Errr.. *ehem*. I'm not sure how well, if at all, the First Amendment holds sound in Seledocracy. But I guess we'll find out by how many bruises you have on your shins. *smirk*

Baboor, why didn't you tell me about your poison-free dream? As absurd as I thought it was, I was really looking forward to reading something groundbreaking along the lines of: "You Dream What You Drink". Startle me, damn it.

Speaking of dreams, today is going to be one living nightmare. I'm supposed to meet my pseudo and pedantic high school "friends" for a reunion. How untimely. You know those things where you to pretend to be thrilled out of your wits to see them, yet conversation is as dry as it was n years ago. Actually, even emptier since we can't communally talk about that unruly assignment or that midterm that raped us.

The only redeeming thing about these unfriendly folk is that they have a very refined taste in food. Well, refined enough for me, that is. We're going Greek. Cheap Greek food. Ah, nothing more delightful in the dining arena than a cheap and good restaurant. Do you have any idea what that means? It means that while they're busy getting cuddly over how juiceless and laborious their nth year in college has been, I'll be intimately maCHemaleqing my fingers with a juicy gyros, coupled with a rich salad sprinkled with some feta cheese, and followed by a sweet, soggy serving of baqlava to seal my appetite. And somewhere in between that show I'll try and squeeze in meaningful, heartfelt gibberish. But I won't promise you anything.

There's nothing like the Habesha ethos when it comes to dining. I hope that every meal I spend with my future family preserves a ceremonial and cultured dialogue. I hope the dining room never sees that god-awful TV chanting in the background, averting our attention to where it's not supposed to be (even college cafeterias are equipped with those idiot-boxes). I hope we *have* a dining room. I hope that we never re-live that "pass-me-the-asparagus" scene in "American Beauty". I hope.

But who knows. The universe is frighteningly unpredictable like that. For now, this scene must go on. Meanwhile, dreams... drinks. Connect the dots!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This time it really felt like I had very little to say to you. In the history of humanity, you are the first woman to ask me to startle you. Reflecting on that, I forgot to feed the birds today. Better than anyone I have met so far, these birds of mine know a good deal about the frailty of their bodies and the fickleness of love. They told me so once, when I asked them why they found it difficult to drink orange juice when they turned to the water I was giving them, and the conversation soon dived into their personal philosophies and methods of setting priorities in life.

Why do you suppose so many men and women bother to sit in front of their computers and read our nonsensical exchanges about nothing in particular? Some even go so far as to print it out and take it to bed with them, where they fall asleep reading it out loud to no one in particular.

I see darkness. I see even more kids dying for lack of food to eat. Yet even more for lack of water to drink. More confusion on what to do. More loss and yet even more unhappiness. The truth remains simple: you eat, you drink, you sleep, fart and dispose of all that is smelly in you. You do this everyday from birth until the sun sets on the chapter called your life. To what end, you don't ask. You remain a skeptic and miss on the opportunity to board the baboor and find out to what end.

There is little in the world that is impossible to understand. While I have no doubt that these words will make it to Seleda's domain with parenthesized "editors say this" and "editors respond to that" (The Editors are amazed, "How did he know?") until it becomes impossible to read any of it without thinking about what the editors are thinking, I would like to remind you that in less than twenty years, there will be over a hundred million Ethiopians, a few of whom are forward looking enough to do all the background hacking now, with a determined sense of purpose, knowing that it's not about Nile perch, nor has it ever been about Toblerones.

It is about water. It will be about water for a long time to come.

While you spend time reflecting on the redeeming qualities of folks with refined tastes in food, you miss the baboor. If you dared to board it in time, you would have had the chance to look out its window and admire nature as she shows you the path to all that seems elusive. A chance to see what miracle can be done by paying less attention to coconut and a little more to Marcel Proust and Mex the Sengatera durooyae.

Mex: "Ere inawoon shoofew... QiTiro argo lillewis nnew iko. Yimechhew. Yimechhew..."