Min Albat...

6/23/19

I moved in with my host family yesterday (6/22). My host father is a 55-year-old carpenter, with 6 children, but only one lives with them full time; a daughter, who is a student. I met only my host-dad. He had the largest smile on his face when we met and gave me a big hug. That has to be the most striking piece of Ethiopian culture; while I get a lot of looks, and a lot of people stare, everyone is so welcoming. Even people that know nothing about me other than the way I look come up to me and say “Welcome” and “Salam-no.” While many of them wear Arsenal football jerseys, their kindness is none the less well received…even when I am representing Manchester United! The first time I met the rest of my host family was about an hour after the first awkward meeting of me and my father. There is a clear language barrier between myself and my family but they are, at every step, patient, kind, and willing to help me learn.

My group (G21) found out what language we all had to learn, and thus where our placement is. Some got the seemingly far away land of Tigray, which is dry and somewhat reminiscent of Utah or the Mojave, where they speak Tigrayan and where it is very hot. Some got the Southern Regions nation, which largely holds Amharic as its predominant language, but has something like 50 (don’t quote me on that number) different languages within one of the smallest regions in the country. Some languages in the Southern region have a radius as small as a single village. Others got Amhara, where they speak Amharic and it can get as cold as New England in the late fall. Finally, the region I am placed in, Oromia where people speak predominantly Afran Oromo, where it gets to be up to the mid-80s in the summer, and 50’s in the winter. Oromia also grows and exports most of Ethiopia’s coffee. In the states, I never drank coffee, ever. But in Ethiopia, I have grown to love coffee, or Buna as it is called in Amharic. We drink a lot of coffee; most families even have a coffee ceremony just before bed which leaves me wired every time and up late writing blog posts such as nights like this.

One phrase I learned in Amharic was “min albat” which translates to “maybe” in English. I learned it from my host brother Hymanot, who is a 22 year old University student at a school in Oromia and speaks outstanding English; he knows 4 languages. He, like the rest of our family, is protestant. Religion is serious business here in Ethiopia, which is taking some getting used to, but its not that hard of an adjustment as I was also raised in a protestant household. Anyway, Hymanot and I are very similar in a lot of ways. He has a love of history, music, and aiding others just as I do. Most importantly though, he is a Manchester United fan. He also has a hope to continue his studies in America, a goal that I hope I can help him achieve. He is a very intelligent person who would shine bright at any university or college in the states. We were discussing the United States and Ethiopia and the differences, as well as the similarities, that the two countries share. He was taken back at the idea that people in America are struggling; he sees America for the great country I think we, we being us Americans, want it to be. He see’s my home country as a land of opportunity, and “provision” as he says. But if there is anything most people have in common, it is the struggle and uncertainty of what is to come. “Min albat” is the perfect phrase to describe my path in Ethiopia, as well as the path of most in this country. Uncertainty comes and goes with every day. Many ask questions like “Will I have Wifi” “Will I have electricity?” “Will I have food?” or “Will I have water?” Questions like these are answered in the states, or at least in greater proportion than here in Ethiopia, in the affirmative. However, the answer for most in Ethiopia remains “min albat.”