Rest in Peace Gary Coleman

(February 8, 1968 – May 28, 2010)

He will always be known to us as Arnold Jackson, a loveable kid who made us laugh when we were kids.  Back then, I did not know that he had a congenital kidney disease that stunted his growth.   To me, and countless others, he was a kid who never grew up.  Until I grew up, and realized that he was an adult who could not grow.  This is how the innocence of kids is taken away, when we learn about things like disease and that life—unlike the television screen—is not full of laughter tracks and happy endings.

Gary Coleman died today at the age of 42.  Like many child movie stars before him, he could not escape the success of his childhood.  Maybe this is what happens when we push children to perform—to act for our entertainment—instead of letting them be kids.  We all shook our heads countless times each time Gary Coleman got into yet another round of trouble, but we—as collective members of a society—are equally to blame for his tragic life.  Individually, we played no role in his roller coaster life.  But in the back of our minds, we chuckled; we treated him and anyone that is different with ridicule. 

Rest in Peace Gary Coleman, you will be ridiculed no more.  May your soul relax and may you finally laugh the way you managed to make us laugh for such a long time. 

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Tribalism

by Teddy Fikre

It goes without saying that I am not a fan of the current Ethiopian government, or for that matter most governments in Africa.  In my view, as I have stated numerous times and will continue to believe, the current Ethiopian government is led by a leader who is power hungry and divides Ethiopia based on ethnicity and sows fear and distrust amongst the populace.  However, I do not only point to the government to find the festering sores of tribalism.  Although I cannot quantify it, it is my belief that a part of the reasons for the reflexive opposition to the current government is due in part to his ethnicity.

I was talking to a friend the other day who recounted the days leading up to takeover of Addis Abeba by the TPLF.  He lived in Addis at that time during the time of Mengistu.   He relayed the story of his conversation with a close friend about the impending occupation of Addis by the TPLF army.  During the exchange, he told his friend “listen, after Mengistu, I am willing to try anything, they cannot be worse than this tyrannical man we currently have governing Ethiopia”.

At this point, his friend turned to him and said “Ethiopia be Tigre legeza!!” (Ethiopia to be led by people from Tigre)

This was the beginning and the end of the opposition to the TPLF at the time.  It was not based on anything other than tribalism, refusing to be led by someone who is not from the same ethnic background as you are.

In due time, the TPLF showed itself to be a repressive government, one that silences opposition and represses those who have a different point of view.  Standing up to oppression is the highest form of courage.  However, as I acknowledge and stand with anyone that stands for freedom and human rights, I equally and ferociously stand anyone that opposes the current government if they are doing so based on ethnic or religious affiliation.  For too long, Ethiopia has been fractured by leaders who have not practiced inclusion.  There have always been a people who have felt the cold shoulder of exclusion, feeling left out in their own country.   So anyone that advocates a change in government so that they could be led by their “own” is myopic in thinking.  Worse yet, if they got in power based on this mentality, they would practice the very same tyranny and oppression that is being practiced by the current government.

Ethiopia and the rest of Africa need to move away from tribalism and embrace inclusion instead.  We have a country with over 80,000,000 people.  The breadth and diversity of Ethiopia is our strength, if we are able to accept diversity as an asset, if we judge people not by the accent of their language but by the content of their character, we could be on our way towards a peaceful and prosperous country.  However, if we continue to oppose people because they don’t speak our language or were not born to the same ethnicity as we are, we will always be in the crosshairs of war, where a group  of aggrieved people will always wait their turn to seek retribution.

“I feel my heart break to see a nation ripped apart by it’s own greatest strength–it’s diversity.”  -Melissa Etheridge

Point Blank Democracy

by Teddy Fikre

This Sunday, May 23^rd marks the onset of an election in Ethiopia.  There is a part of me that is hopeful that violence will not flair up again, engulfing Ethiopia’s citizens with yet another round of violence and chaos.  Part of me hopes that the election is free and fair, where citizens are able to express their desires and vote their conscience, but recent history has taught me to be less hopeful—taught me to be a cynic.  I have come to the sad realization that Ethiopia is not ready for democracy, democracy through guns is not democracy at all, it is a rouse perpetuated by those in power to cloak autocracy with a venire of  a ballots and election sloganeering.

Now before you think I am off on a tirade aimed solely at the current government, let me stop you there.  My position on the current Ethiopian government is not easy to figure out.  In Meles Zenawi, Ethiopia has a president that is more intent on balkanizing Ethiopia than leading her people.  I am confronted by a lot of Ethiopians who tell me that Meles is better than what we had before.   However, I do not judge leaders based on who came before them but based on their own achievements.   Grant it, I am not an expert on Ethiopian politics by any means, in fact, after 27 years away from Ethiopia, I am more of a novice than an expert.  Maybe this is a good thing, thus far experts have not done that much to improve the condition of Ethiopia.

What I witness as a novice is a continuing widening of the gap between the haves and the have nots.  I witness the fragmentation of Ethiopia conducted by government officials who are intent on carving out people’s ethnic affiliation more than they are on building a national identity based on a common purpose and a common desire for peace and prosperity.  I see leaders who don’t reach out to neighboring countries to build an economic coalition that could the horn of Africa.  Instead, I see weapons being the number one import in Ethiopia, weapons that are often turned on those who oppose the government.

But my despondency does not rest solely with the current government.   I am also exasperated by those who call themselves the opposition.  I often wonder if their real aim is to install democracy or if it is to gain power.  I often listen to what the opposition is against, but I rarely hear what they are for.  I don’t hear a solution that is based on the idea of inclusion, and most of them throw out the word woyane as if it is an automatic reflexive syndrome.  If anyone disagrees with them, they are a woyane, if anyone thinks differently then them, they are a woyane.  Their anger blinds them to a way forward, they are stuck in inertia, unwilling to compromise, unable to reach out to their adversary to see if a solution could be formulated where all parties are satiated.

Five years ago, Kojo Nnamdi had a show about the Ethiopian election and the bloody consequences of bullet riddled bodies of protesters who dared to speak up.  One caller called in to express to Kojo his disappointment that there were no Ethiopians on the panel.  Kojo’s response was cutting in his brutal honesty.  He stated that they could not find rational Ethiopians to speak on the panel, that everyone that they reached out to was either extremely anti-government or pro-government.  What Kojo was expressing is that a dialogue is not possible with people that are driven by emotion instead of logic.

Thus I am resigned to the fact that Ethiopia is not ready for democracy.  I will once again believe in democracy in Ethiopia when I witness an Amhara willing to vote for a Tigray, or a Tigray willing to vote for an Oromo, or an Oromo willing to vote for a Gambella.  As long as we put our trust in only those that share our ethnic affiliation and distrust someone that speaks a different language, then we will continue to have point blank democracy, where those in power will stay in power through the point of a gun while conducting a farce democracy and those out of power will seethe to gain power.

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Just Like Home

by Meskerem Zikru

Home may seem like a simple and straightforward word, but actually it can be quite a complicated concept. Those of us who have had to leave the land of their birth either willingly or forcibly to find safety or economic upward mobility can attest that “home” is a word that is difficult to define. Often much more than a place of residence and entangled in recollections of youthful exploits, intimate relationships, and heartfelt memories, this word invokes powerful emotions. We distant wanderers try to recreate this sense of “home” by gravitating towards each other and building new communities in far-away lands. We search for the lilts and tones of our mother tongues in the voices of strangers and the tastes and smells that titillated our palates and stimulated our senses in the land we left behind. Like dessert nomads in search of water, we travel to oases like Washington DC and LA’s Little Ethiopia where our countrymen have congregated for a momentary taste of home.

Twelve years, an ocean, and five residences removed from my childhood home of Addis Ababa, home for me is embodied in fleeting moments of familiar tizita songs, the smell of roasting coffee beans as they rattle back and forth in an aluminum pan over an open flame, the feeling of injera against my fingers as I wrap it around artfully seasoned cubes of tibs or wott and the taste of slow cooked and perfectly spiced kibe and berbere as it melts in my mouth. These moments temporarily remove the ever-present feeling of “outsider” in this unfamiliar land and instantly bring me back to the days of my childhood and a sense of comfort and contentment.

I will admit that as a self-proclaimed “foodie,” I am particularly drawn to culinary portals that connect me to the land of my youth. However, I believe there is a much more universal link between food and home. After all, how else do we explain the concept of “comfort food?” The DMV area alone boasted a whopping sixty-seven Ethiopian restaurants at last count. Thus, it stands to reason that, like me, many of my fellow Ethiopians and Eritreans are searching for a little taste of home around a shared communal plate of injera as they punctuate tales of a bygone era with offered gurshas and sympathetic nods.

Considering the large Ethiopian/Eritrean population in the DC area, it is not surprising that the quality of Ethiopian cuisine is quite superior. Many of the long-standing establishments have built loyal clientele and reputations for excellence in preparing particular dishes. As a former resident in the area, I often depend on my own experiences or the suggestions of my local friends whenever I am in town and craving a particular delicacy to decide where to dine. On a recent visit to the area however, I stumbled upon an unfamiliar restaurant as I was riding through a popular hub of Ethiopian establishments in Virginia.

Bearing the name of a popular old hang out in my hometown of Addis, a restaurant called Kebericho drew my attention with its pictures of kurt and kitfo in the window. While I was not particularly in the mood for either of these dishes at the time, I walked in to inquire about the other items on their menu. As the pleasant waitress rattled off the relatively few items available, one particular dish sparked my interest and I sat down to order. Unlike kitfo, tibs, or even kurt,  quanta firfir is not found in many restaurants and I discovered many years ago that the few places that do serve it rarely do it justice. In fact, I had stopped ordering quanta firfir a couple of years back after being disappointed so often. Yet something inspired me to abandon my boycott and sample this childhood favorite of mine that day.  As I carefully removed the round sheet of injera covering the steaming plate of firfir, a mouthwatering aroma of spices greeted my nose. Then, as I took my first bite of the crisp quanta and the wonderful combination of kibe, berebere and bits of injera a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. It tasted just like mama used to make and for a few minutes in Falls Church, Virginia on an otherwise uneventful Thursday afternoon…I was home again.

This article was written by Meskerem Zikru, a talented writer who is currently pursuing a Masters in Anthropology and International Development at Michigan State University.

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Curiosity the Culprit

by Rebecca Dupas

I find myself here often
In strange rooms
Laying lifeless
Damn near unconscious
White lights blinding me
From the incision that awaits
Danger doesn’t always wear bells and whistles
-there is a tension in this space
Comfort has lured me in again
-with no intentions of letting me get away

Curiosity the culprit

Analysis the machete
Threatening to cut through layers
First created to keep this process at bay
Innocence proceeds swiftly
Malice evokes pain slowly
Mad Scientists in sheep’s clothing
I notice…
The lull before the storm
Whirlwinds of presumptions
Offered at my demise
Smothered laughter dance in piercing eyes
What joy does this bring?

Forced under microscopes of original thought
Assessed by self-proclaimed genius
Probed by “molestuous” fingers
I’ve granted you no permit
Walls built to prohibit your entrance
This dissection…
Unwarranted
I’m still breathing

Curiosity the culprit…
Analysis creates fragments to package in boxes
Petri-dish my existence
Find fault in my being
Invasions are always abrasive
Regardless of sayings
Like “This wasn’t intended to hurt you”.

1st incision:
“You are not above judgment.”
2nd incision:
“I’ve studied this part over and over.
It needs to be removed”
(the audacity of you)
3rd incision:
Insert opinion and wait for change
Hope that I mutate

For your comfort…

Conclusion void of research
Hypothesis do hurt
Without the work to prove
Desires to deconstruct weren’t purposed for you

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Rebecca is an unbelievable poet who is in the DC area.  You can check out Rebecca next Sunday at Bliss Coffee and Wine bar next Sunday, May 23rd.  Click the picture below to get full details:

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Courage

“Rise up; this matter is in your hands. We will support you, so take courage and do it.”- Ezra 10:4

When we think of courage, we often think of men and women who fight, who conquer, who face the long odds and overcome them through sheer determination.  We often think of courage as an act of determination and valor in taking on the world.

The history book are full of people who displayed courage in standing up against injustice.  Men and women like Malcolm X, Aste Tewodrose, Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, Colonel John C. Robinson, Mother Theresa, and Rosa Parks to name a few.  However, there are millions of courageous men and women who are never written about—who never get the credit or fame for doing something courageous.

The truest act of courage are those who are able to face not only their external environment but those who stand up to their inner fears.  Before we are able to overcome external obstacles, we first have to conquer our inner fears.  All of the men and women who I mentioned above first had to face their own fears before overcoming the odds.  These fears include the fear of failure, fear of death, fear of their mediocrity, fear of their own past.

The hardest mountain to climb is not one constituted of rocks and ice, the hardest mountain to climb is the mountain of ourselves.  When we stand in front of a mirror, we see ourselves through our own eyes instead of the eyes of others.  Only when we stand firm in facing our own demons can we really set out to accomplish our true destiny.  We might never be written about in the history books, we might never be celebrated for our feats, but when we face ourselves and get over our own inertia, we would have made a difference to the one person that matters the most—the person that looks at us back in the mirror.

So take courage, stand up to your own fears, and when we do, the world is ours for the taking—but first we have to take on ourselves.

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Rumors

“No greater weapon has been formed than the forked tongue of one man against mankind.”

Exactly 64 years ago today, Martin Niemoller spoke before the representatives at the Confessing Church in Frankfurt Germany.  He said:

“First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist;
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist;
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—because I was not a Jew;
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak out for me.”

I am here today to speak for my friend Abonesh Adnew, better known as Abiti.  I first met Abiti when Ethiopian-Americans for Change was organizing the Ethiopian-American Appreciation Day.  She came out to support and to have a good time with the rest of the throngs of people who came out to enjoy Mahmoud, Yehune, Wayna and other artists who performed for free at this wonderful cultural event.  I did not have a chance to talk to Abiti for too long, but she mentioned that she would have loved to perform for free as well had someone reached out to her.

I did not even know at the time who Abiti was, but I told myself that if Ethiopian-Americans for Change held another event, I would definitely reach out to her.  In the back of my mind, I wondered if she really meant what she said, that she too would have loved to perform.  So two weeks later, when we were organizing Ethiofest at Bus Boys and Poet—a concert meant to pay off some of the debt incurred from the Ethiopian-American Appreciation Day—I ran into Abiti at the showing of Teza.  I asked her if she would perform, and she gladly accepted.  Of course I told her that this was yet another “pro-b ono work” and all of the artists involved were doing it for free.  She smiled and said she would gladly take part in such a wonderful cultural event.

Up to that point, I had never heard Abiti sing before.  But when Ethiofest came around, she got on the microphone and proceeded to turn the house into a festive celebration.  People got up and started doing Guragina, jumping in pure elation to the sound of her melodic voice.  I thought to myself, wow, what beautiful music.  She proceeded to sing songs from almost every part of Ethiopia—talk about versatility.  I became an instant fan, of course because of her music, but also that someone as talented as her would perform for free once again.  The very next day, I bought Abiti’s CD, I did not realize it at the time, but her CD was way up at the top of the shelf.  I thought it was odd at the time, but did not put too much time into it.

In the subsequent days, I found out more and more about Abiti.  I found out that Abiti used to have a wonderful restaurant, that she has two amazing kids, and that Abiti is not just some local singer, she is a renowned performer who used to pack every venue—in the past.  And I also found out that Abiti wears a scarlet letter, the letter W that is attached to anyone who dares says anything that could be remotely associated with supporting one party or another in Ethiopia.  Abiti was the target of a McCarthy witch hunt, she was tried and convicted in the court of public opinion by an invisible judge and a hidden jury—a whisper campaign that read guilty on all counts.

Do you want to know what her crime was?  Abiti went to Ethiopia and upon her return, she was interviewed by the Ethiopian Television Network (ETN) what she thought about Ethiopia during her visit.  Abiti replied “I think Ethiopia is improving”.  She did not endorse anyone, she did not say Ethiopia was getting more Democratized, she did not say that Ethiopia was a model country of freedom.  She just merely said, “I think Ethiopia is improving”.   That was her crime, and for that, the lynch mob went into frenzy.

Look, we all take part in rumors.  I do it every day, I talk about this entertainer that might be this way or this politician who might be seeing someone.  Rumors are a part of life, fighting against rumor is like fighting against the Nile River.  But, in our community, there is a particular perniciousness about they way rumors are waged as a continuation of war.  Rumor are not really rumors, rumors become a cottage industry where boycotts are staged over buna.  Whispers are traded over Johny Walker.

Next thing you know, an organized wall of resistance is formed, and through an echo chamber of vicious innuendo and unfounded claims, lives are destroyed for simply being different.  I was once a victim of these rumors; last year, while we were organizing Ethiopians for Obama, I read on some blog board that I was a Woyane.  I have been in America for 28 years since the age of 7, until that point, I did not even know what a Woyane was, I just wanted to help organize our community.

So the wheels were set in motion to destroy and burn.  “Did you hear, Abiti is a government supporter.”  Semash, did you know that Abiti is a Woyane?” The rumor mills started burning up, and next thing you know, an implicit boycott was organized.  What was once one of the busiest Ethiopian restaurants in the DC Metro area became a ghost town.  This went on for weeks, then months, finally, Abiti had to close the restaurant down.  All for what exactly, because she said “I think that Ethiopia is improving”.

Memo to the rumor mongers, Abiti is first and foremost a performer—she sings.   She is not there to preach about anything or any principle, there are “activists” who do that already.  When she sings, I don’t expect her to remind me of what is wrong with Ethiopia; I want to be reminded about what is beautiful about Ethiopia.  I want to hear about love, dancing, joy, and laughter in songs, I don’t want to hear about some four or five acronym political party in Ethiopia.  Does everything in Ethiopia have to be formed into a political football, and if you dare say anything that can be construed as not taking one side of the football, you are banished to Siberia.

Of course this does not happen only to Abiti.  Almost any business person who wants to start a business in Ethiopia is branded a traitor.  Never mind that if he/she is successful in creating a business in Ethiopia, a whole village could prosper or dozens of children could start attending schools instead of working on the streets.  What room is there for sensibility when one side is hell bent on revenge or power; and that is what this is all about, power.  If it was really about Democracy, you know the truest way to speed up democratic reform is through economic development.  Look at what is going on in China, sure China has a long way to go, but in many ways, China is more capitalistic than the United States—Democracy is not that far behind.  Once people get a taste of freedom, they don’t easily give it back.

But again, what place is there for reason when one is dealing with a forked tongue.  So you were successful, you were able to shut down Abiti’s restaurant.  You were able to make her struggle to pay her bills, you were able to make her go from being driven by a chauffeur to being a chauffeur.  But guess what, you were not able to shut down Abiti’s soul, and you are not able to mute her beautiful voice.  So Abiti continues to sing, and I will continue to listen; through her voice she sings about the true beauty of every part of Ethiopia.  I just hope that next time, maybe, just maybe before you start another rumor of someone being a government supporter or a Woyane, take a pause, and ask yourself, whose life I will destroy today.  And if that does not work, just remember, in due time, the forked tongue of others will come back on you.   As Niemoller said,  “there will be no one else to speak for you”.

Click to go to Abiti’s Fan Page

Mitmita Poety

by Aster Tadesse

JUST WHEN THE STORM’S RAGE WAS AT ITS WORST
AND BLACK CLOUDS SURROUNDED MY EARTH
A LIGHT APPEARS
SO BRIGHT IT SURFACES OUT OF THE DARK LIKE A STRAY CAR
EMMERGING ONTO A CURVE ON A LONELY ROAD AT NIGHT
THUNDER PLOWS ALL AROUND MY WORLD
AND CURLS MY SOUND INTO A REVELATION OF MEAR MORTALITY
HUMBLED BY ITS STRENGTH I NOW KNOW
THERE ARE FORCES GREATER THEN MY OWN
I TRAVEL IN THE ABISS OF THE UNKNOWN
LOST LIKE A CHILD AWAY FROM HOME
EVERY STOP FURTHER THEN THE LAST
EVERY MINUTE LONGER THEN THE NEXT
YET I MAKE MY WAY
EVERY STOP, STRONGER THEN THE LAST
EVERY MINUTE, WISER THEN THE NEXT
EVERY OBSTACLE THROWN AT MY PATH
HURDLED AT FULL SPEED WITH NEW FOUND STRENGTH FROM THE LAST
THE WORLD IS COLD
BUT THE MORE I ENDURE THE WRATH OF ITS CLIMATE
THE MORE I IMMUNE TO ITS UNFORGIVING MALICE
MY SKIN IS TOUGH
MY MIND IS CLEAR
MY EYES ARE WIDE
MY HEART IS STEEL
MY MOVEMENT, FAST
MY ACTIONS, LOUD
MY LIFE IS MINE
MY FEELINGS,
PROUD

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Miss DC International Pageant 2010

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More information to come…

Prosperity at the Sake of our Division

by Teddy Fikre

So I grew up thinking that I was enlightened.  I thought that I had escaped the virus of hate that infects way too many Ethiopians and Eritreans in both communities.  The same virus was sparked centuries ago and passed down from one generation to another like a cursed inheritance.  It has gotten so ingrained in our minds that we don’t even know why we fight anymore, we just fight for the sake of fighting.  The worst part is that we are a very friendly community—both Ethiopians and Eritreans—so we smile and say the good things in front of each other, then go back in the cover of night assassinate characters and destroy lives—only to smile and say hi the next time we meet.

So there is no way to overcome this virus, no one talks about it, no one acknowledges it, it just lays in the recess of our minds—the menacing touch of hatred and the poisonous glint of odium.  No one will take the lead to get rid of this conflict, it is much easier to sit on the sidelines and cheer against the other, encouraging ethnic exceptionalism and fueling wars—while sipping Buna in DC and not doing anything to help each other.  Unless, of course, a person starts with something simple that might encourage another to reciprocate.  Unless a word is uttered that is so powerful that it can move mountains and melt frozen hearts.  Unless the word Yikirta—I’m sorry—is uttered by one person.

Yikirta for being a part of the problem, for perpetuating the divide between Ethiopians and Eritreans.  For too long, I have done things, consciously or subconsciously, that have made Eritreans feel unwelcome.  For too long, I have been judgmental, for too long, I have been ignorant of my own divisive demeanor.  I did not realize this until the Beijing Olympics in 2008 when I was an organizer with Ethiopians for Obama and was partnering with Eritreans for Obama to get as many people registered as possible.  It was actually stunning, it took a historical moment, it took Obama to make a bunch of Ethiopians and Eritreans put aside our differences for a while to get him elected.   So as I go home to watch the opening ceremony of the Olympics, I catch a glance of the Eritrean representatives walking around the track with the Eritrean flag.  My first reaction was anger, as if though I felt betrayed, and somewhere within that anger was a feeling that Eritreans sold out Ethiopia by that splitting.  This momentary indignation made me look at myself in the mirror.

You see, for too long, I have cringed when I have heard Tigrinya being spoken. I had no idea that Tigre and Tigrinya were two different languages. I thought I knew about Unity, but I was infected by the very hate which I hated. And for that, I say today Yikirta, forgive me for thinking I was better than Eritreans. Forgive me for thinking that being Ethiopian meant only seeing things from my perspective. Forgive me for being offended by you calling yourself Eritrean.

Forgive me for refusing to go inside an Eritrean restaurant. Forgive me for wearing an Ethiopian t-shirt that has Eritrea as part of Ethiopia and saying “Eff them for being colonized”. Forgive me for thinking that you Eritreans were collaborators with the Italians during Adwa, if it was not for Tigre soldier and Tigre double agents who fed Menelik et al vital information, Adwa would not be possible. Forgive me for thinking I was better than you. Forgive me for being ignorant and for thinking that  I was somehow enlightened simply because I knew the word Amushta.

Yikirta my Eritrean haftey and hawey for my closed mind. I hope the day will come where we can eat injera together without the sins of our forefathers haunting us. I hope the day will come soon where we don’t have to kill each other senselessly over senseless wars.  I hope the day will come where we help each other build our countries instead of actively working to destroy each other.  I hope the day will come where our kids can play together instead of mowing each other down on battlefields with imported AK47s.  I hope that day will come soon, and I hope that it arrives sooner because some chose to say Yikirta.

A fan page was created on Facebook to address these very issues of hate and misunderstanding.  In the past two weeks, over 400 Ethiopians and Eritreans have joined, and the dialogue that is taking place is…well REVOLUTIONARY.  Not a revolution with bullets but a revolution of the mind. Join the discussion by clicking below.

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T.I.A.

by Teddy Fikre

In the words of K’naan,

It’s no secret we know how to squeeze lead
But the Pre-set is not to have to squeeze it
Used to be at peace but now we using T-Shirts
And it reads RIP cause the peace dead

T.I.A. stands for This Is Africa.  Africa: where the word peace is replaced by piece.  Africa:  Where Peace is only attained when one rests in peace (RIP).  In almost every corner of Africa, what you will find is one tribe fighting another.  In almost every country in Africa, you will find one group mowing down anther with imported AK47s.  In almost every capital city within Africa, you will see a power hungry political faction fighting off another power hungry four letter “freedom fighter” faction.  What you have is a recipe for extinction, a recipe for perpetual warfare.

Africa and her countries have become so fractious that the possibility to build is overcome by the propensity to destroy.  And those of us who immigrated to the United States or beyond do not help the matter.  Most take one of two stands:  1) We become detached and refuse to take part in anything that smacks of “African politics” or 2) we become obsessed with attacking the faction that led to our departure from our beloved country.  Either way, most contribute to the continued decaying of Africa with either inaction or divisive actions.

This is insanity.  It seems that no one can say anything or do anything without having his/her motives questioned and being put through a vetting process to see which political faction he/she supports.  I can see if the person in question was a political figure, but the same is done for those that seek to create non-profits, those that want to build hospitals, those that want to take care of kids with AIDS; no matter the mission, the organization is first and first asked who they support before they are asked how the community can support them build a better Africa.  I don’t really know what else to call this line of thinking but that of a people who have been mentally colonized—and you thought colonization ended two generations ago.

Africa does not need more hatred, Africa does not need more divisive figures, and Africa does not need more hatred based on ethnic exceptionalism.  What Africa needs more than ever are folks who think beyond sectarianism and look instead to build bridges of hope across ethnic groups, across religions, and across nations within Africa and to her children scattered throughout the world.  Only through reconciliation can Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, Nigeria and the rest of Africa come together and start to build hope and free ourselves from the dependence of rice being dropped from helicopters in the sky.  Until then, blood will continue to be shed, dictators will continue to harbor power while siphoning of Africa’s riches to the rest of the world, and “freedom seekers” will continue to sow division and hate in the guise of human rights and democracy.  What can you do, this is Africa—T.I.A.

In our own way, Brown Condor Productions is trying to shift this paradigm.  By celebrating together, by Ethiopians listening to Eritrean music and Eritreans dancing to Ethiopian music, by celebrating together, we hope to start a dialogue, a dialogue that can overcome the hatred spewed by others and introduce a megaphone to the silent majority who are often drowned out by the vitriolic minority.  So there is symbolism in the fact that BC Radio plays Ethiopian and Eritrean music, that Brown Condor highlights both Ethiopian and Eritrean business.  Through these acts of symbolism, maybe a movement can be formed.  Through this movement, maybe the day will come where we say T.I.A.—This Is AFRICA!—and we say that with pride instead of despondency.

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One

12 | 12 | 09: A Celebration of US

“I dream of the realization of the unity of Africa, whereby its leaders combine in their efforts to solve the problems of this continent. I dream of our vast deserts, of our forests, of all our great wildernesses.” (Nelson Mandela).

A United Africa.  The concept itself is hard to imagine in a continent where the same people who speak the same language and have the same blood often fight over crumbs while the whole pie (Africa) wallows in despair.  People who are bonded by history, culture, and shared suffering focus instead on the miniscule things that separates them—divided by religion while often believing in the same God, partitioned by ethnicity even though they are of the same blood, segregated by language even though they speak the same words.

While every other continent has realized the concept of Hebret (unity), Africa remains a blithe where separatism has become the norm.  Thus, Ethiopia and Eritrea fight over a small desolate land while people on both sides of the border languish in poverty and despair.  The Hutus and the Tutsis kill each other by the millions, each side hanging on to pox animosity that was instilled on both houses.  Liberia, Ivory Coast, South Africa continue to shed untold blood in the name of diamonds, a few privileged Africans being bribed by foreign entities so that they could exploit their own people and sell false hope of iced out diamond to the African Diaspora abroad.  The story is the same in Nigeria, Angola, and Egypt, where there are enough resources to fuel the continent and enrich her people.

Instead we fight.  Instead we mangle our own, hanging on to the foolishness of ethnic exceptionalism.  There is nothing wrong with loving your country, there is everything wrong when doing so takes the proactive hatred of another.  When Ethiopia defeated a colonial power during the battle of Adwa, if took the collective sacrifice of ALL Ethiopians and non-Ethiopians to turn back the tide of aggression.  And when Ethiopia overcame oppression, Adwa was the clarion call to the African Diaspora throughout the world that where lies hope, where lies unity, where lies common sacrifice lies the key to self awakening and self pride.

So the Brown Condor Launch Celebration is not a party, it is a celebration of those things that unite us.  It is an acknowledgment to the things that bond us, our shared history heard through the melodic tunes of Ethiopian and Eritrean music, Afro-beats, Reggae, and enlightened Hip-Hop.  The profound beauty and diversity of Africa will be embodied by the Brown Condor “FLY Ladies”.  The FLY Ladies are a coalition of beautiful and intelligent women who will display the culture of Ethiopia, Eritrea, Somalia, Jamaica, Trinidad, and African-Americans by wearing traditional clothing from their respective countries.  The wine tasting will feature the very best wines from South Africa.  The coffee tasting will feature coffee from Ethiopia.  And lastly, the live art show will feature two amazing artists from Ethiopia.

So when you come out on Saturday, December 12^th at Jin Lounge in DC, come out not to party, rather come out to celebrate our diversity and our common bonds.  Through music, fashion show, art, and wine tasting, you will get a taste of what Africa could look like if we looked beyond our divisions and worked together as one people.  In 1936, the Brown Condor (Colonel John Robinson) flew to the east in Ethiopia to defend Ethiopia from the grips of yet another naked colonial aggression.  On December 12^th, 2009, Brown Condor Productions will fly to Washington DC to celebrate our unity, to acknowledge that we are indeed ONE.

“Two people who often have the same goals and live next to a lake could drink forever from that very lake, instead they fight over a cup of water”