My political baptism occurred at the age of 16, when I was  still at school in Addis Abeba.  I grew up in Mercato, a neighbourhood in which Muslims and Christians intermingled freely, and there was no sense that any person there needed an exclusive identity attached to just one label.
 

Our family contained many identities, ethnic and religious. I went to a multi-ethnic, multi-religious neighbourhood school. At the time of Eid in 1967, I read a headline in the state daily Addis Zemen, "Muslims in Ethiopia Celebrate Eid." The implication that Muslims were in Ethiopia and not of Ethiopia enraged me and I wrote a letter to the editor, insisting that the headline should have read, "Ethiopian Muslims Celebrate Eid." I am happy to say that the newspaper printed the letter.
 

By in large, Ethiopians are comfortable with multiple identities. Our country could not survive if we merely attached one label to ourselves and stuck with it. For the last 30 years, our national political discourse has revolved around the nature of ethnic and national identity - should we be simply "Ethiopians"? Should one identity label have the privilege of dominating others? Should we be a federation of different nationalities?
 

This has been an important political discussion; I am glad to see that Ethiopians' sense of tolerance and mutual accommodation is alive and well. But equally important is the question of religious identities and adherences. Just as the nationalities question was the challenge for the last generation, it may be that the question of faith will be the challenge for the next.
 

The Ethiopian Millennium has been an opportunity to focus on our common heritage. The New Year we celebrated on September 12th was based on a Christian calendar, reflecting our long and proud Christian tradition. Along with my fellow Ethiopian Muslims, I am proud of that heritage, and consider the Christian civilisation achievements of our history to be my achievements too.
 

Shortly before, we celebrated 1,000 years of Harer. This was an opportunity to reflect on our Islamic heritage, which dates back to the days of the Prophet. Even while the Prophet and his fellow Muslims were living in Mecca, before the days of Medina, he sent some of his companions to seek refuge in Ethiopia. Here they found safety and protection, especially when the Christian King refused the demands of a delegation from Arabia to return the refugees.
 

The Prophet specifically recognised the role of Ethiopia in protecting and nurturing Muslims, and Islam's tradition of asylum for those fleeing persecution can be dated from the first Muslims' experience here in Ethiopia.
 

Harer, of course, came many centuries later, but it too is a fine example of that tradition of tolerance and hospitality. Harer is one of Islam's most venerated cities. Unlike Mecca, Medina and Karbala, it is not situated in an overwhelmingly Muslim country. And unlike Jerusalem, it is not the site of fierce and violent contest. Harer has its own special status under Ethiopia's federal constitution, but that legal protection is a reflection of a longstanding social and political reality - Harer has always been protected, and Muslims there have always been respected.
 

There are about as many Muslims in Ethiopia as there are Christians. Muslims are well represented in commerce and local governement, but much less so in politics and national administration, which do not yet reflect our nation's social integration. That will surely change as educational opportunities spread throughout the country and a new generation of Ethiopians rises to leadership positions.
 

It is already changing: the chief of staff of the Ethiopian army, the man most immediately entrusted with safeguarding our sovereignty, is a Muslim. In the history books we used to read, the writers usually implied that Islam was somehow alien to Ethiopia - that it was brought by invaders, and that the only authentic Ethiopians were Christians. That was wrong then and thankfully it is much more widely recognised as being wrong today. Muslims are an integral and equal part of Ethiopia's social and cultural fabric.
 

As I have repeatedly stated, our identities are multiple.
 

For me, along with many other Ethiopians of all faiths, the uprooting and emigration of the Beta Israel, the Ethiopian Jews often known as Falashas, was an irreparable cultural loss. The Falashas were also an integral part of our society and culture, and with their departure we have all lost part of ourselves. It is important that our folklorists and anthropologists also catalogue and respect the other existing noble spiritual beliefs held by many Ethiopians, which are neither Christian nor Muslim, such as the ancient Hebraic religion of the Qemant, the theistic beliefs of many traditional Nuer and Anuak, and animistic faiths of some of the peoples of the Southern region. They too are part of us and we must cherish their diverse faiths.

Part of my family is originally from Wollo, the cockpit of Ethiopia, where the warring armies of princes and amirs fought each other to a standstill over many centuries. Over many years, the Wollo people learned two important and intertwined lessons: they have overlapping and multiple identities, and none of these identities are worth fighting one another to the death over. To this day, it is common to find that Wollo families can count themselves as both Amhara, Oromo, Afar and Tigray, and can contain devout Christians and Muslims, without strife.

The true loss is when we are forced to choose monolithic identities. This tears us apart, as a nation, as communities, and even as families. Sadly, it is the direction that the rising tide of international religious fundamentalism is taking us.

The Wahhabis, who follow an intolerant and arrogant strain of Islam that is deeply alien to our culture, have been visibly financing various groups lately. It will not be long before they try to organise politically. Well-funded Christian fundamentalists from Europe and the United States (US) are setting up new fundamentalist churches with powerful loudspeakers, and some leaders of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, feeling the competition, are joining in this contest of loudspeakers.

We are facing difficult times, when the US "war on terror" is stigmatising Muslims, and Islamic leaders are feeding on the anger of ordinary Muslims to generate an ideology of Islamic resistance. Our faiths are becoming politicised, a far cry from the everyday longing of ordinary worshippers to lead a decent life in a way consistent with their beliefs. Alliances with outsiders who do not share our interests and do not appreciate the importance of our multi-layered social fabric, spell danger.
 

We need to insulate ourselves from the religious and conflicts of civilisations that swirl around large parts of the globe, and instead nurture our indigenous culture of coexistence.
 

The first Eid of the new Ethiopian Millennium is almost upon us. This is an opportunity for Muslim Ethiopians to invite Christian Ethiopians to celebrate the Eid, and celebrate the common Ethiopian identity shared by all of us. I wish my brothers and sisters "Eid Mubarak"!

 The writer can be reached at awasa101@yahoo.com