Anane

I was born in Ethiopia. Ethiopia is located in east Africa, many call it the horn of Africa. I am not sure what day or year I was born. My birth was never recorded. I spoke Oromia as a child which is the native tongue of the Oromo people. With my parents Ayuntu and Musgabu, we lived in a mud hut along with my twin brother, Gamme. Life was not the best for us but we did not struggle like most people in our area. My father always worked and my mother stayed home taking care of us and the house. We had neighbors that my parents became close with. Every Sunday we would go and have coffee ceremonies with. I gotta say, coffee ceremonies were a big deal to Ethiopians. Though like many cultures have their own traditions, that was one of ours. Our home was built on a hill so every time we had to go hang out with the neighbors we would roll down the hill and into their place. Sadly that usually led to my mother screaming her guts out at us. Life was decent for us. Nonetheless, everything good sometimes has to come to an end…

I am not one hundred percent sure how old I was when my life completely changed. If I had to guess I would say around five years old close to six. Let me tell you how it all started. My brother and I were sleeping when out of nowhere I hear some loud talking. Being a curious kid, I get up and hide behind one of the walls. As I was trying to figure out what was happening, the argument between my parents becomes worse. I was frightened at this point so I wake up Gamme. As he tries to tell me to sleep, my curious mind gets closer and closer to where my parents were standing. Seconds later I see my mother pushing my father as he puts up his hands as if he was being arrested. When he did that I thought “why is he not pushing her back?” but my father was not like the other husbands in our area. He was respectful. Just as my brother told me to go to sleep, I started heading to my bed when all of a sudden I hear my father raise his voice. I would start yelling and screaming too if someone took a knife and started threatening me. That is what she did. It was normal for them to fight but that night was something different.

My mother subbing asks for my brother and me to pack our things. My father at this time has fled. No goodbyes. What I will never understand is how my mother had the chance to go get my grandparents since they lived miles from us. Unless they had phones that I did not know about. Who am I kidding, she probably walked to go get them and came back for us. I will never know though. Anyways, we headed for my grandparent’s house. We walked and walked for what felt like days but understandable since we had to leave in the middle of the night. Like com’on mother, we couldn’t wait till the morning?

You are probably wondering what happened after we arrived at the grandparents. Patience I am getting there. We accidentally walked into the ocean. If you believed that, I am sorry but that is kinda funny. IT IS ETHIOPIA...we barely had lakes where I lived. Okay, okay, okay let us proceed.

We arrived at my grandparents but their home seemed so much different than what I remembered. My grandparents home was surrounded by many homes. Theirs was placed in the middle, a neighbor in front of them, a neighbor on the left and right. In the back was the woods and in different parts of the yard, laid many crops. For Ethiopia, it seemed like my grandparents were wealthy at least in my eyes. Their home had carved out writing on the outside walls in different colors as did some homes in that region. I never understood what it was for though. It was beautiful and made the homes stand out. The inside of the home was tight. You walk in and on the right is a casket (remember this it’s important), on the other side you have a firepit and some handmade mud chairs (yeah ill call it that). As you take maybe three feet forward, you have my grandfathers master bedroom. Yes, I would call it that because it was a bigger area than any in the house. On the side stood an open gateway to the kitchen and my grandmother’s sleep area. The way homes were laid out to fit their needs was amazing.

For a few days, we were comfortable. They fed us, dressed us, and made us at home. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. It started simple actually. We would wash the dishes and wipe off the tables every time food was served which was not a big deal especially for them being older. Respect the elderly, right? But taking advantage of children, how far is too far? The first time I disobeyed my grandmother because I wanted to take a break from carrying sticks home for the fire, she was not happy. Is that considered disobeying though or is it considered needing rest from being tired? In her eyes, it did not matter. She shoved down her sticks and bag. As she started to come near, I could tell how angry she was. What I couldn’t understand at the time was why she was so angry at me needing rest. She came close to me and started yelling about how I should never disobey her orders. If she told me to keep moving even if I was tired, I had to do what she said or else I would be punished. You may be curious as to what the punishment would be and no it was not just some slap on the tush. As we got home, she told me that she was to never hear me complain and in the corner laid a thick whip. I tried to run but I could not escape. I got a few whips on my butt and arms. As I screamed and screamed for help from my grandfather and brother, they sat down ignoring the situation. The next day I was silent most of the day scared I was going to do or say something wrong. This type of act and punishment continued but yet got worse and worse.

I felt like I was imprisoned at my grandparents. We had to do hard labor. We could not refuse and if we did, we would be beaten. As the youngest girl in the house, I had to always wash my grandfather’s feet before bed. Let me tell you it was not a site to see. I now know what it was called what he had on his feet and legs. It is called Podoconiosis which could have been prevented if they had good shoes or at least I hear now. As it should be the elderly were to be treated with the highest respect but some took to much of an advantage. My grandfather smoked a lot of cigarettes. I would say around three packs a day and I always had to go buy it for him. No matter what, he had to have it if he was out. That was one thing my grandma disliked about him. Not because smoking was bad for you but because it obviously cost money. I am not sure if many people knew if smoking was bad for you since many of us were uneducated. Anyways, my grandpa barely ever said anything. When he spoke, it was usually to scold us or to argue back with ayati (grandma).

Every night before the neighbors and my family headed to sleep, we always gathered in front of my grandparent’s house. The adults would sit there and chat about probably how the donkeys have been in their corn again. The kids, on the other hand, ran around playing all the games they could think of. One of my favorite memories (sarcasm intended) is when all the other kids would grab frogs and either chase me with them or try and put the frogs all over me. Tasteful right? It makes a lot of sense as to why I despise frogs now. Have you ever had a frog pee on you? Yup. Not cute. Few minutes before we would all depart, we would all sit down gathered under the stars watching them. I was always curious as to how they sparkled the way they did or why there were so many of them. Nights like those were the only times my grandfather would be social. Otherwise, he sits on his “throne” all day until we all gather up at the end of the night. I never understood his silence. My grandmother was very social. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. Two completely different souls.

Since our lives were not spectacular but we tried our best to make what we had, one we did that was by always saving extra corn after picking to use as dessert before bed. Yes, we had dessert before bed. You don’t do that? All jokes aside, we would make a fire and sit there and grill our corn. I preferred mine as black as it could come. That my friends was our dessert. My grandma and I slept next to the fire pit where we also cooked and cleaned and a couple feet away to the corner my grandfather and brother slept. Our beds were not like the beds you would think of. Layered with some thick sticks, we covered our bed with banana leaves and other materials we could find for comfort. My grandfather, on the other hand, had a bed with a real mattress and sheets. Why? Well, like I said before, the elderly are to be treated with respect especially the men. Plus, my grandparents were never really fond of each other.

*Unfinished*