Last month’s inflation is the highest in over a decade, a development the Service attributed to the holiday season, which is characterized by spike in prices of food items.

Cost of living has been surging in the last two years, due to supply side problems and fast depreciation of Birr against major baskets of foreign currencies, among others. The soar in prices of food is the major factor for the inflationary pressure.

Last month, food inflation stood at 41.6 percent, the highest in three months. The cost of non-food items also exhibited an upsurge last month. It has reached 26.6 percent, the highest in over 10 years.

Planned to rest on 3,103 square meters of land, the building will occupy 1,740 square meters. The 18-story mixed purpose building is expected to host office spaces for Banking & Insurance services, cafes, meeting halls and a guest house among others. It will also have a four-story basement for parking, gymnasium, a power house, water reservoir, and other facilities.

According to the newly enacted construction guideline by the Addis Ababa City Administration’s Construction Bureau, the enterprise will make 40 percent of the HQ floors for guest houses and residential spaces, disclosed Gutema Kesu, the project engineer at Ethiopia Industrial Inputs Development Enterprise (EIIDE).

The Ethiopian Construction Design and Supervision Works Corporation designed the head office building for 3.5 million birr and expects to manage the consultancy work while the bid for the project contractor will be disclosed come January. The design work was given to the state corporation without bidding via board decision as the Enterprise was threatened with evacuation from the land if it did not start construction within three months.

“The headquarters will enable the Enterprise enhance its capacity to generate income. Moreover, the location is a key destination to expand EIIDE’s services and earn extra incomes,” stated Gutema. It will also save the Enterprise 13 million birr annually in rental costs.

The design approval is done and the bid to hire a Grade-one national or international contractor will be floated by the end of January. The plan is to finish the foundation work before the rainy season comes, the project engineer told The Reporter.

Gutema also revealed that the Enterprise will use its fixed assets as collateral to get loan from banks to match the already allocated budget for the construction.

Construction of the headquarters is expected to be completed in less than three years. 

The Ethiopia Industrial Inputs Development Enterprise operates 85 branches across the country and is tasked with distributing raw materials for textiles, rubber, reinforcement bars, foam mattresses, detergents, sugar, nails, cash registers, salt, and edible oil to small and medium enterprises, as well as big industries.

“Don’t do that again!”

“Don’t do what again?”

“Don’t hug me in public again!”

What! This guy must have lost a couple of screws from upstairs! They have been hugging every time they met for the past decade or so and now he doesn’t like being hugged! Just like that!

“Sorry, what is wrong with it? This isn’t the first time I hugged you.”

“Don’t do that, especially in front of foreigners.”

So, that was the whole idea! There were quite a number of foreigners around.

For some reason the guy doesn’t want to be hugged in their presence. No, he wasn’t worried about being mistaken for being gay or something. The bombshell wasn’t long in coming;

“Hugging in public is uncivilized.”

This couldn’t be happening! However strange and unrecognizable this world has become, this just couldn’t be happening. “This is not the guy I know. He must be some imposter!”

No, he was the same guy. What happened was he recently joined an NGO, after years as a civil servant, and all of a sudden gave himself the license to ‘civilization’ whatever that means.

I remember once scribbling a few thoughts about the ‘creative’ ways we eat local food. Recently, someone raised the issue that some ferenjis find our eating by hand uncivilized. Is that so? What about licking one’s fingers we see in many films! At least we don’t lick our fingers!

I eat my injera and wot by hand and no other way. Never would many go to the extent of using knife and fork to slice through an injera roll, dip it in the wot and take a mouthful. That’s exactly what some do.

The question of being ‘civilized’ or not has been an eternal issue.

I find quit a number of my country folk on the wrong side of the fence when it comes to such things. They find everything we do’ uncivilized.’ You know like ‘civilized’ is shaking hands and ‘uncivilized’ is hugging.

Take the way we greet. In days that are receding fast there were this real affectionate greetings. I mean, the person who greets you asks you not only about your health but that of your family members too; that person even asks you about how your locality was doing. Of course several minutes are squandered. But one thing we seem to have ‘in abundance’ around here is time.

Look, we all would like to be ‘civilized.’ Not because the ferenjis wouldn’t like seeing us hugging but because we have to keep pace with changing things. Someone is saying being civilized is what is in you and nothing else.

Some decades back we were in this Eastern Bloc country on some media tour. There was some twenty or so of us. On our first night we were called for some welcome dinner. The dishes were filled with chicken legs and chicken breasts. Now if we had been on home ground we would just pick one pieces and start shredding it. But this was a ferenji country. Even though they were poor we have to act ‘civilized!’ We weren’t going to have our country laughed at! “Look at those primitive creatures. They are using their hands to eat the chicken!” we weren’t going to allow that to happen. So we pick the knives and forks and tried to slice the meat off the bones. It was a futile effort. For one thing knife and fork weren’t our idea of sending your meal to the extreme corners of one’s belly.

Very much uncomfortable we threw sideways glances. And then one amongst us pointed to a far corner spot. What a revelation! There, a couple of ferenjis had the chicken parts at in the clutch of their ten fingers and they were ripping the meat with relish. It was as if we were a company of soldiers waiting for that order. With up to the second precision all of us lifted the chicken legs and breasts, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Once I remember that in a certain family quite a storm brewed because of the culinary choice of their twenty-something son. It was by accident that his elder sister discovered that he has started eating pork! And she was tipped by her brother’s own friend who felt there was something very wrong with the guy. Pork!  Not only for religious reasons, but the simple fact is eating pork, generates the gasps from many Ethiopians.

“You mean he actually eats pork!”

“Did you hear that she is eating pork? That girl is going to hell, no doubt about that.”

For the religiously devout there is only one place for you if you eat pork, Hell!  I mean this is a society which would ask “What does the dog stand for in hotdog!” It was like asking, “Couldn’t they come up with a better word!” Whether it comes as a suffix or a prefix, ‘dog’ is the last word most of us would like to associate with food.

Still, things are changing. Quite a number of people see eating pork as sign of joining the ‘civilized’ world. It isn’t that they are impressed by its nutritional qualities; it isn’t that some doctor advised them to “Eat pork at least three times a week.” It is simply that since many foreigners using it must be one thing civilized people are supposed to do! Hmm. Ask me and I have no problem with people eating pork or food items not nicely perceived around here.  But I have to admit that when I sometimes hear the ‘reasons’ for such actions, reasons which have nothing to do with calorie and carbohydrate count, I really feel sad for those guys who are living in a fantasy world. You like pork, then go eat! The only thing is don’t expect anyone to throw a second glance and exclaim; “Finally he/she has joined the civilized world.” 

I have met with many who think eating raw meat is one sign that the ‘ship of civilization’ has left port and we were not on it. The whole idea of connecting culinary or similar choices with being civilized or being left behind is absurd.

I have to go and have a bite or r two. Who knows, it might be that I’ll settle for pork and from this time on you will be dealing with a ‘civilized’ me.

Maybe people were saying to themselves… “He must be very much in love with her.” The underlying logic being he beats her only because he is jealous; and he is jealous means that he loves her! So beating up a lady was supposed to be the highest form of expression of love.

“He must have caught her cheating on him.”  

“You know, women like men who beat them up.”

“He must be her husband; what if he beat her once in a while!”

Of course, there wasn’t any once-in-a-while the way the guy was hitting her! And, somewhat, his hands appeared larger than life. Maybe he found some major fault in her actions! So, who is anybody to tell him to stop! One seventyish old man did exactly that;

“Why are you hitting her? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” One thing the man wasn’t was, ashamed! The Good Samaritan was, in fact, told not to interfere by none other than the lady herself!  It was something which defied explanation. I mean already her pretty face was turning purple and she didn’t want others to come to her rescue! That wouldn’t make a good Hollywood pilot.

The past few weeks we’ve been hearing about cases of sexual harassments elsewhere in the world. It seems the celebrities and those in power simply couldn’t tame their hands to stay away from the skirts of unwilling women. The Harvey Weinstein guy could have made jaws drop at the scale of his decades-old sexual harassments on aspiring and established actresses. His story seems to have let the cat out of the bag. Sexual harassment allegations are dogging even the British parliament. What! What about all those matter-of-fact stern facial expressions we see on TV?  The sex scandals we are hearing are providing us with a glimpse as to how some of the people turning and twisting the knobs of this world think and act.

Even the former FIFA boss Sep Blatter’s name making the list of the accused! What a story! If the American’s women’s team goalie’s accusations are true it is indeed a very disturbing pattern. Incidentally, a couple of years back there was talk of sexual harassments (of course, few, if any used the equivalent Amharic term for ‘sexual harassment’) in our athletics world. The story went on that when it came to women athletes, they don’t only need skills and stamina; they have to match their passion for athletics with the sexual passion of some of the men. Like many things, we never saw the climax of the allegations.

Maybe it is high time we really looked into our own situation. We don’t need inspiration another Clara Zetkin or some namesake to tell us that we have to stop the tide of sexual harassments before it turns it some uncontrollable storm surge. One doesn’t have to travel far, or peep through keyholes to witness abuses against the women; the streets of Addis would provide the perfect showcase.

Once in a while we hear audible noise about addressing the problems women are facing. Passionate speeches, determined vows, no-nonsense slogan; one would think that the days of the macho man were numbered and come morning all those wife-beaters and harassers would be bundled away to some far away land.  Finally, justice would be served!  With all those sexual harassers out of the picture, this world would be a far better place! So would go the wishful thinking.

But, don’t close the book yet. All the passions of the day time workshops or whatever would be drowned in pints of whiskey and vodka at the evening’s cocktail party. Of course, a meeting or workshop without a cocktail party as the climax would be a non-event! During the day it is about the ordeals about the womenfolk are facing and in the evening it is about the mini-wars that would irrupt in quite many bedrooms.

We’ve heard of guys in the US who thought their better half’s chin was there for the taking, and ended up on the wrong side of the law.

“Hey, you can’t even touch her, let alone knock her around the house!” “But, she is my wife!”

“So what? She is your wife, not your slave!”

“I’ve the right to do whatever I like. I can kick her or kiss her whenever and wherever I like.”

“Not here. You can’t even lay a loving finger on her if she doesn’t want you to do so.”

“What! What kind of a country is it where your wife says no to you and you could do nothing about it!”

There was a famous joke during the military junta. This woman comes home and asks her husband something like “How about you and me getting in bed and you know what…” The guy wasn’t in the mood. “Not today, I’m not on the mood,” he says. She tries you convince him but he seems to be suffering from bad testosterone deficiency and he stands fast in his refusal. But she insists and he sticks to his refusal. The final words go to her;

“Even if you don’t want to do it, you’ll be forced by the kebele!” Ha!  Now, wasn’t that a real revolution! Of course if things were like they’re today the man would have shouted, “This is sexual harassment on me by my own wife!”

Look, if finger-pointing sees the light of day here, if abused women rise up in arms and the culprits recoil into their caves, ours would be the only country in the world where the ratio of women to men in the streets would be some a hundred to one or so. Did I hear someone say ‘exaggeration?’ But it isn’t? Just take a closer look at the expense of losing a few heartbeats.

We really have a long way to go. Despite all the rallying calls of the last four decades so, our women are still treated with disrespect and arrogance. These days even the kids barely ten or eleven make cat calls, and you see no one trying to pump some discipline into them.  The truth is even the adults, some of whom could boast of many decades of existence, act exactly the kids. Even those who consider themselves learned and fine-polished act like some village tug who pulls at every skirt which comes within grasp. So we do have serious problems. With so many so-called ‘civilized’ guys, who think they can make a punching bag out of their better half, the climb towards a more caring society would prove a very steep one.

Looking at him one would think the guy has been given his last thirteen days in this world by the doctor.

This was the wish of a father of three; not because he was a bad father to his three kids; not because he couldn’t afford to put food in his children’s mouths, though many moms and dads worry about just that, preventing their kids from malnutrition. He was in fact that a member of a dwindling species whose number one priority is giving kids proper upbringing in a slippery world, a species whose three priorities in life are children, children and children. The dinner table is always full; his wife is a loving mother, also member on another dwindling species.  So, how come such a devoted father who seems to have such a good home life wishes he didn’t have kids?

His boss! That was the reason. Like mentioned in a previous article, this guy, too, is victim to prejudices of a very unfriendly boss. We have more than our fair of those guys, don’t we! Those bosses who act like Idi Amin, Augusto Pinochet, and Pol Pot rolled into one. The riddle is that our guy couldn’t pin his boss’s hatred to any particular reason. He couldn’t even guess. Still his boss is making sure that life for this guy wouldn’t be smooth.

The harassments assume different forms. But he feels them most serious of all was that someone was trying to make him look like a sympathizer of some political group which is not seen with kind eyes by those in power. And this guy is the kind of the person who adheres to the saying ‘keep away from live electric wires and politics.’

Given the fact that many bosses are having field days for all the wrong reasons, I’ve decided to be one. No vacancy, please. So, now that I decided to make myself a boss, I better get down to business. I want to get the feeling of having so many @#$”* to kick around with impunity. (Well, it’s not always one hears of bosses feeling the heat for mistreating their staffs.) First thing is I’d be downsizing the staff. People might call it ‘restructuring,’ or one of the politically correct jargons we hear so much of these days. I’ll call it for what it is – sacking. That is what I’ll do; I’ll sack quite a sizeable number so that no one would think of me as that jelly-kneed weirdo who doesn’t have the guts to see tears and despair of grieving employees. Why should I need two hundred people while even a hundred are more than enough!

So, at least a hundred should go. I don’t have the will for nice ‘Ciao! Ciao! Signorina!’ letters ending with something like, “I hope you’ll get a more rewarding job, and wish you…” or saintly phrases like that. They have to be shown the door with something without any fanfare. What? What about their families!? Who do you think I am? Some guy who is vying for a front row seat in Heaven!? I don’t give a rat’s #$” about their families. I have my own criteria as to whom to kick out and away. Now don’t you lecture me about the hard-working guys, about guys laboring to make the organization the envy of others by registering triple digit growth! Ha! Those aren’t for me. I thought I made my intention clear even if in a roundabout way: The one and only important thing in the organization is ME! Any decision depends on my interests.

Who to toss out and far is not a quantum-something riddle. There are those in the staff who seem to be wallowing in that primitive thing they call ‘pride’. They don’t greet me the proper way, the proper way for me. I want, or need, them to bow as low as their good-for-nothing back muscles allow them. I want them to act as if I was the modern Julius Caesar. For all I care, they a can squeeze their pride in some peanut butter jar and just get out of my sight. Personal Pride! You must be kidding me; how could anyone talk of personal pride in my presence. I, the boss, am PRIDE!

Then there are those who always seem to be overdressing; at least that is how I see them. They are always well-groomed, cleanly shaven, snow white shirt collars and all that. For me, that is ‘overdressing!’ They are doing it to make me look some pedestrian who couldn’t even tie his shoe properly. Theirs heads are already on the chopping block, and I wouldn’t listen to any leniency plea!

Then, there is the million dollar question to evaluate the fate of my staff. Which part of the country do they hail from! Why are so many people grimacing at hearing this? That is how things are done these days, isn’t it? Don’t tell me you never expected for things to become so rudimentary as to go looking for people of your own ethnic or religious group! I’m only conforming!

Now having taken care of those who will be given their marching orders, let’s see what I should be doing to those I spared. No question, I have to move the staff around. By moving I am not talking about a couple of guys changing offices. I mean a complete overhaul. Especially, I will have to handpick those who are near me. First comes my secretary my most important ally in standing or prone positions. I take her advice, advice given informally and in a more, recreational and solitary atmosphere. Of course her looks matters. I am a believer of rejuvenation when it means three nights a week in the arms of a Cleopatra who still makes the thermometer pin jump every time she puts her arms around me. What a lady! I beg your pardon; What if she is married! WHAT IF SHE IS MARRIED! Sorry, but I have to break it to you; by asking me about my secretary’s marital status you proved time has left you behind. I don’t really care! God bless her hubby. She, too, wouldn’t care, not with all the unofficial benefits she gets from me. Any staff member who tries to be too chummy with her is picking a fight with me! He will have himself to blame as the earth beneath his feet gives way. I don’t believe in ‘sharing,’ except of course, unless it is her husband.

One criterion for all the staff is they have to be ‘yes men/women.’ There isn’t a second option here. Either they are, or they aren’t. They don’t have to wait until I say “Jump!” They should take the imitative and jump without my saying so. They should jump and only then ask me “Is that high enough!”

Another thing I am determined to do is form my own clandestine intelligence team. Yes that is exactly what I said, ‘clandestine intelligence team.’ I want those people to be my eyes and ear. Since every staff member is guilty until proven innocent, I want a minute-by-minute report on is who is saying what, who is becoming too friendly with whom, which staff members hang out together regularly, and the sort of stuff. This is a 24/7 job. Staff members I chose for this task should be happy! Because it’s a ‘paying’ task! Not that I’ll dig deep in my pockets. Hey, I control the organization’s finances, and I know how to maneuver the books!

On second thought, maybe I am the last person to throw my weight on the big leather chair. Maybe I’m not cut to be a leader of anything let alone an organization of a couple of hundred staff. Maybe, I should spend a few more years on the wooden chairs in the multipurpose offices to get the feel of what being ‘just another staff member’ means. Maybe, I need to spend a few years in a situation where proceeds political loyalty doesn’t appear anywhere on the list which is topped by professional competence.  

Well, too many b&@#s are the warming the wrong chairs! ‘Put the right b&@#s in the right chairs’ and the world will be a far better place.

“Tell the accountant I want to talk to him.”

“But sir, he’s not in yet.’

“What! It is already twenty to nine and he isn’t in!”

“What’s the big deal; he’s only ten minutes late!” the secretary would be saying to herself.

“I want to see him as soon as he comes in!”

“Ok, sir.”

Five minutes later.

“Sir, you wanted to see me.”

No playing the nice, heaven-bound guy role. “You’re late!” He growls and scans his watch. “You‘re fifteen minutes late!”

“Sir, I was waiting for the bus for an hour and twenty minutes. I left home at half past…”

“I don’t care! I don’t care if you left your house last Christmas! You are fired!”

“But sir, I…”

“You are fired, and that’s final!”

Maybe, just maybe, the chances such a scenario might seem slim. Even the most ardent Lucifer fan wouldn’t be so insensitive! You can’t fire a father of four just like that! You can’t treat him like the suffering maid you kick around the house with impunity! Take my word, people these days go to such great lengths to harm others, firing someone is almost a non-event, which it isn’t.  

A couple broke the news to a civil servant friend not very keen about watching local channels. Who is?

“What do you mean you’ll be fired for being late two days?”

“Fired; you know, like your contract being terminated.”

“But they can’t do that!”

Everyone’s verdict would be, “But they can’t do it!” But they can, in a few months time.

Look, if you enjoy shaving off minutes from your morning office hours I’ve news for you; beat the habit before the plane leaves the tarmac. If proposed amendments to the labor law get the thumbs-up in the House, being late would be no laughing matter. Two days late in a month, and you’d be statistics – in the ‘unemployed’ section.

“You are late!”

“Sir, my little kid was sick and I had to rush him to the…”

“That’s your reason for being late!”

“But sir, my child is very sick.”

“You are fired!” Just like that.

I could imagine bosses craving to flex their muscles; bosses who already drawing the list of employees they’ll nuke.

Believe me, “You are fired!” The last thing any sand soul would want to hear these days. I mean, even being employed with a secure, sustained monthly income, life isn’t getting any easier. Your dinner table top is already more table than dishes. You’re finalizing plans to move your kids to schools with cheaper fees. The doctor’s appointment is still pending, with the doctor still waiting for you to show up. Your wife has been complaining of everything from spinning head, to a rumbling belly, to a creaking back for the past year or so. Your children catch cold very other day. Your landlord has already warned rent would go up by eight hundred birr next month. And your boss says “You’re fired!” amidst this tsunami-powered scenario! It is tantamount to a life behind bars ruling.

Labor leaders are crying foul, because the proposed seem to weigh heavily in favor of the employer. Someone even said the employer should be given the power to fire any employee without any reason!  Well, well, well! Sounds like the famous hating someone for very color of his eyes. But who am I to say that. I know close to nothing about the labor laws. But one thing I know is the transport mess in this capital city of others doesn’t make things as simple as they appear on paper. This city doesn’t stand tall and proud for busses which run on schedule, minibuses which are there when people want them the most, or streets which are driver friendly.

No one denies the workplace discipline these days leaves much to be desired. Quite many offices seem to be like driverless cars. People tell you the employer-employee camaraderie has become sort of a once-upon-a-time children’s story. Workplace discipline has to be restored. Industrious workers have to be rewarded and the irresponsible ones brought into line. In a country where the unemployed crowd is ballooning every year those already employed have to prove their worse.

That said, it doesn’t mean the only way out is by playing hardball. The proposals of the labor leaders have to be considered and debated, not because they have threatened nationwide strikes, but because that is the most intelligent thing to do.

“Why are you leaving your work?” a friend inquires.

“Because I can’t take it with me.” Nice joke. But, if the new amendments go through intact, leaving one’s workplace for good wouldn’t be any close to being a joke. You can’t tell your spouse, “I’m leaving work next week,” and go out for the celebratory cold beer. You’d be probably saying “I’ll be leaving work in three months time.” That’s it; you have to give your employer ninety days notice! He needs only a few minutes to tell you to get lost, and you need three months to ‘get lost’ on your own!

I mean after all everyone is always on the lookout for greener pastures. When you find one the new prospective employers would probably say,

“We can give you two weeks to resign your present position.”

“Would three months be too much?”

That would probably prompt the most hilarious laughter! It just doesn’t’ seem to add up!

And finally this bit of humor.

“Why aren’t you working?”

“The boss and I had a fight and he won’t take back what he said.”

“What did he say?”

 “He said: ‘You’re fired.’” Hmmm.

A boss who takes back his “You’re fired!” outburst deserves some humanitarian prize.

But alas, like many things these days, it didn’t take long for things to degenerate into scenes of rowdiness and the feared hooliganism. Live transmission on one TV station showed crowd trouble in the section known as ‘Katanga,’ and in real time too. Some questioned the wisdom of airing those rowdy scenes arguing it is like giving legitimacy to the handful of troublemakers. But then, as bitter as the pill might taste, the public has also the right to know where things stand.  The irony of Sunday’s crowd trouble was that there wasn’t any on-pitch event, be it a bad refereeing decision or a hot-blooded faceoff between players of the rival times to make anyone’s blood boil. It was troublemaking for the sake of troublemaking!

Of course, the actual game was one big, ‘Oh My God!’ episode. These are the best teams we could parade in public! A pity that our football has come to this! That wasn’t the kind of football players making fifty, seventy, a hundred grand a month play! Yes, they make a hundred grand and even more than that! No wonder foreign players and coaches are buying their one way ticket to Addis. Something is not right about the way the whole thing is run!

The people at the helm of club leadership are politically charged and the last thing they know is football, so goes the gossip. Just for the record, we heard recently that a newly appointed director of a theater house was asked by the employees to watch plays to which he gave the answer of the century. “I don’t like plays.” I wonder how many club leaders would have said “I don’t like soccer,” if given the chance! 

Oh, there was one other thing last Sunday, during the live transmission they interrupted the game for some ‘Breaking News.’ Yes, we were shocked by the standard of our football; but it wouldn’t t match our shock at hearing the supposedly ‘Breaking News.’ Look, whether we like it or not we are not basking in the sunshine these days. In fact, the darkening clouds are advancing on us and the last thing we can do is stir emotions. I think the media has a responsibility not to cross the red line when it reaches one. The ‘Breaking News’ appeared to be just that -going over the red line. God save us from actions which could push us to over the cliff!

Are we a soccer-crazy nation? How does a soccer-crazy nation act? Most of us seem more worried about the English Premier League than our own. Maybe, that’s all about being soccer-crazy!

At the start was the week I was trying to navigate my way the rough a crowded Addis street. I came across a guy and he looked like Lucifer paid him a visit the other night.

“What’s the problem? Aren’t you all right?”

“We lost!” he said. Lost what!

“What do you mean?”

“United lost.” United lost! What the…oh! You mean that United! The English Premier League club Manchester United has lost to a club considered to be minnows of the EPL at the weekend. And even after so many hours the guy was still licking his wounds.

So much airtime is given the English Premier League that one would think we were on piece of land of an empire where ‘the sun never sets.’ If something happened and there is no EPL, I wonder how many bank accounts would dry up. The EPL isn’t about only football, it’s about business. Surely sponsorship would dwindle to drips and drops.

Talking about home affairs once again, these days hooliganism worries us more than our football standard does. With tensions high and tempers on edge over a multitude of problems, the last thing we need is football hooligans going berserk. There have been nasty scenes during games; Scenes we couldn’t brush aside and which, if unchecked, could prove the undoing of our football. What happened to the CCTVs so much was talked about? They should have been all over the place by now! Addis Ababa Stadium isn’t even a stadium by modern standards. Is it that difficult to install a few cameras!

Look, we seem to have more sports journalists than any other particular field. There are some wonderful hosts you couldn’t have enough of. But generally speaking, like our football, our soccer reporting and analysis leaves much to be desired. Many are accused of cut and paste journalism. During the days when internet was down the chill around sports programs showed on the quality of reporting.

I have said and would say it again; the problem with English Premier League managers is they don’t listen to our sports programs! Who do they think they are? Some untouchable royal family! Arsene Wenger has only himself to blame. He is being given detailed advice by our all-knowing sportscasters on the kind of strategy he should use. He has been advised who to sign up and who to give the boot. But the man is not listening! The fan who flashed the sign ‘Wenger Out!’ at the Addis Ababa Stadium a few months back said it all.

The players aren’t listening, too! If Mesut Ozil wasn’t sitting on his ears and listened to the advice of our sports media he could have scored an average of three goals a game! Ha! Well, many sports journalists, indeed, know which side of their bread is buttered. That is why there is so much EPL talk. Isn’t it, all about business!

But I think more attention should be given to this hooliganism thing. Safety standards during matches both in Addis and in the regions should be upgraded. Ethnic abuses are thrown with impunity, and disturbing frequency, too. We can’t act it isn’t happening! Not while we’re suffocating in such scary mess these days! Insulting players because of their ethnicity, or insulting their parents isn’t only undisciplined but also dangerous. Remember the head butt of Zinedine Zidane son which floored that Italian player?  It is not still clear what he said to him. Some reports suggested it had to do something about his mother. We have heard of local players showering rival team members with insults, insults which could drive the most emotionless person to act like some Conan the Barbarian.

Some people ask, “Why do we need so many stadiums? Aren’t there pressing social problems that need more attention?” Yes, there are. It should be simple. This nation has pressing priorities and football isn’t that high on the agenda, peace and security is. If hooliganism tends to continue disrupting games either hold the games in empty stadiums or just abandon the whole thing until the air clears, if it does so anytime soon. Oh, they are putting up a sixty thousand seat stadium around the Bole area. Nice; at least the Bole crowd would find out that life is not only about ice creams. Ha!

And finally, one can’t talk about the passage of Ethiopian football without mentioning Yidnekachew Tessema. How the sport misses him!

That was not what I was aiming at; I mean, the poverty talk and all that. No intention here of joining the rank of ‘anti-poverty crusaders’ who yet haven’t the sensation of a delayed dinner, let alone go hungry for a couple of hours.

That morning the village had ‘visitors,’ four or five ferenjis. No need to call any hotline to find out if they were tourists; they were.  Theirs wasn’t some leisurely stroll. In fact, it was what they did more than their presence that turned one head too many. All of them carried impressive looking cameras and they were taking pictures of the old, decaying cottages, the horrifyingly unkempt children with rags for clothes and all the things one wouldn’t want to store in the gallery of one’s smartphone.

I mean it wasn’t that they were maybe trying to document how we lived but they were particularly focusing on the most unsightly and grotesque things! By the way, even amidst so much misery there were nice things that could have generated the perfect close up shots. The smiles on the faces of most people especially women vendors selling fruits and vegetables on the sidewalks were moving. 

There was nothing that shows they were from some media outlets in which case an argument can be made about their actions.  But these were tourists, for heaven’s sake, why do they have to focus on the filthiest, the most repelling scenes? Tourism is supposed to be all about happiness, it is supposed to be all about winding down mentally and physically and some sort of regeneration of our tired genes. It is supposed to be about loosening the nerves, about having a good time.

I just couldn’t imagine a tourist going to some place with plans like, “I want to enjoy myself seeing how those poor people live and take a couple of hundred photographs.”  I’m not sure what sort of happiness people as the lady we mentioned get from photographing the most destitute people.

“Sir, good afternoon;”

“Thanks; good afternoon to you, too.”

“Sir, what do you think you’re doing?”

“I beg your pardon!”

“I said, what do you think you are doing?

“Of course, taking photographs.”

“I can see that, but I don’t see any historical castle, or obelisk, or wildlife, or natural wonder worthy of pictures. What kind of tourism is yours preying on poor people who…”

The guy would probably beat the hell out of the place or complain I was harassing him; and believe me if he said, “Hey this guy is giving me a hard time!” it will be time to test years of hitting the running machine in the gym.

Look, this is not about me pulling the ‘patriotic’ card which uncomfortably too many people appear to be doing lately, (‘Reading between the lines’ never made more sense than it is doing these days. There is so much of the melodrama sort of thing that, indeed, fact is stranger than fiction!)

“I’m not going to let some foreigner with ulterior motives to blacken my country’s image abroad!” Sorry to break it to you, the train is already out of the station!)

This one happened sometime back. This woman, again probably a tourist, was taking pictures in part of this city. Of course, that’s what tourists usually do-take pictures! Well, Addis Ababa doesn’t have any Gondar castle or Axum obelisk. It sure doesn’t have wildlife, literally speaking, that is. So, her picture- taking didn’t have anything to do with such things. She went about her mission with the widest smile you could imagine; playing that well-mannered ferenji with a soft spot for the unlucky. I doubt a Trevor Noah or a Jimmy Fallon could have managed to make her smile so radiantly. However, what especially catches attention of anyone taking a second look was that identity of her subjects. She was photographing beggars – the most mutilated, the most physically and mentally broken ones! Why! What kind of tourist would go back home and boast, “Look what a good time I had in that country!” flashing pictures of souls who could be described as ‘the wretched of the earth,’ One becomes  a little bit suspicious of her real motive when one notices she was throwing ten birr notes to each one of them. Ten birr! That was a lot of money. Why did she have to go to through all this trouble if her presence was just to have a good time! I’m not asking, just wondering. One thing to be sure of is that she wasn’t going to petition the UN for more funds to eliminate poverty once and for all in Ethiopia. No way!

While we are at it maybe we give our own ‘Chechnya’.  What a place! (In every sense of the word!) That place is becoming one of the most visited ‘tourist attractions’ in this very noisy city. Someone was joking that some tourists reserve not only hotel rooms but also nice Ethiopian girls through intermediaries back here. Well, it is all about business isn’t it! Especially with the recent knockout punch the mighty Dollar dealt our hapless, defenseless Birr we need every piece of paper with Washington on it!  During the last regional meeting here was a report on this paper that international participants were complaining of [price hikes in the ‘Chechnya’ melting pot! I told you it is all about business! Well when one thinks it was time for sins of the flesh what better place is there than ‘Chechnya!’

Back in their home would they be putting their pictures on the living room walls? Would they be all smiles when they boast to guests “I took these pictures when I was in Ethiopia. What a swell time I had! You should go some day.”

I know this very suspicious guy. Especially when it comes to our good guests from oceans and seas away he always carries this big question mark with him. “Do you think they come here to enjoy themselves or help us! I tell you this country is the target of international conspiracies we don’t know about.”

Well. About this conspiracy thing, international or otherwise, I wouldn’t go as far as dismissing it altogether with some, “I think you should consult some local Dr’ Phil!” We are not in a nice world, and these are not nice times.

How could one have nice memories with pictures of misery and gloom! Just beats me.

“Watch what?”

“What do you mean watch what? Don’t tell me you didn’t you see how that Atez guy fooled Bahir!”

What the he…

“Oh! You are talking about that Turkish TV serial drama…”

Everybody seems to be talking about those dubbed Turkish TV dramas! Though it seems the passion has ebbed somehow over time still many households television is on that channel by default.

“He made me so angry I almost broke the TV set. Can you believe it; the guy already has a son!”

One thing is sure; this TV channel, almost entirely airing dubbed dramas, made quite an impression the moment it hit households. It isn’t always that we see foreign films with Amharic dialogue. A new experience, indeed!

But that isn’t the whole story. While the channel got audiences of practically millions, the applause wasn’t anywhere near to universal. It didn’t take long for opponents, many of whom were in the entertainment industry, to come out with blazing guns.

“It’s poison to corrupt the minds of our youth!”

“It is a deliberate threat to our culture and traditions.”

And when one of the calls to arms came it did so with a bang.

“It should be banned!”

What!  Did they use the word ‘ban?’ Yes, they did.  

While the arguments, though many of them slim in reasoning, were interesting to listen to, the call for ‘banning’ the station left many with hanging jaws; a very disturbing call to arms, indeed. I mean, if there were any legal grounds the smartest thing to do is appeal to the courts to take action. Nothing could be simpler. Did I hear some top-placed officials saying there weren’t legal grounds for banning?

Some indeed have genuine concern and they meant what they said. Their concern for the welfare of the youth prompted them to make their voices heard.   For others it was a commercial scare. It was about audiences turning their backs by their droves. Unluckily, (who is anyone to say ‘unluckily!) that seems to be what happened. Either way emotion seems to have clouded any viable reasoning behind the arguments, if there were any, and the Efsuns and the Hazals of dubbed drama still seem to have quite a following. In fact, there is talk of another such channel with dubbed Hollywood films.

There are also those of us who seem to shudder at the mention of Amharic dialogue films, dubbed or otherwise. We seem to have a very strange way of telling the crowd we were ‘too civilized’ for such things!

Several weeks back a few of us were talking about the issue of dubbed films. One guy nuked the channel with all the adjectives he could muster. “I tell you there is an international conspiracy to corrupt the young!” Now, anyone with such ‘patriotic passion’ must have legitimate reasons to support his/her argument.  He was asked to come up with specific examples.

“Specific examples of what?”

“Tell us the serial dramas and the particular scenes you find so offensive.”

His face turned practically lifeless like some of the brass we saw on live TV some days back. He tried to change the subject, no one took the bait.

“I don’t watch those films.”

Ha! Here comes another one of them!

“Which films don’t you watch?”

“I don’t watch any. In fact, I don’t watch Amharic films or TV drama.”

What! Isn’t this the same guy who just seconds ago raised the red flag claiming of some clandestine conspiracy to corrupt the mind of the youth! Believe me, there is another one of ‘them’ at every corner.

“I don’t read Amharic books.”

“I don’t listen to local radio.”

“I don’t buy local products.”

“I don’t read local papers.”

“I don’t…”

The list goes on.

“Then what do you read?”

“To tell you the truth I don’t read much. I prefer surfing the web.” And ‘surfing the web’ these days means one and only one thing – Facebook!

There is a funny thing; saying that you don’t read local books and don’t see local movies is, for some, a mark of sophistication. Ha! And some of us wonder what is meant by this world being weird!

Several months back there was quite a steer in town when it was revealed some privately run schools, posted the sign, “Throwing stones and speaking Amharic is forbidden.”  (Someone should come up with a book titled, ‘The Creepy Side of Addis.’)

I was recently part of a small group talking about books. I have to admit it would have been a more rewarding afternoon if we discussed about, say, the latest single that filled the airwaves.

Of course we were the kind of guys who though Danielle Steel should have been given the Nobel Prize for literature! (The classic books? What classic books!)

Talk turned to Amharic books. Those of us who claim to have read our share of Amharic books mentioned a few titles. Then one among us, who, just for the record, almost always settles our refreshment bills, was disgusted;

“How can you read Amharic books?” I told you they were at every corner!

“What do you mean?”

“Amharic books make you dumber!”

Now, wait minute. Unless we’ve missed something while we were asleep (a time lapse that stretch three thousands year back) we haven’t heard of any research finding claiming as such.

Certainly the guy wasn’t a lone ranger when it came to belittling anything local. There are many in that league.

Coming back to dubbed TV drama, I’m one of the regular guys tuning to the channel we were talking about most nights. Sorry to say it, but most other channels have a lot of homework to do to force us go for our remotes. As to the pro/for arguments, I think we should keep them up minus the uncalled for emotions which usually mar the real issues. Until then, we’ll see where the Atez and Bahir sometimes a little boring story takes us.

What! Yes, the man was lucky; the news didn’t create much buzz around people they knew. Maybe it might serve as raw material for a little laugh around the beer table. They wouldn’t take it seriously! Not given the life they were leading, anyway. Why would a couple so successful at a relatively young age need DV lottery? Why would they throw all that to the wind? That is exactly what they did, throw everything to the wind. No amount of advice from friends and relatives could change their minds. They sold every item to the last spoon and fork. Theirs was going to be a one-way ticket.

“There is no way we’d come back to this country!”

So it was “Sayonara!” and everything was forgotten. End of the story. Or, was it? About a year and a half later they make a sudden appearance in Addis! That was fast. Coming back for vacation so soon must be a bullet-train sort of event. Well, it was a sad homecoming as they returned for good, and empty-handed at that! America, after all, wasn’t about an “Open Sesame!” land they thought it to be.  A couple of months later their marriage ended. Life has never been nice to them ever since.

People would give anything to go to Brangelina land. Even when many long time Ethiopian residents worry of possible deportation, America remains the Shangri La everyone wants to go to. We even have coined a phrase for it. “Going to America and death are everyone’s destiny.” We seem to have taken it as our God-given right to munch on the Big Mac awaiting us in a restaurant on DC’ Eighteenth Street.

Finally it is DV time; I’ve to say the excitement this time around isn’t anywhere close to what it was years back. Of course, that doesn’t mean the passion for ‘the ticket to paradise’ has ebbed. No way; that is not going to happen any time soon. But with many things happening at the same time the DV thing is no more ‘Breaking News.’ Still, someone’s going to America creates reaction a Hollywood Oscar wouldn’t generate. “She is going to America!” is another way of saying, “She is going to heaven!”

It is going to be a busy month. Ethiopians would be flocking in their thousands to Internet cafes and to places with to fill their application forms. Entire families try their luck. From high school students to retired civil servants one can’t deny the allure DV lottery provides.  

Oh, DV marriages are out. What a loss! We used to hear of stories where rich families paid as high as a half a million birr to give their daughters ‘in marriage’ to DV winners.  Well, that is no more a good idea; the warnings couldn’t have been any more explicit; “If you are not married when you enter the DV program, and your name is selected for an interview, DO NOT be persuaded to marry a stranger for money so that they can also get a Diversity Visa.” The ban could last a lifetime! A guy whose visa application was recently turned down joked; “The visa counselor didn’t like the color of my eyes.” For many, being denied an American visa is nothing to joke about, let alone a lifetime ban. It is tantamount to being sent to the electric chair.  

The next several weeks families across the country would praying their throats dry for their children to win the ‘Mother of all lotteries.’ Life back home would be far better; they wouldn’t have to worry if the teff price shoots through the financial roofs thanks to the mighty dollar their children would be sending. Incidentally, those of us back home don’t appreciate the trouble our relatives and friends in the US go through to send us money. Many of us practically live on the remittance from the Diaspora country folk. ‘No work and all play’ might not have worked for Jack; it works for us. Not that we don’t have the faculties to be rewardingly employed. But who cares about work when we’ve more than enough money to dress in the best; go to expensive places and just live it up. While they worry about next month’s bills, we couldn’t wait to try our limbs on the floor of the latest exclusive nightclub in town.

Ethiopians taking horrendous risks to go to Europe or elsewhere might be gravely miscalculating. But they are not fools, sick or something. They are not empty-headed as some reports make them to be. They just want a better life and believe all chances of survival back home are closed for them. They think that the moment the set foot in London they can phone Arsene Wenger for a cup of tea and some chatter. They think all will be well once they cross the Mediterranean or the Atlantic.

One big problem is most of us lack adequate information about America, Europe or elsewhere. The moving images in Hollywood movies and glittering pictures in glossy magazines inform our decisions. Add to this the mostly fictional stories those already there write back home. They don’t write, “I work eighteen hours a day and still have fallen behind my electric bills and mortgage payments.”  (Many don’t have the slightest idea what working sixteen hours of a day means. Ours isn’t a society famous for work ethics.) I mean, when people think Brad Pitt’s America is everyone’s for the asking no wonder the rush to board the next flight. People have to be given real information about life in America especially in connection with immigrants. 

I don’t mean scaring people. Not that doomsday talk that paints other parts of the world as the earthly version of hell. But someone has to do the heavy lifting and acquaint the population with important details of the ways and norms of those societies. Many Ethiopian parents who tried to pinch or spank their kids have had rude awakenings. “What! I can’t punish my own child! What kind of a country is this!” Your own child calling police on you! The culture shock could be worse.

“How about you and me getting together for a few drinks Saturday night?”

“Sorry. Maybe another time; I’m going to America for vacation.” 

What! What does he mean for vacation! He means he is going to do justice to his tense muscles and overloaded brain just like you and me try to do by going to the Lions’ zoo in Sidist kilo. Ha!

An elderly mother who came back home after about a decade or so was talking about the new person in the White House.  She didn’t have any use for names. She had the perfect way of describing him; “They now have a new king;” Ha! The Spicer guy should have stayed around for this! It would have been an opportunity for something like, “They said he is a king, and he is a king. Period!”

Good luck for all DV applicants. But, it would be wise of us to bear in mind that being lucky doesn’t mean life in America would be an “Open Sesame!” fairy tale.