broker Addis

2.

I met a faranji on the street.

Blue-black tracksuit pajamas with an army green cotton jacket. A brown cross body bag. Short hair. Wearing glasses.

Couldn’t tell, if it was a boy or a girl. So, I asked.
She said she was a girl.

I asked her if she is interested in Habesha boys. Not me of course, but other good looking Habesha boys.

She said, no thank you.

I told her that all faranjis like the flavor of Habesha boys.

She told me, she already had a boy.

I asked again.

She said, she is married.

I told her that I’m a house broker.

Asked her if she wants to rent or buy a house.

She said, she already has a house.

She shook hands and told me her name.

I kept holding her hand for much longer than necessary.

We chatted some more, while we walked in the same direction.

She asked me if I would tell her a story.

I asked, why.

She said she likes to collect stories.

We sat down on a rock by the roadside and she pulled out a small digital camera.

She explained that she wants to go home and write the story down. And because she has a bad memory, she has to record it on film.

She also explained that I won’t be in the film.

The lens will be facing the road.

I told her, we shouldn’t sit here, because there is a lot of diplomats living on this street.

And the security guards will come and ask questions.

So, we walked some more.

I asked her if she is making a documentary.

She said no.

I asked her if she is a journalist.

She said she is an artist.

I asked her if she works for some organization working for poor Ethiopians.

She said no.

I told her that people photograph the poor Ethiopians and make lots of money.

She came to the sub-city on bole road, with me.

It's a beautiful outdoors café.

Tables arranged sparcely. Some surrounded by trees and plants.

Old men sitting in groups, playing dominoes.

We sit down on a table in a corner. Almost private.

I asked her how I should trust her.

She said, its just a story.

Any story.

True or imaginary or even fantastical.

I didn’t understand.

I told her, that ‘trust’ is bad. Its dangerous.

I told her that she also, shouldn’t trust people.

She shouldn’t have trusted me and come with me.

I could do anything.

But I’m not a bad person. So, she was safe.

My parents spoke what Jesus spoke and so do I.

So, I told her;

Ethiopia is God’s country. It is the only Unique country in the world. It is the only natural country in the world.

It has Lalibela which is more than 3000 years old. Without a single crack.

We are the only people that believe in God without seeing him. Israel is also a unique country, but they believe in God after seeing him.

We are poor but we are happy, because God is taking care of us.

God doesn’t care about Himself but people other than Himself, like Us.

After death He takes care of us, He saves us from life by giving us death.

Jesus died for us and you.

When Italians came, Menelik prayed to God. And that's how we were saved.

Ethiopia is the only natural country. Not plastic.

Ethiopia was never colonized.

People from the whole world come to Ethiopia to see it.

There is no place in the whole world like Ethiopia.

I also told her;

Once a faranji told me that he wanted a Habesha woman. I said it will cost at least 100 $. He said he can get one only in exchange for a coffee. So he arranged to meet one with me there. He made promises to her. Told her that he wants to live in Ethiopia, marry her. He said he will also set up a boutique for her. Though he was old and ugly, but she agreed because he had lots of money. He was successful in the end. Faranjis are very tactful and dishonest.

She asked, if the woman was also tactful and dishonest because she was interested in his money.

I didn’t agree completely.

*sub-city cafe off bole road, Addis, 30th Dec 2015.

sub-city cafe off bole road, Addis, 30th Dec 2015.