On Ethiopianess, Home and (dis)Connection: A New Generation Speaks.

By: Haile Woldegeorgise and Saamra Mekuria-Grillo

Haile...

Well, I guess we should get this party started, right?

A little bit about myself: I am a sophomore at Yale, history major, and contemplating a double major in International Studies. This year I have decided to drive myself totally insane by working two jobs and taking 5 classes.

Okay, enough of the bland stuff.

I have always struggled with my relationship to Ethiopia because I don't speak Amharic. At this point, I can understand a lot of what goes on in a conversation, but I doubt that I will ever be able to speak it myself. This has created a huge barrier whenever I have visited Ethiopia. Even in the States, when Ethiopians know that I don't speak Amharic they look upon me as not truly Ethiopian. In addition, because my father is not abesha, I have other walls to my acceptance. Thus I can't really say that I consider Ethiopia my home, or homeland. This has alternately disappointed and frustrated my mother, who I think feels that it is her fault in part that I never learned Amharic.

Do you speak Amharic, and how do you think that your language ability has affected your perception of Ethiopia?

Saamra

Dear Ms. Grillo:

Please accept my sincerest apologies for not responding to your email sooner. I definitely feel that I can't use the, "I'm too busy" excuse as you're the one with two jobs and five classes. Unfortunately, I am a bit of a procrastinator. This is the result of my sign, Sagittarius.

Anyhow, a little bit about myself. I am a senior here at the University of Virginia studying Foreign Affairs with a concentration in Economics. Hopefully, I will be able to attend law school in a couple of years. As for now though, I am looking for employment.

Like you, I have grown up outside of Ethiopia all my life except for one brief year when I attended International Community School in Ethiopia. I was born in England, but grew up in Northern Virginia.

Amharic is not exactly my strong suit, but I can say I have relative fluency. My accent is detectable at times. However, I have learned that Amharic is a very difficult and complex language to fully grasp. Moreover, I often find myself at odds with many elements of Ethiopian culture and the mentality of the people as well. When I lived there for a year, I was given a huge dose of reality. I found the people to be for the most part duplicitous, deceitful, untrusting and exploitative. Sorry, for the pessimistic overtones, but don't get me wrong, I do love the country and its rich culture and heritage. Frankly, I had better expectations of the people, but I realized that it is the result of their dire and unpredictable circumstances.

Indubitably, being of mixed heritage could potentially complicate matters even more because you would have competing and contradicting heritages to be loyal to. From the looks of it though it seems that I am the one who has some issues to sort out concerning Ethiopia. We will tackle those another time however.

Ciao,
Haile Woldegeorgise

Hi Haile,

I understand how easy it is to procrastinate. That's why I have so much stuff to do; it's the only way I can avoid procrastinating. In any case, I guess I have never had as much exposure as you have to life in Ethiopia. I can't really relate to the issues you have, but I do know that my mother often discusses the same sort of problems with her friends, so you're not alone. I think that Ethiopians are very focused on appearances and status, without placing as much value on truthfulness and sincerity as we might, growing up in the US. It seems to be a different world when I visit, because the country is in so much trouble economically and politically. Perhaps if I had lived there for a while, I would more fully understand what you are talking about.

I wanted to speculate on what I think "home" means to my mother and one of her closest friend. It has always baffled me how the two of them are constantly talking about how they hate the way that nothing ever gets done, and people are so unhelpful in Ethiopia. Yet every chance they get, they go back there and live in that dissatisfaction happily. I know that I could never call any place home that made me so frustrated, but for them it is like there is an invisible bond that will always link them to Ethiopia. My mother wants to spend her retirement there. Her friend is in the process of moving back there. I've always wondered what makes it so special that they would live there if given the chance, even though they only complain about what they don't like when asked.

And my view of my home? (Boston) I love it, and there are many reasons that I could give you why I love it. But I also feel a connection to the city. I fit there, because I know where everything is, I know how to interpret the people who live there, and everything is familiar. I also love my physical home, the actual building, because again I know it so well. My room is always the way I want it (a situation very hard to find in dorm life, as I've found), and it is mine, no one else's.

Alright, enough for me.
Saamra

Dear Saamriya,

Sorry for not getting to you much sooner. Unfortunately, we had our finals this week, and I haven't had much time to think about our assignment. Nonetheless, you probably dislike me now, somewhat. However, I will be submitting something in today by about 5:30 at the latest. I must say that this deadline came upon us very fast. I was really under the impression that our submissions were due at a later date for some reason.

I guess I am one of those victims of Attention Deficit Disorder which makes it necessary for instructions to be extremely clear and repeated several times without fail.

Your entry was interesting, and has a strong resonance with me, as you may expect. Our home is America, and has been for the span of our young lives. Ethiopia, is a secondary place with more significance and meaning for our parents than it does for us. It's more of a resort, in our minds, with of course not having to worry about lodging. That wasn't funny, I know. But, you get the point. We obviously have some different experiences, but share some strong commonalties as well. Honestly, though, I am not one hundred percent sure as to how I will approach my essay. However, I will try to stay true to my distinct experiences, and hope that our papers will be unique, distinct, and educational to some and controversial to others.

Coming to Terms with My Notion of Home

By: Saamra Mekuria-Grillo

Please excuse me if this response is somewhat stream-of-consciousness, but my thoughts tend to be a little jumbled whenever I think about this subject, and even more so, because of finals and such....

I think that my most lasting memory of my first visit to Ethiopia (I've since returned 3 more times) was the one day we slaughtered a chicken in my grandmother's yard, and I stood there fascinated, watching it run around headless. I think that this can also relate to my vision of Ethiopia as a whole though.

I have always taken the position of observer, mostly because of my language barrier, especially after I became too old to demand that everything be translated into English for me. I have never been in Haile's position of actually living in Ethiopia for an extended period of time. I was always there for vacation, which probably also influenced my view, since I never had the true interaction with the country that one can only have when working or going to school. I always stayed in more than one place each time I was there, a few days at my grandmother's, a few at my aunt's, and more recently, at my mother's house. This gave the feeling that there was no permanence to my stay, no definite place associations in my memory.

My home in the United States on the other hand, invokes a thousand associations with each thought I have of it. It makes me comfortable to even think of it in passing. I long to be there whenever I am away. Ethiopia simply does not make me feel the same way. Although I can remember smells and people and places, they do not all combine to create a desired image for me. They are separate in my mind.

I think that my mixed heritage has a lot to do with the way I view Ethiopia. I am not all Ethiopian, because my father is American, and so I did not grow up with one unified culture. All of my relatives are not Ethiopian, some are Cuban, some Italian. My mother did not come to this country as a political refugee, but instead to go to college, which also has given me a different perspective on the revolution. I have never felt unsafe in Ethiopia, through 3 different regimes, and countless conflicts, probably because, as an American citizen, I never felt that any government there could affect my life.

Far from feeling less out of place in Ethiopia, I felt more out of place there than in the United States. I was always wearing thoroughly American clothing, and my unaccented English rang out in any room as foreign. Even my own relatives would joke to me about me being too "ferenge," which always made me uncomfortable, probably because it was too close to the truth for my own comfort.

I think that I will never feel comfortable enough in Ethiopia to be anything more than a casual visitor. I know that my mother plans to retire there, and I will visit her I'm sure, but I don't see myself ever setting up permanent residence there. I don't speak the language, and that seems to me to be a barrier that will be in my way. I wish that I could say that I intend to learn Amharic, but at this point in my life, I don't think that's realistic. I will always be learning little by little, but I don't think I will ever be anywhere near fluent. This is not because I don't value the Ethiopian side of my heritage, but simply because I have never found it necessary to go out of my way to learn more Amharic. Everyone around me always speaks English anyway. That sounds selfish even to my ears, but that is the way it has turned out for me.

I always reply with pride "yes" when people ask if I'm Ethiopian, because I would never want to deny any part of my heritage. But when people ask instead what my heritage is, I reply with all my parts: "I'm Ethiopian, Italian and Cuban." Ethiopian always is first in the lineup, but it is not alone. My "home" is Boston, although I know that "Home" has more meanings than just the physical building or place. When I think of "home" in the way that Ethiopians say "home" I do not automatically think of Ethiopia, because I do not have that connection and longing.

Well I guess that's it. Thanks for your help, and it was nice to speak with you Haile, and get another perspective on this part of my life.

Saamra

"Home Away from Home" - Reconsidered

By: Ezana Haile Woldegeorgise

The word 'home' for many symbolizes comfort, happiness, belonging, permanency, and continuity. While for others, like myself, the concept can be bewildering, confusing, fickle, and downright daunting at times. As a first-generation Ethiopian-American, I am confronted with a myriad of internal and external conflicts, like so many other bi-cultural peoples, be they Mexican-Americans, Asian Americans, or Arab-Americans.

My family, like countless others, came to this country for fear of their very lives and safety because of the Dergue regime and its cadres. As a result, I was born in London, England, and later moved to the Washington, D.C. area in 1978 at the tender age of one. Northern Virginia has since become what I would identify as my immediate home. It is the only locale in which I feel completely comfortable, familiar, and cozy albeit jaded at times. 'Familiarity breeds contentment', if I may misquote. And since this is the case, I can say that I feel little discomfort in defining this part of the U.S. as my one and only true home for the moment. This does not rule out the possibility, that I could one day make Ethiopia or any other country, for that matter, my second home.

In fact, I was persuaded for one year by my father in 1993 to make Ethiopia my new home. I attended I.C.S. in Addis Ababa, for one year, where I then came to the conclusion, that Ethiopia was perhaps not as welcoming or comfortable for me as I once expected. My knowledge of Ethiopia before 1990 came purely by way of anecdotes, conversations with relatives and friends, magazine articles, and various political conferences and seminars dealing with Ethiopia. One could thus rightly infer that I have been very curious and annoyingly inquisitive on matters concerning Ethiopia, be it social, political, cultural, or historical. It was this intense curiosity that forced me to beg my parents incessantly to allow me to go to Ethiopia in the summer of 1990. As one can imagine, this proposition frightened my parents, as they had been very active in dissident politics. Nevertheless, my mother finally agreed to take my younger sister and I, after seeing that I was losing sleep and becoming very angry about the prospects of canceling the trip.

Upon arrival at Addis Ababa Airport, I could not help but feel extremely anxious and terrified that I would be tortured, maimed or killed by some member of the government. And judging by my mother's body language, she must have felt the same, as she had not been back to her country in over 16 years. Soon thereafter though, my anxiety dissipated, and I began to feel relatively comfortable within a couple of weeks. We had fun. We frequented the hotels, and ate at various relatives' homes until we could no longer do so. It did feel good and reassuring to be in a place that was the birth and resting place of my intrepid forefathers and mothers. At first glance, it seemed that for once, I could walk outside of my home, and know that I completely blended in with the people around me. I was no longer just another 'minority' per se, but rather someone held in high regard and esteem (contempt and envy sometimes) by my fellow citizens and kin, although for superficial reasons at times. I did have an affinity with the people of Ethiopia on many levels: ethnic, historical, social, and cultural. My working knowledge of the language and minimal understanding of the socio-economic and political quagmire that the country faces only aided my efforts in truly grasping a more comprehensive and intimate understanding of Ethiopia.

I felt more that I belonged than not. However, I did feel that there was a strong incongruence between the Ethiopia of my parents' generation and the one that I encountered Post-Emperor Haile Selassie I. Times change everywhere, and this truism did not escape Ethiopia. When I lived in Ethiopia for that brief year, I found that the level of integrity and honesty was very low everywhere from the politicians, to my classmates. People lied, cheated and were involved in intrigue at a very young age and with such dexterity that royalty would be amazed. Some of my classmates spent a good deal of their time trying to emulate the merchants of the city by becoming the middle-men of various commercial enterprises like selling CD's or clothes and in one case, firearms. The topic of the day was usually centered on who had or would be conned and bilked and what artifice would be employed to achieve that end. Understandably, this did irk me, I must admit, partly because I could not compete, but more for fear of being a helpless ferenge victim.

From my understanding, some of these activities hardly ever occurred thirty years ago on the streets, let alone in a school setting (ICS, wasn't of course your average school). Perhaps this understanding merely stemmed from my over-idealized perception of Ethiopia. It should be noted, however, that the overwhelming majority of the students were diligent, intelligent and highly ambitious. Later, I came to the realization that dire circumstances lead to dire measures. Ethiopians had to endure a regime devoid of compassion, ethics, and humanity for over 17 years. This would exert a heavy toll on any society. The moral and cultural fiber of the society was systematically detached, giving rise to the kleptocracy we see today.

In the future (15 to 20 years), I do plan to set up residence in Ethiopia, although not for entirely benevolent reasons. Provided the country ever achieves stability, peace, and democracy, it would be an excellent marketplace for new ideas and products to take root. Moreover, with my 'insider' knowledge and foreign education, I, like countless others, could perhaps make a lasting contribution to our country by bringing and implementing new ideas that could help us break the cycle of poverty plaguing our country and its people.

I will always be an Ethiopian, although I am a foreigner by birth and circumstance. When I walk down the street, whether I like it or not, I am recognized as being distinct (Ethiopian). In truth, I prefer it that way. Nobody wants to be just like everyone else. I am proud of the legacy of Ethiopia and Ethiopians. When asked the question, 'Where are you from?" I gleefully reply 'Ethiopia!', although I do realize that I am American as well in many important respects (I am an individualist, a capitalist and a pragmatist, objective and relatively transparent).

In sum, my Ethiopian heritage infuses me with a greater sense of personal fulfillment, purpose, ethics, values and spirituality. I am eternally grateful that my family has tried to instill many Ethiopian traditions and virtues in me. But more importantly, I am happy that it was never forced upon me. Instead, I have decided to become Ethiopian on my own by identifying myself as one, and trying to learn about our past, present and the uncertain future that awaits us in the coming century.

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