Sewyew? Word?!

I am going home people, and you done know how that goes – hopes and fears.

Can’t say too much about the past year except maybe for, if it had kept up the pace it began with, we could have been sitting pretty on Hidar 2003 by now. It kind of lost steam midway I guess. Anyway, for better or worse, in health and sickness, a new year is at the door and we should usher it in – it is not like we have  a choice.

One of the things that have been bugging me recently is the way some people refer to me as sewyew. In my head I have always been – and by God I will always be – liju and when I  come home to the occasional bolted door I reply “ezih bet yeminorew lij!” to their “manew?” (16 months and some members of the family still don’t know my name! North Korea ain’t got shit on me!). But I mean, whatever; everyone is entitled to their opinions. And I guess the years don’t go by for no reason.

The other thing is/was the way the condoms are kept in the guards’ booth at the gate. Who in their right mind would want to help themselves to condoms from a guards’ booth? Think about it: they may even ask you for ID and shit. The problem seems to be half-solved at the moment however – the camisinhas have been transferred to a minimum security spot.

Third thing that has been worrying me is the greetings -Ethiopian greetings. All the “selam neh/nesh” and the no “Egziabher yimesgen” and don’t get me started on the “tikesha magechachet” which I happen to hate so but just cannot stop doing, sometimes out of imagined obligation. A not-so-firm hand shake for the guys and a big wet one for the ladies would have sufficed. But no! We have to keep on rubbing onto each other like sheep with scrapie.

When I say “Egziabher yimesgen”, I am talking about the heartfelt one which I for one do not practice. I am talking about the one that has its origins in having understood that each day is a blessing and that heaven is a frame of mind that is precipitated (in a good way) by the simple things that we choose to ignore everyday in our never-ending pursuit of that thing. Okay, I will stop that right now because I have got no clue what I am talking about. No, really, I am not trying to be modest! I don’t know what the fuck I am talking about.

The fact remains that I would like egziabher yimesgen to make a comeback. Just say it, dammit! And mean it mofo! Don’t fake this one for Chrissake, the way you go about your life faking damn near everything else!

And lo! A new year’s resolution starts to take form in the background, ladies and gentlemen! I will try to be real in thought, speech, action and everything in between, so help me God! Of course, this is in addition to the perennial resolution of letting Jimmy see the beautiful light of night or else let it bask in the not-so-beautiful light of day a.k.a go stark raving mad.

It is a week away but still, Melkam Enqutatash!

One year down!

100. You know we had to do a remix

Damn!  It’s Hidar already ?!

Not that I was planning on doing anything.

Hidar,  especially is tricky because you see, once you have finished it, you would be through one fourth of the year and one third of the year would be gone by the end of Tahisas, just like that!

My brother says that the rate at which the year is burning itself out is an indicative of the advent of the end of days: bezian gize kenochu  kegobez rucha yefetenu yihonalu

Well! Normally, it would have been me who’s heralding the apocalypse. But no; in this case I think the days are being shortened by BPR and they are gravitating towards that fateful of days – the mircha.  I mean, how could I help feeling that it would be fateful when every piece in the media is begins  like “aratu” ?

aratu aratu aratu

Like they were the fantastic four or something! Meles = human torch, Hailu = thing, Lidetu = Mr. Fantastic (based only on his “flexibility”) and Ayele = invisible woman.  I think the trend nowadays is from comic books to the big screen and then to life in some God forsaken country whose people  refuses to believe that it indeed is God forsaken.

I say fuck the mircha and all those involved.

With that short but fairly expressive declaration of my deep-seated distaste for my country’s political process and the processors, let me snatch the trumpet back from my brother and do what I usually do.

So they say that when it is almost time for the world to go up in flames, the ratio of women to men would be something like 10 to 1.  This time in Addis Abeba, I had the pleasure and pain of seeing throngs of girls in skinny jeans that I felt I have seen every single one of them. And I wondered whose they were, because they sure as hell are not mine. So where the hell are my 10 ladies?

The work that took me to Addis Abeba was a disappointment in the order of a fart that builds up gloriously only to implode. I cannot even compare it to that because I was not keen on going anyway. Maybe it could be likened to a two weeks’ bloating. I puked thrice on the way there and took in the horror of the water that feels your mouth – thereby signifying the inevitability – just before you let fly. Sacrificed 10 million neurons for every day I was there and the only thing that appealed to me at the end of each day was sleeping with my head buried in the pillow.

Man I hate committees! Don’t get me wrong – I hate myself too.

On the bright side, I discovered that yogurt tasted real nice with coke, took up eating raw shimbra and what else… nothing. In short, I am living like a menekuse who has not lost his zest  for experimenting. And I am suffering from intermittent headaches which just might be withdrawal symptoms of the anti -emetics (don’t you just love the name?!) which I have been taking for the duration of the mission, and without doctor’s orders. It is just that we used to spend a considerable time travelling in the same car in which I carried out my emetic heroics and I was afraid that I was going to repeat them.

Enough grossing you out.  I have been trying to choose a name for our hood in Addis Abeba and I think la luz fits the bill since the street lights are too close together. The name does not necessarily have to relate to a conflict zone now, does it?

I was amazed and at the same time entertained to read in a magazine article that Bahir Dar is one of the ten cities in the world best suited for living. The writer might have been referring to this:

“…UNESCO Director-General Koïchiro Matsuura will present the UNESCO Cities for Peace prizes for 2000-2001 on March 18 in Marrakesh (Morocco) to Bukhara (Uzbekistan), Sharm el Sheikh (Egypt), Cotacachi (Ecuador), Lubumbashi (Democratic Republic of Congo) and Vilnius (Lithuania). Five other cities, one from each region of the world, will receive an honourable mention…

Bahir Dar in Ethiopia receives an honourable mention for its efforts to provide its citizens with a healthier and more pleasant city by tackling issues such as the lack of housing and the stagnation of the economy.”

I guess it is the same thing ha.

One thing that cannot be denied though, Ba Da has definitely got its groove back after the streetlights went back on.


I read this somewhere: ” lezare Mashallah lenege Inshallah”

A question: why do you think God created the devil ?

Please read this

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