BY HENOK TIBEBU
Death has become a cheap thing ever since the official outbreak of Coronavirus throughout the world. At the beginning people feared it. They tried to be as cautious as they could in using safety materials and following the protective procedures advised by the Ministry of Health.
Daniel the author didn’t quit his job that time. But he didn’t like some of the restrictions particularly the one that prohibits eating raw meat. He is a big fan of a red raw meat with a little fat on it. His soul would rejoice when the fat pisses in his mouth, while he is chewing the raw meat.
He was highly paid during those good days so he afforded to enjoy raw meat with a strong spice called ‘senafich’ that suffocates a nostril and invites balls of sweat on a forehead. Yet it feels great. It was tantamount to having a shot of an old scotch.
However, he couldn’t afford to enjoy a similar chance of such taste after he quitted his job deciding to be a full time writer. Whenever he misses the taste of the red raw meat with fat and the accompanying feeling in his nostril from the ‘senafich’ he would regret quitting his job and say to himself “full time my elbow.”
He has a good experience in journalism that would make him a perfect fit in any public relations or media posts, but he is not trying hard to get a job. He is a starving fulltime author who observes the wretched lives of alcoholic young men and women although he still didn’t pen down a paragraph.
COVID-19 seems no more an issue not only among the alcoholic slam community members, but also among the majority of ordinary citizens these days. Even though the prohibition to eat raw meat is already lifted the author has no means and ways to afford it. So he could only reminisce the good old days and salivate with memories while suffering famishment. Those young alcoholic men and women spend their days reminiscing and salivating as they drink the hard liquor, sipirri with their empty stomach.
They always shuttle on the streets and collect some forty or fifty Birr and run straight to the sipirri houses. They drink sipirri with their empty stomachs and they start talking about appetite whetting meals. When they talk about a nice meal drinking hard liquor with an empty stomach, the salivation will push the hunger to its peak. Then they will start getting aggressive on one another.
Most of the times, he could hear them talking about different dishes as he lies on his mattress. “Have you ever been to the Palace Tej house around Megenagna?” says one of them. “Of course it is the Tej that I had their back in the days. Tej is another Ethiopian traditional drink made of honey which kept my face still shiny, responds Fapplaw.
“Have you also tasted the raw meat and the gaslight (chopped and fried meat)?”
“Yes I remember it was abundant!”
“Right! I like a person who talks the real truth. Do you remember how delicious it feels when the fat melts in your mouth?” Oh gone are those good days. We had enjoyed such a meal and liquor orgies till we were spoiled. We used to have a great life then.
“Well those days are behind us. May our souls rest in peace!” said Fapplaw and they all laughed. They know that they are lost. But they can’t admit it practically. Some of them would try to improve themselves by going to the highly respected monasteries for a month. They would fast and stay away from sipirri for a few weeks talking about their spiritual life of a month in the monastery. Then they would start by smoking cigarette. Later everything will be back to routine, sipirri, gossip, crashing ceremonies for food and loafing on the streets to collect money for sipirri.
The author went on thinking about their lives. He said to himself “these are individuals who have their lives ruined by sipirri. But isn’t Africa like this? With a lesser voice African leaders always attend the meetings of supper power countries. Isn’t it like crushing ceremonies without invitation and talking away leftover meals for the people waiting on them at the sipirri house?”
Most of the times the people who host hail ceremonies give those sipirri addicted young men laborious jobs of cleaning up the mess on their compounds before and after the ceremony, because there is no such as a free meal. After their labor jobs are done they would get meal and be allowed to take away leftovers for their friends in the sipirri house. Isn’t how our leaders dealing with the western nations all these years?” asks himself the author.
The hosts would say “hey keep your hands away from that dish. It is for the honorable guests. You have to stay aside until we call you for the fist. Most of the sipirri-addicted community doesn’t like waiting. They would curse and leave the host’s place. Masho is one of them. She would say “who are you to tell me to stay aside? I have a wealthy and proud family. It is just that I never go to them. Go to hell with your meals and drinks! I am Masho Kidane!” then she would leave without even having one bite from the meal.
There are other sipirri addicts who don’t have any dignity. They would stay lined up until the rich host’s of the ceremony tells them to go and dig for the leftover food. They would eat the leftovers and take away for their friends waiting at the sipirri house. Reclining on the mattress behind the wall and hearing them diving on the food that comes from the ceremony the author would say to himself “isn’t how African countries live by taking leftovers money and wheat from the wealthy countries?”
Then he got up from his mattress and went to the sipirri house. Thus was because he heard a squashing sound of a plastic bag and the sipirri. People saying “come on eat up” This is a blessed food of St Mary? He was hungry. He has to join them.
The moment he got there the food was half eaten. The sipirri society said “hey Daniel come on join us” But he restrained himself. The one bite chunk they shovel into their mouth is nothing less than a new born baby. He became intimidated as if they would gobble him down too. The food provided could have been more than enough for them. But the hunger couldn’t allow them to eat up with a respectful manner. Everyone was taking in what s/he feels could placate his/her hunger. But drops down on the floor, while they were gobbling down the pieces of food could calm anyone’s hunger living on the streets.
The rich would throw a leftover of meat once and gets praise from the poor as well as their likes. The poor do menial jobs the whole year and gets a leftover meal with the order from the rich (host) to stay aside until the honorable guests are done eating and drinking. Some snitch dog from the same miserable walk of life would pick some leftover meat from the side of the street and say to the minister “your excellency you were about to step on this grizzly piece of meat and slip down hadn’t I seen it first.” Then he will be given a leftover authority to be a state minister or something else.
After enjoying the leftover food, “Hey guys, let me tell you a story”, said Fapplaw. “One of the poor countries state minister who thinks everything westerners say is always right went to meet the president of a wealthy country,” said Fapplaw to his alcoholic friends. He also met the first lady Mrs Rabbi Climon. While they were having a conversation Rabbi asked the state minister “who do you think is the most truthful person in the world?”
“I don’t know! Who is it?” he posed a curious face.
“I am!” said Rabbi.
This state minister returned home thinking of the puzzle he would get his wife with the moment he got home. He asked his wife “who do you think is the most truthful person in the world?” his innocent wife wanting to please him answered “you are” He replied “no you are wrong!” then she said “If it is not you then it is me!”
“Nope you are still wrong!”
“Who is it then?”
“It is Rabbi Climon you fool!”
His wife tried to divorce him after that day but he was the powerful man in his poor country. This was how his poor country has been led by such a leader who doesn’t know his own abilities or disabilities,” said Fapplaw and finished his story.
The author would say to himself “Only if these barflies get a chance to be rehabilitated and given a job, they still can go back to a normal life.” But he is not even sure whether his own life would go back to normal. He’s drinking too much and did not write a single line even though he claims to be a fulltime author.
THE ETHIOPIAN HERALD FRIDAY 18 NOVEMBER 2022
