Defense Attorney

Please describe to us, in your own words, the events surrounding the fiasco at the Convention Center on the evenings noted in the indictment.

Mintesinot

The assembled populace is justified at the outrage they have expressed both here and around town. However, the blame should be directed to the concert promoters. This kind of negative publicity is detrimental to the artists and their ability to perform...

AQabé hig (Prosecutor)

OBJECTION! The witness is giving a speech and not answering the question.

Afe Negus

Sustained. Please answer the question as asked.

Mintesinot

I was attempting to do just that. The various singers and musicians at that particular event were ready and able to perform as agreed. Per our contract with the concert promoters, we were ready to leave our hotel on time; however, first, the limo didn't arrive as scheduled, and none of the promoters could be reached. As a result, we depended on the kindness of several friends and other fellow Ethiopians to assist us in getting to the venue. Second, when we arrived, the whole place was in such a state of disarray that it seemed like the only persons who knew what to do were myself and the musicians. We tried to alert the promoters of our need to perform a final sound check, but were told that it wasn't necessary and that we should just relax. We didn't understand, but we acceded to their request. By the time they allowed us to get on stage, we realized that the whole reason for our cooling our heels backstage was so that we could make an appearance only after there was a full house.

Defense

Was there a reason for wanting a "Full House"?

Imahoy Tisemé

(heard audibly in front as she whispered mockingly, sotto voce, to her neighbor) M'ts, ité. It's just like those godforsaken weyala boys on the wiyiyit I take every morning to Kidane-Mihiret…those ill-mannered bututoam duriyés will keep you waiting for an hour to fill up the mini-bus.

{The Chief Justice, a spry 68 year old, looks sternly at the elderly woman, but still cannot publicly chasten her due to an odd mix of fear and respect. He opts to speak generally to the courtroom instead}: Ibakachihun, TSetita.

Mintesinot

Apparently, one of the promoters was trying to capitalize on the fact that there were so many "NAME" artist all performing on one stage, and on one night, and he wanted to video tape the concert; incidentally, as this was never stipulated in the contract, we request an injunction to prevent the video from being sold without the proper releases from the artists.

Afe Negus

Wait a minute, one charge at a time, you still have to prove these allegations. And what’s this about an injunction? We are not prepared to hear a new case as of right now, so let's stick to the matter at hand, shall we?

Imahoy Tisemé

Leza biis hulu … can't they just stick to the facts? In my day, such wishy-washy behavior was not tolerated. Get to the point or get out… that's my motto. Ere'dia, ité!

Defense

Your Honor, we would like to introduce evidence after this witness has testified that will prove the validity of our statement; however, due to the lack of time, I'd like to proceed with my current line of questioning.

Defense

Part of the reason why you are here today is due to the fact that your artists (like other artists/musicians we know of) did not, and indeed cannot seem to ever, perform at the time advertised. How do you answer those charges?

Mintesinot

Well, while I cannot answer for every situation, it is a commonly held belief that it is not "proper" to start a concert without a "good" size crowd. By postponing the actual time that an act hits the stage, a promoter feels that he/she can still squeeze in those people who purchase their tickets at the last minute. Also, since it is uncommon for advance ticket sales to indicate how many people will show up, promoters delay the time we can perform to ensure that people won't turn away from the door if they know that the act has already started the performance. In other situations, it isn't uncommon for an artist to arrive the day of the concert, sometimes just hours before the event occurs, in which case the artist(s) has to go to the hotel, check in (and Heaven forbid that there be a problem at check in) then arrangements for transportation to and from the event, transportation of equipment, people getting lost, etc., all add to the confusion surrounding a particular event. But promoters do nothing to alleviate the hassles -- usually things work themselves out for better or for worse. The sad part is the fans are the ones who get short shrift. We understand that we are successful because of our fans, but if the promoters don't provide us with adequate lodgings, transportation, time to rehearse, etc., in the end the fans are disappointed. We would like to remedy the situation, but circumstances hinder us: on the one hand, if we perform for a short period of time, as was the case in the DC situation, the fans would want to slit our throats. On the other hand, if we refuse to perform, we slit our own throats, because we would be charged with breach of contract; this in turn would not endear us to our fans, or our pocketbooks. Which would you choose?

Defense

Your Honor, as the hour is getting late, and for the sake of everyone, I move that the charges against my clients be dropped for lack of evidence, and that the evidence I referred to earlier be entered only if the Prosecutor wants to proceed with this. How say you?

[Imahoy glares at the defense attorney, and shushes her neighbor (whose hearing is not what it used to be and who needs to know what is being said). "Isti yiQoyu, irso demo." She adjusts her neTela around her amble body and clears her throat to speak. But before she has a chance, Afe Negus proceeds…]

Afe Negus

Is there any evidence to suggest why I should not dismiss this case?

[Again, Imahoy Tisemé tries to speak, but chooses first to move from side to side to dislodge herself from her rather snug fitting chair. Again, someone beats her to the punch -- this time it is a nattily dressed man in his late 20s - early 30s, who had been fingering his silver monogrammed cigarette case impatiently. After adjusting the impeccably folded paisley cravat into the collars of his shirt and flicking an imaginary thread from his bespoke suit jacket, he projects his deep voice to the front of the room]

If your August Honors would allow me but a second of your time…

Afe Negus

(unamused) And who, pray tell, are you?

Yared Mandefro

I am Yared Mandefro, most recently the Native Music Archivist for the Audio Library of Oxford University in England, as well as the Ethnic and Folk Music Critic for The London Times. Although there is clearly a need for expert testimony, none have yet to be called, and I would like to offer my services.

Afe Negus

(impressed in spite of himself) Very well. Proceed.

Yared Mandefro

You're pretending that we're somehow talking about a polite, cultured group of people, assembled to appreciate the lilting tunes of their beloved country, when in fact they are nothing of the sort. It is true that no matter the country, most entertainers are prima donnas, and richly deserve that title. They pout (often unattractively) when they feel they are not being given due attention; they come alive only in the eyes of the people around them, whose adoration they MUST have, and they expect all people, timetables, large planets, etc. to rotate around THEM. It is not unusual when attending a formal affair where such entertainers are present to have to cater to their every whim and respond to their every desire.

Now see if you can imagine 2,000 Ethiopian prima donnas in one adarash, then we'd be getting somewhere.

Are you aware of the challenges of arranging a cultural evening for the Ethiopian community? Let the flyer say that the event starts promptly at 9:00 p.m., and you can be sure that the first five people will not arrive till 11:23 p.m., silently kicking themselves for being so uncool as to arrive so far ahead of the IN crowd. Then there's the whole "catering to the in-crowd" you have to do. This is not a community that will come out in droves to see the latest Mulatu AstaTQé masterpiece; nooo, this crowd will not think of attending any event unless it has assurance that the A++ crowd has given it their endorsement, the sole criterion required. If the IN crowd were to so declare it, this lemming-like population can be counted on to attend a Weird Al Yancovic remake of Birtukané (he'd call it "My Orangina," of course) while leaving a languishing Kassa Tessema unheard a few doors down unless THEY decided to stop by. A discriminating crowd, this is not.

Let us assume they actually deign to show up. Once they arrive, there is the requisite three-hour wait while the uptight men in their elastic waistband leather jackets and the tightly coiffed women in their back-outs and their high heels try to unwind enough to even tap an unseen toe in their shoes. Three hours of drinking and surreptitious looks around the room before the first person will dare get up to dance, and woe unto him who dares to approach a group of women to ask one of them to dance with him. Theses social interactions bring back unwelcome memories of high school; at least then, there was the excuse of youthful ignorance -- what, pray tell, is the excuse now?

By this point any self-respecting artist would have packed up their bags and left, especially since they would have been playing for hours with nothing other than the funereal clapping at the end of a set.

It's an unappreciative audience. It deserves what it got.

With that, he readjusted his cravat, again, and sat, oblivious to the half-admiring, half-derisory looks being sent his way. .

Afe Negus

AQabé hig, do you have anything to add?

AQabé hig

No, your honor. The prosecution rests…

Imahoy Tisemé

Rests? Rests? Ere yet'abatachihu. [Having finally found her way to her feet, and having gained the floor, she launches into a diatribe.] Ere yizwachihu yihid! Why, I'm of a mind to cut some sama from outside and tan your insolent behinds like your mothers ought to have! You upstarts have no idea what good music is. You, the snotty one from across the sea, where is this Oskford? new-yalkew Oskord? I've lived nearly forever and I've never heard of it. Oo oo té, don't tell me any of you know of things I don't know about, because that just can't be true. So at this so-called place of higher musical learning -- did they teach you about Yared, your namesake, Mister I-know-Everything who doesn't know enough to take his wife's shash off his silly neck before coming to court? And didn't your mother teach you not to speak before your elders? Gud iko new. Do these Oskord people know who Mary Armidé was? Have they listened to the mournful sounds of the Begena and felt its vibrations in their stomachs (like when the train goes by you at Legehar and you feel the rumbles under your feet)? Does the sound of some poor shepherd's washint remind them of those carefree days where all your worries were about going to fetch water? You the lawyers strutting about -- do you think you know anything? Ho! Even I, mehayimwa, I know more about music than you have hair on your heads.

[She calls out to the chair] Lijé, anteye, weyiss antu libel? [Afe Negus is nonplussed, and does not answer. She digs into her copious top to unearth a wrinkled handkerchief with a knot in it where she keeps her money, using it to wipe her shiny brow before reburying it into her ample bosom]. Why don't you admonish this feeble crowd and ask them the other question, the more important one, eh? Who took our music and gave us this hideous sound that comes from a machine … no masinQo, no kirar, washint, kebero, or Turumba in sight -- just some guy with an electrical machine who is somehow able to make more noise than a field of possessed sinners at Qulibii. And the lyrics! Weladit-Amlak tawQalech, I've said once if I've said it a hundred times -- these words are obscene, unfit for decent ears. In my day, poets knew how to say what happened without vulgar words. With the gifted geTamioch of those days, we all knew everything that the artist implied. Nowadays you have people grunting and moaning like animals in our own living rooms!

I remember the days when just listening to AsnaQech hum to her kirar brought out the pain of loss that every mother understood; when the saxophone of [she turns to her friend … "man-neber simu, ye-Tesfaye inat?" … but doesn't wait for the answer] the man who was on the television every Thursday before the LewT…now THAT was music. The guragigna of the Hager-FiQir dancers; the dorzé wonders of that delightful man -- sintu teTerto yichalal?

[She raises her voice to the bench] Afe Negus, inantem dagnochus bitihonu, I demand that you order this lifisfis prosecutor to ask the RIGHT question question instead of wasting our time: What happened to our music? [She realizes that she had the rapt attention of the entire room and is uncharacteristically unnerved -- she quickly eases her way back into her snug chair, mumbling steadily under her breath, sotto voce, again] "Erenesh Tisemé….hoooooooo. m'ts, ité."

PART TWO of CHilot will continue next month…