Up in Smoke: “YemiCHess Ale?”
by: Sza Sza Zelleke

To the horror of everyone present, at the end of her welcome-home/pre-wedding dinner, Kidist (a.k.a. Kidi) burped loudly, opened her purse, pulled out a packet of Salem Lights and proceeded to bite off a single cigarette, light the thing and puff on it contentedly.

Oblivious to the collective consternation that clouded the room, she offered the pack to her family, asking, in her broken Amharic, " YemiCHess Ale?" and continuing to chatter away in English with her soon-to-be husband, Ijahman Rueben of the Twelve Tribes of Israel. He had just finished shocking the house by slurping his way through the five-course meal, flicking weT and injera everywhere, and licking the mereq and qulEt from his elbow all the way up to his hand and off his fingers. He also ended up cutting himself rather badly on the lip after insisting on trying the qurT sga despite discreet efforts to dampen his enthusiasm and dissuade him. The family’s polite encouragement that he use the fork and knife to eat the ferenji food he was used to fell on deaf ears, and Kidist cheered him on throughout his Abesha ordeal.

While everyone watched aghast at their mealtime antics and general bad manners, Kidist and Ijahman had gotten a bit tipsy with the tej and laughed through the whole formal meal, babbling, burping, bleeding and generally making a mess. To make matters worse, they giggled so hard at their own clumsiness and unfamiliarity with everything that Ijahman farted. T’zbt was now the uninvited guest at the dinner, its presence felt by everyone except Ijahman and Kidist, who shrugged her shoulders when no one wanted to smoke and returned the pack of cigs to her bag without noticing how annoyed everyone had become.

Now, as the coffee ceremony was prepared for the end of the occasion, only eleven of Kidist’s close family remained, bracing themselves for whatever would come next.

Seated in the semicircle of tense anticipation was the highly respected veteran and former judge Grazmach Mekonnen, Kidist’s Great Uncle.

Next to him was the formerly famously wealthy ex-land owner, the aging imperious Mama Tenfelesh, Kidist's Great Aunt.

Next to her sat the long-standing civil servant of the highest caliber, Gash Bedilu, Kidist’s eldest Uncle, and his senior flight-attendant trophy wife with timeless beauty, Woizero Seble Wengel.

Next to her was the great hostess and homemaker, the bale-moya widow of Minister X in the Imperial Government, Woizero Azeb, Kidist’s eldest Aunt by marriage.

Next to Woizero Azeb were seated the two Doctors in the family, Kidist’s uncles: the most eligible bachelor and eminent MD, Dr. Biruk; and the famous socio-economist, Dr. Tibebe, who was accompanied by his highly educated wife, Helen.

Next to them sat the very able senior accountant and auditor of high demand, Gash Getachew, Kidist’s youngest uncle.

Alone in the far corner sat the very independent, popular and professional international civil servant, Genet, Kidist’s eldest cousin. She had arrived in the latest four-wheel drive, the only one of its kind in Addis, owned by her brother. He sat opposite her, the successful entrepreneur young Debebe (Kidist’s youngest cousin). And "No," as Genet likes to say, "it's not what you're thinking. He runs his own export company."

All eleven waited patiently for their coffee… and an end to a disastrous evening.

As the coffee roasted, along with the anjet of her clan, Kidist and Ijahman sat at the center of this family semicircle. They sprawled nonchalantly in the family Salon bEt, at their places of honor on the family sofa. As Kidist unplugged her lips from the Salem Light and blew the remaining smoke unabashedly onto her fuming family, silent alarm bells went off in the minds of her family members. "Demo mn litaderg yhon, be-IgzihEr?"

First, she winked loudly at her family. Yes, it was loud, and everyone heard her left eyelid snapping shut and open. (Besmeab!) Everyone pretended they hadn’t heard or seen it because it was too fast. But then they had to pretend they were completely blind as Kidist unselfconsciously puckered up and stuck out a bright healthy pink tongue. (WeinE! Gud fella!) Still with her tongue sticking out, she unintentionally added invisible insult to intangible injury by leaning across the sofa and licking the ear of her lover. (CHrash?! Weiche gud!!) He smiled at the nice surprise, equally unselfconscious, and turned his face for a full frontal French kiss (U! U! U! Wui! Wui! Wui!!), managing all the while not to spill any of the Wendo Gennet Wonderbrand reefer that he was busy rolling into a joint. He was excited, not by the prolonged surprise lick and kiss he was getting, but because it was his first Family Meal and Family-Spliff in the MADDALAND. (Demo mndinew eza miserraw, ya bariya? Yemin wereqet meleTaTef new inde hiSan lij?)

Mppppphhhhwa!

They separated themselves loudly. (Sb’at le-Ab!) The satisfied smack at the end of their passionate kiss reverberating in the disapproving dark cave of deathly silence that the living room had quickly become.

Mechal new ingdih!

Ignorant of the invisible indignation that lapped about her limbs, Kidist stretched her legs, smiling, relaxed. Her berebasso-sandaled feet curved in pointed glee, her toes tapping out her restrained merriment in Morse code on the recoiling rug. Thata warm, bright, multicolored modern mat was slowly shying away from her, exposing the well-polished, hard, cold sanqa floorboards beneath.

Ere tei belwat!

She, of course, did not notice this and continued to slap her berebasso’d bare foot playfully and happily on the wailing wood.

Irefi belwat! IndE!

She felt she could dance right now, right this minute!! The sight of the magical incense, the sound of the musical popping corn, the smell of the coffee, the feel of a wonderful meal, the thought of the impending wedding in ShashemenE… Kidist was so happy! She turned from the love of her life to her family, wanting to smile into the faces of her kith and kin. Orphaned by the revolution and adopted by her father’s ferenji friends, all she wanted to do was share her joy with her precious relatives, revel in the reunion. But all eyes were averted, studiously looking away from the happy couple.

Zebideru, the maid, fanned the flames of the kesel in rhythm and perfect harmony with Kidist’s toe tapping, tapping, tapping and Ijahman’s rolling, rolling, rolling. PHHHHHHHHH. Zebideru breathed on the coals, smiling. Only Kidist, Zebideru and Ijahman smiled at each other.

Meanwhile, eleven pairs of eyes were following the progress of the coffee; eleven people, boiling together with the water in the Jebenna. Kidist's family preferred to boil internally rather than make gauche outbursts. Today, they preferred to make small talk and watch Zebideru's fendisha that was, like them, showing white teeth and popping away carelessly even as temperatures burned hot.

Kidist's family sat, each of them waiting, disappointed and disapproving. The women had their right hand thumbs under their chins, with four fingers completely covering their mouths and right side of their faces, their right hand pinkies carefully curled into their hands. The men mirrored this position of dismay in a more masculine manner; their thumbs also under their chins, the three fingers of their left hand holding their left cheek bone while the tips of their left-hand pinkies nestled in their left nostrils. Each of them exhaled deeply intermittently, turn by turn, through their one remaining open nostril, while all of them in unison kept looking away in dismay to avoid seeing the grinning trio. One or two in the group added an "aside": the long drawn-out "AH-EEEEE" tucked almost inaudibly into the exhaling process.

" AH-HEE" with its sharp staccato ‘AH’ and elongated ‘EEEE’ are two syllables with two different pitches/tones. AH-HEE is actually the same note EXACTLY one octave apart from each other. "AH-HEE" is a judgmental exclamation that provides irrefutable evidence and concrete confirmation that someone has failed the yluNta test.

To hear an AH-HEE is to receive Abesha Assurance that someone or something is miserably unacceptable, disappointingly not up to scratch. When unleashed in reference to the action or behavior of a person, the deadly AH-HEE implies that the wretched individual concerned is a conscience- and consciousness-free pathetic person; in short, a hopeless yluNta-biss beyond the reach of reproach or reprimand, only to be pitied and passed up. "Mn tadergewaleh/ tadergiwalesh..? AH-HEE!"

AH-HEE is interchangeable with Ai-hEhE, but Ai-hEhE is used in the exclusive world occupied by the dying breed of the more experienced tazabiwoch of people with no yluNta. Everyone in Kidist's family was an experienced tazabi of people with no yluNta. Immaculately conscious of themselves and others, keepers of the most refined protocols of their culture, Kidist's family members were conversant in the acceptable norms and standards of behavior, fluent in many different body languages. Diehard defenders of decorum and diplomacy, tact and cunning courtesy, they were always prepared to look around themselves (and even behind themselves, i.e. azuro mayet) to see themselves as others see them. Like sitting ducks that possess 360-degree vision, some are born and bred with the capacity to see others and themselves in a circle of imaginary mirrors that enable the self, another person, a place, a thing or event to be seen from all possible angles. All of Kidist's family followed the equivalent of the Boy Scout Code, Always Be Prepared, and the preparation process was kick-started at birth when the concept and consciousness of yluNta was wired into one and all.

But in the end, none of her family was prepared for this… this… a person IN THEIR FAMILY, who had no yluNta. Not a shred of it.

Igzio Mahrene Kristos …Adinene Ke Me’atu … Sewirene Be Mhretu!

"Bad enough that she brought (bought??) this baria home, why does she insist on treating his joro like the jelattee that I used to buy her from Enrico?" thought her great uncle, Grazmach Mekonnen. It was the kindest of observations, for the rest of her family were thinking worse thoughts.

Though she did not know it, Kidist sat in a seething sauna of terrifying t’zbt and the Goom-Goom Games had not even begun. Unfortunately for Kidist and Ijahman, they did not speak her mother tongue well, neither the spoken nor the unspoken language, although they were learning. As for Goom-Goom Games, they could not even get the hang of the simplest kind of Konker card game that Ethiopian children had tried to show them on the long flight over. Kidist and Ijahman only played spades. And, in preparing for the trip from America to Addis for their small family wedding, they definitely did not pack any yluNta.

CHECKLIST:

1. Cashmere sweater, silk bathrobe and kid leather slippers for Grazmach Mekonnen…check. And also baby clothes and layette for Zebideru, Grazmach’s maid, who is having his baby. Check.
2. Cinzano Vermouth -- two dozen bottles, for Mama Tenfelesh. Yes, yes, she drinks quite a bit but she’s allowed. She lost everything in the revolution, everything except the will to drink. Year’s supply of alcohol...check.
3. Edible, multicolored, feather light, ribbed, novelty, scratch and sniff, all manner of condoms for Gash Bedilu. Also called "BedE," Gash Bedilu will probably never use them and is already rumored to be HIV Positive due to legendary conquests and trysts with anything and everything on two legs with a skirt, whether his hostess wife is out of town on a flight or not. One year’s supply of condoms… check.
4. For Bedilu's hostess wife, Seble, who also sleeps around, it was hard to decide. What do you get a woman who has everything? After making her first million as part-time hostess and drug courier, she has established a vast commercial empire of boutiques and small photocopy and photo-developing businesses but kept her job for appearances sake. Gigi’s new CD "GuramaylE." And Jay Zee’s single entitled "Cash Money Hos". CDs…check.
5. For Teddy and Seesha, (Gash Bedilu and ‘TyE Seble’s two children), a collection of pin-up posters for Seesha who keeps hanging out with rich old men -- perhaps it will remind her of what she’s missing. And for Teddy, an oral hygiene kit of toothbrushes, mouth washes and teeth whiteners to reduce the damage from his CHat addiction. Posters and toiletries…check.
6. For ‘TyE Azeb, the survivor, even after her Minister husband was shot and killed in the Abiyot, and despite being from another newly formed country, Azeb overcame death and deportation and remains in Addis. She continues, as she has since the late seventies, to entertain men in positions of power, privy to their politics, private parts, and culinary preferences, thanks to the mgb and balt’na bEt that she used to run but now only manages. For her, the new stainless steel combination microwave grill and convection oven with intelligent cooking system and state of the art flat door design. Microwave…check.
7. For Dr. Biruk, something for his continuing nightmares about his early days as a Doctor when he was called in to treat the wounds of torture victims. Wounds that he cared for and tended to, knowing full well that the torturers were waiting to resume their work once the healing was done. Sleeping pills... check
8. Getachew, younger than Dr. Biruk, is now an accountant but also can’t sleep. Having recovered from a mysterious mental breakdown diagnosed as Diabilos and treated by Tsebel, he finished his CommErce accountancy course and tried his best to forget the many friends he had to betray in order to keep his life. Under the Sergeant’s steady gaze, he had named all his friends and invented the rest, only later finding out that all of the fictional characters he had invented had resulted in people with the same names being hunted down and killed as well. In addition, his guilt after his looting of a former corporation in the absence of a government in 1991 and his professional cooperation with corrupt officials who need cooked books since then is also keeping him awake at night. He has many sweat-filled nights and a wish that he had left with his friends, all qualified professionals or content cabbies in America. But at the time, his late mother and family felt his mental health was too fragile to risk a journey to another country to apply for asylum, and he quickly agreed, fearing reprisal from the survivors in exile who knew what he had done to save his life. So Commerce had been just right for him. And now to get him through the night, he needs not pills but books and more books to devour and endlessly escape his horrible reality, his memories, his life. A year’s supply of fiction... check.
9. More books for Dr. Tibebe, an anthropologist and his wife Helen who have no trouble sleeping at night. This, despite the thousands of dollars they are skimming off their jointly run and multiple funded humanitarian and development organizations for Ethiopia’s undernourished, undereducated and underprivileged. A lot of underdevelopment, they say in unison, often, but the only people getting over are Dr. Tibebe and Helen. They need newer and more creative bookkeeping techniques to cover their tracks as they journey towards millionaire status from the international funds they are fiddling. They don’t trust Getachew and prefer to keep their dirty secret with Do-It-Yourself accounting to themselves. For Dr. Tibebe and Helen, "The Handbook on Maintaining World Poverty and Creative Accounting and Statistics" by…er... the World Bank… check.
10. Genet did not wait for her present. She had called collect to remind Kidist about the designer outfit and accessories that she needed for her job at the ECA as personal assistant to a director. Targeting the bosses and sleeping her way to the top, she has no intention of losing her job by being out-dressed, out-scented and out-accessorized by the younger, competitive underlings following in her footsteps who will think nothing of using bottom power over brain power to get ahead. One Chanel outfit and one bottle of N^o 5… check.
11. For Debebe, the youngest in the generation, who missed out on all educational and emigration opportunities, a directory of antiquities and antiques auction houses. Because of his long years in prison as a child, accused of distributing his brothers’ IHAPA papers, Debebe missed a lot, but he has managed to catch up with everyone financially thanks to his new "export" business and sale of the number one prized commodity on the Ethiopian market: Debebe has become our very own Raider of the Lost Ark. One directory of auction houses comin’ up!! Check.

Kidist was happy to see all the presents on the checklist were there and as Zebideru passed the hot coffee around, Kidist passed around the gifts to each of her family members. They accepted their presents with grace and smiles, simultaneously looking over her shoulder with disgust at Ijahman and then at each other.

Ijahman Rueben did not notice their glmCHa because he had finally finished his labor of love. He gave them all a beaming gold-tooth-filled grin and extended his long-nailed gold-ring-covered fingers, with an offering of…. A FAMILY-SIZE SPLIFF! In a friendly and respectful gesture of giving, and also because of its size, he held out the joint with both hands. "Cool ye-hager star?" he asked, beaming proudly and shaking his dreadlocks with joy. Lighting the super-spliff as everyone burned with righteous rage at his lack of yluNta, Ijahman asked the family innocently, in broken Amharic: "YemiCHess ale?? "

Grazmach looked out of the Kazanchis window, past the vast tracts of his merEt larashu nationalized urban land… toward the towering dome of Parlama. His tired eyes searched further up, up towards Sidist Kilo. "KidistiyE," he said affectionately, "Lij Ruben," he sighed politely. "Ah-eeeeeeeeee…Inamesegnalen… Gn hulachinm CHessenal."