Rants to a friend
by: AlKeKal

Tizita

It will be a miracle if you can decipher this message. Early morning in the shower is the best time for me to think (I wonder with modern technology how I can capture those thoughts that flood in before they get lost in the mundane daily routine we call our life).

Oh, let me launch into one of the most surprising impacts the trip to your neck of the woods had on me. hey! don't even remind me of the "inqulal" and "coteleti" qurs - I am too sexy for my cow-town - yes! you read that right, I AM TOO SEXY FOR THIS RURAL TOWN. Even though I couldn't wait to get back to home and family, I left a good chunk of who I really am in DC. Absolutely unprepared for what it meant walking proud amongst friends and family--exchanging jest and "tereb" without wondering whether you have offended the person next to you...

I have to explain, This feeling is deeply rooted in trying to assimilate into a society here (Ethiopian and non-Ethiopian) that had, shall we say, a different past and followed a different path to get here. But this whole thing started in Ethiopia at AAU where we were dropped -- without any guidance I might add -- into a sea of people who came from all walks of life. I still see the experience I gained at AAU as having a profound impact on how I see and understand the country we call home.

Come on, once in a while I got to get away with awkward situations such as ------"just before the summer rains hit, our esteemed President then, Menge, decided to exercise his brain and ordered all higher institution fellows to go to remote sectors of Ethiopia and build huts. Our parents, after finding out that they couldn't protect us from the wave that came crashing down on us, started giving us survival tips, and one of the main topic of discussion was how to relieve yourself out in yonder land. Now this was such a juicy story that I was rambling on and on in front of guests at home. One got it (of course we had similar backgrounds), but I could see the looks of utmost puzzlement on the faces of the rest of the crowd, they plain couldn't understand what I was talking about. What was I doing making a mountain out of..of, -- well, fine, I'll say it...we had to be taught how to take a dump outside, keep your balance, throw your arm forward.......I have to stop 'cause this is cracking me up again. But the morale of this tangent is that it felt great for one week to let loose without worrying, without pondering, with you guys...just to be yourself and enjoy ----we are /were blamed for having nothing to talk about but the good old days back at school, but hey, that's what I miss, all the other serious stuff..well...I'll get back to it in my "real" life......"

Too sexy, I say, and now I have to learn to go back to my old ways, quietly working 18 hour days, getting reintroduced to the kids and tending to the garden during the weekends, occasionally working in the local 'kebele" of my rural town ...

But then came the world athletic championships and shattered my routine, well...are you ready for another rant?

Yilugnta, and the ultimate sacrifice.

...the two biggest stories at the 8th Annual IAAF World Athletic Championships in "Deadmonton (as the Brits called our beloved capital...they were not too impressed by what we have done with the Queen's land...don't get me started on that!)...oops, Edmonton, I mean, were not of success and triumph, nor were they about new heights and wold records. Instead it was the defeat of two of the world's most famous athletes: Haile Gebresellasie failed to defend his 10K championship, and Marion Jones broke her 7-year winning streak and "claim de fame"of being the fastest women alive. Enough about Marion, let's talk about the 10K race.

Usually you can identify which age group you belong to by naming the famous track athlete of your time. Well, I was a bit young but clearly remember the famous run of Miruts Yifter, his left arm wagging "revolutionary style" as he shifted gears to come in well ahead of his competition. But my time was filled with the decline and failures of the sport in general. The Kenyans and Moroccans took over, and our names and place in history was discussed in the past tense. It was in this turmoil that I left home and missed the whole renaissance: the fame and fortune of Haile, and the women, too: Derartu, Fatuma and her likes. Their spoils made the news, and we read and waited in anticipation until they come close enough for us to see them in action. Green with envy as we saw Ethiopians in diaspora running along their heroes clad in our flag, trying to reclaim the sense of dignity. Looking about and affirming that we are indeed from that place known for its great famines and seemingly unquenchable thirst for handouts. But no, for that day and moment, bathed in the glory of winning -we are proud to be identified as such..

I read and heard so many things about Haile that I couldn't wait for the race to begin. I had seen re-runs of his winning moment in Sydney, outsprinting his age-old rival, Paul Tergat, to win by a hair. I was ready for history to repeat itself. The race began, and the commentators couldn't keep their mouths shut, kept going on and on as the small man made his way to the front. Even in my lay knowledge of sport tactics, I was feeling quite uneasy as he sprinted with every fake breakaway...it was as if the world was running against Haile and they took turns in tiring him out. I was watching and wondering what more he could have left for the last sprint, and then they came around the corner, Haile in front, a Kenyan in second and a young promising Ethiopian runner called Assefa Mezgebu in third (can't believe I wrote half a page to say this). As the Kenyan sprinted with alarming speed past Haile and took the lead, Assefa, waited for Haile to do the same--it was incredible to watch, realizing that his and his country's hero, the great Haile, had nothing left in him. He went past him, too, but alas! he didn't have enough room to catch up with the Kenyan

Now if this isn't the greatest example of being an Ethiopian, I really don't know what else is. In our eternal humility we always give others a chance. There was no way Mamo Wolde would have passed Abebe Bekila given the chance, and when he finally did, it was with explicit instructions from his hero -- thus the famous saying "Mamo, ine igrEn amoNal, anti demi demi."

"Yilugnta" and the ultimate sacrifice, I say.

In any case, I don't know why I felt I needed to unload this on you, but thanks for a great time in DC and for the rude awakening.

Cheers!