Meron Is Hopeful
by Kokahvah Zauditu-Selassie
Meron looks nothing like she did two years ago when she worked at the Kuriftu Resort near Lake Bishoftu. The clothes she now wears are quite different. At Kuriftu, Meron sat on a low three-legged stool and performed the Ethiopian coffee ceremony, a highly stylized ancient ritual. There she would fan the coal with woven raffia. When the embers were glowing, she would place the frankincense on the red and yellow pieces of coal, the curls of smoke framed her head like a halo, danced, then disappeared. When she worked at Kuriftu she wore bright red lipstick and rimmed her large expressive eyes with antimony. She never covered her hair. Characteristic of Oromo women, her round face was framed by the traditional hairstyle called, mertu—the front area of her head was braided while the back was loose in its naturally curly or twisted form. Her forehead was accented with a beaded headband. She wore the traditional national dress woven from finely spun white cotton. She looked nothing like she does now.
From a poor family, evidenced by her serving coffee and popcorn in the lobby of the resort, she was responsible for earning money to help support her infirmed father and a mother who sold tomatoes in the Gulit Market in Bishoftu. A girl from a wealthy or middle-class family would never work in that kind of public venue, a hotel where she encountered men, especially foreign men ignorant of propriety and cultural standards. Attracted by her beauty, the men would sit down and engage in conversation without a chaperone. These men would not have known about the taboo of talking casually to an unmarried woman.
Only a single woman could have such a job, because an Ethiopian husband would never allow his wife to work in that environment. She had been brought up to be responsible. While she worked at the hotel there had been no scandal or impropriety on her part. Her dream was to continue her education and to become a teacher. Most girls in her generation wanted to be educated. A sure way for the country to develop was for girls to be educated, she thinks.
She is in love with one of her cousins. His name is Eskias Teshome. He is as handsome as she is beautiful. The son of her mother’s sister, she has loved him since they were both ten years old. Their mothers were pregnant at the same time. Not like the other young boys, he is polite and respectful. They have never needed a chaperone because they live in the same compound. Before she went to work they would tend the garden together, gathering the vegetables for the evening sauce. They cannot tell their family that they love each other; her father would never consider him a suitable match because of his lowly status. He had nothing except a wooden shoe shine box and a couple of tins of shoe polish.
He had not been as lucky as she had been to get a job in a fancy hotel. During the day he worked as a shoeshine boy. He was the third boy from the corner near the bus stop. It didn’t matter that the disembarking passengers had to walk a couple of steps to reach him, he had his regular clients who stopped at his wooden box on their way to their offices. He did a good job and was very smart. One of the well-dressed men who worked in an office said that he would look into getting him a government scholarship. When Eskias told Meron the good news, she was happy. She hoped they could get married someday, when he finished school.
That was when she worked at the resort. Now things are different. She no longer works at the resort. The hotel changed proprietors and there was a mass firing of staff employed by the previous owners. Eskias is in Addis Ababa at the university and has not written to her once, since leaving for the capital city. She tried calling him several times and he never returned her calls. When she asks her aadaada (aunt) Almaz about him, she only responds that he is well and does not provide any other information.
Shortly after she lost her job, her father died. Now she has to tend the cows. There are only five skinny cows left. Her mother is hopeful that a suitor will ask for her hand and most especially pay the bride price. Meron will ask her mother to demand money, instead of cattle. Meanwhile she will tend to the cows. She has not given up on her dream to become a teacher. She will pray to Waqqa Tokkicha, the one God, also known as Waaqaa Gurracha, the Black God and the Ayyaan—the divinities that serve as messengers to God. Things are different now, but she trusts in the Black God. Most importantly, she believes in herself. Meron is hopeful.