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A few
blocks away from where I reside, there is a small eatery for
Muslims amicably referred to as the Tibs Bet. I have
seen non-Muslims also regularly visiting it. The mutton that
they serve is said to be fried on a large pan (biret
mitad), outdoors weather permitting, in a manner
reminiscent of a barbeque. The scent that wafts from the
roasting and seasoned mutton grill fills the air with an
irresistibly appetizing smell that causes any hungry mouth
to water.
Every
morning, I see dozens of little lambs, known as wankeys,
kept out in the cold. It saddens me to see those small,
innocent animals waiting to be slaughtered so that we can
survive. But then, it is nature’s law that only the fittest
and the strongest survive. I might humbly add “the haves”
to the list, for we have reached a scary stage of where
middle-income folks are on the brink of begging for food for
survival.
Incidentally, last week’s article, titled ‘Food For
Thought’, had a deliberate twist to the meaning of the
age-old adage as it focused on conveying the message that
food has become a matter of serious concern for the ordinary
people, to say the least. The soaring prices of food have
made many people miserable, yet at the same time creating a
windfall for some traders.
Three
days ago, people were making 100 Br profit from selling 25
kilos of wheat, which they had bought for 90 Br. At the time
of writing this article, which was two days later, the
profit margin had risen to 190 Br! I was horrified.
I
believe we have almost surpassed the threshold where we can
happily talk about how much profit we have made from the
sales of grain, or anything essential. It looks like the
time has come to examine our self-pride and trust in
humanity.
Our
faith in the value of good deeds and regard for each other
has to be expressed practically. That spirit was what I
witnessed last Sunday at the St. George Cathedral dining
hall, better known as the Senbette Bet, which is as
old as the city itself.
At the
gates of the churchyard, I saw a couple of young women
sitting in line and breast-feeding their babies. They have,
perhaps, been abandoned by the men who fathered the
children. They do not seem to care much about the part of
humanity that will make up the coming generation. “Even cow
dung begets children” was the harsh maxim I would hear from
quarrelling partners who never seem to care about their
children.
Senbette Bet
is a large hall where members eat together. It has sets of
tables and chairs that can accommodate as many as 800 people
or more. There are two partitions to it, one for members and
the other for invited guests. Attendants wearing badges give
identity badges to both groups, then show them to their
respective seats. I have yet to see better and more orderly
hosting in Addis Abeba, if not in the whole country.
A
massive portrait of Emperor Menelik and his spouse, as well
as some relics of the time, like the huge woven basket used
by the Emperor and the royal family, are placed in a
dignified corner for display. The laying of the table and
the way food and drink are served reflect the traditions of
the times. On the table in front of each chair, you find a
big nickel cup, a glass, a plate and napkins.
An
attendant carrying a huge, dark blue kettle fills your cup
even before you know it. The person besides you is given
rolls of injera by yet another server, then key
wot and alicha follow. These are stews, served
either with or without red pepper, stored in big kettles
with iron handles. Limitation is left to your own
discretion!
The
next food item in line is ketchup made from solid and semi
solid hot pepper and mustard. Yet another server hands out
knives. It must be anybody’s guess as to what follows. Lean
meat, my friends, as rich in colour as dark red pepper.
You are
forced, or may be persuaded to, take as much lean meat as
you want before the choma, or the yellow fatty meat,
is served. You need the knife only to slice as much as you
want the mouthful to be. Your teeth chew away at it. All you
have to do is swallow the sliced piece as if you are having
a spoonful of porridge. Would that expression be strong
enough to express the worth of two bulls that cost 22
thousand Br?
By now,
you may have guessed the purpose of the glass earlier
mentioned. Oh yes, another huge kettle of a different
colours, contains tej. Many people prefer drinking
tella because it is of the highest quality. Tej
is a little too strong for an ordinary boozer, according to
the experts in the field. Over 250 guests stayed put and
consumed food of the highest quality by Ethiopian cultural
standards.
After
lunch, I walked down to the Ras Makonnen Park, where the
scent and scene of beautiful flowers occupied my cultured
mind, to sip coffee. I saw an insect suck the nectar from a
flower and carry away its pollen powder. I imagined the
insect abandoning the flower, leaving it to dry out and turn
to dust. But miles away, cross reproduction begins from the
transported pollen, giving birth to a new breed of flowers.
I
thought that the nouveau riche and veterans would not
abandon their fellow human beings, at this critical moment
in time, which lends its misery not so much to drought or
food scarcity, but to the inability to shoulder market
prices. |
