St George and I.

St George and I

St George and I go wayyyy back..

I'm a beer girl. Mum said at my 5th birthday party, after all the guests left, I went around drinking all the leftovers in the bottles.

So fast forward to 2007 when I first came to Ethiopia and I met St George beer, a most organic encounter.

After a hot and hard day of building mud huts / chika betoche in Jimma through Habitat for Humanity, St George waited patiently for us back at the hotel. He was always there for us, perfectly chilled, to quench our thirsts and in a way congratulate us on the days work. Little did I know he was carving a place in my heart and beer palate.

Now 16 years later as I have dinner and drinks with my family, St George and I continue our romance.

2023

2007 - moments with St George

Yene gwadenya Mebrat / My friend Electricity

Yene gwadenya Mebrat / My friend Electricity

Mebrat is like my naughty friend who comes and goes as she pleases.

Always leaving unexpectedly and so upset to see her leave. Really miss her and hard to do life without her. Her absence is clearly missed and can’t wait to have her back.

When she leaves we cry out in vain, in such clear pain of desertion / abandonment. “Ereehhh Mebrat!!”.

She always leaves without warning, whenever she wants and suits her, never thinking how others may feel without her presence.

When she comes back, we are estatic, all bad feelings vanish and we yelp in joy at her return, her bad character of just leaving when ever she wants is at once forgotten. Life continues happily with her.

I hope one day Mebrat learns to tame her wild ways and stays for good, once and for all.

Exhavier yawkhal / god or universe willing.

*Mebrat means Electricity in Amharic

Cooking over coal

This piece of writing was written in 2020, around July, a time of utter desperation and vulnerability during corona confinement in Sebeta when during heavy rainy season power would go out often, sometimes for days at a time. A lot of cooking over coal, games by candlelight and chatting with family. It was a ‘dark season’ for sure, in many contexts of the phase, but in retrospect Mebrat gave us moments of connection we would never have created had she not left us.

My mother--in-law, Kete, and I

My mother in law, Kete, and I.

My mother in law, Kete, and I.. have an interesting relationship, to say the least.  We are respectful to one another, but we don’t say much because my Amharic is limited and her English is.. yellum/none.

We just returned back to Addis after spending 3 days/nights at a catholic center in DZ, taking much needed rest in this quiet sacred space.  A wonderful place that open their doors to people of all faiths and backgrounds, as long as quiet devotion is respected.

After our time together, what I know for sure, is that Kete speaks really fast amharic and I’m really good at looking at her wide-eyed and speechless, saying “I don’t understand/algebunyem”.  Then we smile at each other and have a chuckle.  

This is our language.  

Kete is a devout orthodox Christian.  She was raised this way, passed on through the generations.  Almost expected even.  It’s what she knows and what is ingrained in her and is as natural to her, as let’s say, walking.  In Ethiopia, alongside millions of others, religion/faith is a way of living and interwoven into the fabric of daily life.  

What makes her an exemplary woman of faith is that, without a second thought, she walked into the chapel for evening adoration (quiet prayer/meditation).  For her, this was a building of godly worship.  Beka.  

For devout orthodox Ethiopian Christians, this can be viewed as morally unacceptable.  

As I said, Kete is an exemplary woman of god.

Her love for her god knows no bounds.  

Her love for her god is tolerant.  

Her love for her god is unconditional.  

She wanted to be close to her god, and this godly place of worship, whether it be orthodox or other, would be her sacred container.

Kete is self-elevated to monk-hood status.  In amharic they refer to it as ‘Alem bekengne’.  The way it’s been explained to me, I take it to mean something like, the end of a human egoist life and the beginning of a life of pure spiritual devotion.  Her wooden staff represents this devotion.  It’s called a ‘Mequamia’.  In Ethiopian culture, the handle of a *mequamia, a prayer stick, is shaped like a Tau cross, otherwise known as ‘T’ cross. 

As for me, I was raised with Buddhist practices.  I have been provided the reigns to be a free thinker, open to love and define god through the lens of curiosity and awareness.  Religion was never something that was pushed on us as children.  It was not a daily practice, it was a gentle practice based on rituals to commemorate special occasions or remembering ancestors passed, that my mother encouraged us to practice, through the lens of following her practices.  But do you know what her main practice was?  It was love.  Through watching her, I learnt how to love and show compassion for others.  My mother was god in motion, to everyone around her.  (One day I shall write more about her).

That’s why I feel close to god/the universe in any place of faithful worship and in everyday life.

And that’s where Kete and I see and understand each other.  

Our other language is LOVE