By Abiye Solomon
For a long time the question for me has been to go or not to go. But I couldn't make up my mind. I was afraid and confused. Even worse, I have been completely immobilized by the unknown. Time and fate have conspired against me. Everyday, I lose a little bit of my memory. I feel I must go but…
I have lived in America for longer than I care to admit. I came during the "good old days." There must have been at least eighty people who came to Bole Airport to bid me farewell. I now remember only a few.
My father was there. Just before boarding he advised me: "Now listen, son. When you go to America (ferenj ager), you will be on your own. I am not going to be there for you. You must be strong. You must always remember why you are there. Work hard and learn. Get your degree and come back to serve your country." My eyes welled up in tears. I couldn't cry. "A boy doesn't cry," my father always said. Crying was a sign of weakness. I didn't want him to remember me as a crying weakling.
My mother was also there. She was in tears. She must have felt like I was going to war or something. In desperation she said to me: "I don't know why you have to go. Please, stay. You have everything you need here. Why must you go to a strange land? You won't even have anyone there to give you water if you are thirsty. America… you are going to be a stranger in a strangeland!" I told her I'll be back soon. Not to worry.
My little sister? She just reviewed the list of things I was to send her after I arrived in America. "Don't forget the dress. It must be red with laces, and the shoes, the handbag… You better not forget. I will write and remind you."
There stood my high school buddies. Tough guys. They were all at my farewell party. They'd joke: "See you in Washington! Don't forget to send the I-20. You better write regularly or we'll get you."
I sat by the window in the plane. For the very first time in my life I felt I was totally alone. I cried. The stewardess looked at me. She seemed to understand. May be she had seen hundreds like me before. I was gripped by fear. What if I never see my parents again? My relatives… friends? What if I never come back? What if…
As the plane thundered towards the blue Ethiopian sky, I silently bade my last farewell. I felt a sense of emptiness. I was enveloped by self-doubt. I felt nauseous. Then I noticed I was in a jet plane for the first time in my life. I marveled at the magnificent flying machine. A little over an hour later I had left the soil of my birth. I was a stranger.
Twenty years later I think about home. But I am afraid and confused. My father had died from "stress" during the Derg era. My younger brothers and sister were jailed and tortured by the Derg. Luckily, they made it to the U.S. as refugees. I lost many relatives and friends to the government's indiscriminate violence. My mother also passed away. I think from a broken heart. She was a mother of five. None of us were there to bury her. Ethiopia also died, a slow and painful death. Her children killed her.
Now, I often think of going back. I don't know why. Nobody knows me there. I have no family or friends there. Few relatives would even remember who I am — better yet whose son I was. I don't even know anyone there to write a letter.
I am impelled by an irrepressible homesickness. Then I sober myself with a bitter dose of reality. I read of the blind ethnic hatred and fratricidal warfare. I listen to the poisoned words of leaders who seem determined to send this poor nation into the grave of oblivion. I see the silver-tongued intellectuals spin theories of ethnic chauvinism and disunity.
I see my countrymen scheming to rupture the chain of their collective destiny. I hope my father will forgive me. I have to cry!
I think of my father's advice. I have learned some of the wisdom of the West. I fear not all the wisdom in the West could help Ethiopians discriminate between good and evil. I doubt my little knowledge could begin to mend the broken pieces of Ethiopia.
I also remember the words of my mother. I have everything I need here. I don't even know anyone there. Nobody will give me water if I am thirsty. Nobody knows my name. Will I be a stranger in a strangeland?
(Originally published in January 1992)
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Where is this guy now?
January 5th, 2009 at 8:43 pm
It is really touching.
January 5th, 2009 at 9:31 pm
Abiye Solomon is really me and you who refuse to build any possible bridge of unity to save our motherland.
Let us embrace change and humble ourselves to come together to bring about a one voice struggle to eradicate the most evil regime in our history. Otherwise we shall mourn at Ethiopia's grave site while her sworn enemies are cheering cocktails.
Meet me this fall in Washington DC for Obang’s call to show our solidarity with the Ethiopian People. http://www.anuakjustice.org/090104Will2009BecomeTheYearOfEthiopianIndependenceFromDictators.htm
God Save Ethiopia!
January 5th, 2009 at 9:59 pm
well what is the point in this memo?did he give up on his country,i did not understand what his try to say.or is he trying to tell his fellow "EHAPA" friend's not to go back home.i saw his weakness through his personal feeling.if he felt that way he need to be QUITE!!!!!
January 5th, 2009 at 11:09 pm
listen to Pr. Isyas Interview. He said weyane has failed. He is backed by outside force. Isyas siad that Weyane never worked for ethiopia. Listen to it. He is only back by force. He said that weyane Philosophy to sleep with america as hire boy. America found that he was not that not strong after somilia.
Listen.
http://www.eastafro.com/Post/2009/01/05/eritrea-video-interview-with-president-isaias-afwerki-part-2-jan-5-2009/
January 6th, 2009 at 12:14 am
Very nice article – Very touching and well written. Great post ER.
January 6th, 2009 at 2:52 am
Yichalal,
It clearly depicts the dilemma of an immigrant?? superb article!
January 6th, 2009 at 8:22 am
Really touching, where is he now?
January 6th, 2009 at 11:44 am
This is our story told by Abiy.
Since the article was written in 1992, I assume,
Abiy had the opportunity to visit his country.
I want to know what Abiy thinks these days after almost
17 years of his article.
January 6th, 2009 at 11:57 am
Our society "tebewuzual" to hate brother and sisters by saying Amharas, Oromos etc and loving ferenjis is in the order of the day. Now Ethiopia is "Guenet" for ferenjis, woyanes and hodames while it is "Gehanem" for Ethiopians. I wish Meles proved his intelligence by not being like Mengistu (spending the rest of his life in exile) or not like Saddam Hussien hiding in a "KEBERO GUDGUAD" to be picked and killed by his "friends". It is never too late to regret and ask the Ethiopian people. They are merciful otherwise the consquence will not be good for you, the Tigreans who are supporting you and all the hodams like Tamrat Layane who sell their country for political and financial gain.
January 6th, 2009 at 3:27 pm
Wow. I felt like my story was being told through someone else. Has he been home yet?
January 6th, 2009 at 4:15 pm
Very touching and deep article, we as Ethiopians are very cultured and attached to our families, no other nations can understand the depth of our feelings towards our country and families, that deep feeling is the one that creates desperation to achieve success fast and try to move back home but unluckily, our country is ruled by a government dedicated to take what we have worked for and send us back to the west so that they will have space to do whatever they want. Those of you who commented against this article have no real common sense and doesn't care about family values, as for me I wish God will give me the chance to see my family and country intact. God Bless us all. Thank You
January 6th, 2009 at 4:44 pm
what an article! For those of us who have been in foreign countries for long time, this guy expressed the emotional pain we suffer and the dilemma we face in deciding whether we should go back or not.
January 6th, 2009 at 5:20 pm
Eventhough the story relates to most of us abroad, it sounds to me is a ficticious story.
Having said that, it is well put together.
January 6th, 2009 at 6:02 pm
Go back home. Visit your family. If you have the financial capabilty try to invest. Whatever you do, do not eat any oranges.
January 6th, 2009 at 10:22 pm
Seems an appealing piece. I feel it is true to many Ethiopians who are living in foreign lands for long. Despite all the absence of strong ties with people back home, it is quite possible to create a reliable network of friends and relatives in short time in Ethiopia. For Abiye and similar guys, Ethiopia can be a healing ground. The respect/love/cooperation of the people is much more than any thing else. Let's not dwell much only on the evil elements there.
January 7th, 2009 at 5:09 am
It sounds like I had written same story publicly, very touching!Indeed!
January 7th, 2009 at 7:02 am
it is like u r reading ur own piece of the unwritten biography…of longing and hope.
i was crying while i read it and i am still crying while ma fingers jumping all over the keybord ….feeling the
coldness of life here and the loss of warm and welcoming smiles back home ( even after a long working day ).
why are we really here for???? may be like the writer ,…
to learn the wisdom of the west which is likely to bury
all the essences we r born and raised with.
going to school is for those who are lucky and for those whose detemination and will power is beyond the problems
of all sorts…
but goin to the right school and taking the right steps to
fulfill the farthest dream of nature ( in ma longing of purpose )is still the heftiest question.
this is a place where everybody seem to do everything according to the forecast of possibilties ( of the market)
like in 5 yrs time the demand of health care workers will double or grow in certain percent ….is invaluable info to decide the path of ur career and the calculation of return
on the investment will be made …????? imagine !!!!!)
this is the place where the devil plays all the wisdom of his computational skills on the financial papers of the corporates and the….. angels sing far from the walled streets of hell about the devinity of learning the soul.
where do angeles sing //????
it is may be in a single class room of a passionate professor or in the place where the youth dreams in daylight and get crazy in all the sweet weekend nights…
for those souls who are nostalgic about the essence of identity and for those who are ignorant about it…., there is a single truth. we can't bury the tears because we r told not to. we should cry it loud or …let's go for it.
let's have a reason ,enough to soothe the pains ,of that big loss of a complete strangeness.
January 7th, 2009 at 10:49 am
Do not be alone. There are millions other ethiopians like u out there feel the same u do.
January 21st, 2009 at 12:53 pm