Addis Perceptions
By Aster Mengesha Gubay
It’s a Thursday. I wake up to the sounds of neighborhood roosters (my new alarm clock), gather my things, and proceed to my morning stroll through our top view neighborhood to catch a ride to work. All the while, ignoring stares at my fire red rain boots and smiling to myself because I couldn’t believe I was really back in Ethiopia.
In a span of thirty minutes my smile disappeared, I had accidentally stepped in a big puddle of chika (mud), and gotten into a “friendly” argument with my taxi driver. He couldn’t understand why I left America for Ethiopia – apparently saying I wanted to serve my country was not a fitting answer. Then, I slipped on the front steps of my office building with everyone around me reaching out and yelling “ayezosh!”
“It was only 9:30 AM. Not the day I was expecting.”
I entered our building’s elevator wet, cold, and frustrated. I walked, or rather ran, straight to my cubicle, opened up notes on my laptop and journaled my frustrations out before my co-workers could catch a whiff of my sour attitude.
As I was typing, I came across a quote I had previously recorded in my personal journal months ago:
“The brother or sister you think is being regressive could be being progressive in a way you can’t yet understand…” – Toure, author of Who’s Afraid of Post Blackness?: What it Means to be Black Now
In that very moment my entire mood had changed. Something clicked. Why? I realized that this is Ethiopia in a nutshell, and if I was going to make it these next couple of months I would need patience and some serious understanding.
The Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Skyline
My first week here I suppressed trying to understand or question how things operate in Ethiopia, in hopes of blending in and not seeming too foreign. I didn’t want to be the girl asking why this and why that – I wanted to feel as if I was in touch with everything. I subconsciously thought that if I didn’t open my mouth, I could get by without seeming like a privileged American. Instead, doing this led me to my boiling point, aka Thursday morning with Yonas (the taxi driver who was just not buying my answer about why I was in Ethiopia).
That particular day taught me a lesson. I learned it was okay to ask, to examine, to disagree, to feel – because while Ethiopia is mine, it isn’t mine at the same time. The only way I can really get to know this country is to take the time to understand, and broaden my thinking on how my brothers and sisters, who I may assume are regressive, are progressive in a way I can’t understand.
“I learned it was okay to ask, to examine, to disagree, to feel – because while Ethiopia is mine, it isn’t mine at the same time.”
It’s only been two weeks.
Cheers to understanding.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Ethiopian Diaspora Fellowship the organization and the leadership.