by: Zelalem Messele

An English man went to Addis Ababa for work. On the second day he was driving around for sight seeing in his rented car. While waiting at the traffic light and with his blinkers turned on, he saw a guy trying to light a cigarette from his signal light. Amused by the primitivism, he drove off to his destination with bewilderment.

After parking the car he tried to reach for his camera in the back seat, only to realize that it was gone.

Have you ever been called a fara?

And who sets the standards for yarada lij? I'm not going to define or lecture you about the Arada ethics or write about one of those articles with a title "How to act like yarada lij." I 'm just going to tell you the things some of us have done in the past in the name of Arada.

When we were young, I remember a friend telling me about a birthday party where the cameraman didn't show up. Chronicling his daughter's birthday was very important to the father, so he asked the whole crew to move the party with the cake to the local Girma Photo bEt . Some of you might be thinking, yemannachew gegema. But some of you might appreciate his insightfulness.

Modernity can be interconnected with knowledge. The person who doesn't know how to use a recently upgraded gadget can be called fara, gegema, Tfram…shall I go on? Knowledge can be used cruelly to benefit a few - like someone I know has done in the.

During the Meserete Tmhrt zemecha, Daniel was assigned to Gonder after completing 12th grade to teach reading and writing to the locals. In return, the local geberE mahiber was required to provide these zemachoch with food, shelter and a serateNa. In this village Daniel was the only zemach with a beautiful serateNa. As most of you guys know, our mothers were very selective when hiring a pretty sereteNa. Sometimes the delala might have been told "yegoremsa bEt new biyE alnegerkuhm?"

However, in this geberE mahiber, the locals didn't see it that way. One day, after a hard day's work, the sereteNa (let's call her Alganesh) bought Daniel Tella. To her own downfall, the same night Daniel started to mashkormem her.

Have you ever tried to analyze the connection between alcohol and hormones? It's a mystery to me. After a few drinks, even if you don't have mewdeqia, you end up in a zigubiN abesha bEt trying to salvage an unfruitful evening. In the old days, we used to say "idmE le Kasanchis, Kebede Tomun adro ayawqm," with the occasional regret and blaming of friends who left you in the hands of the Kasanchis sharks. You might have found yourself knocking on your friend's door at 5 a.m. as if you were be dubE indaderE sew. "Why did you leave me with a shellE knowing that I was drunk?"

Where was I? Back to the zemecha Tabiya. After a while it became a given that whenever he felt like it, he was getting it. I mean everything! I'm talking about Daniel.

Every forth night, all the zemachoch would get together in one wereda to spend the weekend together. This time it was Daniel's wereda turn. Alganesh prepared enough food for all the guests. When everyone arrived, she brought injera in a big sefEe and started running back to the kushina. Her ruCHa would have left Carl Lewis ten meters trailing behind. She came back with a dst of aleCHa weT, and once again she hurried back with the same speed back into the guada, even faster than previously.

After a while, being amused with the kushina eruCHa, I asked Daniel what is wrong with Alganesh. He said, with a smirk on his face, that she was not feeling well. After noticing how uncomfortable he was about answering my questions, I let the matter drop. However, late into the night (and after a few swigs of gebs Tella) my curiosity got the better of me. He finally confessed to sleeping with her. This didn't explain ye Alganeshin eruCHa. Was she…? Hey, no, no, she wasn't pregnant. Far from it. The fact of the matter was that that morning she had asked Daniel for a birth control. Daniel had given her ye Ingliz CHew.

All I can say is, she wasn't running to the kushina.