in praise of ye posta bet mekina

In a world where celerity is prized the most, even the Etyopian Postal Service does not give due credit to its car; all that talk about EMS and they make no mention of this amazing, well, car.

This is a topic near and dear to my heart. It sucks but I know this piece won’t do justice to the way it has been running through my mind for months now.

Ye posta bet mekina is more than just a car. It is the epitome of overcoming el acomodador and achieving Zen (okay okay! that may be stretching it a bit.) It embarks upon its journey one hour before Selam and Sky Buses, but soon they would be whizzing by, showing it their asses –leaving it in their respective dust. Again, this seems to be an overstatement —arigato to the Japanese, most of the road is very nice asphalt.

Ye posta bet mekina, seeing this, does it give up? No siree! It keeps its own pace; makes multiple stops (gotta serve the people with that post delivery, man!) sometimes it backtracks to see if it has dropped something 🙂  it may sometimes overtake its nemeses when their occupants are stretching their legs or taking a piss, but it won’t be long before the natural order of things is restored; in good time it passes Medihanealem Betekristian, the gateway to Bahir Dar (or as one of the drivers likes to call it –Bahrain) making you feel like you have traveled, really traveled: none of that haste.

The aforementioned driver/MC goes out of his way to cheer up the travelers, telling jokes. Most of the jokes may come off as unfunny but you never know with these things –it’s either the teller or the audience. Anyway, props to him for trying.

Please don’t be surprised if you come upon him playing songs demanding the release of Teddy Afro two years after the release of Teddy Afro. It is a governmental organization; they don’t earmark budget for the hottest and latest releases.

I guess the moral of the previous paragraphs is, never give up. And it is in this legendary mekina that I plan, deo volente, to hit Addis Abeba tomorrow. I have got tickets and everything:

I guess the moral of the paragraphs previous to the last is, it is cheaper.

So, enqutatash is upon us once again! (i hate this saying; makes enqutatash sound like the plague.) Stay positive people! And to those of you (us) who aren’t,  let’s get your (our) negative asses to an absolute value near you(us). While you are in there, please be careful not to get cocky of your newfound positivity, lest you should knock down the bars:

Talking to our subscribers –all six of them: enkuan adresachihu! I am glad that you have found it necessary to subscribe to our bullshit but I highly doubt that you read our posts. Especially after noticing the millions of junk mail that people leave unattended to in their inboxes. God bless the lazy in you! I don’t know about the other two but personally, I can work with the illusion of being read. And there is that little issue of the relief I feel every time I hit the publish button on a new post, regardless of how mind-numbing the topic might be. That feeling is still going strong.

Here is to another year of release therapy!

One

94. Bahir Dar-the land of the early evening rainbow + The reciprocation post- are you happy now? + Phew! What a long title?!

Saturday, around 12:35:  Imagen005

Imagen006

Imagen004Imagen003

The rainbow in front, twilight at the back… a rush of dopamine … so thankful to have been alive at that moment!

INGRATE!

The following is based on actual events and people. But that does not necessarily mean that it is true.

I have known Betty … My earliest recollection of Betty, she was wearing a t shirt with The Backstreet Boys on it. She must have had blue jeans and white sneakers (with the black/brown “u” lining their front side). I, for my part was wearing a t shirt with Texas on it and blue jeans and brown shoes. My peeps and I were playing basketball and she came looking for one of us. By the way, I used to net some really mean three pointers. I was not good at basketball or anything but, somehow, in a bahilawi sort of way, I used to bang them in. May be I was good and it was the acomodador that prevented me from improving my game.

As you can see, I have been reading The Zahir

That was freshman year. Sophomore year we start talking. We would be waiting in front of the back entrance of B ½ for the teacher to arrive and I would tell her how nice it would be to jump. I still flirt with those kinds of thoughts. Last night, I dreamt that I had shot myself in the head and I was walking around, hole and all.

The difference between then and now-Betty is not around and I cannot tell her about it.

Man I miss her!

Wait! This is not the end. But I want it to come out right; you know, the perfect tribute to a friendship that has spanned seven years.

I am feeling sleepy

To be continued…

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