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I had a situation this week, where I ended up
spending the day and breaking bread (having a meal
with) with a nice gentleman that had been sent to
fix the water pipes at my house. I had a lovely time
with the man - he was a retiree that was doing
consulting work in his free time; his company was
pleasant and he had many anecdotes that he had
acquired in his many years of life that managed to
fill the time for both of us.
It ended up being an unexpectedly wonderful day as a
result.
The whole thing got me thinking. Had it been in any
other part of the world, I would have left him to
his job and gone about my business. It is not like I
sit around with the cable man and shoot the breeze
or make time to invite the air Conditioning
repairman in for an iced tea before he left. It was
not as if I could not have gone about my business on
that particular day, but something about the whole
situation made me stay pretty close to the old guy.
Maybe my sentimental attachment to older people had
something to do with it, maybe it did not. But it
did get me to thinking.
I realised, a few days later, (I am sometimes not
the sharpest knife in the drawer) that it was all
about me having picked up that nasty little habit of
being Habesha. I spoke on this issue a couple
of weeks ago, stating that whether we liked it or
not and no matter how different and modern we make
ourselves out to be, long term living in Addis Abeba,
or any other part of this country for that matter,
would eventually lead us to become the very thing
that we try so hard to avoid not being.
To be perfectly honest, there is nothing more
Habesha about being Habesha than our
cordiality.
It starts with the most simple of things, such as
our hellos. We take the time to kiss each other. The
most wonderful thing about it is that it has no
gender exclusivity and does not imply anything other
than what it is - a most intimate and beautiful of
greetings. We take the time to ask about everything
from family, friends, and jobs to lovers and enemies
after, of course, we have taken the time to do all
the kissing.
Do not forget that this is never done sitting down.
We stand up to greet one another; we give the
respect that is due to all humans whether big or
small. And when it comes time to say goodbye, we
take the time to kiss once again and send our love
and hellos out to all the names and people we can
remember.
There is nothing more affectionate and considerate
than this.
But our affability is not limited to simply the
hellos and the goodbyes. It extends into a much
larger and more intricate structure in the form of
food. We, as Ethiopians, like to show our devotion
and affection by feeding those that are around us;
even when we do it for people we do not know, there
is something there that connects us and makes us one
big family.
We feed the people that come to fix odds and ends in
our homes, we pay for their lunches if it is a work
environment, we feed our employees at parties in our
homes, we feed the beggars that end up at our
doorsteps, we feed our families, and we feed our
parishes as we do our mosques.
Food is our own private unregistered version of
civil society. We reach out to those that are less
fortunate. We sit at tables with our equals and
extend a palm of friendship to those we would never
otherwise connect to. We extend our families and
enrich our lives by having a meal together or
offering up food as a way to bring people from all
walks of life together.
But there is nothing that expresses our caring for
one another and the consideration that we take for
our neighbours and friends than those times of
celebration and woe. These are the times when you
can clearly see the thickness of the thread of
concern that runs within the society.
Whether it is the Ethiopian funeral tradition, the
wedding tradition, the manner in which it celebrates
religious holidays or the simple gathering of
families; when a gathering is mandated, everybody
comes with their “A” game. People are ready to
contribute everything within their power to make
life easier for everyone else.
People are willing to work before and after they
eat; they are willing to mourn and cry with you or
dance and send their adulations up with you.
Whatever the reason, there they are; there we are.
It really is a beautiful thing.
Now if only this could be translated into more
personal or political endeavours. Imagine applying
these realities to our day- to-day work life, in our
relationships with our house staff or to the
relationship that we may have with distant extended
family members. Imagine the difference it would
bring. Imagine trying to use these very simple
principles when trying the implementation of new
rules, laws and policies.
Imagine that . . . I guess Jhon Lennon was right
after all. |
