words!, I.dentity, i.mmigration, love.of.words!, musiqa, nostalgia.personal, peace & conflict, poetry, prose.tales

The African immigrant experience within the U.S.
…complex, diverse and ridiculously chaotic!
Which experience isn’t, eh?
A friend recently told me we are ‘transplants’…
Surely there is no way that can be less-than-a-chaotic experience!
A chaotic experience that’s gotta be told…

Why Stories?

Stories are powerful and profound…
They are ways to …share the most beautiful parts of ‘me’ and ‘us’:
stories of sincere, vulnerable, honest, contradictory and complex humanity…(great video on that)…a way to confirm my & our presences in this world, in our own voices…I love stories, always have for some reason.

My mum told me, when I was a little girl and wouldn’t eat food, she used to tell me stories so my mouth would unconsciously gape open and she’d slip the food in! We should tell each other our stories to share each other, and to build/reaffirm our commonality – or humanity.

Stories make & relay meaning, share, connect, inspire, uplift, persuade, shape thought, teach, transfer history, bring together, affirm culture, enable self-reflection…they confirm ‘you are not alone in your experience’ and describe common narratives of communities. From the political-historical angle…written stories hold weight as Virginia Woolf once said; “Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded.”…and as long as the victors tell the prevalent stories, they would have the upper hand. Stories are paths to peacemaking, just as they are to the absence of peace. ‘Stories fill our lives in the way that water fills the lives of fish.’ Stories are as all-pervasive as culture.

Wayna’s Slums of Paradise

Below are sublime original sounds by Grammy nominee Wayna Wondwossen. ‘Slums of Paradise’ holds her description of experiences as an Ethiopian-born immigrant in the US with parents filled with expectations about her future. She is an incredible neo soul musician wonderfully deserving of her Grammy nomination. Listening to her live rendition of Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’ last March, I literally had tears in my eyes and goosebumps! Her voice has a clarity and beauty that is just uplifting. No wonder the incredible Stevie Wonder himself said “She is Incredible!”
Slums of Paradise – Wayna

 

Desparate Days – Wayna ft. Tewoderos Taddesse

 

Dinaw’s “The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears“

Also been reading a very engaging novel by Dinaw Mengestu, an Ethiopian Immigrant, winner of the 2007 Guardian First Book Award. The story is about a man, Sepha Stephanos, who flees a communist junta as a teenager to become a transplant immigrant in the US, making attempts to grasp the ‘beauty that heaven bears’- the American dream. The book captures the loneliness, and internal angst involved in the immigrant experience- it is so bare and honest… The best parts of the book, to me, circulate around the emotional narrative behind the illusion of opportunity and Sepha’s attempts to reconcile his ever-present nostalgia. His fleeting romance with a family of a single white mother and biracial daughter is a touching tale of a man fearful of love in his self-doubt. Here is an interview with Dinaw by Tadias Magazine. My favorite part of the interview:

“I don’t think most writers ever decide to write. For me, it was something that I did because I had to. It’s been my way of managing and making sense of the world I live in.”

It’s exciting that voices like his are starting to get heard.

(more…)

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