by: J.M.

What follows is an abridged story of a few Ethiopians who meet every Tuesday to try and figure out how they can extend their fortunes and blessings to others. It would have been great if all of them could write this story with me, but I am only giving you my perspective. Yet, I am sure that their stories will also be told, if not through an article, then through stories shared to their children and grandchildren.

Our first Tuesday:

We find ourselves in a room as big as someone else's walk-in closet. Sitting thigh-to-thigh, knocking knees, we all try to share with each other what in the world we are doing sitting in the office of a large US city's Ethiopian Community Association office. Most of us have never exchanged more than a few words, yet we sit there contemplating a commitment that would have us work together for the next two years as the elected officials of the Community Association.

Actually, when I come to think of it, to some of us the positions were handed out more in an auction-styled showcase than an election in the strictest definition of the word. Let me explain. The election day also happened to be Super Bowl Sunday, so the turnout of eighty of the expected 300 was not too shabby. The outgoing president applauded those who came to the meeting, shared past years' progress/regress, and then the stage was opened for the actual voting-in of new officials who could volunteer their time. The invitation for volunteering having borne no fruit, the tone of the meeting was then tactfully transformed into open imploring for volunteers to step up and take on the new leadership of the association.

"Ere tewu gd yelachihum! Enanten yemselu sewoch eyalun? Esti, let me see a show of hands for those who would like to humble themselves in service to others?"

HUGE silence…half the room starts droop their heads looking for keys they have not lost yet. Finally, someone yells, "I nominate Ato. EkelE EkelE." Ato EkelE's eyes bulge out of their sockets and look at the nominator with a mixture of anguish and "esti mn bedelku?" The entire audience suddenly jerks its head up, apparently having realized that the missing keys had mysteriously reappeared. They shift themselves in their seats to a vantage point where they can all collectively stare down Ato EkelE, smirking because their name was not called. Eyes still bulging, Ato EkelE slowly stands up, the expression of anguish giving way to a forced smile.

"Ahem..eh..b'iwnetu…eh…b'rgiT, this position holds great honor and kbr in my eyes, gn…blah,blah blah, children, family, blah blah…someone else more qualified…blah, blah….ENDYIAWUM…I think W/o Ekelit would be great…because, blah, blah…so, I nominate W/o EKELIT!"

Ato EkelE sits down. The room is once again filled with a harmony of rustles as folk shift in their seats to zoom in on another pair of bulging eyes. W/o Ekelit recovers her composure a bit faster than Ato EkelE, and just shakes her head, "Amesegenalu, gn yiQribiN."

Disappointed for being left without a new drive-by nomination victim, the audience drops its head again as if on cue and starts looking for the keys, just incase… .

So the nominations and rebuttals continued until our seven names were collected on a piece of paper under a heading, New Ethiopian Community Association Elected. Somehow, some of us were able to subdue our little voices, and in my case, I knew that I had locked my keys in my car and so had nothing to look for on the floor. So back to the office… .

Two ladies and five men sat there waiting turns to share what our vision for the Community Association would be, and what we would bring to the table. A few minutes into the sharing, I found my ears open, but my heart and mind alarmingly busy with a brand new case of polite surveillance of my new office mates that I rarely experience.

Searching, searching…Keyword: Ulterior Motives. Hits: 27…
New search… Keyword: Difficult Personality…Hits: 18…
New search…Keyword: Escape Route…hits: ZERO!!!

Yet, as the meeting progressed, my surveillance work subsided, and I started warming up to the great passion and humor that emanated from my newly crowned colleagues. Fear gave way to a new search with the keyword "commitment." Hits: Seven!

Tuesday No.7

Seven weeks into our new roles, signs of great friendships sprout from underneath the uncertainty. But, our communication skills still needed some polishing. Can anyone tell me how seven people in a room discussing one single issue, can have six different conversations in groups of three, at the same time? Well, we managed to! Most of the time the discussions are filled with excitement about the possibilities we can create for the organization and the people we now are committed to serve. Yet there have been times where probably each one of us has fought back rage, tears, or even an insult. But, seven weeks later, there are still seven of us working towards a vision of a stronger community of Ethiopians. I leave the meeting telling my little voice, "Shutttup!"

Tuesday No. 13

I woke up two hours past our scheduled meeting time (7:00 p.m.) a week ago. So as I open the door and walk into the office, I am greeted with unanimous smiles that beam the message "You are skipping your nappy-nap for us. Oh! You poor thing!" But, I have started to truly enjoy my Tuesday night company. Today we discuss balancing the demands and perceived needs of the outside community with what we feel needs to be done from the inside. Between last Tuesday and today, I was approached by five individuals with plenty of advice. From:
Advisor 1: "If you don't open a day-care center as soon as possible, you might as well close the office. Without a day-care center, we have nothing"
Advisor 2: "What do you mean you still don't have a lawyer? You think this an eQa-eQa session from second grade?"
Advisor 3: "Esti, Asian-ochun, eh.. Vietnamese-ochun, besemab, Jew-ochun ema tewiliN! EndEt enersu mederajet yechaluten yaQitenal? It has been three whole months…and you have done gone slept on us! You mean you have not written any grants?"
Advisor 4: "Hang in there, man you are doing great! Things don't come easy with our people. Just don't give up."
Advisor 5: (Doesn't know what I do on Tuesday nights!) It is so sad, that in a city with so many Ethiopians, there isn't a decent association that blah, blah, blah….identity…blah, blah, children don't speak their language…blah, blah..s.hould do this, do that, didn't do this….blah, blah politics…inEma binoribet noro, glbiTbiTun neber yemaweTaw!"

Tuesday No. (lost count)

No jokes today. A homeless Ethiopian left a note on our office door. Episodes of mental illness, life-threatening illness with no caretakers, domestic violence, jail sentences, children with warring parents all trickle into our office through the grapevine or our voicemail system. Sometimes, I am afraid to check the voicemail because I don't want to face another situation to which I cannot bring about an immediate and complete solution, and woe is me, somehow all the issues we deal with seem to have no complete and immediate resolutions.

I leave the office feeling powerless, and feeling like a fraud for having locked the serious problems of my fellow Ethiopians behind a door only two inches wide. My life is jealous and needs my attention, and I can only come back to them next Tuesday. Tuesdays have started tasting of defeat.

Tuesday No. (lost count + 1)

I am not too keen on the word, concept or mechanics of "committees". Yet next to "tadias," it is the most commonly heard word in our little office. SELEDA editors at some point had poked fun at the whole concept with their "Why the Chicken Crossed the Road" spiel:

Why did the chicken cross the road?
Chairman of an Ethiopian Community Association:
"Bewnitu kehone...yaw indeminawQew... before we start this meeting, we will set up a committee to set up a sub-committee to investigate which committee should handle what roads the chicken had intended to cross before it crossed that particular road."

I have words for the editors: "Metachihu bemokerachihutina endezih bafEzachuh Tru neber!" So we have the committee on Immigration and Legal Affairs…Youth and Education…and so on and so forth ad nauseam…The reality is, committees have to be discussed in detail and created if we are to see any progress. Committee formation is over. Whew! On to sub-sub-committees.

Today (Tuesday, a week after article was due for SELEDA)

A somber realization is lurking in my heart. In a matter of four months, three Ethiopians were murdered in our city. Heartbreaking and hard to swallow. After each incident, the newscaster of the evening news reads the name of the murdered brother, and without missing a beat goes on to discuss the pollen count of the day. Yet, each Ethiopian who hears the news feels a part of him/her killed. Our awareness of the immigrant life creates a common thread that weaves through our seemingly disjointed lives. Many of us are today dreaming, imagining and praying for what each of the victims imagined, aspired, dreamt and prayed for before their lives were snuffed out so mercilessly. We hardly matter to the media and we are merely increasing their ratings with our loss. We only matter to each other. It could be that I live in a more violent city than others, but I doubt it. It could also be that our numbers are growing to the point that chance events such as random drive-by shootings and robberies could randomly steal the life of an Ethiopian. But either way, the reality is that there is no guarantee for a tomorrow, a better future, a final exodus home, or a cozy family life in the US. This is true whether any of us has yet to visit our local immigration office, or we voted during the last US elections. All we have is today to live our lives meaningfully. We only matter to each other first, and we might as well start living our daily lives keeping that close to our hearts and our actions. Our individual successes and stability in our respective careers, goals etc., might appear as major prerequisites before we start extending our hands and hearts to the betterment of lives that seem unrelated to ours. But no life is unrelated to another if we open our hearts with love.

Wherever you might be reading this, I ask you to give a prayer for the families that have lost so much. "Work done in the spirit of service is the highest form of worship."