I have been blessed with a curse

Not too many people liked me

No really, see I think differently

Thus I attract glares and animosity

I like to think I am kind

Really, even movies I rewind

I go out of my way to help people

I have given people my last dollar

My credit card and keys to my house and car

My weakness is seeing people that are weak

Thinking that I could save them with love

And for that I have been hurt a lot

Though I can be vindictive

If you cross or try to get over on me

People that have wronged me

Have rued the wrath of Teddy

But overall I think I am a good guy

So why is it that I draw odium?

Standing ovation of ire on a podium

When I was seven in Ethiopia

In Lycee I was never in the in-crowd

I thought maybe because I wore fresh boots

My dad bought from me from Italy

Could it be they thought we were rich?

That’s it; the ire is because we were wealthy

No it can’t be, for we were never “loaded”

My parents always struggled to take care of us

So the illusion of money was just a chimera

Then we moved to America

Thought things would be different

Yet I attract the hatred of my peers

Called jungle monkey by my African-American

My African Diaspora Sisters and brothers

I simmered each time

When I was called an antelope chaser

And I hated the song “We are the World”

What is to explain this derision that I draw?

Am I an interloper in Babylon?

Fortunately I barely spoke English

So I never understood too much

Of the guile that I attracted

Did I beguile you with this?

Oh wait there is more

I learn English

I practice to say THE instead of ZEE

Hated my Ethiopian accent

Practiced saying the letter R in front of a mirror

That’s it; I will just learn to assimilate

To mitigate the copious hate

I lost my accent

Spoke English perfectly

In the process lost my connection

Moved to Woodbridge

Thus my bridge to Ethiopia was set asunder

Wow, I start to actually attract less hate

So I became a rebel, I drank 40s

Started to know cops on a first name basis

Almost failed out of high school

Started speakin that slang shit

So that I can be a part of the crew

I dumbed myself down

Pretended that I was not smart

In elementary school started playing the saxophone

By middle school, my band instructor

Told me that I was the most talented

Saxophonist he has EVER heard

He beseeched me to practice more

And stop depending on just my talent

But by highschool I faced a choice

Marching band or Football

I chose to be a jock

And gave up my saxophone bench

To be a bench warmer instead

Thus, talent wasted

To be a football player

Played myself hard

So I could be liked by others

My junior year I enrolled in TV Productions

I did not take it seriously I did it for kicks

But by the time I was a senior

I produced the first live talk show in Prince William County

My TV instructor told me to take it seriously

To stop being lazy

That if I took it professionally

And studied assiduously

That I could make it BIG in the TV production business

He begged me to stop “free-styling it”

And to actually draw out scenes using drawing boards

And once in a while to white balance my camera

But TV Production was a passing whim

Something I did because it was a challenge

And someone told me I could not do it

I found out recently

That Mr. Jensen died

Committed suicide

And it broke my fucking heart

For he saw in me potential

And all I did was disappoint him

I know I had nothing to do with his death

But nonetheless I look back with regret

Maybe if I listened to him

Maybe if i was his friend

That I could have saved his life

And for that I carry guilt

Senior year in high school missed 55 days

My counselor asked me what I wanted to do

I told her I wanted to attend UCLA

At first a chuckle then a full throated laughter

She said “Oh Teddy, you are a dreamer,

Why not be a blue collar wearer instead”

Thank you Mrs. Keys for giving me the key

Quite the guidance counselor you are

You gave me a Malcolm X moment

See through your chuckle you inspired me

When people laugh at me

When they doubt my ability

I move the mountain and earth

So I can look back and wink

And in my own special way

Tell them “how you like me now”

But I digress, the topic is being “liked”

The ire of others never stopped

After I was accepted on a provisional basis

Based purely on my SAT and the belief of Mr. Tapscott

I found myself at George Mason in 1994

Freshman year I “majored” in TV Production

But once the bug left me to say action

I took my action elsewhere

And sough inaction through Mass Communication

First couple of years, I was an outsider

But thanks to a white professor in college

I finally found the beauty of being black

Years of being taught that Robert E. Lee

Was a war hero and thus my hero

I finally learned of African History

I found a new love

The history of ME

Malcolm X, Du Bois, Garvey, Angela Davis

I finally discovered the essence of blackness

However, I was still not liked by many

Thus I adopted a motto

“Expect the worse, hope for the best”

And leave unto the lord the rest

Through it all, I love my family

My sisters and brother

Always there in my corner

Had my inner circle

Pete, Calvin, Ammanuel, and Denise

We had a blast in college in President’s park

But one day I made a decision

I had to trust others beyond my sisters and brothers

So Junior year in college

I decided to pledge Omega Psi Phi

Even then I was not understood

My tormentors thought that I was wealthy

Because I drove a green Camry

And my license plate read “THE-ONE”

So after weeks of going black and blue

Finally I crossed I became a Que

Once my brothers understood me

They accepted me

They realized my dad was a cabbie

And the green Camry nothing more than an image

The same as my Fresh boots in Ethiopia

As a man of Omega

I refused to accept the status Quo

Thus I rocked GMU with Que Parties

First party an unmitigated disaster

The DJ showed up with no CDs

People laughed, they said the Ques were wack!!

Existing power structure offered to help

They said “Theo, let us have your parties instead”

“No thank you” was my response

And oh yeah, thank you for the chuckle

Another laughter lead me on a mission

A couple of weeks later

Plotted the Pajama Jami Jam

Those that laughed

Now found themselves lined up

At 2:00 in the morning waiting in the cold

To get inside the Que party hosted at my town house

That joint was off the chain

150 people packed instead a small home

A DOPE DJ and all you can drink

Many FLY ladies having bought fresh gear

And many wearing nighties from Victoria Secret

Opened the window and literally

Steam escaped outside the balcony

Magically, the Ques at Mason were no longer wack

Thus in 1997, a year after I pledged

I literally put George Mason on the map

Ques from Nu Psi, GE, Alpha chapter

Deltas from Philly and AKAs from Richmond

And others from New York and beyond

Would drive to George Mason

To party with the Ques

By my senior year I over did it

President of Eta Delta Delta

First black President of the Program Board

Bought the Roots to Mason

To perform a free concert

The first time a Hip Hop band came out to Mason

Even though the Vice President of GMU

Tried to shut down the show

And the President of the Student Body

Tried to pull rank but nah son know your place

Thus the concert went on without an incident

Vice President of NPHC too

Chair of the Johnson Center Policy Board

All served concurrently

Who knows, maybe subconsciously?

I was trying to get you to like me

But in the process I made a mistake

I got burned out

Barely graduated college

Now it’s time to look for a job

In the process started a promotions company

Named it RUFF DOGG Productions

Started having parties locally in Fairfax

Started giving out GOLD VIP cards

Doing things in 1998 that were unconventional

Like paying to get a commercial for a GMU Party

On WPGC and KISS

But I decided to be conventional

So I gave it all up

In 1999, I got a job at Sprint

To keep up with the race

I became a techie

Started testing ISDN lines

Gave up my passion

To chase money instead

In the process fell in love

Passion fizzled next to my firstheart

Ten years pass

Then along comes Obama

For the first time

I was not inspired by a chuckle

Instead I was moved by HOPE

Met some near and dear friends

Mike and Emebet to state but a few

And met some great hopemongers

Like Chrisi, Wasim, Robert, and Jhana

And we started organizing

Under Ethiopians for Obama

At the same time

Started a group called Omegas for Obama

Between the two, raised over $15,000 for CHANGE

Registered hundreds, held debate watching parties

Wrote an article called “the Power of One”

Published by a publication

And my reward for my black though

I was called a “Woyane”

I was like a what? Is that a wine?

Yup, I was that disconnected

From my enat Ethiopia

Reached out to some to help organize

Instead some just wanted to throw parties

So when I blast our folk for wanting to party

For every damn occasion

Just realize that there is a rhyme and reason

Even though it probably hurts my pockets

For I too now am a promoter

A couple of months later

Got a letter released from Obama

Thanking Ethiopians for our contributions

Yet another reward

An asshole wrote Tadias magazine anonymously

Claiming the letter was a fraud

This fraud will go unnamed

But to this day, he still goes around

Claiming to be the “Founder”

This floundering fool caught up in a title

Me, I simply call myself an organizer

For leadership is not in name but in action

The more that I did, the more animus I attracted

But unfortunately

I repeated the mistake of 1998

So while working full time

Organizing full time

Attending Hopkins for my MBA full time

And getting over a broken heart

I ran myself to the ground

So peace out

Teddy disappeared for a year

But along the way, I finally reconnected

To my enat Ethiopia

Obama got elected, everyone danced and eskesta

But where the F were you when the work was needed

And if you think my words are pointed exclusively

At our own community

I have even blasted my own Fraternity

For when I traveled to Ohio for a registration drive

Under the banner of Omegas for Obama

Five men of Omega came out

Yet later on that night

200 Ques were hopin’ and settin it OWT

Partying at a club called ICE in Columbus

Thus the propensity to party

In the face of overwhelming challenges

Is a germ that infects the African Diaspora

And I blasted my own “brothers”

For not doing more to register African-Americans

They too felt the wrath of Teddy

For not believing in HEBRET

But when Obama got elected

Everyone was dancing in the streets

And a local Graduate Chapter

Had the audacity to have an Omegas for Obama

Inauguration Ball while I never heard from them

When I was conducting registration drives

So when I was asked to see if I could get Obama

To attend the Omegas for Obama ball

I said “thanks but no thanks”

And oh yeah, I won’t be coming to the ball

But have a ball anyway

I found myself secluded with my family

Seeking shelter from the pain

Thinking that I had failed

Because I could not handle the pressure

I slowly started to come out of my shell

In June of 2009, went to a baseball game

My date canceled so I went dolo

To watch the Nationals and my Redsox

There I witnessed a sea of red

42,000 packed, a majority from Redsox nation

In a stadium that normally holds 17,000

But instead of watching baseball

I had an audacious—well really stupid—idea

What if instead of Redsox it was Ethiopians in place

I dismissed it as beyond reach

But when I woke up the next day

The thought was still in my mind

Thus I emailed the Nationals

And sold them on the idea of having

Ethiopian-American Appreciation Day

Thus, 09.25.09 was born

I started working with a “friend”

Together we were dangerous

Until that friend took advantage of my kindness

Emailed hundreds of people trying to destroy EA4C

Even though I was buying this friend buna

And giving this person money from my pocket

And for that this friend is dead to me

I emailed Ethiopian companies

Talked to businessmen and women

And reached out to Coca Cola and Bank of America

And in less than 4 weeks raised $5,000 in sponsorship

Reached out to some amazing artists

Who donated their time for this historical event

Wayna, Yehune, Tsegaye, Zacki, Munit, Richmond Punch and DJ
Mamush

But I won’t mention one snake that tried to sabotage it

Almaz Restaurant donated food for 1,000 people

And after taking Mahmoud and another diamond named Almaz to
dinner

Over fine wine and Tibs

Mahmoud agreed to perform for free

Perfect, we have a plan

Got a proclamation released from the DC Council

Mayor Fenty penned a letter

Both thanking Ethiopians for our contributions

And proclaiming 09.25.09 Ethiopian Appreciation Day

The event was amazing

But when the time came for the after party

That was going to pay for the expenses incurred

People I thought believed in HEBRET

Were plotting a plot from the inception

It was my sisters and I that were left with the bag

Thousands lost on this one event

While others prospered without spending a dime

Now running around DC claiming

That it was they that organized it

When all they did was show up to one meeting

What is spoken in the dark

Always comes out in the light

In due time the light will shine on you

But not the way you intended

But I will always remember those who invested

And lent money to EA4C

Mike Endale, Emebet, Matt Andrea, HIlina, Ethiopiawit,
Semret, Rick

And my frat brother and really blood brother named Bobbie
Sinclair

You made Ethiopian-American Appreciation Day possible

The party at Fur was an unmitigated disaster

20 people came out

It was literally a celebration of us–JUST US

Another round of laughter and chuckles

Amesegenalew, thank you for the inspiration

Along the way thanks to Andrew

I found out about this man named Colonel Robinson

Better known as the “Brown Condor”

An African-American man who died for Ethiopia

The commander of the Ethiopian Air Force

He defended HER from Fascist Italy

Remembering Ruff Dogg Productions

I decided to start another company of promotions

So that I no longer have to depend

On those that don’t believe in HEBRET

So that when EA4C has another celebration

Vultures won’t prosper at the cost of our organization

Thus to ward of vultures a condor took flight

The vision, to have events that celebrate

The Ethiopian community

The African Diaspora

All under one umbrella

And in the process highlight Ethiopian and minority businesses

After playing with the name for a while

First it was Hebret Inc, then Abyssinia Corp

I settled on a name I started a company

And at the prodding of a profit named Ellias

Brown Condor Productions was born

I emailed my man Robel

We laughed at the name for a minute

*kakaw kakaw* yeah remember that

Then I told him the concept

And sent him my jacked up vision of the logo

And Mr. Velvet Jones promptly sent me the design

And it was brilliant!

Bam, I now have a production company

You can check it out at www.browncondor.com

But what I still noticed is that I am not liked by many

I have arrived at peace with this occurrence

Call it an epiphany

A new DOPE theory

Call it the Teddy Manifesto

Those that get along get along

Those that dance to the rhythm are liked

Those that stay in their circle and castigate others

At times are looked up to in envy

And often proper by selling an image of glamore

Without substance behind it

Promoting sex, alcohol and self destruction

African Queens splashed on fliers

Looking like hookers and tramps

Not ME

I refuse to tap dance

I refuse to dumb myself down anymore

I refuse to speak slang

I refuse to sell out

And follow the crowd

So that I can be liked

I will be me

I will be a rebel rouser

I will continue to rock the boat

And call out bullshit when I see it

Whether in my own community

Or in my own fraternity

And if that inspires hatred

It is not because of me

It is your own deficiency

So I embrace my true friends

For ever back biter

I have 10 that appreciate me

I have a new motto

“Expect the best and work for the outcome”

And along the way develop thick skin

For I will be judged harshly for speaking the truth

When I blast others about inaction and sipping buna

I too sip buna

When I blast others for drinking Johny Walker

Instead of working towards HEBRET

I too sip Johny

When I “preach” about respecting women

I too have done my share to denigrate Queens

But I am not preaching without action

Even as I fail, I am working for H.A.I.T.I

Even as I sip buna I am organizing events for EA4C

So for those that hate Teddy

Ask yourself why no really

Irrespective of your thoughts

I will keep it moving

Knowing that those that think differently

Those that think audaciously

Those that believe in a vision

Are often initially “hated”

Even as the work they are doing

Is helping their detractors

In due time you might start to like me

But that does not concern me

For when I look back 50 years from now

And I take my last breath

I want to reflect on my life’s work

And not concern myself with

Whether or not I was liked

Instead, I want my legacy to be

One of making a difference

And if I made a difference in one person’s life

That to me is worth the liking of a million people

Like my man Ellias said

“You ain’t doing nothing right

If you don’t have haters

Someone who don’t have no haters

Probably aint doin nothing worth getting hated on”

For if they hated on Eyasu

Who the hell am I?

So keep hatin, keep laughin, keep chuckling

And I will keep movin, keep making shit happen

Even after all this hate

I continued to reach out to you

My reward, you continue to talk shit about me

It’s cool you clowns, keep talking that mess

In due time you will come hat in hand

Though my memory is long

My forgiveness is short

But keep it up and you will see who is short

For one that speaks truth is often castigated,

One that speaks conventional wisdom often celebrated

–until the truth becomes conventional wisdom

So I won’t take your hate as hate for me

I will take it for what it is

Hatred of your own limited thinking

And your restricted imagination

Hatred of your own insecurity

Just realize that my clenched fist

Is easily disarmed

The same bandits that talk about me

If you come at me honestly

Irrespective of past wrongs

I will unfurl my fist

And extend a helping hand

I will gladly work with you

But until then, keep yapping behind my back

Immature chit chat showing your age

But as soon as you see me

You will speak with forked tongues

You smile and say “hi Teddiye”

It’s cool; I will smile and wink back

And inside I will say “how you like me now ”

Keep blasting my name with your little 2 amp microphone

I posses in my hands a megaphone

Can you hear me now?

Even now I still extend a hand

Told you not to fight over a cup of water

When we are swimming in a lake

My reward

You talk shit behind my back

It’s cool keep jibber jabbering

Just remember

My words are a thousand

More times powerful than your rhetoric

Keep showering me with hateful meteors

But remember my sun will shine

More powerful than you hateful half moon

A last little reminder

You petty rumor mongers

Don’t bring a blade to a gun fight

You throw your 22 gauge bullets

But my sling with a rock

Will rock your world with the truth

And your pea shooter

I will respond with a bazooka of righteous truth

So if you got offended by this little poem

Most likely you were the one talkin shit

I have an elixir for you

Just go to my page

And promptly defriend me

Cause you were never a friend essentially

And for my friend ______

Who told spoke with a straight tongue

And as an act of kindness

Told me about these haters

I have love for your ______

Keep doing what you do

So now a new agreement I make with myself

No longer will I spend a minute

Trying to get you to like me

Oh and I bought a saxophone

So maybe just maybe one day

I will join the band at one of my events

And play a tune or two

The moral of this jimble

It is quite simple

I have a new motto

“I don’t want to be liked; I want to make a difference”

PEACE

“An apology for the devil: it must be remembered that we have heard one side of the case. God has written all the books.” ~SamuelButler

[One of my biggest heroes, Bobby Kennedy, gunned down by mindless violence]

This is the ironic part

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Author

Teddy Fikre

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This is the second edition of the Habesha Mailbag; last week’s mailbag was a smashing success, time to build on the success.

by Teddy Fikre  written: Friday, January 3rd, 2012

This is the second edition of the Habesha Mailbag; last week’s mailbag was a smashing success, time to build on the success.

Alright sewoch, endet nachew?  Melkam Arb, Happy Friday, I bet you are ready to get the weekend popping after a long week of working.  I feel you boo boos (yeah I know that is a bit feminine, but I am making it masculine).  Anyway, it’s that time of the week where I interact with my readers and see what we come up with together.  I am sure to laugh my Qit off while reading their questions and comments and then laugh my Qit off again while responding—what can I say, I know how to make myself laugh.

Now before we get to the emails.  Since this is an article inspired by Bill Simmons, let me take a quick attempt to be a sports pundit.  My prediction for the Super Bowl is that the little blue giants (aka the New York Viagra) will lose to the New England Patriots.  Final score Patriots 45 Giants 21.  Take that to the bank; know how I know, because the New York Viagra are lame, more vagina than anything else.  (side note, I know I will lose most of New York from Brown Condor servers, but damn Giants fans, you are New Yorkers, stop being sissy and getting mad at me teasing you boo boos (now that time that did sound feminine).

Now on to the readers, buckle your Brown Condor seatbelts sewoch, the ride is about to get a bit bumpy.

Q:  So Teddy, I read about your attempt to help Ray. If it’s a true story, it’s touching. But I have questions and since this is a public page (and some of your recent attacks are directed at Ethiopians as a whole), I felt entitled to put them forward. Here they go: why do you feel so entitled to people’s attention? Do you subscribe to consequentialism (a moral theory) by any chance? Even then…I don’t see a consequentialist who is serious about getting people into charity resorting to your kind of “tactics”. So what’s the deal here…why do you think people should drop everything else and follow your lead? What makes your charity different from the million others out there? You certainly aren’t the first to write about the plight of homeless people; and I am not trying to insult your intelligence by telling you that…it’s just a reminder. And how much do we really know about the personal lives of people we accuse of not caring because they don’t donate to our charities? What about the possibility…even the slightest one…that some may already have other charity commitments? In short, by what authority to do you lash out at people? – Mercy Melesse, Northridge California

BC:  Well the story of Ray is 100% true, one thing I do not do is make up stories for publicity.  To be honest, most of the things that I do for less fortunate people I rarely publicize.  The acts that I take are between the less fortunate, me, and God.  Yesterday was the exception because I was foolish enough to believe that I could galvanize other Ethiopians to help out less fortunate folk.  I know, I should have played the lotto, getting Ethiopians to believe in Hebret is like getting a horse to drink water. I learned that lesson the hard way when only one person responded to my pleadings to help out homeless people.  Now, I am not saying that there are not other kind folk like me who help out less fortunate folk—lord knows there are thousands who do and don’t Facebook about it.  However, for the most part, people on Facebook are on some bullshit.  They all responded when I posted a picture of an almost white chic transposed over an Ethiopian flag with a corresponding title of Ethiopian Thongs Day and called me all kinds of names.  You were one of those responders, but I wonder, instead of debating me for hours on Facebook, why not instead help out the homeless by giving them hope.  I have no authority to lash out at anyone; I was just doing my part, ironic though ehete, you are lashing out at me for supposedly lashing out at others.  A bit oxymoronic where you stand isn’t it bilicho.  Anyway, I am done, you can do what you want to, you can keep debating me on Facebook, or you can actually help someone out who needs it the most.  You choose, now back to the mailbag, this is supposed to be funny not an argument with a troll Habesha from California.

Q:  Brown Condor, question, condoms or raw dog? –Mimi, Houston, Texas

BC:  Bes’ma’am! Ende, how did we go from someone calling me a weshetam to now getting an email about sex advice?  Hmmmm…well I have been admonished not to hit on my followers because it is betam unprofessional and it will destroy my credibility.  Thus let me answer this question professionally.  I am 37 years old and I have no kids, this is not because I believe in the touching my forehead, heart, and shoulders and praying to God as I employ the pull out before too late method.  No, I always strap up and I encourage all other dudes to do the same or else you will either have unwanted children with an unwanted woman or end up meeting your death with that bitch named HIV.  Ummm Mimi, now how about you fly to Washington DC and next week we can talk about my magnum condoms while drinking Yohannes Aramaji at Portico with the DC Habesha crew.  (I tried but damn it, when a woman asks Teddisho about condoms, well I have to respond by saying “Hi, I’m Teddisho”)

Q:  Teddy once the revolution comes you will find yourself worthy of being hanged next to Melese at Meskel square. –Nitro Ethiopians, England

BC:  Nitro you sir are betam amusing to me.  I wonder how old you are eko:  Seriously, you are probably one of two things:  1) a 17 year old boy who has 40 pimples and is still a virgin or B)  a 45 year old man who lives with his mother in London and your only two girlfriends are your right hand and a lotion.  Anyway, I plan on going to Addis soon, and Meskel Square will be next to Fikre Avenue in due time.  Anyway, I’ve had enough of your “Nitro” you noxious Habesha, on to other readers, put the lotion away you early ejaculator.

Q:  Teddy, what are your thoughts about Habesha DJs?  Who are your favorite DJs and do you agree that DJ Armageddon is the best DJ in DC?  -Helen, Washington DC

Well this one should be an interesting conversation.  My three favorite DJs in DC are DJ Banti, DJ Underdog, and DJ RBi.  All three are amazing with their versalitity.  I think DJing is a very underappreciated art and definitely undervalued.  DJs, compared to singers and other performers, make chump change.  But without a DJ, parties, concerts, clubs would be #DEAD.  They should be making thousands upon thousands of dollars, but most make less than $500 for each event.  Not bad for one day’s work, but when you consider how much money clubs make from alcohol—most of the time raking in over $100,000 a night of alcoholics, $500 doesn’t seem just.  But it’s cool, when I have my Brown Condor party soon enough, I will give my DJs 30% of all proceeds—including alcohol money.  So DJ Banti, DJ Underdog, and DJ RBi, get ready to be peeeezaid my niggas! Oh as far as DJ Armageddon, let’s just say the only time I would EVER let Yosef DJ at my Brown Condor Party will be when the Armageddon finally arrives.  Even then, I would rather let a 2 cent Disk Jockey DJ for me.  I have a long memory of 09.25.09, I forgive at times but never forget.  So no, DJ Armaggedon does not belong on my top 1,000,000,000 DJ list Helen.  Now, join me tonight at Portico and let’s get down and get up while smoking sheesha.  You down? (Teddisho, what the fuck is up with you dedem, stop flirting with your readers aheya before I give you a kurkuma!  Yikirta Helen, inbox me eshi:: PS DJ Teddisho is DOPE as hell by the way, you can hear him every day on BC Radio, click play on Ustream screen above to hear DJ Teddisho::

Q:  TPLF qemalams are occupiers just like their ancestors the Italians! –Nitro Ethiopians, England

BC:  You again bilicho, I see you ejaculate once every 2 minutes leka.  Please wendem, put down z Neiva and go take a cold shower.  Wuy gud, ehe tota will not leave me alone.  Maybe write about this troll asshole Monday and call it Nitro Troll Assholes.  Let me ponder this.

Q:  Shall we call you the Facebook version of Jesus hahahaha – Dani Exodus, Chicago Illinois

BC:  Oh God, Dani Exodus, for you I feel betam sorry.  You see Dani has decided to embark on a mission to get the heart of this DOPE big foreheadiye named Hana Able.  But what he does not know is that Hana is a heart breaker.  Yours truly knows first-hand; Hanicho had me baking her homemade Tiramisu for her birthday.  I spent the whole day on it, 10 hours of baking, and it was the most amazing cake ever.  Then I dropped it off, then *cricket cricket*.  No phone calls from Hanicho, no text messages, Hanicho boo boo went ghost and had me crying in dark lit corners.  Sigh, these Ethiopian women are the death of me betam.  Zis is not fair, why could I not be attracted to Japanese women, they are all submissive and bowing down to their men.  Ethiopian women do not submit, they just do Guraginya dance and eskista on our hearts.  Sigh, time for Yohannes Arimaji to drown away my sadness. Now as far as you Danicho bilicho, you are about to be in a world of hurt broham.  I tried to warn you many many many times eko:: But go ahead, do you boo boo (yes this one mos def sounded feminine).  You will soon be drinking Yohannes Arimaji with me at Portico drowning away your sadness.  Don’t say I did not warn you, I will give you a Brown Condor napkin (my business card) you can clear up your eyes and your snot on my business card neftam::

Q:  You are rotting yourself in decadence, better if u knew nothing than have this to contaminate your country ladies with, STOP ayamribihim, and return to your elitism, and do campaigning for Obama or somebody else, that is better -Yetemare Adam Gedelegne, Location, Unknown

BC:  Let me guess, you are Nitro Ethiopian’s butt buddy, his Qit Wendem?  Jeesh, what is it about Habeshoch in England?  Is it the smog, the chips, or Ruppert Murdoch that turns nice Ethiopians into asshole trolls? Ummm Yetemare, put down the lotion, take out Nitro’s dick from your mouth, and go learn some seneserat manners bilicho:: How do you like those elite apples negro?

Q:  Every time I eat Injera, my stomach goes into a revolution.  Seriously, I get heart burn, I throw up sometimes, and when I poop, my kit turns to fire.  Men laderg Brown Condor?  -Anonymous, Boston Massachusetts

BC:  Oh man, anonymous, I feel the same way broham or sistren.  Every flipping time I eat Injera, a Tea Party revolution goes on inside my stomach and then an inferno after that.  I don’t know what it is that turns a hopeful gursha into a miserable digestion.  I have popped more Pepto Bismol than Whitney has popped Xanax.  I think I know the reason though, I think some of the Injera makers in America are on some bullshit.  They use beer and Coca Cola in the Injera batter to make it look darker so they could make more money.  I wish someone would write an article about this issue! Ding! Idea popped in to my head. Actually, I was going to write about this yesterday until I got distracted by Ray and the Ethiopian Thongs Day King Kong tactics.  Maybe next week, but until then, I will try to avoid Injera this weekend (bullshit Teddisho, you know you are going to be eating tibs at Habesha after Portico, don’t fool yourself and your readers ante molkaka::

Q:  YEGOBEZIN WODAJ GOBEZ AYNEKATIM YETATAKIN WODAJ TATTAKI AYNEKATIM YEMENDER AWIDELDAY BIYAGEGN AYELEQATIM! –Atse Tewodros II, Washington, DC

BC:  I have no idea what you just said you all caps asshole troll but I know it was something pernicious.  Whatever it is Qitam, go outside and take a breath and ummmm yeah put down that lotion boo boo.

Q:  There isn’t any “real” shit you could possibly post that could make me bat an eye. I have seen it all and heard it all. I’m not going to apologize because this is still a sick idea for a joke. I support your cause and i sympathize with all the people suffering in this world for various reasons. My question is, what did u expect? A cookie? A person who does good things or attempts to do good things in this world doesn’t do it for the glory. They do it for the cause and the solution they could potentially offer. In all honesty, this was a pathetic attempt to get people’s attention. I think YOU should apologize to have to go as far as to degrade your own women to get people’s attention. If you want to have a serious conversation about homeless people, just say so. Don’t go looking for a pathetic excuse such as getting females to show their thongs. Try to educate people by posting about real things; if people want to respond that’s their business, if they don’t then that’s still their business. All you can do is attempt to educate people about the many fucked up things that go on in this world and try to come up with a solution. You went as far as insulting and offending Ethiopian females such as me. For what? To make everyone else look like an ass. You, my friend, just made an ass out of yourself. Like I said before, I didn’t judge you. I don’t even know you. Honestly though, how many people did u miseducate with this ignorant post? Think about it. Niggas who saw this shit will probably walk around tomorrow talking bout “hey girl, lemme see your thong! Don’t you know its Ethiopian thong day???” You did more damage than good. BTW, I checked out the website and like I said I support your cause, BUT i don’t support your tactics. –Sam My, Maryland

BC:  I understand your plight Sam My.  But just know, I have been at this, trying to get Ethiopians to galvanize for a bigger goal since 2008.  I have tried all others seriously, remember Ethiopians for Obama. I tried the non King Kong tactics back then, I traveled to 7 states trying diplomacy and that shit got me nowhere.  If I was trying King Kong tactics back then, man I would have been 40 times more successful.  This is an education I learned from miseducated Ethiopians, most only pay attention to two things: 1) rumors and innuendo 2) sex. So I adapted to get my message out. I know one thing though, if memory serves me correctly, you did not respond when I first tagged you with the picture of just the homeless man asking you to donate to Ray.  You only responded when I tagged on you on that raunchy picture labeled Ethiopian Thongs Holiday.  You paid no attention to kind gestures, but I became all King Kong with it, you responded right away.  Isn’t that an indictment on you ehete?  Doesn’t that say more about your indifference?  Why blame the messenger when the message is the thing that got your attention bilicho:: As far as the Ethiopian Thongs Day, just know that was a grimy tactic, I wish other ways could get the attention of Habeshoch.  Just know, I love love love Ethiopian women and respect them as Queen of Queens.  I was raised  by three mothers, my mother and my two sisters.  I might tease a lot and call you yene big foreheadiye, but in my heart there is nothing that can take the place of an Ethiopian woman.  I would take a bullet for you Sam My, even as you shoot bullets at me.  Now beka, no more warring mozaza, let’s have a great weekend, let’s go do eskista, meet me at Portico, I will have a warm seat waiting for you, inbox me eshi (any gegama, what the hell, can you please stop flirting with your readers, it is betam unprofessional negro, beka here comes your kurkuma) *WHAP*  OUCH…

Q:  Ellal is a Weyane Qemalam with a sprinkle of Islamic fundamentalism on top.  He will have you kidnapped and beheaded. You have been warned Mr. Teddy.  –Nitro Ethiopians, England

BC:  My God nitro, three nuts in 20 minutes, you have killed more Ethiopian kids than Dr. Kevorkian.  Really wendem, put down z lotion, can you and Yetemare please stop playing Brokeback Mountain Cowboys, and please, quit me already.  I am getting tired of your dekama duket words, please go away boo boos, go fly a kite, go eat doro, go to Bole and skip rope, do anything, but please leave Brown Condor alone.  Jesus beJesus! Bekan!

Q:  My boyfriend wants me to do a 69 with him, but I prefer only an 88, I don’t go down, I just prefer missionary.  What should I do Brown Condor? –Konjit, Toronto, Canada

BC:  How about you call me and I can be your math instructor inbox me eshi molkaka (ok ok I will stop flirting I promise Teddisho, this is my last time, kahun behwala, professional becha yene hode::  I pinkie promise!

Q:  I ran out of Neiva Lotion, what should I do not Brown Condor.  Nitro Ethiopians, England

BC:  Not answering this Brokeback Mountain Habesha

Q:  My girlfriend thinks that I am really small, but I measured myself and I’m 8 centimeters long, I thought 8 centimeters was the average size Brown Condor.  –Tinisih Wee Wee, Atlanta, Georgia

BC:  Getting close…

Q:  I know this girl who is always doing Guraginya at Starbucks but she denies she is Ethiopian.  But she has a big forehead, she smells like shinkurt, and her eyes are as big as Stonehenge.  How can I prove that she is Ethiopian?  -Mastewal, Maryland

BC:  Getting closer…

Q:  I am 46 years old and have gone through 40 containers of Nivea lotion in the past three days and I am addicted to online porn.  Help Brown Condor, how can I get a real girlfriend?  -Nitro Ethiopians, England

BC:  Yup, these are my readers.

If you liked this article, please post it on your wall and encourage others to send in questions. The Habesha Mailbag’s most vital component is the questions provided by the readers.  As you see, my responses are better the longer and detailed the questions.  I mean, don’t go writing a book, just make sure it is approximately a paragraph and it gives a good insight into the situation, and if you want, make sure you apply some humor to it eshi::

If you want to submit questions going forward, please send them to info@browncondor.com with subject header “Habesha Mailbag”.  Do me a favor, tweet about this on twitter right now, tweet the link to this article and use #HabeshaMailbag and encourage others to read this joint. Who knows, maybe one day #HabeshaMailbag could be a trending topic—yeah I know I have an audacious mind.   Also, make sure you post this on your Facebook wall—all about the Hebret.  OK, time for a break, hope you enjoyed.  Have a great weekend, catch you next week on Habesha  Mailbag 3.0. Degmo, Nitro Ethiopians, put down the lotion and log off z intertubes ahun before I give you a kurkuma, beka enough porn for you for the day.   Anyway, Esger Estelene sewoch!

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Teddy Fikre

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by Teddy Fikre  written: Thursday, February 2nd, 2012

God damn, now I done did it finally.  I finally stepped on a land mine by my incessant need to tap dance in land mines.  Finally, after popping my collars in hurricanes it seems that Hurricane Habesha has blown my ass to kingdom come.  I have been blown back to Kansas—Toto and I both windswept—and in the process I am left in dark lit corners yet again shivering from the judgmental cold breaths of folks that don’t know me.  This is the risk I took a long time ago when I decided to speak up for those who don’t have a voice; I knew I would attract the enmity and hatred of folks who speak with voices of odium. 

So what is it that I have done that got me and Toto blown back to Kansas you ask?  Well today started off like any other day, I woke up early, did a few things on www.browncondor.com and headed out early to work—this time Teddisho would be on time instead of four hours late.  Alas, I was pulled over by the Pentagon police for going the wrong way in an unauthorized street.  For 25 minutes officer Jones had me waiting in idle while listening to Mahmoud Ahmed in my Altima. Finally, he returns to my window—I turn down Mahmoud and put on some country music.  Thank God Officer Jones was not on some Assata screw a black man up mindset—he let me go with a warning.

Now at this rate, I am running late.  I am driving 80 miles an hour on 395 hoping not to  get pulled over again.  I am nervous and anxious; I am puffing on cigarettes by the dozens while listening to Mahmoud talking about “Fitsum Dink Nesh”.  Finally I arrive at my destination 20 minutes late—I just knew that this time I was going to get it.  In a rush, I did not have time to go to the parking lot; I decided to park my car in the street.  Frantically I search for some quarters but my pockets are about as empty as Sarah Palin’s mind.  I run over to the parking meter that takes credit cards; 5 minutes worth of trying it would not take my Visa.  Fuck it to bits and pieces.  What am I to do?  I turn to the side and face to my right, there I see a homeless man.  The audacity of me, I decided to ask him for some change!

This homeless fella did not even hesitate; he reached in his cup and gave me $1.25 which left him 75 cents.  To be honest, I felt like shit; I, a man who makes nearly $100,000, asking a homeless man for his last cents—shit did not make sense.  But no time for pride, I told him I would repay his kindness and ran off to get to my meeting.  I managed to talk my way out of reprimands, I told my clients I was stopped by the cop and joked about the New York Giants.  That is the think about Bole lijoch, we are the best kilidoch and we can bullshit our way out of countless hurricanes.  But the whole time, the thought of the homeless man was gnawing at my soul like a rabies infected jackal.  I just had to go make things right, I had to square away his kind act with a circle of hope and equal kindness.

I ventured downstairs to talk to this invisible citizen.  There I see him huddled in the wind of indifference.  In his eyes I see sadness, tizita of a lost love or a lost dream.  I see in him me if I ever lost the support of my family.  I pulled out a cigarette and made a conscience decision to talk to this lonely man.  He tells me his name is Ray and that he is out on Pennsylvania Avenue on a daily basis.  He tells me that his only aim on a daily basis is to make $3.60 a day and to hopefully get one square meal a day.  That’s it, no aspirations beyond making it through the day.  No dreams of partying like a rock star, no worries about paying the bills, no anxieties about what to wear or where to get some ass.  No, Ray was living life on cold concrete truth—he is a man we ignore yet a man who exists in front of us.  I was truly heart broken by the circumstances of this gentleman.

Thus I decided to scrap the article I was about to write today about Injera.  I scrapped my promotion of BC IPO.  Nah, I decided that today I would write about Ray and the warmth he provided me.  Motivated so, I decided to write a missive about my experience with Ray.  I put pen to pad and bled my conscience dry.  I wrote about Ray’s plight, put a picture up of a homeless man, and posted it on Facebook and twitter.  To wit, I have 1,975 “friends” on Facebook, an admin of United Apart:  Ethiopians and Eritreans that has over 3,000 fans, and my own personal fan page that has 240 fans in it.  I also have a pretty large presence on twitter.  Thus I made it my day’s mission to get $1,000 raised to feed Ray and give him some hope.  I think audaciously, I actually believe that my poetic words could inspire people to be kind to folks in unkind places and provide prose with a purpose.

What did I profit for my efforts?  Zip, zippo, nada ,minim, 0.  I shook my head with indignation, I see folks tweeting about thongs and sexual positions with lesser  following than me, and these fools have 80 comments on their status updates.  I sat there fuming, 2 hours pass and only one comment supporting my effort; Aisha Beyutiful was touched by my pleading and asked me about the homeless Ethiopian woman by Habesha market.  Aisha and I formed a coalition; she promised that she would stop by Pennsylvania Ave and give Ray a ray of hope.  I told her that I would double whatever she gave him.  An agreement reached, we decided to start a collective effort for homeless folks in DC. 

Another hour passes, nothing minamin from other folks on Facebook. Beka, if folks can’t handle my gentle marketing, I guess I shall turn to brutish tactics to get my point across.  See, we live in an age of twitter and Facebook, no one cares about humanity, they only notice bright red lights of nothingness.  Post an article about women being raped in Africa, not one says shit.  Post an article about titis and ass and show a picture of a woman’s nipple and people have nipply thoughts and will flock to the website by the thousands.  Sex sells, sense goes to hell.  Those who preach truth are ignored while those who preach sensationalism are famous. This is the age we live in; why am I pissed off that people did not notice a sunshine by the name of Ray, they are blinded by darker objects.

Alright then, regroup and reassess, time to change up the tactic.  Fine, if folks won’t listen to my gentle side, let me turn to some TMZ shit.  You see, I am a great marketer—what the hell I am a stupendous promoter—in the age of gorilla marketing I am all King Kong with it.   Fuck it, if folks won’t react to a picture of a homeless man huddled in the cold grip of winter let me instead turn up the heat and reach them with the searing light of sex and lurid thoughts. 

Thus, I formulated an “Ethiopian Thongs Day” as a gimmick.  I got a picture in a scantly thong showing off her ass, customized it to give it an Ethiopian feel on PowerPoint—I am not a graphic designer but I can come up with some graphic designs.  Thus, I finished the most tasteless shit I’ve done to this point and posted the picture and the “Ethiopian Thongs Day” missive on Facebook and twitter.  I then went about tagging random Ethiopian men and women—50 in all—to get them to see the ghastly picture of an Ethiopian flag being defamed by some random white girl’s ass cheeks.  Now, time to get another cig and talk to Ray and let time and space determine the eventual outcome.

I get back from my cig break and giving Ray $20 and sit back at my cubicle.  Oh shit, I think there is a silent conspiracy brewing against me in the ether.  I should have felt the odious wind blowing at my neck from the lips of would be friends turned indifferent by my King Kong tactics.  First clue was when this konjiye lij who I call a dear friend and was once a FLY Brown Condor lady for the Brown Condor Take Off party immediately deleted the fan page I had created for her.  I used to tease her endlessly about doing Guraginya all the time at Starbucks and I could tell she was not taking too kindly to my teasing.  But today was the last straw, my Guragye dancing Queen decided to split—dip in her space ship with no rear view mirrors—and disassociate from Teddisho lickity split. She decided to parachute out of a crashing Brown Condor jet, she pulled a Captain Schettino and bounced from the cockpit.

Then all the sudden, the comments start coming in one by one.  “Teddy what the fuck you motherfucker, your mom is a whore”.  “Teddy you fucking asshole, I wish you would die already, please commit suicide”.  “Teddy you uneducated bastard, how dare you trample on Ethiopians that way!”  And these were some of the more gentle comments.  Below are cut and paste directly from Facebook:

Atse Tewodros II ‎Teddy Fikre What is it with you!! Lately you have tress pass the watershed for your standard, your style of writings and the subjects you tend to pick are getting friskier by the day…Are you on prescribe medication? Picking brains and provoking your pundits on such flirtatious issues, some see it as perverted titillations… what’s your game?!?… Are you in the process of farming headless pussies, have u been tallying how many you have banged this year!! What exactly are you playing at? I hope you are not a member of knickers’-sniffing secrete society?…hmmm uhhhh,, u really make me laugh!!

Sam My Why only females? Stop bringing down your own people..especially the women. Think of your mom, your sister and your daughter(to be if you don’t already have one). It’s bad enough we learned this type of ignorant shit from America…lets not spread that same ignorance. What a female wears underneath it all is for her to know, not the world to find out. And to the females even thinking about partaking in this–> KNOW YOUR SELF WORTH (i guarantee its more than a $100 Victoria Secret gift card). Gracias!

Yetemare Adam Gedelegne u are rotting yourself in decadence, better if u knew nothing than have this to contaminate your country ladies with, STOP ayamribihim, and return to ur elitism, and do campaigning for Obama or somebody else, that is better..

Mahelet Tegegne You have lost your mind!

Now these are only a few of the countless messages I got on my wall, on my fan page, and ten times more filthy comments in my inbox.  But here is the thing these folks don’t know, my King Kong ways worked.  With my brutish methods, I got their attention—the attention I could not get when I wrote about Ray in more gentle ways.  You see, prophets that speak truth are remembered only after their crucifixion and decades after they are gone.  But those that are remembered while they are living are the Judases who start fires of enmity and get the glow of fame and infamy by legions of adoring fans and hating trolls alike—both of feed equally Judas’s hands.

I am not saying I am Judas any more than I am Jesus.  Let’s just say I know the methods of both, while I apply my Jesus soul to Ray and apply my Judas soul  to folks who ignore Ray’s soul.  I know I lost “friends” along the way, I lost a FLY Brown Condor Guragaye lady friend with the most beautiful forehead for daring to be King Kong and help a homeless man.  The funny thing is that there are legions of Ethiopians and Eritreans huddled in corners taking bets on when I will finally fall off.  It seemed today one lucky motherfucking Ethiopian was about to get rich.  Someone had bet February 2^nd as the date of my downfall and God damn it if they were not about to eat the best kitfo in DC on my dying carcass.  These people—I have no idea what I have done to them—I guess when I am King Kong, there will always be tiny imps in tiny biplanes shooting at chinkila.

The thing is though I will not go the way of King Kong.  You imps do not hurt me an iota, instead of meeting my end from the ends of tiny imp’s spit guns; I instead turn that weapon and use it to advance my goals.  I know there are people on a daily basis who cheer each time I dance near edges of sky scrapers, shit I feel their collective winds from their troll lungs puffing at my back so that I could finally fall off.  But here is the shit, I am Fred Astaire with it, I never all off, I fall up towards the grace of my Esgyaber.  So keep on blowing shit at me, I will keep using your winds of hatred to give flight to Brown Condor and let your breath be the wind under my wings.

The shit came to a head when a dear friend inboxed me and asked me what the hell I was doing?  This friend from Philly, I will not mention her name but she knows me well I think.  This is the second time she reached out to me in private and tried to correct my wayward ways.  She asked me what the hell I was doing by parading half naked women across people’s time line.  What was my plan, to get attention for the sake of attention?  She told me that I was confusing people and that in the process I was destroying the brand of Brown Condor.  She also said that as long as I don’t appreciate myself, none of the promoters, community activists, opinion leaders that I crave the attention of will appreciate me.  See, this kind soul did not blast me in public, she hit me in private and in a private way taught me another lesson.  Who knows, if I am King Kong, it will not be the bullets from tiny planes loaded with imps that will do me in, it will be my own King Kong pride.

This I shall think about on further basis.  But what I want all of you to know is that I really am not in this to furbish my brand.  I got my MBA from Johns Hopkins; I know all about brand awareness and brand management.  I know about the value of a brand and that a company is worth much more in brand than it is by the product it is selling.   But that is the thing, I am not in this to make Brown Condor some pristine brand to sell pristine shit.  Brown Condor is me, it is flawed, its engine is rusted, its wings are crooked, and the wing blades make an awful cacophonous sound.  Brown Condor does not fly straight; Brown Condor is a plane on which I hope to document my flaws along with the frailty of our collective conscience.  If you want a pristine product, go have a coke and a smile, but if you want someone that is just as flawed as you yet succeeds despite my flaws—Brown Condor is jet for you. 

With that said, thank you my sister from Philadelphia, it seems that you are a Brown Condor Fly Lady and you did not even know it.  That is the way of God, where I lose one Fly lady who dances Guraginya, another traveling lady replaces her and gives me a crutch when I need it the most.  To all the other people who threw stones of hatred at my bald chinkila, ask yourselves, instead of trolling my page and inbox for 5 hours, how come you did not dedicate that energy hatred towards love by giving Ray or someone else in his dispostion just five dollars.  I mean, you make at least $30 an hour; the five hours you went back and forth on my fan page was $150, why could you not find it in you to give 10% to a homeless man instead of debating me on Facebook?

It’s cool though, this is what happens when you are King Kong with it.  You will draw empty banana peels who will try to peel your forehead.  But I am impervious; I will not fall from your collective breaths of loathing.  Besides I know one thing, when I gave Ray $20 today, I might not have the respect and appreciation of Ethiopian promoters, activists and opinion leaders in DC, but for one day, I saw a homeless man cry because of my kindness and I was reduced to crying with him on Pennsylvania Avenue.  In the morning he invested $1.25, I returned his investment 17 fold.  So keep your chump change, you don’t have to invest in BC IPO, you don’t have to respect me, shit you don’t even have to like me. I just hope you turn your hatred for what I stand for and instead invert it and provide love for someone less blessed than me and for those who can’t type bomb ass DOPE ass shit like I can in 30 minutes.

You can continue to “defriend” me on Facebook and form vicious conspiratorial weapons against me—in the end you won’t prosper but I will.  I don’t care, because today I emerged from the dark corners of my enemy’s umbrella and emerged a better man because I saw the thousand rays of light from a homeless yet hopeful man named Ray.  Thus King Kong and Ray formed a friendship, from this moment on I will give him at least $5 a day, and in return he will renew me from the bullets that imp fire at my head from weak ass biplanes.  Thus Ray ena King Kong walk towards the sun and avoid dark moon dudes with evil intentions.   See, I would rather seek the light of Ray’s sun than for a second think of turning towards dark star souls who shine at the expense of others radiance.  I would rather have the warmth of Ray’s rays than the basking heat of envious and odious Ethiopian stars that refuse to believe in the essence of Hebret.

And oh yeah lastly, just remember one thing, my first punch is always a feint, I never really mean what I say when I say some outlandish shit.  Really that first utterance is said to draw you into a debate and let you vent some existing conception you have of me.  It is then when I unleash the second punch and you realize at that point that I was with you the entire time.  This fact, 35 people on Facebook who called me bi-polar, crazy, ibd, lunatic, sexist, chauvinist, and misogynist and worst are about to find out as they read this article. 

Kapow!  Enjoy the second punch early judgmental ejaculators.  Next time, instead of debating me on Facebook, please help out a homeless men and women like Ray—look about you, you walk over them every day.  Oh and yene Guraginya dancer bilicho, I still have love for you even if you are no longer a Brown Condor Fly lady—I am sure a thousand others will replace you.  That is what God has in store for me, when one leaves me, a thousand will stand in place. For the rest of you that did not take part in the lynch mob that came after me with judgment and enmity thank you for at least not shooting at me from pernicious biplanes. 

For those that take part in the struggle just like me but without reverting to King Kong tactics, I love your spirits truly.  I wish I could be just as humble as you, but alas I am a bit to grandiose, that is my flaw and my sin.  I am not casting stones, I am King Kong in search of the ray of light from Him.  I am just like the rest, what separates me from Ray is that I have a home while his home is the streets, other than that—I am just another Ray in search of a home.  God bless and please look out for each other and look out for those who have lesser wealth than us.  But for the grace of God goes us, some of us are only one paycheck away from living on cold concretes in urban jungles.  Peace. 

“I lived rough, by my wits, was homeless, lived on the streets, lived on friends’ floors, was happy, was miserable.” ~Ben Okri

Brown Condor Productions is sponsoring a homeless shelter fund.  100% of funds collected will be given to homeless men and women in DC.  I know I admonished Ethiopians and black folk for not supporting me in my BC IPO.  But to be honest, I don’t give a shit, I am blessed, I eat every day and have a place to rest my head each night.  But please, I beg you—without employing King Kong tactics—find it in your heart to spare change and dollars to spare the hearts of homeless men, women and children in DC and beyond.  I know we are not that indifferent, I know we can spare $5.00 a day—to forgo one cup of Starbucks coffee or another shot of Yohannes Aramaji—and help out those with lesser fortune than us.  The fund will be administered by Aisha (you can see her picture below.  God bless you for caring a bit.  Click on the cup below to make donations.  Esger Estelen.

[forget about BC IPO, I am blessed, find it in your heart to give a few dollars to a homeless person in DC or beyond]

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Muse 1 who did not judge me

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Muse 4 who did not judge me

Aisha Beyutiful

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I know I lost a Brown Condor FLY lady today, a DOPE one at that who I think was Guragay, but if you want to replace her and be a Brown Condor Fly lady, send an email to info@browncondor.com.  Below is one of the FLYEST Brown Condor FLY ladies by the name of Jayne “Konjit” Kennedy.  Just goes to show you, Brown Condor has wings beyond Ethiopia.

Jayne “Konjit” Kennedy

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Teddy Fikre

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]]> http://browncondor.com/events/2012/02/02/ray-ena-king-kong/feed/ 3 http://browncondor.com/events/2012/02/01/bc-ipo/ http://browncondor.com/events/2012/02/01/bc-ipo/#comments Wed, 01 Feb 2012 23:46:21 +0000 teddyfikre http://browncondor.com/events/?p=3608 Instead of throwing your money away to filthy rich corporations and enriching people like Mitt Romney, why not instead use $5 to invest in a fellow Ethiopian jegna?

by Teddy Fikre  written:  Tuesday, February 1st, 2012
Finally, after years of toil and struggle, after years of broken hearts and meaningful tears, the day has arrived.  You see, a long time ago, I planted a seed in the ground.  It was as though I was 7 years old back in Bole.  Back then I used to plant corns in my back yard and then wait for it to grow on a daily basis.  I never had patience; I would continue to dig in the ground to see if the corn was growing.  9 out of 10 times, the corn never grew because I did not give it time to sprout to life.  My impatience has ended the life of hundreds of baby corns.  I guess you can say I used to be a corn abortionist, I was Dr. Kevorkian of corns in Addis. 

Now I know, you are saying to yourself, ende, ehe ibd, ahun degmo mendinew emyaraw (what is this crazy person talking about).  What the hell does a corn in Bole have anything to do with BC IPO?  Degmo, what the hell is BC IPO?  What is this fool talking about, I wish he would stop typing and being such a self-promoter and go sip buna like the rest of us!  I know, awekalew, this is what you were thinking in your chinkila right at this exact moment.  But tigist sewoch, let me explain what BC IPO is.  Go ahead, sip your buna and eat your kolo as I explain this DOPE theory of mine.

Now an IPO is short for Initial Public Offering and of course BC is short for Brown Condor.  This article was inspired by Facebook and the IPO they are embarking upon.  Facebook is slated to raise over $100 billion dollars when all is set and done.  Damn I felt like Dr. Evil from Austin Powers saying that—One Billion Dollars!  Yeah I chuckled at the thought of me putting my fingers near my lips and uttering that in mocking contempt.  But alas, the joke is on me, you see Mark Zuckerberg is literally about to become a filthy billionaire overnight.  He is about to be more Mitt Romney than Mitt Romney, except he earned his money instead of leeching it from broken companies.  This lily white nerd is about to become the most powerful person in the universe and all he did was create one website. 

So that’s it! I am popping my collars in the hurricanes of corporate America and I’m about to get Mitt Romney with it as well.  Time for me to grow that corn seed and transform her into a FLY Brown Condor jet.  This is my plan; I plan on becoming the next Ethiopian Mark Zuckerberg.  I know what you are thinking, ende ehe lij betam ibd new leka::  Does he seriously think that he can get the Ethiopian community to get together and support one of their own?  Seriously, does he expect Ethiopians to help their own, to believe in the essence of Hebret, to do more for each other to feed and sustain their own community other than giving an occasional gursha?  Is this negro mental, has he lost his marbles, manew kurkum yesetew::

I don’t blame you for thinking so.  To be honest, I question my own sanity for even pondering this audacious dream.  I mean, maybe I have lost my marbles, maybe I am mental.  Imagine that, asking Ethiopians and Habeshoch to invest in one of their own bole lijoch.  I must have finally flipped; too much caffeinated buna has got me thinking foolish thoughts.  But I have initiated the article, might as well go meto gena (100%) in and finish what I started.  I am so Gondere with it, so unMitt Romney with it, once I start I don’t flip flop, I go straight for my goal and utter and shake my words until I make my mitmita point.  So hear me out beteseboch, this is what I am endeavoring to accomplish. 

I plan on opening up 20% of Brown Condor for investment from my Ethiopian and Eritrean people.  The details are as follows:

1)     Invest $5 per share to get a percentage of Brown Condor Productions

2)    Each share entitles you to a 25 cent dividend on a quarterly basis.  So four times a year, you will get 25 cents return for every share you own.  If you own 100 shares, every three months you will get $25 paid out from Brown Condor. The BC dividend is 10 times what you would normally receive from water utility corporations.

3)    You can sell your shares back at any time at the price of the current market. So if you bought 5 shares at $5 a share today, and a year from now you decide to sell it back and it’s worth $10 a share, you will have doubled your investment plus the dividend you earned in the process.

Now the tricky part is going to be trying to figure out how to actually price the shares on an automatic basis.  I want people to be able to buy and sell shares in the public instead of going through me on a daily basis.  That part I am putting my brains meto gena to use to solve this riddle, but you get the idea. At the end of the day, this is a proposition for you—the reader—to invest in Brown Condor the concept and the company.  This is a proposal to see if you are willing to take part in the formation of a corporation and in the process believe in yourself and in your own people.

Put it this way, you have spent $5 today on buna, cigarettes, Subway or a hundred other useless products.  Instead of throwing your money away to filthy rich corporations and enriching people like Mitt Romney, why not instead use $5 to invest in a fellow Ethiopian jegna?  Seriously, get over yourself and your own inertia, I know you think that all Ethiopians are out to steal money from their own people,  but I am not that way, I put myself out there for years—Google me, I have nothing to hide.  So I am saying this out in the open, this is not a game; this is definitely not just a cute article to make you think.  This is business, I am not a business man I am business man.  So time to reveal the talkers from the doers.  Time to separate the tsega from the choma and the bull kaka from the real shit—who’s in?  Who wants part of the BC IPO?

“An investment in knowledge pays the best interest.” ~Benjamin Franklin

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by Teddy Fikre  written:  Tuesday, January 31st, 2012

Here I go again, about to stroll down memory avenue and remember the good old days.  I know times have changed a lot; we are in the age of twitter and Facebook where trolls reside in dark lit corners awaiting to ambush an unsuspecting suspect.  I am no longer in Bole, I am like Dorothy and Toto, I have been windswept into a foreign land and I have no idea where I am going.  The thing that gets me the most despondent is that some of the most vicious trolls that throw stones at my bald chinkila are women.  What happened to the days where women had patience and love—now they are full of hatred and venom.

I remember back in Ethiopia, women were demure and loving.  They let the men do all the bluster and bullshit, but when it came down to it, the women were in full control and they shook the men to the core.  They were the true jegnas; they were the ones who kept the house in order.  Women like my mother and my grandmother were soldiers through and through; they led an army of 80 million Ethiopians with quiet guidance and a patient temperament.  They were not infected with pride and arrogance, they had in their hearts pure thoughts and enduring affection.  With love and patience, they raised me to be a man and in the process taught me to respect women always. 

However, it seems that I have been hanging around too many men that have served to counteract their lessons.  You see, I am full of arrogance and pride like the rest of Ethiopian men.  I am a kind and loving soul by nature, but when someone spits hatred my way, my eyes go red with rage and I always bomb their asses out with a nuclear holocaust.  I apply the Mossad theory always, you throw a grenade my way and  you will get in return a 2 ton daisy duke right on your chinkila.  I know, this is not what Jesus would do, He told us to forgive our trespassers and love them over with love.  I do the complete opposite, each time someone trespasses on me; I blast them with a shotgun of truth and riddle their worthless asses with pellets of justice. 

I say this as a backdrop.  You see, yesterday, after I concluded a DOPE interview with Messiah and Flex Mathews on BC Radio, I posted a comment whereby I effectively kissed off a friend who I had promoted continually and in return she never once said thanks to me.  This Eritrean chic shall go unnamed but let’s her fir sem starts with that word and ends with bitter honey.  She was invited to the White House and I told the whole world about her accomplishment.  In return, not one thanks you on Facebook or twitter. So I decided to cut my losses and move on, but first I posted a cryptic message on Facebook to rid my body of anger.  It was at this moment that a chic from down under by the name of Tsedey Merid decided to send me a hateful message even though the shit had nothing to do with her.  Below is her initial response: 

WTF, Do you do something for someone expecting payback (lezawem an immediate one) – what kind of nonsense is this??? It is always either one is with you or against you – Fuck That!!! You’re like a cry baby abo do yourself a favor and grow up – you’re just freakin’ unstable and I wouldn’t care less if you gave me the finger as well.

Now it’s one thing if this down under troll had sent me this message in private, if she did it to console me or to give me loving guidance and wisdom, no this damn troll did it in public and called me “freaking unstable” in the process.  Time for me to go into Mossad mode, my eyes glaring red with anger and flashing with rage, I decided to repay her enmity with a thousand time more enmity.  Guile me will you miss, let me riddle your worthless body with pellets of truth.  Time to go KAPOW KAPOW and shoot this assassin with bullets of truth and justice.  I aimed my shot gun right at her big forehead and let the laser find a perfect spot right between her big ass eyes.  Ready! Aim! Fire!

Sigh….another habesha troll…this one from down under….I wish she stayed down under as in under my left nut..her name is Tsedey Merid….I have no idea what her name means……but I am meto gena it means troll in Amharic…check her big forehead …wuy gud…Im done with you eko:

Now granted, this was crude and trollish on my part, but I responded in a way that was sure to get under her skin.  I do that, I study people’s pattern and learn their weakest spots, when they attack me I go right for that weak spot and stuff a DOPE gursha of kibe laced arsenic right in their weak spots. It goes without saying that Tsedey did not appreciate my arsenic gursha, she chocked on that shit the whole night, I gave her indigestion through the ether.  Unable to digest my tire tsega, she woke up this morning to respond yet again:

Tedi, had to calm down before I responded to your inarticulate anger and vacuous quibbles. Is the price of disagreeing with you and your methods being paraded as a slut? Whatever gets you off man! But I am not one of the people whom you can glibly miniaturize to fit into your squabby mind of high misogynist measures. How dare you?! The level of contempt and disrespect you have for women! Would you be saying such shit if I were a man? You assume a woman is most vain when criticized about her physical attributes right? Wrong, if a woman is more concerned with the contents of her head than anything else, she can lap up snotty comments such as yours. It does not faze me – it is typical cave man behaviour that women have had to put up with for centuries. You are an embarrassment to the women in your life, your people and the rest of humanity!!

She actually went on for a lot longer than that but I really don’t care to regurgitate her bullshit nonsense.  The funny thing is though; Tsedey called me a sexist and a misogynist.  Let me get this right Tsedey, you get to put on the vest of a man, to grow a  pair of balls and come at me with empty bluster and bullshit and kick me in my balls from down under.  Having thus been kicked without prodding you, I kick you right back in your new grown balls and you have the balls to get offended and call me a sexist?  I am wrong for treating you as a man when you came at me as a man?  Stay in your lane, if you can’t stand the heat get the fuck out of the kitchen.  But if you stay in the kitchen and choose to attack me with a spatula, just know that I will throw the whole kitchen sink at your stinky ass. 

This is what I mean; I miss the days of my mother’s and grandmother’s generation.  Women are acting all new these days.  They want to be men, they want to be prideful and arrogant too?  But guess what ladies, it is a hard life being a man, we hold on to our pride because we are too weak to cry.  We hold on to arrogance because we cry in dark lit corners by ourselves.  You are supposed to be better than us, you are supposed to be the ones with patience and love in your hearts.  You are supposed to be the ones who teach us to be caring and to offer us shoulders to cry on.  Now all you offer us is empty bones of contention and words of rhetoric and nonsense. 

Is this what the feminism liberation movement was all about—to prove that women are just as arrogant and prideful as men?  We are fucking lost in that case, we are all on the titanic and we have no life boats.  Sigh, we will sink together because women choose to be just as led infested with hatred as men.  I miss the days of Senesrat, those days are long gone, all we have now are rabies infected hyenas and we will continue to bite each other throughout Facebook and twitter.  Welcome to the 21^st century—men and women alike lost in darkness. 

“Heaven is at the feet of Mothers.” ~Arabic saying

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]]> http://browncondor.com/events/2012/01/31/3590/feed/ 4 http://browncondor.com/events/2012/01/31/when-the-milk-goes-bad/ http://browncondor.com/events/2012/01/31/when-the-milk-goes-bad/#comments Tue, 31 Jan 2012 15:26:15 +0000 teddyfikre http://browncondor.com/events/?p=3575 No more NPR, no more talk show radio shows, from now on listen to BC Radio only and I will find myself in peace in the evenings.

by: Teddy Fikre written:  Monday, January 30th, 2012

Sigh, here I go, about to go meto gena on another troll ass nigga.  I don’t know why I keep doing it, mejemerya, I hate to use the word nigga. I hate that word so.  Second, the world is full of troll ass niggas, I wish I could use my God given talent of writing and words to focus on the angels in my midst.  But alas, I keep failing in this attempt to find peace and find myself constantly waging battles with lesser trolls.  I don’t know, I guess my iris keeps searching for shit to be upset about and my cornea is too infected with the enmity frothing from the mouth of rabies infected hyenas to avoid the sights of hatred around me.  I am trying hard to find solace, I ask God continuously to bless me with only thoughts of harmony.

It is because I see harmony that I decided to listen only to music and gave up talk shows and news radio on my commutes to work.  But today, I decided to go back and fell off the wagon and found myself listening to NPR.  I don’t know why I did it, each time I listen to talk radio, the asshole trolls sink me right back into depressing thoughts.  But I am stubborn and hardheaded, I guess I am an assholes who has an affinity for asshole trolls.  Thus I decided to venture to NPR on my way to work and what did I discover but a troll ass sell-out step and fetch it nigga by the name of Herman Cain endorsing the presidential aspirations of an equally troll ass nigga named Newt Gingrich.

I found myself listening to this troll ass nigga for 30 minutes while stuck on 395.  Instead of listening to Kuku Sebsebe, there I was stuck in my car listening to this jigaboo ass nigga talking about 9-9-9 while extolling the virtues of a hyena that cheated on two wives and married a gold digging white trash by the name of Calista Gingrich.  I could not believe what I was hearing, here stood a black man cheered on by a sea of white tea party racists as he driveled words of nothingness to an ocean of empty assholes.  He endorsed Gingrich full-throated; he went on to cite the “leadership” of this disgraced former Congressman.  He went on to admonish Barack Obama for his failed stewardship of the nation and beseech his white enablers to vote for Gingrich in Florida.

I finally could not take it no more.  What a shame, in the age of Obama, we still find sell-out nigger who sell out their people in order to get the applause of the same people who call them niggers behind their backs.  This ignoramus asshole troll, he makes me ashamed to be black.  I am meto gena certain that Herman Cain’s roots go back to some old house hold Negro who admonished other slaves to be respectful of the Massa and told on other slaves who dared to escape to freedom.  This motherfucker (excuse my language) is a disgrace, he tap dances in front of the same white audience who are decedents of racist bastards who lynched countless African-Americans from oak trees of hatred.  Now this seed of an aborted hope by the name of Herman Cain comes along and seeks the acceptance and validation of these same asshole racists.

Lesson learned Teddiye, stop listening to talk shows.  Listen to music always.  You see, had you followed this DOPE lesson, your ass would not be vexed and would be surrounded by peaceful thoughts at this moment instead of smoking cigarettes in anger and outrage.  Bet, lesson learned and lesson accepted.  No more NPR, no more talk show radio shows, from now on listen to BC Radio only and I will find myself in peace in the evenings.  Goodbye asshole troll Herman Cane, I hope you and asshole Newt Gingrich cuddle up together in a bed of self-hatred. Oh, and by the way, my man Barack Obama will win in November and your ass will still be spewing bullshit 9-9-9 on AM talk shows.  Next time I see you, I will kick your 9-9-9 ass with my size 12 brown condor shoes.  Alright, I am done drinking from a milk who has gone bad, you sour ass troll ass nigga. Peace!

“I am working for the time when unqualified blacks, browns, and women join the unqualified men in running our government.”  ~Cissy Farenthold

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by Teddy Fikre  written:  Monday, January 31st, 2012

Time for me to put on my Mos Def hat and turn to mathematics to count up the ways and errors of my life.  I will add up multiple negative moments—and some upbeat times—to arrive at a number that I am sure will not be too positive.  This article was inspired by a conversation I shared yesterday evening with my fraternity brother Robert Sinclair from Nasty Nu Psi.  We were talking about the various things we have done in our lives, the times we have escaped the clutches of countless hazards and lived to tweet about it.  We are the luckiest fellas in the world, while a guy like Ayana Werku Tegegnedies dies from liver disease before barely taking a sip of liquor; we continue to lead healthy lives indifferent to the dangers around dark lit corners waiting for us.  This world, it is cruel and uncaring, the good ones die young and the sinner live for an eternity.

It was at this point I conveyed to Robert that my ass was dead broke and that I was counting up change in order to put gas in my car.  He shook his head in disbelief (at least I envisioned him doing so because this was a phone call after all) and asked how a single man who makes almost six figures could be broke living paycheck to paycheck.  I told him about my epic New Year’s night where I spent close to $2,000 and my more epic time with the Ethiopian crew and how Mastewal and I partied like rock stars only for me to end up dropping near $1,000 in the process.  Thus, in less than 2 weeks, I divested myself of more than $3,000 only to find myself eating Raman noodles waiting for February 1^st to arrive.  I am wealthy, I am considered Upper-Middle class, I am in the top 20% of earners.  In short, I am rich; I make double the money that my father ever earned after working for 10 years in the US Post office.

This is where I am about to apply some DOPE mathematics.  Ready sewoch?  Here goes! I am 37 years old + I have been working since the age of 14 + I’ve been working professionally since the age of 24 + my average income since I graduated from George Mason University is $65K + I am a few thousand away from making $100K now.  So let me add that up.  Thinking…thinking…adding…adding.  Finally, the answer, in my lifetime I have earned more than $1.5 million dollars from wages and income.  Thus, I am all Newt Gingrich with it, shit I should be a Republican, why the hell am I an Obama trooper again! Oh right, it’s because I have made $1.5 million yet I have wasted nearly 99% of it.  I am a great earner; alas I am a greater idiot when it comes to being a saver.  I am the cricket who tweets all day while the ants walk by storing up food for the winter.  Alas, the winter has come, the ants are eating and broke ass Cricket Teddiye is shivering in the cold heating slicing up Spam and spreading it on some Saltine crackers.  Yasazenal aydel?

This is an outrage if you think about, there are 9 million Americans out of work—most are on food stamps and welfare.  Yet—here I am—gainfully employed yet scrounging up change to make it through the end of the month.  Now this is the part where I apply further DOPE arithmetic to arrive at a more sober answer.  You see, the reason I am broke ass Teddiye is because I have spent countless cash and charged multiple credit cards while partying my ass off in DC.  I am a big Willie spender, from the time I was 18, I have been spending at least 25% of my money on partying and drinking.  My addictions in the name of alcohol, cigarettes, and other substances that do nothing but destroy my body has accounted for a vast sum of money spent in the name of having a good time.  25% of $1.5 million dollars adds up to roughly—ummmm–$375K!  God damn, I have spent nearly $400,000 on drinks and cigarettes.  This is obscene!  This is outrageous.  This is the reason I find myself drinking tap water and conning my way into getting free coffee at Caribou coffee at this exact moment. 

Think about it; $375,000 invested in poisoning my body with toxic substances.  Imagine what I could have done with that money.  Imagine if I invested that money in stocks or bonds, imagine if I would have just put that money a savings account that earned 2% annually.  2% interest compounded over 10 years on $375,000 would have translated to over $500,000 by now.  So you see, not only did I blow $375,000 on useless substances, I actually lost over $500,000 in the process.  I could have bought a house with this money; I could have visited Ethiopia over 500 times by now.  A more sober thought, a tenth of that money could have paid for a liver transplant for Ayana Werku Tegegne and he could be alive today instead of dying from not having enough money for a medical procedure.

 This is the cost of our actions.  Each one of us goes out to DC or any random city—Bole to Baltimore—you choose your location.  And each ones of us chases away our blues at the bottom of a bottle or by inhaling various smoke infested sticks.  In the process, we continue to blow away our money and end up being poorer for it.  There are billions of people in the world who make less than a dollar a day—yet here we are living in the lap of luxury  throwing our money in the wind and making it rain dollar bills that could feed an entire village.  The money we waste on a daily basis—whether it’s our addiction to buna at Starbucks or addiction to Hennessy at clubs in DC—could ensure that no children in Ethiopia or Eritrea die from malnutrition or HIV/AIDS.  But who has time to think of that while doing eskista on the dance floor with intoxicated thoughts of that Ethiopian girl’s ass floating in our minds aydel?

This is what I mean by my DOPE arithmetic, really I am the DOPE that continues to subtract from my wealth and in the process end up being negatively influenced by Yohannes Aramaji.  But I am making positive progress.  To wit:  Ignorance -> Denial -> Resentment -> Acceptance -> Change.  I finally added it all up, I am hell bent on changing my circumstance in life.  I hope you too—the readers through the ether—learn this DOPE mathematic and avoid the subtractions and divisions that have divided my life for far too long.  Rest in Peace Ayana Werku Tegegne, we all love and miss you wendem::

“All sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is damnation.” ~W. H. Auden

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by Teddy Fikre  written:  Sunday, January 29th, 2012

Welcome family to a new church called Tewodaj Teddy Fikre. By no means am I the priest, pastor, or Abba.  I am just a deeply flawed man who is seeking in Him guidance and forgiveness.  I will not wear false pretenses nor will I wear a purple robe in the guise of the King of Kings.  I will most definitely not wear a crown or make people bow down to me and kiss my ring.  I will be like the rest of the flock, I shall not stand on a pulpit and preach at my audience.  I will simply sit in a circle with the rest of the sinners and read from the bible together and find in the pages the essence of love and patience.

To be honest, I have tried to go to church multiple times in my life.  When I was in the midst of my deepest depression, I went to church often pleading with God to save me from misery and anguish.  I had countless sessions with multiple preachers, pastors, and Abba.  I am not being judgmental, their words and counsel prevented me from committing the ultimate sin that I used to think about often.  I owe these men my life because they gave me the will and the hope to believe that tomorrow would be better than my present state of melancholy.  The seeds they planted in my head were the very seeds that gave me the courage to keep on living.  And it was an Ethiopian pastor that gave my father the peace he sought his whole life right before he passed away from cancer.  Thus, I am a man who is a product and a byproduct of copious churches.

No matter this debt I owe Ethiopian and African-American churches, I could never shake from my conscience the essence of what the churches stood for.  I revolted on countless occasions at the thought of giving 10% to churches knowing that some of that birr would go towards the pastor’s Mercedes Benz monthly payment.  I hated the fact that folk would go to church dressed up in their finest outfit even as I saw them struggling to keep up with the rent.  I could not suppress the injustice I felt deep in my bones each time I heard a pastor beseeching his flock to give to the church instead of paying the electric bill—give the church money and the electric bill would be taken care by God.  Believe absolutely and never question the church, bend to their will or be blamed for insolence.  I just could not take it, whatever good the sermon did for my soul, each time I would walk out of church upset by the ongoing con game that was being played by good Christians on helpless victims

I am not really sure if the church has played a good or a bad role in Ethiopia and within the African-American community.  During slavery, the church was both a source of hope and bondage.  Preachers would tell slaves to be good brothers and sisters, to keep on picking cotton and to make sure to give 10% to the slave pastors.  They would tell their flock to work hard and that their reward would be given to them ten fold in heaven where they would drink honey and milk with Jesus.  Thus, the church was just as instrumental in oppressing black liberty as any overseer and white master was.  Black folk were taught to be timid and to never rise up to overthrow their shackles.  They were taught instead to step and fetch it—and to always give 10%.

The same phenomenon is evident in Ethiopia.  I am not sure what the churches are to be honest, they resemble gangs more than they resemble houses of worship.  Ethiopian churches have become Starbucks, they pop up every minute on every block, each one breaking off from the prior to start up their own church.  In DC alone, there are more than 10 Ethiopian churches that I can think of from the top of my head.  They bicker and fight, always seeking to glorify themselves first before glorifying God.  This is what churches are, glorification of mankind instead of glorifying HIM.  Always they keep fracturing, always they are full of politics and rarely do I see them cooperating with each other.  Sorry, but I don’t need this bullshit, if I wanted to see a street fight between Christians, I don’t need to go to Church, I will just go to a DC club where Habesha folk worship Yohannes Aramaji and see all the fighting I want to see while sipping on tsebel of Hennessy.  Yeah I know, I will have to tip the bartender 10%—but at least the bar tender is not claiming to be a preacher, pastor, or an Abba.

It is with this in mind that I am starting a new church.  This DOPE church will be called Tewodaj Teddy Fikre.  Nope, I won’t ask you for 10%, I will not ask you to stand and sit 45 times, and most definitely will not insist that you convert to Teddism at the of my sermon. In fact, there will not be sermons, just like minded folk who will pray and seek humility before God together. And trust me, the church will not be some fancy luxury church like the one you see above, it will probably be a buna bet in DC. I will not judge anyone, you do not have to come dressed in your fancies clothes, and if you tell me that your electricity is about to be cut off, it will be me that will give you my last dollar instead of telling you to give me your last dollar and wait on Him to solve your problems.  This is the essence of Tewodaj Teddy Fikre church, I will start the fist service next Sunday on 9th St in DC around 10:00.  Who wants to join this church—don’t worry, I won’t ask you for 10%.

“Every church is a stone on the grave of a god-man: it does not want him to rise up again under any circumstances.”~Friedrich Nietzsche

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Welcome to the Inaugural Habesha Mailbag

I am launching the Habesha Mailbag with the help of a few friends who lent me their time and creativity to come up with some questions, enjoy the gursha sewoch.

by Teddy Fikre  written:  Friday, January 27th, 2012

Well the moment has come for the launching of the inaugural Habesha Mailbag.  Yes, I have changed with the time, I still don’t like the word Habesha, I prefer to be called Ethiopian.  However, the word is not going anywhere, and if it serves as a bridge for Ethiopians and Eritreans to identify with a common name—well who am I to hold a grudge?  So going forward, I shall call this the Habesha Mailbag. 

So you ask, what is Habesha Mailbag. Well it was influenced by one of the writers I idolize by the name of Bill Simmons. On a weekly basis, Bill would take questions and comments from his readers and then reply back with a wit and humor that would make me literally make me laugh my Qit off as I was reading the article.  Grant it, trying to emulate Bill Simmons is a tall order—after all, Bill was a writer for multiple late night comedy shows.  But hey, I am if nothing audacious. 

So I started reaching out to Brown Condor readers and asked them to submit their questions and comments to me via email.  Ideally, I wanted 10 questions for the inaugural Habesha Mailbag, to my surprise I received over 45 emails.  So I picked out the 10 best from the submissions and below is the back and forth between the readers and my responses.  I hope you enjoy, if this is successful, I plan on making this a weekly feature every Friday.  Make sure you submit your questions in the future; when you do, avoid having a one line question.  Make the question or comment juicy, apply a bit of your personality to it so that the readers can get a sense of who you are as a reader and an Ethiopian/Eritrean out in the Diaspora.

Before getting on to the questions and answers, let me do one thing.  Bill is a sports journalist; as such he would always focus on sports first and foremost.  I will not necessarily follow this model, but in his honor, let me make one comment about sports.  You do know they call the giants little blue right, as in Viagra pills, most of their fans are kind of lame.  I say that as a precursor to my Super Bowl prediction, which is that the Patriots will beat the wholly crap out of the little blue giants.  My prediction:  Patriots 38 Giants 10.  Oh, and if you want to talk trash, just remember that my Redskins beat the shit out of the little blue giants twice this year.  OK, on to the readers!

Q:  Hi, I’m a 27 year old Ethiopian living in Washington DC.  I have noticed that the selection of Ethiopian and Eritrean men is really weak in DC.  Most of them have no game and if they do, they like to think they are all players.  And what is it with them calling every Ethiopian girl nefse and hode?  I’m really tired of it to be honest, I’m thinking of dating white guys or Spanish guys.  What is your advice Brown Condor?  -Mimi, Silver Spring

BC:   First Mimi, I want to thank you for being the first reader to ever submit your question to Habesha Mailbag.  You will be getting your bottle of Atmit and bag of qwanta in the mail shortly eshi.  Second, as far as you  being frustrated, I have 3 words for you:  Hi, I’m Teddy!  You have my email, let’s discuss your plight over wine.  Now as far as you dating white guys or Spanish guys, just be ready, because I have a feeling most of them have a lot in common with little giants fans (refer above).  What I find interesting though is that you did not think of dating black guys?  Maybe it is true what black guys always gripe to me about, that Ethiopian women don’t like to be with black guys.  I will have to do some more research about this.  But for the time being, leave the black guys, Spanish guys, and white guys alone eshi ehete, we will talk your issue over wine tonight at Portico eshi yene big forheadiye.

Q:  TOP favorite books (3) –Ellal, Philadelphia

BC:  Now this is a classic example of what a question should not look like.  Ellal wendem, you see how Mimi’s question was detailed and she lets the reader get an insight into her life and her situation.  O_o…you are not part of the Ethiopian dudes that Mimi is talking about are you?  Are you the reason that Mimitu is about to date Ricky Ricardo?? MTS! Wuy gud!  You and I will have a sit down later.  But to answer your question, my three favorite books are, in no particular order:  1) Malcolm X  2)  Invisible Man and 3)  Assata.  However, it is really hard to narrow it down to just those three.  I mean I could list another 50 easy.  Mostly I love reading about African-American history, especially dealing with struggles for freedom and liberation.  However, I have been reading a lot more Ethiopian books lately.  I’m currently reading the History of Haile Selassie at this moment along with Assata for the third time.

Q:  Can all the DMV promoters make one big habesha event instead of separate parties for a weekend so every habesha can come to one location that would be dope? -Anonymous, Philadelphia

BC:  Escuse me, I just spit my coffee on my laptopiye at the thought of that happening.  Put it this way, do you think that Mitt Romney and Gingrich will hold hands with Obama and sing kumbaya?  This ain’t gonna happen captain!  I love all the DC promoters, and honestly speaking, I talked to the DC Habesha crew last night at Portico for a long time.  Promoting ain’t easy, and it’s a dog eat dog world.  I wish there was a place for Hebret in the scene, but it’s just too cut throat to think that all the DC promoters will sacrifice one night to have a party together.  Each night is a potential to lose your clientele for good and there is no incentive.  Besides, I blame us—the clients—we don’t care about Hebret so why should we expect the promoters to care about Hebret.  Na’mean?!  All we care about is how sexy the girls look and how strong the Yohannes Aramaji is.  So no bro ham, this ain’t happening, better play the lotto instead—and if you win, I want 10% eshi anonymous.

Q:  Two friends of mine were having a heated debate about why Habeshas look the way we do…one argued its simply bc we’re “blessed” however the other side argued its bc of migration and added historical facts to back up his argument.  Why do some Habeshas look Indian or Asian….why do some have soft curly/wavy hair while others have kinky/coarse…and although we all look different we still look Habesha…What’s your take on this? –Megdi, VA

BC:  To be honest, I am not sure why we have such big foreheads and big eyes.  Here is my DOPE theory, our ancestors used to play futbol (soccer) before soccer was invented in the West, and we used to be the best testa (header) takers.  So over centuries, we developed big foreheads in order to protect our chinkila and in order to score more goals.  As for the big eyes, I think it is because we used to play soccer at night time, thus our eyes got really big so that we would be able to see the ball and stop running into the goal posts (two shirts always 5 feet apart).  I’m still doing some field research on this issue to make sure I have it right, but I am meto gena certain that my DOPE theory is correct.  Oh right, forgot you said why we look Asian?  Now on that one  I don’t know, I spent too much time focused on  the big forehead and eyes theory and have not done field research yet on why we look Indian.  I gather it is because we were part Cush, and India a long time ago used to be part of Africa.  Thus, a lot of Ethiopians, Eritreans, Sudanese, Somali and Djebouti people have certain similar traits.  Now what I really want to know is how the heck did the women in America get such big booties!! Good gawd!  I am looking for some research assistants to figure this one out Megdi, would you be interested in volunteering for this DOPE study.  Don’t worry, you will be in good hands sis, besides you are doing this for Ethiopia not me eko:: Eshi, we will discuss over wine the day after I am done consoling Mimiye eshi. 

Q:  What makes someone a HABESHA?!!! – Asia, Jobe

BC: Sigh! You have been talking to Ellal aydel Asia?  See this sewoch, this is another example of how the emails should not look like in the future eshi::  Asia, ehete, next time, please put some life into the questions.  You know, like Mimi and Megdi did.  But to answer your question, hmmmm, lets see.  We are always 3 hours late, we eat too much tire tsega, we never drink Gingerale and Coke unless it came directly from the can or bottle (we don’t do the soda dispenser EVER!).  We also swear that Baklava was invented by Ethiopians, all our fathers and uncles drive Taxis, we eat dirkosh and Injera by itself.  We like to do eskista competition as if we were extras in Michael Jackson “Beat It” video.  Our women swear they are 25 when they are 35+, the guys swear they aer 5’11.5” when they are really 5’7”.  Oh man, I can keep this going forever, see what happens when you give me an open ended question.  Next time Asia, give me a longer comment question, eshi Asia, stop being such a Habesha eko::

Q:  Why are folks waiting on a government handout?  Don’t they know we hold the power to change our country’s fortune and future? –Alicia, VA

BC:  Dude, New Gingrich, why the hell are you emailing the Habesha Mailbag pretending to be Ethiopian or whatever nigga?  First off, you had your ass handed to you yesterday by Mittens, second, your wife looks like scary ass inflatable doll except it is her that has to blow you in order to inflate your ego, and third you look like my left scrotum.  As far as your question “Alicia” Gingrich, folks are not waiting for handout.  It is easy for people like you and me with jobs, education, and stable parents to not look for “handouts”, but for those who were not privy to parents, an education system, and grew up in crime ridden areas, the least we can do is give them a hand up.  Besides, if memory serves me correctly, the US government owes African-Americans “Forty Acres and a Mule”, so fuck the food stamp, they need to give all African-Americans “Forty Acres and a Mule” adjusted for inflation.  And no Habeshoch, we will not be entiteled to this….oohhhhh…now you want to claim you are black all the sudden aydel.  Nope nope, this shall be reservd for African-Americans only who can claim ancestors back to slavery.  Which means that I need to go to Bmore tonight and marry me a hood chic, I am pretty sure I can get one, I’ll just offer her a black and mild and a dinner at a sea food joint.  What, you are offended Gingrich?? You are the same one that said that Palestinians were an “invented” people.  OK I’m done with you Newtiye, on to the next question. 

Q:  What do you think about interracial relationships??  Especially habesha ppl dating non-habesha ones? –Habeshafro, Los Angeles

BC:  I highly discourage it unless you try dating me first.  Hi, I’m Teddy, you have my email addy.  Here is where I am hoping Habeshafro is a girl and not a guy.  Stay tuned, if I get an email with subject header “Hi Boo Boo” from Habeshafro, I know I would have just encountered a big #FAIL

Q:  Why do habesha women try to act like they are goodie girls and say things like? Ye Bet lij Negn (I dont leave the house) and Pente Negn (I am Religious) I think they say this to cover up their dark side so no one will say anything bad about them.  But these chicks are the craziest, and you see them at all the parties, and every restaurant. This is real talk!  -Anonymous, somewhere in PA

BC:  Actually this guy wanted me to use his name, but he is a young guy with a bright future, I did not want him attacked by 15 Habesha women and get his eye balls scratched out by their finger nails. So I chose to keep him anonymous.  Now as far as your question El—I mean anonymous.  My first instinct was to say it is because they are nothing but teases who love and live to give Habesha men worldwide one big collective blue balls.  But the truth of it is that we—us Ethiopian and Eritrean men—are assholes.  We get mad at our women for not giving it up, but the second we do, we go out and spread shit about them, calling them sluts and whores.  It’s really fucked up  if you think about it, I have seen countless women get destroyed because some dude went out and told his boys that she was a slut and she gave it up—and most of the time that nigga is lying.  So I don’t blame them for saying the things they do, we are to blame.  Ummm…ladies, just so you know, I—Teddiye—never kiss and tell and even if you are a big old freak, that will be our little secret eshi nefse::

Q:  What is up with the shitty service that Ethiopian restaurants give?  Why is it that I always have to beg for more Injera all the time?  I went to a restaurant one time by myself and I ordered a doro wot.  Now mind you, I went to the same restaurant on a date the day before and ordered the same thing and the doro wot came out with only two pieces of doro in it.  For sure I was pissed, but did not say anything and me and my date found ourselves rationing the doro.  The next day, I ordered the same thing and this time the plate came out, and it only had one piece of doro! I asked the waitress why I only had one doro and she said it was because there was only one person eating.  I asked her if the price was the same and she shook her head yes.  Really, you charge me the same effin price yet I get one less one chicken??  What should I do next time Brown Condor?  Why do they act like this?  -Teddiye, Alexandria

BC:  Wow Teddiye, you sound like an articulate, smart, good looking, and amazing guy all around.  I think that Mimi and Megdi should jump all over you bro, I see I have some competition on my hands.  Now as far as your question, I have observed this myself. I think it is because most Ethiopian restaurants—with the exception of the ones I frequent—suck balls when it comes to customer service. I am not even sure if customer service exists in our dictionary, and if it does I am sure the owners think that they are the customers and we are their waiters.  But at the end of the day, if we accept shitty service and continue to patronize restaurants who treat us with Clasless service, we are to blame.  So, next time you get 1 piece of Injera for four people and you sit there and decide to divide the Injera one gursha at a time and refuse to speak up, well then, don’t come over here and submit questions to me complaining after z fact.  Gebah wendem::

Q:  How come Ethiopian men don’t believe in oral sex?  I mean they eat gursha all day but yet when it comes to having a real gursha, they refuse to go down south! What is up with that Brown Condor?  -Anonymous, Arlington

BC:  Besma’am! Anche  balege!! Wuy gud.  Ummmmm..mejemera, do you practice what you preach? I mean, do you also take gursha as you give gursha?  Secondly, you know what, I can’t go on with this topic, I will utterly ruin my credibility if I do.  We will discuss this off line sis, ummm, after consoling Mimi today, then discussing business with Megi tomorrow, how is your calendar looking for Sunday anonymous.  Let’s talk eshi

Q:  I approached an Eritrean girl once and I asked her if she was Ethiopian.  She smacked me in my chinkila and kicked me in my balls! What did I do wrong Brown Condor!  -Thomas, Chicago

BC:  Getting close

Q:  If you drink atmit while you are wearing a Gabi on your couch and you are a 40+ year old man, does this mean secretly you want to move to Atlanta and you want to compliment women on their shoes and call them boo boo?  -Hiwot, London

BC:  Getting even closer

Q:  I hear that in Addis, they think Gchat is something that hard core Ethiopian gangstas chew to get high, is this true Brown Condor?  – Becca, Addis

BC:  Yep, these are my readers!

Well this concludes the first ever inaugural Habesha Mailbag.  Hopefully you enjoyed it.  If you did, and depending on the reception and the amount of questions I receive for next week, I will do another Habesha Mailbag next week.  If you liked this article, please post it on your wall and encourage others to send in questions. The Habesha Mailbag’s most vital component is the questions provided by the readers.  As you see, my responses are better the longer and detailed the questions.  I mean, don’t go writing a book, just make sure it is approximately a paragraph and it gives a good insight into the situation, and if you want, make sure you apply some humor to it eshi::

If you want to submit questions going forward, please send them to info@browncondor.com with subject header “Habesha Mailbag”.  Do me a favor, tweet about this on twitter right now, tweet the link to this article and use #HabeshaMailbag and encourage others to read this joint. Who knows, maybe one day #HabeshaMailbag could be a trending topic—yeah I know I have an audacious mind.   Also, make sure you post this on your Facebook wall—all about the Hebret.  OK, time for a break, hope you enjoyed.  Have a great weekend, catch you next week on Habesha  Mailbag 2.0.  Esger Estelene sewoch!

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[Tomorrow @ Teatro with my homie Meron Meron Alemayehu, you know who she is, click pic or follow her @iammeron]

Author

Teddy Fikre

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We would love to hear your comments/feedback.  Also, share this on Facebook, tweet it on twitter, or print it and give it to your grandmother.  If you would like to follow us on Twitter, you can do so @browncondor

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by Teddy Fikre  written:  Friday, January 27th, 2012

Time for me to put pen to pad and write about another beautiful soul by the name of María de la Soledad Teresa O’Brien.  I am sure you have seen her radiant smile on your television before and High Definition has done nothing but enhance Soledad’s radiance that much more.  This lady is DOPE to the bone, no other news anchor captures my imagination more than Soledad each time I watch the news.  Seriously, her beauty makes me forget for the moment of the inanities spewing from Newt Gingrich’s mouth or the duplicity forthing from Mitt Romney’s lips.  This is quite an accomplishment, who knew that a journalist would be able to gloss over the enmity of the Tea Party.

But let me not minmize Soledad’s accomplishment to mere good looks.  Soledad is an accomplished writer, journalist, news anchor, and the conscience of our collective minds.   Born on September 19th, 1966, Soledad has gone on to accomplish great feats in such a short time that it makes my head spin.  She is currently the news anchor of CNN’s morning news program called “Starting Point”—which premiered on January 2nd, 2012.  So no thank you MSNBC, I would rather start my mornings with a Starting Point than sip on Morning Joe Meto be Meto times out of a hundred.  I mean, who has time for Joe Scarborough when I can watch a beautiful soul by the name of Soledad five days a week.

Soledad’s career has a long arch that can shadow that arch in St. Louis.  She is a daughter of immigrants; her mother was from Cuba and her father from Australia and met each other at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland.  You see, this charming lady was the byproduct of a serendipitous moment in Charm City.  At the time, interracial marriage in Maryland was illegal, so the O’Briens married in Washington DC.  After marriage, the O’Briens moved to Long Island New York where they gave birth to a beautiful soul by the name of Soledad.

Soledad is New York through and through and soon enough she found herself graduating from Smith High School East in 1984.  She set out to etch her names in the stars and in the process began to realize the magic of the pen and the power of the media.  She soon found herself on an NPR quiz show—one of my favorites actually—called Wait, Wait, don’t Tell Me.  She explained on the show that her name means “the Blessed Virgin Mary of Solitude”.  I know one thing, there is nothing solitary about Soledad but in her cornea I see nothing but blessings.  Despite her Hispanic heritage, Soledad does not speak Spanish fluently—ayzosh Soledad I don’t speak Amharic fluently either.  It is hard growing up in America, where the rush to assimilate makes us forget the best part of our culture.  But I know that all Hispanic-Americans and Australians are proud of you each time they see you on CNN—I know I am.

Soledad began her career as an associate producer and news writer on WBZ-TV, then the affiliate for NBC in Boston.  From there, her spaceship dipped without tail lights and she soon started traveling at light speed through the cosmic ether that is mass media.  She joined NBC in 1991 on a show based in New York as a field producer for the Nightly News and Today.  O’Brien then worked for three years as a local reporter and bureau chief for San Francisco NBC affiliate KRON. At KRON she was a reporter on “The Know Zone.” In due time, Soledad found herself as the main anchor of her own show called “Starting Point” and it is from that perspective that I find myself looking up at this beautiful soul while typing this article and sipping Ethiopian buna.

Soledad has racked up a litany of awards; Soledad’s work has been honored several times, including a local Emmy for her work co-hosting the Discovery Channel’s The Know Zone.  In 2007, Soledad  was awarded the NAACP President’s Award.  She is a member of the National Association of Black Journalists, which named her the Journalist of the Year 2010 [26] and the National Association of Hispanic Journalists. She is a member of the Board of Directors of The After-School Corporation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to expanding educational opportunities for all students.She also serves on the board of directors of The Harlem School of the Arts.  She was named to Irish American Magazine’s “Top 100 Irish Americans” on two occasions. She is also on Black Enterprise magazine’s 2005 Hot List. Also in 2005, she was awarded “Groundbreaking Latina of the Year” award by Catalina magazine.

In April 2008, she became the first recipient of the Soledad O’Brien Freedom’s Voice Award, an award created in her name by Morehouse School of Medicine. “The award was created to recognize her accomplishments and willingness to be a voice for the voiceless in our society, and her determination to cover stories that might otherwise go untold. It will be given annually to mid-career professionals who serve as catalysts for social change in their given fields.”  She has been named in People’s 50 Most Beautiful in 2001 and in People en Español’s 50 Most Beautiful in 2004.

You see, this is what I mean when I say that Soledad is a beautiful soul.  She is a lady grace through and through.  She is a barrier breaker and a woman who pops her collars in the hurricanes of glass ceilings.  Against all odds, she has broken through and now this radiant soul shines my morning at the Starting Point each day I awake.  From humble beginnings in which her parents were forbidden to wed in Maryland, I am now wedded to this DOPE journalist each morning from 7:00 AM – 9:00 AM.

Thank you Soledad for giving me hope, I see that there is no limit to my audacity other than the paucity of my imagination if I choose to be so.  I will aim high just like you, who knows, one day I might join you on Starting Point. Who knows, maybe one day my daughter will end up breaking more glasses than you and when she does, I will tell her to salute sojourners of truth like Soledad.  I know one thing, we are all tall because we stand on the backs of giants, thank you for letting me stand on your back for at least one day.  Soledad, thank you for being the beautiful soul that wakes me up each morning even if I do so in solitude.

“Any work of art that can be understood is the product of journalism.” ~Tristan Tzara

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Author

Teddy Fikre

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We would love to hear your comments/feedback.  Also, share this on Facebook, tweet it on twitter, or print it and give it to your grandmother.  If you would like to follow us on Twitter, you can do so @browncondor

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