It all begins with that pervasive and omnipotent “Man Yawqal”, a simple “who knows?” that has forever warped the Ethiopian psyche and stamped “Paranoiac” on his or her soul.
Who knows or “Man Yawqal?” is not actually a question. It is rhetorical and replies to itself that no one really does know anything. Anything is possible; it is a dangerous and mysterious world out there, beware. And the Ethiopian, as we all know, is very keen on warnings; we love mysteries; we pretend to have secrets since we presume possession of some secrets gives us importance. There is another side to the whole paranoia scene with “YalTere’Tere temene’Tere” and “MiqeNa AyasaTah”. Curiously enough, the average Ethiopian feels the need for enemies as if his/her existing troubles are not enough.
Paranoia has invaded the ordinary Ethiopian since time immemorial and the result has been both positive and negative. The rock hard belief that everyone in the world is out to get “exceptionally beautiful” Ethiopia has contributed to the spirit of vigilance and resistance that kept the country independent. Yet, this same paranoia has driven the Ethiopian into his/her own shell of suspicion and made him or her hostile to new ideas, to new contacts. Suspicion is bred, trust is hardly ever given. The image of two friends on a long trek vowing loyalty to each other at every stream crossing comes to mind. Man Yawqal indeed. Never turn your back on anyone, be suspicious, a smile hides venomous thoughts, your own mouth is your first enemy. The Ethiopian walks stooped, carrying an invisible load called paranoia. It is pervasive, this paranoia, and is embedded in the culture, in the literature, in the very soul of the Ethiopian.
The jury is out on whether paranoia has done more harm than good to the Ethiopian. I am inclined to think that the Ethiopian would have been a better person without the Man Yawqal armor he or she wears every day and night for ever. As I said, Man Yawqal carries its own answer: No one does know anything, any guess or fear, any wild conclusion or fantastic perception can very well be true. There is no certainty, no clear answer. No one is innocent, all are threatening. You can’t scientifically explain thunder and lightning nor can you give a rational explanation as to why the black cat seems to like staring at you. The world is round? When have you gone around it, please? The Ethiopian may be poor but he thinks the whole world is after him, coveting God knows what?
Of course we can’t blame the poor soul as the powers that be find and contrive ways to make his existence more miserable. The irrationality of the State has always encouraged the paranoiacs. It acts so arbitrarily and makes all their wild fears real that their “I told you so” becomes credible. In the political field, the prevailing paranoia makes efforts to forge unity quite difficult. The required degree of trust is never achieved, suspicion is the norm and in the end this fear justifies itself and wrecks the initial effort. Someone has said three Ethiopians in a group hug will be hiding six daggers plus one behind their backs.
My mother often tells me not to trust the ferenjis. Ferenj yamene gum zegene. As an abesha condemned by fate, I sometimes throw away all my education, consciousness and rational beliefs and let the devil of all-pervading suspicion chauffeur my thoughts and conclusions. Ethiopian politics is a catacomb and you may have to put off the flashlight to see your way out of it. This said, the fact remains that every peasant male imagines all men are after his “beautiful” wife, we are paranoiacs par excellence. I think it also has something to do with what some people call the mountain stronghold complex. A fortress mentality—all that is outside is suspect, dangerous. The high mountains that served to insulate us and enabled us to resist the invaders also served to isolate us and to enhance the feeling of paranoia. Over the mountain lurk the hyena and other wild animals. “Alarf yaletch Tat”….. do not go where no man has gone before.
One dictionary defines paranoia as a “mental disorder characterized by systematic delusions as of grandeur or persecution”. Mental disorder is saying too much as Ethiopians (you and I know quite well) have never been mad collectively or individually. Delusions of grandeur is, on the other hand, a Napoleonic tic that every Ethiopian shares. My father is the president of Gonder, one young boy told me at a wedding. The boy, who was born in America, has already been bitten by the bug. Delusion of grandeur is as Ethiopian as Injera. Everyone is a Dejazmatch or aspires to be one. Saving face is paramount even if there is little face left to speak of. The victim complex is also part of the Ethiopian paranoia, that “everyone is after me” feeling. (Stretch it far and you get the local version of the Massada complex, the Meqdella complex if you want, a trait that did not afflict Mengistu Haile Mariam, I must add). This has resulted in the laconic character that describes most Ethiopians, their being taciturn (zim ayneqzim). Some foreigners consider this as arrogance on the part of otherwise polite Ethiopians, but the truth is that paranoia dictates a position of diffidence. Self defense. Fix a smile to your face, keep your gates closed, let your wild dog free and invite everyone into your house. Somewhere in there is the crux of the problem of the Ethiopian paranoia.
Man Yawqal indeed. Paranoia is a state of mind. Orderly and normal? A disorder? No one can really say so, can one? Xenophobic, shy, reserved, arrogant, secluded and more have been our labels. The world has yet to understand that we are simply paranoiac, suspicious, afraid and trying to deal with delusions that we take for real. Man Yawqal. Please go before me, after you sir. Who knows what tomorrow brings? All this talk of liberty and democracy may be fake. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes down. E’lama athun, keep a low profile. The Ethiopian hides from himself out of necessity. Is this paranoia too?
Who knows? Man Yawqal?
