Posts tagged Addis

This is the stuff of Jegnas and DOPE soldiers of hope who knew the qwanka of Yichalal before Obama ever thought of uttering the words “Yes We Can”::

by Teddy Fikre  written: Sunday, March 24th (1:58AM) 2012

As I sit here at Bati Restaurant and Lounge drinking copious Heineken and Hennessy, I am transported back to a magical time, a time that was peaceful and serene.  A time where I was but a child, a time when I was innocent and blissful.  The time I am talking about is something like Bole time, a time where I was in Lycee and I had three dogs named Lucky who were not so lucky after all.  This time is my time of Tizita, thus I put ink to pad—errr more like etats to keyboard—and I am inspired to write something DOPE while Bezawork Asfaw is massaging my soul.  Thus I am about to go METO GENA (yes Teddisho is intent on making that mean 100% irrespective of what Sayoum says) and bring back my memories of Addis in an Addis way.

This is where I recount the times that I have experienced countless bliss while listening to the likes of Kuku Sebsebe, Mahmoud Ahmed, Tilahun Gesesse, and of course the one that has my heart at this very moment by the name of Bezawork Asfaw who is a lot of gold in my book.  This is a moment when my mother was happy and before my father Fikre (RIP) passed away from lung cancer.  This is a time when I was 12 years old and I traveled to New York to attend a DOPE wedding with my family.  This must have been the wedding of the century, the time when I fell in love again for the 4th time (first time was my father Esgyaber, second time was Kuku Sebsebe, third time was Bezawork Asfaw, fourth time was a true light who is no longer in my life).  Anyway, back to the topic at hand, this is a time when I was an ashenafi before I knew I was a winner.  This is a recounting of a time where I was Adwa and Haiti and I defeated colonialism before I could speak English eko::

This time I am talking about is a time of careless antiquity, this time I am referencing to is a time of selam and peace.  What do I mean by this gibberish? I mean that I was happy to be alive and did not have to worry about telemarketers calling me and bill collectors haunting me.  You see, there was once a time that my sister Mariam Fikre was the DOPEST eskista dancer in the United States and a time where my other sister Rahel Fikre and I used to do Guraginya to see who could outlast and out hop the other.  There was once time where my mother Sara Shewangizaw could sing like Bezawork—she is my lots of Gold—and she at least in my mind was always blessed with Desta.  This time—maybe it is just a figment of my imagination—was my serenity; call it denial but when the whole word smells and tastes like bullshit, this time is the moment were all things come up roses eko::

I remember a time where my sister once hopped on the stage with Tilahun and I swear she outlasted Tilahun and made him sweat meto gena endegena and endegena until he literally bowed and said “bekan”.  This is our collective story, we dance and eskista until one party or another gives up and bows out.  Dammit I love my culture, we challenge each other endlessly to make each other better and in the end we all come out ashenafis::  Ere this is not fugera or useless Habesha pride, this is the stuff of Jegnas and DOPE soldiers of hope who knew the qwanka of Yichalal before Obama ever thought of uttering the words “Yes We Can”.  Why else do you think I wrote a part of that speech, my culture and community spoke the words of audacity a thousand years before Obama ever imagined the audacity of Ethiopia.

I love my enat Ethiopia, even if I have been away from her for 30 years, I sit up here at this very moment with an Ethiopian bandera draped around my neck knowing that no one could for a second question my authenticity or my identity .  For all of you assholes who think of questioning my culture or make fun of me for my yetesebere Amharic, a middle finger is extended to thee because all of you are nothing but buna sipping assholes who do not know the first meaning of ANDINET.  For the rest who appreciate what I do and the wallet and my back that I break over and over again to make Ethiopia the Japan of Ethiopia, thank you for having my back instead of sticking a bilawa in it behind my back. 

Shout out to Abiyu Giday for giving me a moment of Hope and imparting my chinkila with some DOPE audacity.  You sir are most def an Ashenafi, this whole article is dedicated to you bro for having the humility to kiss my hand—but just know that it is I that should be kissing your hand. With people like you who believe in HEBRET and give me sage words for my soul instead of attacking my core and my soul behind my back, I shall forever fly to the moon without the gravity of Habesha disease to hold me back like lobsters in a barrel.  Another shout out to Teddy Fikremariam from Bati Lounge, you sir are nobility and I am intent on making Bati the Ethiopian Chipotle and we will both be PAID for it.

Lastly, a shout out to all the dancers here at Bati, keep going no matter the sweat and the tears, you are the essence and the very personification of the word ASHENAFI.  Oh, before I forget, thank you once again to my lots of Gold named Bezawork, soon enough yene nigist I will make you the Ashenafi of the globe.  Peace!

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” Buddha

[lick to listen to ashenafi musika]

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FEATURE EVENT

[click to RSVP as we honor Kuku Sebsebe at Bati Restaurant & Lounge on Thursday, March 29th at 9PM sharp]

This week, the theme is Kuku Sebsebe as we praise and celebrate her at Bati Lounge and Restaurant, located at 3815 S George Mason Dr, Falls Church, VA 22041.  Starting at 9:00 PM EST on Wednesday March 21st, we will dedicate the whole 2 and a half hours to honoring the life and accomplishments of Kuku Sebsebe.

FEATURE BUSINESS

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AUTHOR

Teddy Fikre

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