Once in a while we get the kind of mail that makes us want to sing "Hoya Hoyé" in a tangy C Minor. But since our last rendition of "Bir-Ambar Sebrel'o" caused several tiliQ sews great consternation and "Tsebel iko yiredal" murmurs, we've opted to simply create a new column.

Amare Abebe from Maryland sent us the following estimation a little while ago, and despite upper management's ill-advised sèra to mafen the voices of the masses, we are honored and delighted to present to you why it is that we roll out of bed every morning and thank Qulibi Mikael for creating Maryland, USA.

"GUSH TELLA": A MODUS OPERANDI
First and foremost, let me come out clean. True, I am certainly biased - min t'Honu? No need to take the fifth, I'd rather admit and confess to the fact that I wallow neck-deep amid the infatuation/love for the self examination and catharsis offered on this "impromptu" deliberation extended to the gossip-loving, nom de plum-using, erudite yilugnta, of our generation.

Indeed, I immensely enjoy your cyber magazine ("Ours" lemalet dadagne but I fear usurping proprietorship and invoking your q'T yaTa wrath). Yet, honestly, for that simple self-serving purpose of identifying with "success," I would love to do so. So,... permission or no permission... .

Don't take me for an apologist, yaw'm leNantè,. For I see the glaring truth of your narrow-by-choice, selfish, take-it-or-leave-it attitude, unconventional style, pompousness, wit, one of a kind Guramylé you spout relentlessly, sailing in the uncharted waters of the Abyssinian psyche. Highly addictive combo, and I luv it.

My mission is to be in league with that pitiful moth :) Fortunately, I am not alone. Abo, Bereka beluNe yaseNale. Thus, the SOS you hear from us mortals, at least for a bi-monthly publication, if not more. Do you think we are being ungrateful? Well, yameTachihut TaTa new'na chalut.

Here is my dilemma: I start by cracking my knuckles, placing my omnipresent coffee mug filled to the brim at a convenient spot, scrolling through the screen and clicking on seleda.com.

I am looking at the contents to pick up on something that won't be trying to my fragile nerves while tantalizing over the smorgasbord of the topics I know would unequivocally indulge my satiety. Where to start? Ayn Awaj?! Editorial, Mail, LDs…it is impressive to witness how much of your contributors are influenced by your literary style or is it the other way round! Boy, oh boy! Yours is undoubtedly the leader of the pack. Reading you is like participating in the 110m hurdles ...run... jump... stumble... run ...jump... stumble... run. Can't we do the Indy 500 please?

To each his own...so I consider my options: enrich my vocabulary, dictionary in hand? Ignore and skip the stumbling blocks? Or throw my hands up in the air, uufff eté! Yemin medreq new, and disconnect? Since you are the sole judges and jury, and no higher court to appeal to, mamelkecha fyda yelew'm.

My solution: These guys/gals are uncompromising rascals (endearing)! Creating autonomy and federalism by high school groupies (private, public, boys, girls, co-ed) won't cut it, that is if such a thing is ever conceivable in the first place. Therefore, I say, "If Mohamed…then mountain…Mohamed".

In "Phase One," I convinced my gullible neurons to tune in for the learning process (which, at most, worked for only one issue). But then again, it gets frustrating and becomes quite a challenge. Imagine driving a fully-loaded cool Mercedes Benz with the CD playing Mozart Symphony #3…on the streets of Adu Genet, shifting gears every 10 meters for people, animals and pot holes, not necessarily in that order.

Then I switched to "Phase Two" and employed my second strategy: doing the hop-step-jump. What was that? Am I totally losing it? I am almost through reading an article but I did not grasp anything at all. What message? Is there some f' ré neger to be grasped? You tell me! Then it hit me hard, this is a rip-off of my time (consider a lawsuit). Rrrrrrr! I give up! Where is the (even the mouse is rebellious) cursor. Then, it went blank, silence settled in and peace, at last.

Unfortunately, I suddenly started to shake, sweating and yawning. Gosh! Am I going through withdrawal? Who would have thought it could be so? The lattés of the entire Starbucks universe couldn't quell the suppressed rumbling of my volcanic urge requesting for more Se...Se... Sel... SELEDA. Doctor in the house?

Choice? What choice? The last I heard "Targa" is still a floating idea and brainchild of some upstart dreamer of a would-be cyber magazine guru. Finally, in reconciliation, I came to terms with myself. When in Rome…Romans. In this brief moment of ingenuity, I discovered my niche. This was a philosophically barren and principally reneged mother of all compromises: Ij mesTet. I dug into our millennia-old Abyssinian wisdom and socio-cultural korojofor remedy while performing the ubiquitous ritual of nefro le-adbarwa, eTan le-Qolew.

Bingo! The solution is "Gush Tela" (GT), which is the crux of the modus operandi I stumbled upon. Eureka! It's like this: you sit and wait for Weizero Amakelech to appear with her full manQorqoria to pour that Tm qoraCHun GT into your Tasa. Sebhat Le Ab.. Mamateb... take a sip and immediately perform the entf-entf part to discard the atela.

With this insight in hand, I made my way to my command center to sit in front of the screen to read my favorite SELEDA, facing eye-to-eye what I consider a necessary evil. Here I come, darlingé. Tears well up in my eyes when I read the piece by Jorga; Lisane's article gives me this searing pain in my chest; my heart overflows with pride to read Sista Tirseet preach; I laugh with and get amused by the witticism of the editorial... Sintu tenegro.

It is also a strong testament of the brain drain, and somewhat tangentially most telling of the positive things that we bring to weave the multicultural tapestry of life in the Diaspora.

Since starting this approach, reading SELEDA for me has become an Ethio-centeric ritual... not unlike savoring my 10 cents worth of GT. I now have perfected the ritual to the nth degree, and believe you me, it works! Mariamn! I find it spiritually uplifting, helping bridge the existing chasm to the realization of conectedness through shared vernacular, story telling and experience exchange; providing an outlet to appease my unaccounted self, which is the taboo "I" (? narcissistic), and come out of the perpetual sost shee zemen closet to the most feared public scrutiny.

The Abyssinian nemesis, which is equivalent to standing naked be -adebabai, reminds me of the exchange regarding the use of names in articles appearing on this page. All these and more, where else but at SELEDA!

Te'law baleMoya YeTeneSesew! Egiziabher yaqoyachiu. Ye-Qulibiw Mikael yiTebiqachihu.

~~~~~..~~~~~