BY HENOK TIBEBU
I was walking down the cobblestone street in our neighbourhood “Amrachoch” when I saw Fantu sitting on her porch making coffee for herself. I heard her saying “some people are born to waste their money and some to waste their time. What a wretched life.” The saying which I seconded unzipped my lips. Fantu is one of the peaceful psycho of our neighbourhood. She looses her mind when she runs out of money like most of the psychos in town.
I grew up in Debremarkos a small town found in east Gojjam Zone of Amhara state. It is a very old town whose growth observably stuck at some time before I was born. Currently, there are few signs that the town is waking up from its slumber. Buildings are growing up here and there. Trade is picking up. Ironically, the same is true with corruption. As it is true of elsewhere, it is hard to get served without greasing palms with oil these days. Is insomnia affecting the much-lauded improvers, we saluted to the power pedestal following the breath of fresh air.
Anyways Amrachoch has one special place that its youths choose to release their stresses from unemployment and economic inflation. It is well-known for the best local beer tella its residents make and sell at their houses. They make tella everyday the whole year and support their livelihood from the profit.
In this small town, many young men have no jobs. Since they have nothing important to do, they have a very long stubborn day. Most of them have lost purpose in life. Thus they loaf around looking for a place to spend their abundant time of idleness. They don’t feel like they are wasting their time or money. They rather feel like they are spending it on a worthwhile venture. We go to one of the tella houses and spend our long stubborn days drinking.
Actually I am lecturer at the Technical, Vocational, Education and Training College. I give courses from Tuesday to Friday. I also have a part time job on weekends. So the only long and stubborn day that I have is Monday.
Drinking tella starts early in the morning and ends at midnight on Monday. I like the chatters and laughter, conversations and arguments even the quarrel between the youngsters who drink thick strong tella in one of the houses at Amrachoch.
My friends and I are regular customers at Alemitu’s tella house with different rooms. But that doesn’t mean we spend the whole day there. We also visit some three or four similar houses for the chatter and laughter. But we prefer Alemitu’s corner for her best tella. Alemitu is also beautiful – on top of amazingly humbleness. It seems like I and two of my friends are in love with Alemitu even though none of us made it official.
We just watch her beautiful light skinned face and admire her elegance whenever she walks around with her big iron kettle to pour tella. The girl is quite all the time. She only responds when she is asked for how much to pay or when there is a trouble maker-tipsy barfly disturbing the house. When upset or provoked she turns a protective or wary mother tiger. She has fear for nobody when pushed to such a mood.
I like her attitude. I like her humble personality. I like her elegance. I like everything about her. All these in one, I could call true love. I want to make an open breast of my feelings for her hoping she could reciprocate in a similar fashion.
I have read the special respect she has for me more than any other customer referred a frequenter. She is intimate with the knowledge of my being a lecturer at the TVET College. Who would fail to respect a college lecturer in a small town like mine? I can propose to her any day any time and I am sure she would willingly make me the lucky guy.
But there is one problem in my family. How can I explain that to them? They are one of the most literate and intelligent families in town. Except the little children, everyone has graduated from different colleges with BA, BSC degrees and diplomas. My grandfather is the cornerstone. He is one of the most respected and educated senior citizen in the town.
I know he is not to be a trouble creator about my falling in love with a low class tella seller bewitching girl. My problems are my educated aunties. They are educated but always think, act and talk like illiterates.
Take my aunt Lube for instance. She has been a teacher in elementary school for fifty years. She is supposed to be wise and matured. But when it comes to racism, she turns out one of the stubborn racist.
One day we were sitting on the couch watching TV when we heard news that a house servant killed two children of her boss. My Lube didn’t hesitate when she made her racist conclusion. The servant must be from the Jubara ethnicity.
“How do you know?” I asked her. “I know there is no one who commits such cruelty except those that hail from Jubras’ ethnicity.”
Few hours later news came up that the killer is from Lube’s own ethnicity. Do you know what Lube said; she said “the Jubras must have forced the offender to commit the crime!”
My educated family’s logic is so twisted with reckless conservative reasoning on every issue. Despite their destitution they boast they fit the bill as a high class and look others down. So if I propose to Alemitu, the poor but so beautiful tella seller, they would go crazy saying how could you disgrace our family with a relationship with a simple tella seller?”
Even if willy-nilly they bless off our marriage I am certain they wouldn’t give us peace in the future. So I have to cherish my love just watching her from far and drown the pain by drinking her strong tick tella.
So, I was walking down the street to meet my friends at Alemitu’s corner while I heard Fantu uttering “some are born to waste their money and some to waste their time.”
“Which one of them do I represent?” I asked myself. The only spare day I have is Monday and I spend it gulping tella. I don’t call it wasting. Monday is my only long and stubborn day.
I love my neighbourhood Amrachoch. One can drink the best tella there in every house, every day with a cheap price. The women who sell tella also offere a good meal with good a portion and price. Chatter and laughter are for free and boundless. Sometimes you may be broke but there is no worry as you will find someone to buy you three or more glasses of tella. If a tipsy boozer wants to buy tella for you, he won’t pay for only one glass.
There is a saying that goes like “even a slap has to be repeated” so if one wants to invite you to tella, it is going to be glasses of two or above.
Here we are me and my friends Baba and Seifu drinking tella at Alemitu’s tavern. Baba is an engineer without a job. He doesn’t care less about finding a job because he lives with his wealthy family and is always financially secure. Seifu is a carpenter and from a poor family. He started out as an assistant in his friend’s family workshop. Now, he is a chief owning his own workshop.
We spend every Monday together drinking tella. The other days of the weeks are meant for business. “Why is Monday so boring?” I asked Baba, Baba is sometimes weird. He replied “Monday is not boring, it is stubborn.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I don’t know but the words are different”
Now Seifu who was staring at Alemitu for a long, as she silently sat on her small round chair on the right corner of the house and taken away by deep thoughts, God knows what she’s thinking. Seifu said “Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful? Isn’t she amazing? Isn’t she the loveliest creature in this planet? Isn’t she stressed? ……
“Stop it man!” This word came out of my mouth harshly. It was a sound of jealousy. I don’t want anyone to describe her beauty like that except me. But I was sober. I felt ashamed for my outburst. Apologetically and trying to be humours I said to Seifu “you sound as if you are in love with that girl?”
He doesn’t like the word love. Declaring your love in our community is considered to be cowardice. You have to keep your love a secret if you are man enough. So Seifu said “no I am not in love with Alemitu. She is just a tella seller, what I was trying to emphasize on was our being stressed?”
“Hu? I was confused because there is no link between what we were talking about and the final question he posed.
“I mean why are we always stressed? We never miss a Monday to be drunk. Isn’t it the result of stress? Nowadays, I am even stressed every day, what happened?” he seemed worried but I didn’t trust his diversion of idea of conversation because I never saw a stress on his face ever since we were toddlers.
So I didn’t answer his question. I was rather looking at him curiously. But Baba who always has weird answer for every question say “you didn’t feel it before or you felt it today but the truth is that we are born to be stressed. Stress is in our blood.”
“Why is that?” asked Seifu
“It’s is because of the economic inflation” I said trying to be logical. But unaccepted logic would come from Baba immediately. He said no economic inflation. That has got nothing to do with our stress. Economic inflation doesn’t stress our people including us. We are used to ruined economic system. We are just born to be stressed?”
Why is that?” asked Seifu again
“It’s because we were born during the civil war!”
“What does the civil war that stopped some thirty years ago has to do with our current stress?”
“It’s because we are the results of a stress-time physical intimacy!” said Baba.
We all laughed. Even Alemitu brusted out with a laughter, I have never seen before. Baba killed the stress in the house. Is there such a thing as a stress-time sex and a born stress? I don’t know but the life in Amrachoch will continue being blissful when you are stressed, stressful when you are happy. Life is ironic! Isn’t it?
The Ethiopian Herald December 22/2022
