I’ve told you that I live one of the oldest villages in the city, didn’t I? (I could feel a few smirking; “Don’t tell me this moron thinks we’re going to blow him kisses for that!!” ‘Old’ is about numbers. Over the years the place filled with many drinking places and night spots, achieved a reputation for being, how do I put this, one of the scariest places in the city. Yes, over the years especially during the late evening hours there are many bust-ups and literally mini-battles as groups fight groups with alcohol having sent their testosterone levels through the roof to the point where they believe they could break jaws or knock out teeth at will. It isn’t reputation that gives comfort. But then despite the dangers of stupid conclusions spoiling arguments it’s easy to come up with reasons and excuses for such scenes. But let’s not get into that, as things have changed over the years and issues have kind of shifted.
Look, while we’re at it, there is this talk that the village being fairly close to the Addis Ababa University, freshmen used to discover their manhood especially on the eve of Easter. That’s for ‘general knowledge’ sake and comments have been turned off.
I laugh when people react with surprise whenever I tell them where I live. “What!” For many that loud and sort of emotional “What!” tells the whole story. Well, especially in later years while there still are a lot of drinking places and night spots many parts of the city seem to have taken the title over. But all said, and this is not an attempt at niceties, the social life is a completely different story. And I can tell you words like “scary” don’t feature here. It’s one of the places where many of the residents are on the lower rungs of the economic ladder and still you can’t believe the level of societal interactions.
Of course even though times have changed and the entire structure of our moral standards is shaking to the roots humane behaviors still are in abundance. Decades back in the last days of the monarchy there were this rich couple in the village who owned a good portion of it. They had coffee plantations and when harvest time comes the villagers mostly got kilos of coffee for free. You see at times the rich/poor divide while there was much of it doesn’t always work.
The coffee ceremonies are one of the very rich cultures though the pseudo-civilized for years try to paint them otherwise. The coffee ceremonies where largely women of the area gathered to enjoy coffee and also discuss issues, borrow in cups of shuro or ground peeper. “Can you give me three injera? I’ll give it back tomorrow.” You don’t hesitate to present such questions. With condos the script has changed much.
Take the iddirs for example, the communal associations where villager rich or poor congregate. Though the iddirs mainly focus on ensuring that members or their immediate families get proper sending off when they pass away there are many positive aspects which bring people closer together. It’s so wonderful members who before they became iddir members barely greet each other become good friends because of their membership.
“Do you know Bekele?”
“Bekele? Sorry I couldn’t …”
“Bekele, that heavy set man who works…”
“Oh you mean that Bekele! I know him very well. We’re in the same iddir.” You see what I mean? Even being members of the same iddir brings people together to the point where they develop relationships where they borrow and lend each other food or other items. In such places even many of the residents who are on the higher economic rungs don’t try to flaunt their economic advantages; no one acts as they could buy half of Gibraltar for the asking; no one looks down on any one.
Now the difference between the good old villages and the ‘modern’ condos are multiple. Many who have lived much of their lives in villages where life is always full and the communal feeling is displayed in a hundred and one way going to places where your doors are locked almost 24/7 is hard transition. I’ve told you about people I know who haven’t seen their next door neighbors for years! Yes, for years!
In the villages any villager you’re familiar with could knock on your door for one reason or another and much of the time received well even offered some drink or a bite or two of some food. In fact they could even knock and when you open say, “I just came to see if you’re well.” Now isn’t that what community is about!
A month or so back I had to go to one of the most striking residences not for tea or coffee but to discuss about some writing issue. Now I used the term ‘the most striking’ based on my own measuring roads. But once I was out and told that to a couple of friends they laughed. In fact they ignored my adjectives and said “You haven’t yet seen anything.”
In the place where the villa I went to is found most of the houses were residences of rich people and it wouldn’t be exaggeration to say there is little or no sign of poverty. Hmm. the gates are locked like they were highly sensitive nuclear sites. Now that contrasts with the open doors in poorer neighborhoods where despite far from full dining tables humanity still thrives.
Now why am I writing this at this time when we aren’t short of pressing agendas? I saw this social post belittling traditional neighborhoods of the city and painting them as nothing but the last resting place before Hell! Whoever wrote that demeaning hate-filled post in the first place knows nothing about the places and must be one of those who because they probably were born into money and riches think the rest of humanity is below par on the scale of humanity whatever that means. The danger such hate-filled narratives which do nothing to do away with artificial walls built to keep humanity divided infect fresh minds of the youth.
To those who write venomous, uninformed and purely evil narratives like the one I told you about we have only this to say; ‘Take Your Prejudices Elsewhere!’
The Ethiopian Herald November 5/2023