my e-mail to a friend

Hi there,

Thank you for your message.

It might interest you to know that I do not believe there is such a thing as "unconditional love", even with God. Having been a "born-again Christian" for 8 years hasn't turned me into a pretty girl everybody wanted to date either, however much I felt "wondrous to behold" inside. And that's what it all boils down to, if you think of it. You might stay at home feeling "grand" about yourself but the reality out there preaches you otherwise and you tend to listen [to it] after some time.

If there is anything to be grateful about, it's my having grown out of those "sentiments". That "beautiful on the inside", "unconditional love", "twin souls", "soul mate", "happily ever after", "bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh" etc crap. Both religious and otherwise!. And when you think about it, it's not like there is much difference between the meaning the born again and the unregenerate attaches to life [and the things in it]. From the beginning of time, men have been trying to "find God", meaning in life, harmony in the world [what St. Augustine called "the desire of a God"] in their own ways. And they have created their own gods, have felt pretty special about it, have claimed to be pretty special [because of it], have said their god was better than all other gods, that he/she/it only listens to them when they do certain things, that there is a lake of fire [and or some sort of misery] they'd be thrown into if they erred from "the right path" or the reward of happiness [in the land that flows with honey and milk] [in a garden of 70 virgins] [etc] when they play by the rules.

I was reading the "Epic of Gilgamesh" only the other day and you won't believe the stuff it has in common with stuffs in the bible, and it's like the oldest book in the world, right? [I've been told that Moses actually copied part of that book when talking about creation].

I don't know much about being a "realist" but I think I have turned into one unawares. I respect my parents not because God ordained it but only if they are found to be worthy of my respect. I don't think children are a gift from God, lovely as they are, because I live in Ethiopia and children are a curse here, to both their parents and themselves. And I certainly do not believe God created a man just for me, or would drag one by the neck so that I'd marry him. I can't believe I believed those things when I did. They are big fucking jokes! I know you'd have ample words in the bible as a response to this. Responses, if I may add, written by confused-by-God folks who refused to let go of the idea [that was Him]. That I can only "see" after I believed. Hebrew 11, etc. But that won't amount to anything more than what it is to me. A bunch of excuses we cooked up to replace the truth. Because facing the reality out there [the truth] would mean letting go of that sense of a "loving, accepting God" who would adore us and forgive us do what we might [something even our most loving parents aren't capable of doing]. It would also mean we aren't "chosen, loved until death" anymore. Without the bible and it's idea of an Agape-love, we would be our unloved-rejected-by-all selves. That's why most of us would cling to the idea that it's the world that's screwed up and not the bible, and that even Christ has said "you would have tribulation in this world", but "be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world". If not, there is always "heaven" to fall back on. The reward in the world to come to those who didn't make it in the world to go. Hmm... that DOES sound like the kind of thing a child would come up with, doesn't it? But then again the bible has said we can not go into heaven unless we were like "these little ones", right?!. So go figure!!

Lol. Sorry about that. But don't you find it odd that the most religious people are the most rejected people in this world?! Doesn't that tell you something more about your bible and it's real significance than just God choosing the "foolish of this world" to shame "the wise", etc?!.

You know, Hollywood seems to agree with this sentiment too. It's always the now-cool, desirable, successful, hunky guy beating up, making fun of, outwitting, or getting back at his old high school bully. Can't we, the rejects of this world, be doing the same when clinging unto our bibles and it's obviously unreal preachings when we show our leather bound black books to our "bullies", [the super models, the rich and successful, all those we envy] and say to them "Jesus loves me, oh yes he does, because the bible tells me so?!", I am accepted by God-not you, He loves me too, He's created me "marvelous and wonderful" -same as you, your happiness is like a dew in the morning that disappears when the sun rises - but not mine, I am going to heaven-and, honey, you ain't! And aren't they probably saying "dude, get a life"?!.

Please do not bother to get back to me using words from the bible. If I haven't made that clear already, I'd make it now. I do NOT believe the bible is "God's" word. Because, I simply don't believe in "the God of Abraham" thing [anymore]. That is a book written by a couple of Jews in Diaspora who needed "the idea of a God" [who CHOSE them over all nations of the world, hello!] to feel better about their position as foreigners in strange lands and never-really-liked-by anybody [never really liked by anybody.. hmm... interesting!] in very much the same way we [those who don't look "too pretty" to the real world outside] need the idea of a God to walk with our head held high. Even at the cost of the truth!! Unless, ofcourse, we decide to grow up some time. Like I did. Decided, I mean to say, not necessarily ;).

Have a nice day,

Corn/Corny/Corn[y]ish

1. This guy asked me if his company can publish my would-be-first-Ethiopian-Pultizer-Prize-winner-book after which I'd take leave [of my senses, thought I] to travel with him so that he can show me what a woman like me deserves from a["real", i believe, had accompanied the word] man.
2. This other guy told me he's told his momma about me and would grab the next plane to Ethiopia to change my name to Mrs. Richard Jones if only I gave him the yes.
   This third guy told me when he comes to Ethiopia in September; he'd give me one night in which he'd do all that I asked him to do. ["it's my body you want" he typed boldly "and I'd give it to you". Mmmm!].
3. This fourth guy told me he'd move back to Addis if I wear my "green dress" when he comes in November for his brother's wedding.
4. This final guy complained since his father home has told him Ethiopia is a country where you can't buy a pair of good boots unless you saved for them for 6 months, I'd have to wait for two more years to see him.
   
   And I wrote all of them, except the final guy who had the decency of sending me bars of chocolate - twice, begging them to send me Zadie Smith's latest book (The Autograph Man). Whose purchase and expense i promised to cover and take whoever comes to take the money out for lunch or dinner, depending on his/her gender.
   And none of them wrote back.
   
   Now, am I supposed to judge all men through these five from Tasmania-Aussie; Newark-USA; Seattle-USA; Somewhere-in the USA and Kipfieng-Germany [shake my fist or raise my eyes mutely up to heaven] or am I to describe my past, and the affections zereen, in three verbs: waste, wasted, wasted!
   
   *Sighs*. Maybe I should just give my exboyfriend a call. He's always said he misses what we had [what we had, he meant, in bed]. Hopefully, his wife doesn't pick his state of the art, USD 280+tax+income tax Nokia mobile.

The Art of "How not to do it"

The Addis Ababa University [hereinafter referred to as "the AAU"] is (as everybody knows without being told) the most important Department under Government in Ethiopia. No public figures of any kind could possibly hope to be accepted by the public at any time without the acquiescence of the AAU "Intellectuals" [hereinafter referred to as "Intellects"]. Its finger is in the largest public pie, and in the smallest public tart. It is equally impossible to do the plainest right and to undo the plainest wrong without the express authority of the AAU "Intellects". If a nuclear bomb had been discovered half an hour before the lighting of the match, nobody would have been justified in saving the country until there had been half a score of boards, half a bushel of minutes, several sacks of official memoranda, and a family–vault full of ungrammatical correspondence, on the part of the AAU.

This glorious establishment had been early in the field, when the one sublime principle involving the difficult art of governing a country, was first distinctly revealed to Haileselassie I. It had been foremost to study that bright revelation and to carry its shining influence through the whole of the "intellectual". Whatever was required to be done, the AAU was beforehand with all the public departments in the art of perceiving—HOW NOT TO DO IT.

Through this delicate perception, through the tact with which it invariably seized it, and through the genius with which it always acted on it, the AAU has risen to overtop all the public departments; and the public condition had risen to be—what it is.

It is true that How not to do it is the great study and object of all public departments and professional politicians all round the country. But AAU's ability on how every new lecturer and every advisor, coming in because they had upheld a certain thing as necessary to be done or are Core Members of the rulling party [in Moges' case], applied their utmost faculties to discovering How not to do it is a mystery. The moment an election is over, every returned man who had been raving on hustings because it hadn’t been done, and who had been asking the friends of the honourable gentleman in the opposite interest on pain of impeachment to tell him why it hadn’t been done, and who had been asserting that it must be done, and who had been pledging himself that it should be done, began to devise, How it was not to be done.

It is true that the debates of every member of the AAU the whole session through, uniformly tended to the protracted deliberation, How not to do it. It is true that the royal speech at the opening of such session virtually said, My colleagues and invited guests, you have a considerable stroke of work to do, and you will please to retire to your respective chambers, and discuss, How not to do it. It is true that the royal speech, at the close of such session, virtually said, My colleagues and invited guests, you have through several laborious months been considering with great loyalty and patriotism, How not to do it, and you have found out; and with the blessing of Providence upon the harvest (natural, not political), I now dismiss you. All this is true, but the AAU went beyond it.

Because the AAU went on mechanically, every day, keeping this wonderful, all–sufficient wheel of intellectuality, How not to do it, in motion. Because the AAU was down upon any ill–advised public servant who was going to do it, or who appeared to be by any surprising accident in remote danger of doing it, with a minute, and a memorandum, and a letter of instructions that extinguished him. It was this spirit of national efficiency in the AAU that had gradually led to its having something to do with everything. Writers, natural philosophers, teachers, people with grievances, people who wanted to prevent grievances, people who wanted to redress grievances, jobbing people, jobbed people, people who couldn’t get rewarded for merit, and people who couldn’t get punished for demerit, were all indiscriminately tucked up under the foolscap paper of the AAU.

Numbers of people were lost in the AAU. Unfortunates with wrongs, or with projects for the general welfare (and they had better have had wrongs at first, than have taken that bitter abesha recipe for certainly getting them), who in slow lapse of time and agony had passed safely through other public departments; who, according to rule, had been bullied in this, over–reached by that, and evaded by the other; got referred at last to the AAU, and never reappeared in the light of day. Boards sat upon them, secretaries minuted upon them, commissioners gabbled about them, clerks registered, entered, checked, and ticked them off, and they melted away. In short, all the business of the country went through the AAU, except the business that never came out of it; and its name was Legion.

Sometimes, angry spirits attacked the AAU. Sometimes, parliamentary questions were asked about it, and even parliamentary motions made or threatened about it by demagogues so low and ignorant as to hold that the real recipe of government was, How to do it. Then would the Doctor, or right honourable Professor, in whose department it was to defend the AAU, put an orange in his pocket, and make a regular field–day of the occasion. Then would he come down to that house with a slap upon the table, and meet the honourable gentleman [Prime Minister/Minister of Capacity Building] foot to foot. Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman [Premier/Minister of Capacity Building] that the AAU not only was blameless in this matter, but was commendable in this matter, was extollable to the skies in this matter. Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman [P/M.C.B] that, although the AAU was invariably right and wholly right, it never was so right as in this matter. Then would he be there to tell that honourable gentleman [etc etc] that it would have been more to his honour, more to his credit, more to his good taste, more to his good sense, more to half the dictionary of commonplaces, if he had left the AAU alone, and never approached this matter. Then would he keep one eye upon a coach or crammer from the AAU sitting below the bar, and smash the honourable gentleman with the AAU account of this matter. And although one of two things always happened; namely, either that the AAU had nothing to say and said it, or that it had something to say of which the honourable gentleman, or P.M/Ministr of Capacity Building, blundered one half and forgot the other; the AAU was always voted immaculate by an accommodating majority.

oh.. well.. you get the idea...

Adopted from "Little Dorrit" by Charles Dickens
CHAPTER 10. Containing the whole Science of Government
Read more: http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/d/dickens/charles/d54ld/chap10.html

A [Teddy Afro] tale of betrayal...?

Been thinking of writing a blog entitled "Alamn alena libe" - How Teddy Afro let me down but words refused to come. It's true that I have felt a kick in the shin (wherever "the shin" is) when I watched the music video for that song [and "Lambadina"! Why, I wondered, does the girl have to be so pretty?! The guy is supposed to be blind, isn't he?! So all he needed was a woman's body and her loving heart to help him see the light; which is actually - HELLO - what the song was all about].

Because, before I watched it's music video, I have always thought that song, that "Alamn alena libe", belonged to me, that it was my story teddy was telling {and I know what it means to be jealous- trust me- have scored "86-100% Pathological Jealous" on an internet Personality Trait Test ferChristake}. Have also felt "melkwan yizaw wet'ta, tadia endet limenat" and "bel imenat libe chewa new kemisewa" were two lines in a lyrics I have yet to find matches for. But the minute I watched the video, I was like "wot-the-{you know}-SHUT YOUR MOUTH" (P.S. I mean "fuck").

I guess it ain't Teddy's fault that I felt I knew and understood him perfectly. That's no doubt what every satisfied member of the audience feels. Same reason why members of the satisfied audience sometimes try to stalk their idols ass. Because they feel they know and understand their idol better than anybody and they would be able to make him/her happy {better than anybody}. I know that! But somehow I hadn't imagined Teddy's character in "Alamn alena libe" to be wearing a pimp's clothing and his model girlfriend/wife to have "chewa kemis" walking, I'd like to stress, in such an enticing way! JLO, I've felt, would have a thing or two to learn from that woman when it comes to butt shaking; and we all know what a great butt-shaker JLO is.

Which is why I wondered afterwards what the world was coming to! Ethipia-atleast. For "Teddy Afro" would have been the last guy in the music world I supposed would fall into the trap that so many movie and music makers in Ethiopia have/are being victimis of {not with that background, with his spending all that time in those "chaat" bets, with Kuku Sebsibe}. He was the last person on earth, I felt, who needed to prove himself with pimp-like baggy pants and mansion-like houses in his music videos, even if he can afford them. I mean the kid is the picture of success, ain't he?! That look! That smile! That talent!!

"Wey mekari matat" yilal yagere sew - sichegrew!!

I mean, have these people {Teddy included---coz he ain't the teddy afro "I knew" and loved, not anymore!!} not seen Wegayehu Nigatu {my "Wegish" - nefsun yimarewna} play "Enat nesh", a tale of famine and displacement, in such a way that it makes you forget how terrible famine and displacement actually are {for an Ethiopian} some twenty years ago?! Isn't that what it's all about?! Telling it beautifully?! Telling it naturally?! Isn't that what they repeatedly tell us - to be true to ourselves and our characters, our audience?! Or do they expect the audience to take their songs to his/her bosom and feel it was "his/hers" when he/she sees them shooting it's music video in those clothes and in that house even to fit "an international standard"?! Don't they know how disillusioning that is to an audience?! It's like being invited to a party one can't attend because one knows one would stick out like a sore thumb. It's like we don't matter anymore! That our "standard" [our shaky houses, our un-model-like clothes] don't matter anymore! It's like, when it comes to the question of "fitting international standards", we dissolve into the background. We, who made him the first Ethiopian singer to have signed off his album for a million birr! Those mini bus chauffeurs who go on bid to buy his photographs!!

It's just too much! It almost feels like being betrayed by somebody you loved and trusted; almost like a kick in the shin {wherever "the shin" is}!

If I were Teddy, I'd take it real slow {on the fame, on his dressing code, on the "chaat"} lest what happened to Gigi on her last album happens to him. Or is he trying to "masterat" our [collective] names [Ethiopia!] by becoming another Hailegebreselassie? If that's the case, don't we have so many of them already? I mean, only the other day I read Teklemedhin minamin has become the first Ethiopian skier to have made it into the Olympics. And it's not like anybody gave a shit if Teklemedhin minamin became the 87th skier out of 94 {as long as our flag was seen waving somewhere in the stadium}.

Am I the only one who think that's ridiculous?!

P.S. I still haven't understood what purpose the girl in brown, who walked hand in hand with Teddy in "Seleme", served either. Unless she's his girlfriend. Because then we would know he ain't available or with Kuku anymore.
P.S.2. I guess I wrote my blog already ;).

"EratnaMebrat" & "KinfamHilmoch"

Anybody interested in hearing Bewketu Seyoum narrate two of his beautiful short stories, go to:

http://www.addislive.com/content/view/58/60/

and

http://www.addislive.com/content/view/59/60/

P.S. It's in amharic