HAPPY ETHiOPiAN CHRiSTMAS!!!!

   07 January 2016 or 23/04/08 Ethiopian Calendar (EC)

Hope

            The room is dazzling with pristine, white table clothes rubbing against the highest of Ethiopian fashion. Cameramen are invisible, but capture the announcers, award winners and guests against Castle Beer backdrops wishing all a Merry Christmas from Addis Ababa. A video is played which guests are able to watch. Even without knowing Amharic, the national language which the film uses, the message is clear. A young girl crouches beside six charcoal stoves with a wall of yellow jerry cans behind her as she chops onions finely. She packages dozens of meals in plastic Tupperware boxes that she carries in two large woven plastic baskets. On her back she straps on a black backpack that she fills with bottled water. She goes around selling her meals and water to people working on the streets of Addis. After the movie cuts out, the girl, wearing a beautiful white dress with small pink flowers, is standing besides the host on stage. In the preceding fifteen minutes she is awarded 40,000 birr from a bank, 40,000 birr from the hotel owner, 10,000 birr from an actress in the crowd, a 1,500 birr fridge and more totally over 1,000,000 birr (about $47,619 USD). She humbly bows her head as she wipes away the tears. She’s only ever dreamed of this and now can only say thank you for a new reality being granted to her.  Hope.

Peace

            She silently watches as I come in, though her smile and eyes dance as she recognizes me. I’ve barely sat down on a cinderblock when she comes over for a hug. She doesn’t respond to anything I say, but will raise her eyebrows in the cultural symbol for yes. As I’m handed a plastic plate of injera with chicken and egg-watt (soup), she stands nearby. Soon we are eating together. After finishing the meal, she pats my lap, asking in her own silent way if she can sit on it. I smile as I hoist up her small three-year-old frame. She bounces gently reminding me of the “This is the way that Baby rides” songs we’ve done before and is asking for it again. Then she relaxes into my arm to be rocked with “Rock-A-By Baby.” When I’m handed coffee, she just nestles into my arm and relaxes, gentle pushing her fuzzy head into the upper part of my left arm so I keep rocking gently. She plays with my hair gently getting it out of its braid. She trusts me as she leans all the way back. She twists my necklace to watch it twirl to get straightened out. She hasn’t a care in the world, and  just trusts me to hold her tight. Peace.

 

 Joy

             His brows furrow in confusion and interest as he quizzically holds the red paper package held together with three pieces of blue tape . He hands it to his father who opens one end while speaking softly in Tigrigna. The two year old boy stands on his toes to try to peak in. Out comes a small brown football, lighting up his brown eyes. Then out comes a blue matchbox car. A smile and squeal erupts from the child as he drops the ball to reach for the car. In seconds he is zooming it back and forth, against the wooden bed frame. He is a constant bubble of giggles as he “vrooms” it over the mattress, around the corner of the bed and on his dad’s head. After a while, he goes back to the football, barely able to get his small hands around the ball. He tosses it to his dad and across the room to his mom before deciding to throw it against the wall so it bounces back and knocks him on the head. Laughter fills the small room from all of us as we see him fall on the mattress giggling and clutching the ball in one hand and the car in the other. Joy.

 

Love

            My name is called out as two long-legged sixth grade girls come racing down the dirt path forcing me to stop. We are soon walking down the path giggling and bantering in a mix of Tigrin-glish. We race, skip and walk over rocks, around dung in the hot afternoon sun. Soon my arms are being draped over the girls’ shoulders as they continue to talk about the holiday, school, and life. One of the girls insists on taking me to her aunt’s house for some holiday treats, but we end up laughing outside for an hour without eating anything . Other kids come to laugh, learn and just love life. One of the girls comes over with a broken bottle of green fingernail polish and another quickly dips her small pointer finger in to use as a brush to paint my left fingernails and all toes. We play games while calling each other sisters and brothers until it’s time to go home. Love.

Christ in Christmas

            While in America kids count down to the two-week vacation and count up the presents gathering around the tree, Ethiopian children eagerly await the one day off school and end a 40 day fast with family eating lots of meat . It’s a day where teachers travel back to families as soon as possible, the church starts service at 5am and girls have fresh braids and beautiful dresses.

            Christmas in Selekleka isn’t about the propaganda, commercialism or consumerism. It’s about Jesus being born and celebrating that with family and friends. Food is prepared and shared freely with friends and family without looking at the costs or expecting anything in return. Coffee is roasted, ground, boiled and shared while laughing with the loved ones. It’s a thanksgiving to God for sending His only son to our world to show us how to live while allowing us to have a relationship with God.            

            Some days I hear people wishing to go to America, to be part of a thriving, developed country. However, it is days like today that I love Ethiopian culture. There may be no presents, Santa, snow or lights, but the focus of Christmas is on what really matters: Christ coming for us all to be part of his family with plenty of hope, peace, joy and love to go around.