Staying
Awake Tonight Could Save My Life:
From Debre Birhan,
the Last Terrorist Target in Amhara
Sunday, Nov 21,
2021,
From Mezemir
Girma’s Diary
mezemirgirma@gmail.com
In August of this
year I was in Addis Ababa publishing and distributing my two Amharic books. One
was on fasting and nutrition and the other my memoir. From that time until this
month, I have spent three months back in Debre Birhan, but I have not done any tangible
work.
As our New Year started
in September, people kept asking me about my plans and I also set a few. The
one that they repeatedly raise is of having a wife and children. They insist it
is time for that and I tell them that I don’t live their prescription. I think
writing my memoir and giving interviews about my social entrepreneurial works
exposed me to others’ criticism. I keep telling myself that if my plans
succeed, I will try to live a full-fledged life anywhere I love to and anyway I
like.
As anyone may
have, I also have a bucket list. To Sasit, my birthplace, I haven’t done a
service that pays back her motherly care. She will remain in my heart for all
what I got in my formative years. I would love to have Sasit as my final
resting place as Mandela had Qunu. I can’t believe how powerful its feeling is
even if I lived a little less than a third of my life there.
I currently live
in Debre Birhan that took me from Sasit as a ‘foster child’ and gave me high
school lesson. I have tried to pay back my second mother by teaching and
opening a library. In Debre Birhan, where I still live, I might have been a
light. She has proved a welcoming comfort zone. I lived exactly half my life
here.
Ras Abebe Aregay
Library is the reason why I feel happy at all times. Amongst all the things
that happened or I caused, this is the one that makes me happy. There would
never be a humbler reason to keep me here than the library family. The
librarians, the readers, Thursday night literary sessions, and the library trips
are really great family experience. A third of my memoir is about it.
“I have a Bermuda
triangle”, I often say. “My home, the university I work in, and my library are
a few hundreds of meters apart and they form the Bermuda my life sinks in every
day.” I am planning to expand the triangle before I perish here, but it must be
without leaving this one altogether.
I remember my teacher
of African Literature who explained the concept of plot to us – plot, one of
the elements of literature. That teacher told us that there was no concept of plot
in Ethiopian life. Plot would mean in our case studying hard and achieving good
grades or failing, for that matter. You study hard the whole night and head to
the university to discover that the Ghanaian president’s cousin is passing by
and police blocked the road so that you couldn’t enter the university and take
the test at all. Something of this sort happened to me this year. The story is
this.
I am not as active
in politics. I have been alienated from reality by hard work and volunteering. I
rarely discuss political issues with friends and know that my know-how is very
poor for a person of my level when I read some thoughts of philosophers. I
really do not have a good understanding about issues like human rights,
dictatorship, or democracy. My source of information and news is the social
media. Therefore I get updates regularly. Other than that for the last six or
more years I am involved in my writing, publishing, distributing, library work and
volunteering in addition to my full-time teaching job. I follow developments
about the war that lasted more than a year in the northern part of the country.
In the last few weeks the TPLF is claiming that they occupied places in North
Shewa. I am updating my social media friends and other mainstream media
audience about the situation. When the TPLF army started claiming that they
occupied or neared Debre Birhan, I started updating people about the truth too.
But today seemed
the end of the world. I know that preparing oneself to the worst is good. Doing
your homework while you are safe and well is mandatory. Life is unpredictable.
Peace, family, friendship, country, the army and many things should not be
taken for granted? There are times where there is no taxi, no transport, no
food, no extra clothes, no internet connection, no telephone network, no
smartphones, no water, no electricity, no house, no town… nothing. That is the
time when your life can be in real danger and all forms of bad things happen to
you and your family. Then, either you obey anyone in power or say no to your
freedom. Property seems nothing. Your education loses value. A gun may be
valuable. An armed man is more respected.
I heard many prophesies
this year than before. I suspect their source is the TPLF. Some say this year
will be a year of trouble and the next one peaceful. This may be a tactic to
keep people away from fighting. Others say the rebels have magic that brought
them the two thirds of distance towards Addis Ababa. The majority keep telling
you the age-old adage of anyone who marries their mother is their father. I
live in a community of diverse people. Last night, I was at the daily
night-time living-compound guarding duty set for this time of terror. As I came
home at midnight, I headed to bed.
While I was trying
to sleep, some wild ideas came to me. The rebels say they trained 1.3 million troops.
Does any African country have this much? Imagine if anyone comes, the
administration here doesn’t seem to be prepared. They have not set checkpoints.
I see military tracks and civilian buses transport troops the whole day. Where
do those go? Transportation and life is getting costly. Civilians leave the
town and military comes in. No civilian comes in. For the civilians flying away
roads are being blocked and new routes being sought. Even the Chinese in town are
leaving. In my lifetime, it is the first time to see such a mess. Will we live
to see another one or shall this end our country’s survival? Once the rebels
occupy the highlands of Shewa the Oromo Liberation Army may occupy the key
places in Oromia and they are threatening about that. The USA could attack at
any minute and their military base at Djbouti threatedned about it. There is wind
about assassinations and coups. The rebels are coming to occupy Shewa, Debre
Birhan and Addis Ababa in three directions: Shewarobit, Menz or Seladingay and
Jamma. They say that Addis Ababa has been encircled! Would that be true? Would
Ethiopia be a place for proxy war? Worry, worry, terror, and fear overwhelm
everyone everywhere, but this seems those of us north of Addis Ababa only.
A phone call woke
me up at 05:10 AM and I answered it in a flash.
“Hello Mezemir.
Seladingay has been occupied. I just arrived at Eneshirbo walking for an hour and
a half with my daughter and carrying a twenty-kilogram heavy bag.” It was my
younger sister who was living 70 kilometers away from where I am.
“How did they
occupy it and how did you escape?”
“Uh! It is not clear to me yet. We were told
to escape and spare our lives and we left immediately as we were told. No one
is sure about what happened.”
“How did the five
year old girl walk that far? How did you carry a bag that heavy?” I screamed.
“We are very much
tired. We were almost running.”
I remembered those
African refugees running in thousands fleeing terror and war!
“Who told you to
escape?”
“I just called to
tell you to go to Mom’s place right away! I will call later.”
“OK. Thank you!
Stay safe.”
I am deeply indebted
to my sister for remembering me at that night of haste and fear. Leaving her
recommendation as it is, I was considering one safe place after another. I
really didn’t have a definite plan.
Immediately after
my sister’s call, I messaged fifteen youth leaders, journalists, friends and
key personalities in Debre Birhan and Addis Ababa the details of what my sister
told me to help them make the necessary preparations and alert others.
Next to that was
the time I devoted to two activities I must undertake concurrently. I must cook
a meal and have it since I am a one-meal-a-day eater and that is in the
mornings. I should also write a letter of recommendation I promised to write to
a girl who read at my library for six years and who is applying for a college
scholarship to study in the U.S.A. I had postponed writing it for the morning
because I felt sleepy last night. When I had finished both I was contemplating on
what to do next sitting on a stool my relative had brought me from Jimma. I
thought about all my relatives living there. They married Oromos and spent
almost their entire lives there. Most of them were born there. But would they
also be subject to ethnic attacks? I know they are a sandwiched ethnic minority
there. Would we be able to meet once again? I am here at the southern tip of
the Amhara region at Debre Birhan awaiting the Tigrian invasion to engulf us. The
West, particularly the United States, is openly conspiring for that to happen. Empowering the minority and crushing the majority!
When I turned my
face towards the gate, I saw a corner of my living room that I devoted to the
household items of my friend’s wife who had left them at her landlady’s and asked
me to collect. I remembered how it took me three rounds with her maid to carry
and bring it. My friend’s wife made it to Gonder, 860 kilometers from Debre
Birhan, anyway. Was it a right decision to leave her job and escape? She did that
three weeks ago when Desse town was occupied. Time tells us if she who chose
life for work or me who didn’t entertain the idea at all while I could was
right.
“What if I die
while their items are at my place?” I asked the maid smiling. “Please tell my
family who may come to collect my items who these belong to. You know, this
happens only if the rebels don’t loot and take them to Tigray as they did
elsewhere.”
“How do you know that
my life would be spared?” she asked me.
“I hope you will
survive. In the Internet the rebel leaders threatened to kill the elite, which
may include us teachers. And there are some issues.”
“They will not
make it to this place.”
“My expectation is
also like yours. They may or may not come. But I feel that our project of
Ethiopia is in jeopardy. I think it cannot survive long as a united entity. I
wish it could.”
“Where would her
God go until all this happens?”
“Yemen and Syria
had a God too,” I responded and cut my dialogue short because I knew we
couldn’t discuss the issue further. She has the God hypothesis which I wouldn’t
take in eternity.
Until 06:25 AM, I
helped friends who responded to my message calm down. I also told them what I
think they should or should not do. My sister called me again. Would she be
rounded by another contingent of the invading army!
“Hello.” She said
in a laughing mood.
“Hello.” I
responded in confusion.
“I just called my
husband who is still there in town and he told me that the enemy have not come.
It is said that people who saw the Amhara Special Force shift camp at night confused
them for the enemy and that alerted the whole town.”
“Oh, really? Glad
that you are safe! How are you now?”
“When we arrived
at Eneshirbo, we discovered that our relatives there also escaped down to Sasit
because they were told by phone about Seladingay.”
“Surprising! The
power of propaganda. Anyhow, I’ll call you later,” I ended the call.
I wondered where
we are being driven to. A few months ago, when the defense force retreated and
the enemy advanced in the northern tip of the Amhara region, people flew to the
next town. Then to the next, and so on. The refugees arrived at Debre Birhan
being displaced up to four or five times. The defense army has also arrived at Debre
Birhan. I saw the military marching in to our town in long lines. The youth of
my town were also walking with them demanding they lay arms as the army kept
retreating. The army refused to give their guns. I have no words to describe
that fearsome confrontation. The soldiers who come in with trucks and buses on
that day were also innumerable. That was on the Sunday three weeks ago. Our
town remains the last camp because Amharas have been blocked at Sheno, the
northernmost town of Oromia region. Oromia is the region that neighbors us to
the south and we reach the national capital city of Addis Ababa after crossing
it. Who could be blocking my people? A careful security officer who doesn’t
want infiltrators from entering Oromia and Addis or a collaborator of the
invaders within the government? What about Addis Ababa? Who knows! I heard that
a woman who lives in Addis Ababa was asked if she rents out her house in Debre
Birhan to refugees. It is said that she said she didn’t feel safe herself in
Addis and would come back and live in Debre Birhan. From the frying pan to the
fire my dear! She might predict what comes in Addis may be more dangerous than
what is expected in Debre Birhan. Just like this hearsay, we hear many
conspiracy theories about the future of Ethiopia. Some say they cut it into two,
three, … nine or more. My mind collates all those and analyses.
At 7:35 AM I
bathed and wore new clothes and shoes that I didn’t wear before. The reason was
because I wanted not to be identified from afar within the town. Then, I had
breakfast. As usual Sunday is my turn at my library as the librarian needs a one
day break a week. For the day I haven’t entertained the idea of opening the
library. That courage I had to open the library 365 days a year including on religious
and national holidays for the last six years may be broken today. While others
are fleeing the town and going elsewhere, at least why don’t I walk and check
things for myself. One of the few Sunday vacations I have in six years! Vacation!
Am I cheating myself? This day has no equal in my life in terms of fear. May be
those days when I was a university student may be compared with it. I trembled
then when there were inter-ethnic clashes among students or when the government
police invaded the compound to attack students who were the supporters
of the opposition. Fast forward to this day. The rebels are nearing anyway.
Readers may not come to my library. If I have to, I will open later in the day.
If readers come to return books and find the library closed, they will call me.
Whose mind would be so calm to grab a
book and sit to read!
While I was
walking to the university compound, I saw one crazy incidence. It was an
official with his family who had an armed police officer at the back of the
truck to guard them. The guard who should have guarded the nation and people
rather guards this potbelly!
Past that scene, I
met a fellow colleague and we stopped to chat for a moment. He told me that the
last group of top officials from the town were moving their items and family to
fly away to Addis. They can fly away using the cars that are given to them for
public service.
“Aha! That means they
heard some critical military information and they are making use of it. Someone
might have told them that the enemy will definitely come and they are leaving
because as officials they have access to cars and a pass to show at the
military checkpoints,” I said.
“I think so. I am
leaving the university condominium because the rebels were threatening and we
teachers would fall targets here,” said my friend.
He must. If his
three children, sister and wife die, it would mean a huge damage. But if I die,
I am one person.
“Really? Do you
think so?”
“Yes, we have
little time to do the necessary preparations. I have been preparing for more
than a week.”
“So where are you staying?”
I asked.
“I have rented a
room elsewhere in town for the time being until the danger passes. Most of the
teachers left for Addis.”
“OK. Stay safe.”
We departed and I headed to the university.
The flight of
officials was an addition to the many clues about the expectation in town of
the coming of the invaders. Personally I saw a military helicopter land at our neighborhood
and leave in minutes. It was said that it landed to take a military bag.
Military bags to my knowledge are taken to a safe location when a military
contingent is in fear of being overtaken by an enemy one. Another clue was the
fact that key institutions moved their valuable items to safety to Addis. There
was also a wind of prisoner’s being moved to other locations. Which rumor would
be true? To the public, the coming of the rebels was probable, if not to
me.
On my way I saw
army patrols every now and then. I went to one patrol that stopped by and
encouraged the Amhara Special Force in it. “We will prevail! The Amhara people
will prevail!” they said and I encouraged them shaking their hands covered with
gloves.
This morning
seemed the end of the world for Debre Birhanis. What would the day have in
store for us? Will the rebels come and make it a zoo is the question. Will
this town be a place where people are killed, raped and forced to all forms of
abuse? Would we be treated like animals are by bigger animals? The paradox here
is we Amharas, the majority, are being mistreated by a minority. Places that
are neighbored with other ethnicity in Amhara suffered. We are also a fault
line. Today or another day may be our turn. The social milieu in this industrial
hopeful town is changing. This 600 year old town changed dramatically in the
last few years with the investments and people coming to work here. It may be
demolished by the TPLF, who ruled us with racist policies for close to three
decades. Or will it keep growing? Will I see the post on my library “In
Africa’s highest city” become a real height in addition to the geographical
height?
I arrived at the
university which has been turned into a fearsome army barrack and military
hospital for three weeks now. The reason I went there is because mobile data
was closed in town the day after the army retreated to our town and there was a
little unrest. I had to check the Internet since there was nothing new when I
listed to the radio on my phone at home. Outside the closed staff lounge I
checked social media and confirmed that Shewarobit town, 90 kilometres from
Debre Birhan, has been occupied and the enemy were heading to Debre Sina which
is 60 kilometers from where I am. Tigray Defense Forces, the Tigrian People’s
Liberation Front is calling itself as such these days, are advancing. How are
they defending Tigray while they are attacking Amhara! The Tigray paradox!
Had it not been
for the war, I would be sitting at one corner of the lounge and be writing my
fourth book. I left the university compound and saw cars carrying displaced
people and even people of my town who are getting ready to get displaced.
People can see how their titles change instantly these days - from a resident
to displaced in this case just within one or two hours. After this I have a
plan to go to the hotel. On my way to the hotel, I kept taking photos with my phone
acting as if I were talking with it. I remember going to the hotel passing
smoke at every doorstep. “What happened to them today?” I complained. This was
not because of the war. It came to my mind that it was because of the yearly
custom of burning trash on November the 23rd. It is said that decades
ago Ethiopia got rid of the Spanish flue pandemic after everyone in the country
burned trash at their doorsteps. I was complaining more about the smoke than
the war that morning. The smoke affected me directly by smothering my lungs.
The war is in my mind and I am not sure if it drags itself along to as far as
where I am. “How could they remember burning trash even at this time of the
year! I would be proud of them if they burned enemy camps rather. Or just stage
a demonstration and burn enemy flags!” I complained, but who would hear me?
Instead of burning trash, over the years wouldn’t they discuss their situation
and set up a platform to sustain their country! This seems the problem of us
centersits. While the secessionists shake the nation as such! I had taken more
than ten photos by the time I arrived at the hotel gate. There was Wi-Fi at the
gate that I was able to share the photos describing the situation to my followers.
Photos of the movement of the military, the internally displaced people (IDPs),
businesses opened, people coming from churches etc.
Opposite the hotel
I spotted a colleague and we chatted for a minute in the smoke. We went to the
hotel and secured a corner. My friend had breakfast while I drank a cup of
milk. Immediately after he finished eating breakfast, one of his friends called
him to tell him that a car was ready to transport them to their place of birth which
is in the country to hide for the bad days that may follow. Telling me to be
wise to decide for the bad day, he left.
Afterwards, I
headed to the police station to tell them a place I and fellow neighbors
suspected infiltrators of the TDF were hiding items. I couldn’t find any
officer to tell the information to. At that compound I saw a number of people
imprisoned being suspected of allying with the rebels. This is one of the last
minute precautionary measures my town and even the capital Addis took after the
betrayal at Desse. On my way back to the hotel I saw a group of men, my
countrymen from Sasit, walking and stopped them. I asked them what their next
plan was and they said that they were mobilizing arms to go home. I asked them
to tell me when they leave so that I would join them. In case telephone service
stops, I told them my building and room number. What a relief. We could only go
to our place if the rebels do not come that way. But it is probable that they
do as one of the routes to Debre Birhan is through Sasit. I talked to other
groups too. A teacher of political science is a member of one of those. One local
party member teacher from another group also promised me. The telephone network
may be suddenly stopped. I hope their promises kept and things go well until we
leave the town.
When I departed
from them I saw a friend of mine sending his children and wife to Addis Ababa
by one of the scarce cars paying double the normal fare. He was able to send
his wife because she had an Addis Ababa identification card. He and I headed to
the hotel.
We sat.
“I was thinking
about you. Glad that we met. Do you know that you would be killed?” asked he.
“I suspect so
especially because the interviews I have been giving recently opposing their
policy of ethnic federalism,” I responded.
“Not only that. Your role as a community
organizer makes you a victim.”
“Yes, my book on
genocide prevention makes me a target. When I see what they did in the towns
they occupied so far, we are easy targets. They killed university staff at
Kembolcha. Even my expectation is that there could be people ready to identify us
and get us killed. Some of our acquaintances may even come for us themselves to
quench their ethnocentrism by killing teachers of their choice. I can predict
that seeing their Facebook posts and their past actions. They are acting as if
we didn’t live together. It is said that some of them called teachers and
threatened,” I whispered.
“I fear about your
fate. So, what is your plan?” he hit the nail in the head.
“I have no
definite plan for that matter,” I cast my neck down.
I thanked my
friend for this critical advice he gave me at this decisive moment, whereas
almost every one of my friends I knew kept quiet. Not one friend called and
reminded me this. Even those who flew away days or weeks ago.
This friend of
mine came to know me through our book club at the university and proved a
friend in need at this turbulent time. He is planning to fly away to his
uncle’s place in a nearby town. He promised that he would do something to help
me. Afterwards, we left the hotel and headed to my library. Ras Abebe Aregay
Library gave public service until Saturday, the day before. But on this day, it
has been closed due to circumstances. I opened the library that seems not to
open again and I felt a strange feeling as I entered. We took photos of each of
us with our books at the shelves. I also took a photo of the whole library with
the books and shelves. I felt it may be attacked be it by robbers from anywhere
or by the rebels. I also thought of posting outside “You are under CCTV
surveillance” just for any robber. As to the rebels, they seem not to care.
They may not like to transport the books to Tigray, but they may damage them. A cannon attack may demolish the entire
library if they fire it from Sasit which is twenty or so kilometers in air from
here. I wish they don’t occupy Sasit and fire towards us. By the way, there are
also other locations to attack Debre Birhan from. We would lose much life and a
civilization.
Closing the
library, we walked to downtown and saw the haste and disturbance on people’s
faces. We discussed many issues. I told him that some people seem unworried
because they are here either because they are ready to accept any measure the
enemy may take or they don’t fear since they are here as non-Amharas who
remained behind when their Amhara neighbors left their home town fearing racist
measures by the enemy. He said that was also his observation when he assessed
his neighborhood. We departed after a round-trip.
Sometime in the
afternoon, I reopened the library for a while and our readers and people who
knew me started to gather. As these people had nowhere to go, they were
walking. They saw the library opened, and they came with a smile and
hopefulness. Our library proved to be an oasis of hope and togetherness once
again! We started talking about the situation, but it was an unorganized talk
of terror. I headed to the hotel afterwards and posted this on Facebook.
“Under the America sponsored genocide
I'm in Debre Birhan. While people I
knew flew away to Addis Ababa to save their lives, I'm still at Debre Birhan. I
could go to Addis a few days ago, but why? After my people fall victims to a
U.S. sponsored genocide by the Tigray People's Liberation Front, what use would
being alive have? Currently, the Oromia Regional State is forbidding people of
Amhara ethnicity, whose ethnicity could be found out from their identification
cards, from entering the metropolis. It is their capital city. One can see how
the Amhara people are cornered! In the photo I posted here you see me posing
with my book which is a translation of a book on the Rwandan genocide. This
afternoon, I was the attendant at Ras Abebe Aregay Library, a library I opened
in town. Readers came to discuss the U.S. sponsored genocide and ways to curb
it. After the discussion I asked them to take this photo that you see attached.
My plan is to join the patriots who
are fighting in rural areas nearby.
Hopefully, I will come back with
another post.”
At the hotel, a countryman talked to
me about setting up a Shewa level organization and formulating strategies and
governing policies before we depart to our places of birth and start armed
insurgency in each district.
For the last few
weeks I tried to help people in Addis and Debre Birhan and elsewhere to calm
down by writing and telling them about the true situation in Debre Birhan while
the rebels claim they occupied it. With the television interviews I gave, this
can be a good addition to soothe my people and fight the enemy’s propaganda.
That afternoon also I posted messages of similar content.
Before the 8:00 PM
curfew, I checked the messages I had and responded to all and I left Tosign
Amba Hotel. Mobile data has been closed for weeks because of the war. After
crossing the eerie dark dirt roads, I arrived at the university condominium
which is deserted and symbolized hell. At the gate, I greeted half a dozen
fellow teachers who stood by holding sticks of varied lengths and shapes and
wearing snow-white gabbis. Straight from there I headed to my home.
I covered myself
with a blanket and headed downstairs. Then I made it to the outpost sentry to
meet the guard and teachers who gathered there. The chat only kept our gathering
lively. On that night a dozen teachers came out to guard the compound. We were
really diverse. And if those invaders came they would order us to lineup with
ethnicity to identify who was what. Would there be more than twenty teachers
left to guard the compound of eighty teachers? I doubt it! We hear gunshots
every now and then. Shots to the sky. We expected them to be of the residents
who try out their guns they hid or bought recently. We discuss what we read
from social media, mainstream media or friends and relatives nearby or away. A
Good Samaritan brought liquor from his house and many drank. A few were already
getting tipsy. The tipsy kept asking each other about their ethnicity – a disease
we have to deal with for a long time- a disease that the constitution injected
the Ethiopian people with. Every now and then relatives and friends call me. By
midnight I received a hundred calls. This seems mainly due to the message of
departure I posted on social media. All these teachers including me should have
helped hold a national discussion and draft policies to pacify the nation than
stand at the gate holding sticks at the last minute. At midnight we told the
guards to alert us if anything strange happened and headed home to sleep. I climbed
up the stairs and went in.
Based on the advice
of my friend at the hotel I packed my little bag with documents and clothes. I
remembered how I didn’t make myself ready over the last few days. Carrying
anything else would delay me. That night I really learned how I was not ready
to prepare myself. I thought I needed a radio receiver to follow up updates
that may be released from the government. My old radio was not working. I
couldn’t buy a new one on the day because of the situation and since there was
no transportation within the town. A smaller phone I needed since it saves
battery. Smartphone would not last long. That I do not have either. Packed food
I have not made ready. No packed water. I thought I could survive for a few
days without both as I did a few months ago during my five day extended
fasting. I packed my documents in one envelope. A few clothes I selected and
kept them in a bag. I have medications. I also had cash, a few thousands. I
know money works only under some conditions as long as the government is
working. Torchlight I have none. A few years ago I read about what I should
pack in case of an emergency, but I really did not make it ready.
Afterwards, I
thought about where I’d go. My mind started to think about the future. I asked
myself and my mind gave immediate answers.
Question: If the
rebels come and I get time to prepare myself, where would I go?
Answer: My first
escaping place would be the house of people who are at an hours’ walking
distance from my home. They are not my relatives but they consider me like a
brother. There may not be a telephone network, but I will manage to arrive
there. There may also be people on my way to go with. I will not definitely go
to my Mom’s place since that is an easy target as people suspect I go there.
Question: But what
if people other than the rebels come to my home?
Answer: One option
is robbers. There was rumor that some people are ready to rob our compound.
This is because they heard that only three teachers were left behind. But this
was false. One night when we were guarding they attempted to peer into the
compound but we came out from the sentry and they left. Therefore, people may
come to my home as robbers and when they discover I am in they may leave it and
go to the deserted ones. Friends also may come to alert me to go if the telephone
network doesn’t work. Security personnel may also come if they start a house-to-house
checking. Library members or my relatives may also come. The question is if my
relatives know my home. Fellow neighbors come too.
Question: What if
the terrorists or the rebels come?
Answer: It will be
a devastation. We took precautionary measures if the worst comes. One is we
removed all the house numbers from all the doors so that they don’t know who is
where. Next, we bought a trumpet for the guard to alert us. We were planning to
design an exit strategy, but people kept talking and joking that we didn’t give
it a try over the last nights.
Question: How
would the terrorists come?
Answer: Probably
in two ways. Either the rebels themselves or their sympathizers hiding in town.
If it is their sympathizers who try to cause havoc and imitate the drama in Desse
we may emerge as victors. But if the fighters come, there may be some strange scenes.
We expect a fight at the entrance of the town. We may take part in that if people
choose to. If we win, great. If not we may retreat to places nearby. Either we
join patriots and fight or go to our relatives places if they are not occupied
first. If they get us, it will be disastrous. They rob and kill. They may
humiliate and drag people along the road. If the worst comes and I get preparation time,
I better claim my life before they do.
Question: What
could an effective escape strategy mean?
Answer: I make it
to one of the hideouts. Stay a few days and check the situation. The government
may respond or some solution may come. If not I should head to one of the faraway
places and fight with patriots. “You better stay here and help us with
communications” said a friend of mine when I told him about joining in. Would I delay the patriots? Would they reject
people who do not have military or Fano training?
Question: What
would the nation’s future be like?
Answer: The
nation’s future is not certain. It has many home works in my view. If it
survives as she did in the past, she has to do her home works. But she thinks
she is done. She is like me. I think I am done with my home works, but others
tell me I have many home works. As the saying goes, ‘Pride
comes before a fall.’
Question: What if the
government decides to fight?
Answer: There may
be a hidden project within the government. They may be in a situation they
don’t want to declare. They could be willing but unable. What if some people or
situations avert the government's plans?
My mind moves on
to similar situations in history. The book on the Rwandan genocide I translated
into Amharic, ‘Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagiza,’ gave me lessons. The
writer is one of the few dozens who survived from a quarter of a million people
in Western Rwanda. She wrote how her father trusted in the government and was
betrayed by none other than itself. What if our fate is like that? A teacher at
the guarding duty that night also remembered the havoc when thousands of people
gathered outside Immaculee’s father’s home. Would Debre Birhan experience a
drama of that sort? Would we be gathering in thousands for the enemy to enjoy butchering
us? Would they be imagining and planning that scene no? We heard that police
discovered lists of people to get killed in the houses of those enemy
sympathizers who got imprisoned in our town recently.
Question: But what
is your firm belief?
Answer: The enemy
won’t come to town. The government is in charge. They know what they are doing.
As the Eritrean president said, they are trapping the rebels. In this case,
Ethiopia has hope. This is 80 percent.
Question: Will I
die or survive? What about my hopes? Should I sleep now or not?
Answer: Should I
die before I help bookstores in Addis distribute the thousands of books they
have? I know that booksellers have millions of Birr tied up because the people
do not read. I believe that Ethiopians should proudly hold books when they move
around. I should help create the compliant ‘shortage of books to read’. I know
Ethiopia can have privately owned libraries every where. I know this can be
scaled up to Africa and I have what to do to with the continent in mind.
Staying awake tonight
may save my life! Sleep would mean my life is not worth saving! So, I kept
thinking about myself and my life. But I think I lived half my life. Why don’t
I sleep and accept what comes? I remembered National Geographic documentaries in which herbivorous animals go to the river to drink water knowing that there are beasts that may eat them in the rivers. My sleep is almost like that water. There could be death hiding in it.
In the morning, I
was woken up by a text message from a saint of a friend in the army whom I
frequently call these days. The message indicated that the Prime Minister had
ordered a counter offensive on the enemy. I got respite and was dead sure the things
will be curbed. Let us learn from today and prepare for tomorrow! There may
still be a looming danger! And this definitely seems to remain the same until
we stop dividing ourselves along ethnic lines. Just until we reject to be
outsmarted by a European or an American who is the mother of our division.
Where should I celebrate this great news? I will not cook this morning. Let me treat myself a delicious dish at Tosign Amba Hotel,
the place which stood by my side during the trying times.
