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It was a Sunday morning and the streets were quiet
with people waiting for the usual Sunday traffic to
begin in the afternoon as is the norm in this
country. I was sitting around waiting on a friend
when two separate groups of guys immersed in
conversation strolled by me. They all walked at a
leisurely pace to go with the slow and languid day.
It appeared that the two groups were simply spending
some time out with their friends on a Sunday
morning, enjoying the nice weather that the skies
decided to grant us that day. The first group that
walked past consisted of three young men that were
engrossed in a conversation about God knows what.
They were speaking quickly and loudly in Tigrigna,
each trying to get their point across to the other
two. It was quite the animated conversation and I
noticed that it made more heads turn than just mine.
The second group, which was following close behind
them, was just as enthralled and vocal in their
conversation as the first group that had walked past
me; but they were speaking in Anch.
I understood none of what either group was saying,
partly because social decorum does not permit me to
listen in on other people's conversations and partly
because I am a fluent speaker of neither language.
But it was not the fact that they were speaking
different languages that struck me, but rather the
complexity of the similarity and differences, all
rolled into one. These guys, as far as the eyes
could see, were of the same mould and were only
variations on the same physical image. Were they to
have mute buttons, one would be forced to see more
similarities than differences.
They were all dressed in the Western style; I
understand that it is not the norm to see Ethiopians
dressed in their various traditional clothing on any
given Sunday, but the slacks, tee-shirts and
collared shirts that they were wearing made them
more similar than different. They had all chosen to
adopt a dressing culture that was not theirs, making
them the same in their tastes if nothing else.
They also all wore pretty much the same haircuts,
with their hair cropped close to their heads in the
style that many Ethiopian men choose. They were all
people who knew each other and happened to be out
for a Sunday stroll with their buddies, all on the
same road at the same time.
The main and only visible difference was their
heights and complexions.
But the thing that struck me the most was the fact
that this truth would hold true for any one of the
groups of guys that had walked past as I was sitting
there waiting for my appointment to arrive.
What is the fundamental social issue that has made
us think, believe and even come to an understanding
that there are differences between people? If we
look the same, are heated by the same sun, thirsts
quenched by the same water, and animated by the same
conversation points; what is it that has caused such
a rift among the different nations and peoples of
this country of ours?
Is it because of the manner in which we form our
words? There is a national language that could
potentially bridge that divide if only it were
offered in a refined manner at educational levels.
Is it because of religious differences that exist
between the nations? Is not this country known
across the world for its tolerance, even to the
point of being identified by some prophets as a safe
haven for the religiously oppressed to go?
Is it because each nation and all the people that
are a part of it have their own historical roots and
are just as proud of their heritage as every other
nation that has one to speak of? But is not
diversity and difference the reason for existence to
begin with? Is not that what makes the background of
a nation beautiful and appealing to those
generations that will be coming to fill this nation
to the brim after us?
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