Happy Post Easter! Or otherwise: Melkam ka bwuhala Fasika!
(I realize that this email is quite long. If you want something quick
and entertaining, skip to paragraph 4.)
For all of you who have been desperately waiting for my next update of
my exciting life, I apologize for the delay. The Easter season has
turned out to be quite the unexpected stream of events.
Unfortunately, most of these I cannot recall because I’ve been
horribly sleep deprived and slightly hallucinatory, so I really
wouldn’t know how much was real and wasn’t anyways. But I do have
some wonderful anecdotes and cultural insights related to the Easter
holiday here in Ethiopia.
First, Easter is probably the biggest holiday countrywide. For 50
days before Easter (unlike our wimpy Western-40 days) the Ethiopians
fast. I know several of you probably have some good jokes on
“Ethiopians fasting” but I’ll refrain from making my comments. The
Orthodox form of fasting includes not eating any products of animals;
milk, eggs, and cheese included, and not eating before 3:00 p.m. This
results in much more church time and late night/early morning prayers.
I tried this fast for one week, and it actually went quite well, so I
continued it to one degree or another for the rest of Lent.
Holy Week, the week right before Easter, is something else here.
They call it “Mumar Semund” or “Suffering Week”. Everyone must
suffer, whether you believe or not. You are not allowed to greet
people with handshakes or kisses as normal, or utter the typical
greeting of peace. Many Orthodox go to church every day during the
week for long hours. Thursday, they kick it up a notch and can have
all day and into the night prayers. What I might have failed to
mention about the prayers, is that every Orthodox church has a
loudspeaker attached, so every within a 2 mile radius can hear them.
So, if you happen to be lucky enough to live near 2 Orthodox churches
(most people are) you not only have one incessant chant, but a
mutually ill-melodic, syncopated second chant.
Paragraph 4 --> Then Friday is the big day of Holy workouts. Both
Catholics and Orthodox alike go to church from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm or
longer and suffer for Christ. Every 15 seconds for thirty minutes at
a time (15 minute breaks allowed) we have synchronized bowing
exercises in time to chants. Then, once every three sessions, we like
to kick it up a notch to double-time to my favorite chant “Kyrie Isso”
– which roughly translates to “May God give you strength in suffering
for mercy.” This is no wimpy American bowing from the neck or even
the more dedicated bowing from the waist. This is full-on Ethiopian
athletic throwing yourself to the ground, bend from toes to knees,
hunch over, tap your forehead to the floor and then rise again in
squat-thrust manner. What makes this more interesting is that the
churches are so crowded that you have to keep your feet together and
when you move to go down you must place your hands directly in front
of your knees to catch yourself, and then put your head directly on
top of your hands, forming a nice egg-shape that’s not nearly as
relaxing as the more popular yoga “child-pose”. Then not shifting
from side-to-side or stepping backwards to stand-up is also key. And
if we don’t do this simultaneously, someone ends up with their head in
another’s butt. This is all a part of suffering for the mercy of God.
Most people don’t eat from Friday until Sunday at 3:00 a.m., when
they feast with their families, because that’s “when God got up.”
Usually starting around midnight and going until 7:00 a.m. all the
animals which have been getting fat for 50 days are consequently
slaughtered. Much akin to one of my favorite Muslim holidays, for the
next week the streets are filled with blood and animal carcasses. So
many animals are butchered in one day that the city actually becomes
quieter. That and all chanting finally ceases for a 3 hour hiatus
while the priests feast between 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. Sunday
morning.
On Sunday and Monday I feasted with some students of mine. The
Ethiopian notion of hospitality is so overwhelmingly giving that at
times it becomes uncomfortable. I was very late to my first student’s
house on Sunday because we had a mix-up about phone numbers. Her
family waited several hours for me to arrive, and then proceeded to
feed me with doro wat (chicken and egg in hot sauce) and kitfel (raw
meat in spices), but only the father of the family ate with me. They
wouldn’t let me stop eating until I looked like I was in pain. I also
had three cups before me: tella, tej, and bunna. Tella is an alcohol
made out of barley and can either taste like watered down Coke or
burning cigar. Tej is also an alcohol that’s made out of honey and is
usually quite strong (think a honey schnapp) but Ethiopian custom
demands that any glass be filled to the very top, and I was being
served in tall juice glasses. And bunna, of course, is traditional
Ethiopian coffee brewed carefully by the matriarch of the house.
I’m still not aware of many marks of respect or politeness in
Ethiopian households because I haven’t been to many that weren’t run
by children, so the day started off quite awkward. I decided to take
my cue from the fact that only the father was addressing me even
though his wife, three children, and sister were all sitting in the
same room. I spent most of the time awkwardly talking to him and all
of us watching television. In every house I’ve been in, if they have
a television, its on no matter what. He was explaining to me
different traditions, songs, and dances as they flashed across the
screen.
I ended up staying too late, and so it was after dark when I finally
got up to leave. It was only a 15 minute walk to my house, but the
family insisted that they needed to walk me home because it was
dangerous. I tried to insist otherwise, but it didn’t really work.
Apparently, this is the general thought here, so its best just to
leave some place before it gets dark and the family has to take
responsibility for you.
The next day, I had an appointment at a student’s home in the
morning, and being still full, even to the point of sickness, I was
comforted by the thought that I was going over in the morning and that
most likely meant we were only drinking bunna together. Unfortunately
I was wrong. Very, very wrong. The mother had spent the full morning
alternately cooking and working at her beauty salon just to feed
myself and the other American volunteer. Neither she nor her daughter
ate unless we fed them. And since all the food was just for us, we
were expected to finish it. Ughhhhh. Half a chicken and 3 glasses of
tella later, Erin and I were rolling home, keeping in mind the bushes
near the sidewalk to vomit behind.
I have been overwhelmed at the kindness and generosity the families
have shown while I have been here, and I’ve also been amazed at the
extremes at which the people will go through to please someone, show
their devoutness , dedicate themselves to a cause or belief, or
otherwise hurt someone. One thing I haven’t witnessed so much in
Ethiopia is moderation.
I hope this email finds you all well. For those who have written me
personally, I’m trying to write back as soon as possible but I hope
this email will tie you over for a short while.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
(I realize that this email is quite long. If you want something quick
and entertaining, skip to paragraph 4.)
For all of you who have been desperately waiting for my next update of
my exciting life, I apologize for the delay. The Easter season has
turned out to be quite the unexpected stream of events.
Unfortunately, most of these I cannot recall because I’ve been
horribly sleep deprived and slightly hallucinatory, so I really
wouldn’t know how much was real and wasn’t anyways. But I do have
some wonderful anecdotes and cultural insights related to the Easter
holiday here in Ethiopia.
First, Easter is probably the biggest holiday countrywide. For 50
days before Easter (unlike our wimpy Western-40 days) the Ethiopians
fast. I know several of you probably have some good jokes on
“Ethiopians fasting” but I’ll refrain from making my comments. The
Orthodox form of fasting includes not eating any products of animals;
milk, eggs, and cheese included, and not eating before 3:00 p.m. This
results in much more church time and late night/early morning prayers.
I tried this fast for one week, and it actually went quite well, so I
continued it to one degree or another for the rest of Lent.
Holy Week, the week right before Easter, is something else here.
They call it “Mumar Semund” or “Suffering Week”. Everyone must
suffer, whether you believe or not. You are not allowed to greet
people with handshakes or kisses as normal, or utter the typical
greeting of peace. Many Orthodox go to church every day during the
week for long hours. Thursday, they kick it up a notch and can have
all day and into the night prayers. What I might have failed to
mention about the prayers, is that every Orthodox church has a
loudspeaker attached, so every within a 2 mile radius can hear them.
So, if you happen to be lucky enough to live near 2 Orthodox churches
(most people are) you not only have one incessant chant, but a
mutually ill-melodic, syncopated second chant.
Paragraph 4 --> Then Friday is the big day of Holy workouts. Both
Catholics and Orthodox alike go to church from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm or
longer and suffer for Christ. Every 15 seconds for thirty minutes at
a time (15 minute breaks allowed) we have synchronized bowing
exercises in time to chants. Then, once every three sessions, we like
to kick it up a notch to double-time to my favorite chant “Kyrie Isso”
– which roughly translates to “May God give you strength in suffering
for mercy.” This is no wimpy American bowing from the neck or even
the more dedicated bowing from the waist. This is full-on Ethiopian
athletic throwing yourself to the ground, bend from toes to knees,
hunch over, tap your forehead to the floor and then rise again in
squat-thrust manner. What makes this more interesting is that the
churches are so crowded that you have to keep your feet together and
when you move to go down you must place your hands directly in front
of your knees to catch yourself, and then put your head directly on
top of your hands, forming a nice egg-shape that’s not nearly as
relaxing as the more popular yoga “child-pose”. Then not shifting
from side-to-side or stepping backwards to stand-up is also key. And
if we don’t do this simultaneously, someone ends up with their head in
another’s butt. This is all a part of suffering for the mercy of God.
Most people don’t eat from Friday until Sunday at 3:00 a.m., when
they feast with their families, because that’s “when God got up.”
Usually starting around midnight and going until 7:00 a.m. all the
animals which have been getting fat for 50 days are consequently
slaughtered. Much akin to one of my favorite Muslim holidays, for the
next week the streets are filled with blood and animal carcasses. So
many animals are butchered in one day that the city actually becomes
quieter. That and all chanting finally ceases for a 3 hour hiatus
while the priests feast between 3:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. Sunday
morning.
On Sunday and Monday I feasted with some students of mine. The
Ethiopian notion of hospitality is so overwhelmingly giving that at
times it becomes uncomfortable. I was very late to my first student’s
house on Sunday because we had a mix-up about phone numbers. Her
family waited several hours for me to arrive, and then proceeded to
feed me with doro wat (chicken and egg in hot sauce) and kitfel (raw
meat in spices), but only the father of the family ate with me. They
wouldn’t let me stop eating until I looked like I was in pain. I also
had three cups before me: tella, tej, and bunna. Tella is an alcohol
made out of barley and can either taste like watered down Coke or
burning cigar. Tej is also an alcohol that’s made out of honey and is
usually quite strong (think a honey schnapp) but Ethiopian custom
demands that any glass be filled to the very top, and I was being
served in tall juice glasses. And bunna, of course, is traditional
Ethiopian coffee brewed carefully by the matriarch of the house.
I’m still not aware of many marks of respect or politeness in
Ethiopian households because I haven’t been to many that weren’t run
by children, so the day started off quite awkward. I decided to take
my cue from the fact that only the father was addressing me even
though his wife, three children, and sister were all sitting in the
same room. I spent most of the time awkwardly talking to him and all
of us watching television. In every house I’ve been in, if they have
a television, its on no matter what. He was explaining to me
different traditions, songs, and dances as they flashed across the
screen.
I ended up staying too late, and so it was after dark when I finally
got up to leave. It was only a 15 minute walk to my house, but the
family insisted that they needed to walk me home because it was
dangerous. I tried to insist otherwise, but it didn’t really work.
Apparently, this is the general thought here, so its best just to
leave some place before it gets dark and the family has to take
responsibility for you.
The next day, I had an appointment at a student’s home in the
morning, and being still full, even to the point of sickness, I was
comforted by the thought that I was going over in the morning and that
most likely meant we were only drinking bunna together. Unfortunately
I was wrong. Very, very wrong. The mother had spent the full morning
alternately cooking and working at her beauty salon just to feed
myself and the other American volunteer. Neither she nor her daughter
ate unless we fed them. And since all the food was just for us, we
were expected to finish it. Ughhhhh. Half a chicken and 3 glasses of
tella later, Erin and I were rolling home, keeping in mind the bushes
near the sidewalk to vomit behind.
I have been overwhelmed at the kindness and generosity the families
have shown while I have been here, and I’ve also been amazed at the
extremes at which the people will go through to please someone, show
their devoutness , dedicate themselves to a cause or belief, or
otherwise hurt someone. One thing I haven’t witnessed so much in
Ethiopia is moderation.
I hope this email finds you all well. For those who have written me
personally, I’m trying to write back as soon as possible but I hope
this email will tie you over for a short while.
Cheers,
Virginia/Van/Va
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