Happy Thanksgiving

I'm pretty sure I can guess basically how most of your Thanksgiving Days went, so I thought you might like to hear what mine was like…

Thanksgiving morning started like any other. The holiday hasn't really caught on here, maybe in part due to the complete absence of turkey…and cranberries…and sweet potatoes…and well, you get the idea. When I woke up this morning, I took a moment to accept the fact that I'd probably be eating injera for lunch and dinner, said happy Thanksgiving to myself and set out on a walk. As soon as I left the house, I noticed something was different. I could hardly see down the street for all the fog. I walked along thinking about how strange that was because I had never seen fog in Addis before and it's a really dry city, when I realized that the fog had a really fragrant, smoky smell. I kept looking for a flaming incense factory, but I didn't find it and no one else really seemed alarmed. When I got home, Salem explained that today is not only Thanksgiving, but also St. Michael's Day in the Ethiopian Orthodox calendar, and religious tradition dictates that everyone burn all the trash, grass, leaves, etc. that they can find. Who needs the smell of oven-roasted turkey when I have Ethiopians burning refuse all over the city?

So I spent most of the day in Salem's shop working on necklaces because she's a little pinched for time with the big bazaar coming up next weekend. My lunch was, as suspected, injera with potatoes and some sort of greens (imagine collard greens without the pork flavor). There was no nap and no football. That afternoon I was supposed to go to the girls' house to work on interviews for fundraising. I couldn't get a ride, so I decided to walk to a major road where I thought I could get a taxi (which in no way resembles yellow cab or red top cab or any form of legal transportation in the U.S.).

As I walked, I drew the standard chatter (including but not limited to "you. you."/ "how are you?" / "faranji, faranji." / "I love you." / "give me pen.") I was feeling polite today (after all, it is a double holiday), so I responded to most people, a move that made my day a little more interesting. One guy, probably about my age, started walking along side me. He started with "hi, how are you?" then asked my name and pretty soon he was keeping my pace and asking me about all sorts of things, like where I'm from, where I live, where I work, how long I'm here, and he told me he's a musician/student/former Rastafarian from Lalibela. I was starting to get a little uncomfortable, but my plan was just to be nice until I could get in a taxi and away from my new friend. Two minutes later I realize his plan is quite different. He's insisting that I come see his house, which he said was just around the corner, only for a minute, he wanted to introduce me to his uncle and somebody. I told him I was really sorry, but I had an appointment so…um, maybe next time. Oh, no problem. He says he will take me to my appointment and then we can come back to his house…and then he starts holding my hand. I tried to keep walking, but he comes right on with me and begins to explain to me how my name is Christian (common mistake here) and he is a Christian, so we go together. I'm like ha, wow, that is interesting, well, I should be getting a taxi now. He agrees. Great. Except that when we find one that is going to the area where the girls' house is, he gets in first, smiles and pats the open seat next to him.

So we ride to Haya Hulet together (p.s. The kid is still holding my hand. interlocking digits. Every time I wrench my hand free, he begins re-explaining some traditional Ethiopian greeting involving a high five or handshake and then he just keeps my hand). And when I get off, he comes too. I tried to say hey, thanks, see ya, but he was not having it. He walked with me wherever I went, and then he was like, "you know, I don't like Ethiopian women." I was like "aw, you don't mean that. They're really nice and pretty, don't you think?" He said no. When they are with you they are always looking for another guy, another guy. Always looking. Not him though. He is a Christian and only wants one woman. He sees me and I am beautiful and he doesn't look at anyone else. Only me. I'm not clear on this one because his English wasn't completely understandable, but I'm pretty sure he told me that since he goes to church a lot and today is a special church holiday and he burned his trash like he was supposed to, he believes that Jesus and St. Michael brought us together…so he will come to my appointment, then we will go to a café and back to his house. Then I tried to more firmly explain that really, that's not a great idea. My appointment is for all girls. No boys allowed. And it could last a really, really long time, so he really, really shouldn't wait. He didn't say much to this. Just kept holding my hand.

When we got to the girls' house, I kind of had to stiff-arm him to keep him from following me in the gate. He said he would just hang out in the neighborhood and wait for me. I said no, really, you shouldn't do that. He said oh, ok, well, I will come back and meet you here tomorrow. I said yeah, that's not going to work either. I won't be here tomorrow, kthanksbye. When the girls escorted me out a few hours later, I didn't see him, but I may wear a disguise next time I take that route.

I came home and ate, surprise, some injera and shiro by myself because while I was at the girls' house, the Fisehas were eating dinner at a St. Michael's Day party. Full disclosure: then as a consolation prize to myself, I came upstairs and ate two spoonfuls of Nutella straight out of the jar I have stashed in my room.

And that's how we do Thanksgiving around here.