Tuesday Dec 1, 2009

by Liya Endale (EA4C.org)

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One of the exciting things to look forward to when entering a new culture is acquainting oneself with a whole set of new holidays. Thanksgiving, Halloween, Valentine’s day, and April Fools. I remember learning how to celebrate these events and taking a few years to ‘get it right’.

A close friend of mine who was born in Eritrea, lived in Kenya and then migrated to the U.S. told me about his first Halloween in the States. He did not believe his friends when they told him that everyone would dress-up as someone else and ask the neighbors for candy. First, if neighbors were actually willing to oblige to give the naughty kids anything where he came from, it would have been a whipping to the backside. He even thought that dressing as someone else may have served as a means of disguise to save one’s family from shame. He hesitantly followed his friends in his jeans and sneakers with a plastic Kroger’s bag as they approached the first house. They rang the doorbell and he told me he remembered feeling very anxious, so he stepped back about 15 feet, ready to run out of site. “I don’t know about this.” He told them, “In Nairobi people get killed over things like this.”

I have also heard stories about April Fool’s day emerging in Ethiopia. Humor is a fickle thing, a shape-changer which reflects the history of the place in which it is found. I have always recited my mantra that there is a fine line between comedy and tragedy, but even the joke I heard played on some friends back home made me say, “Oh, that’s just messed up.” Instead of the light-hearted, low-stake banter we grow accustomed to in the States, a friend of mine, who did not know about April Fool’s Day, was told that her son was hit by a car and killed on his way to school that morning. Only after the wailing in the street was she told that it was a joke for April Fool’s Day, a ferenj holiday. I don’t know how that humor was accepted in that community, but in the States this type of blurring between tragedy and comedy is lost for the most part.

Thanksgiving, however, is a different story. As an immigrant outside of the traditional, passive acceptance of American culture, I tried to understand this holiday literally. After being cast as a pilgrim in the class play, I remember asking my second grade teacher, “So Thanksgiving is about how the Native Americans helped us pilgrims by showing us how to grow food and stay warm?”

“Very good, Liya.” She replied.

“But don’t we kill them all after that instead of giving them thanks?”

Another stumped teacher who convinced me that my genuine curiosity was a show of insolence which brought me shame. To this day I have not reconciled this paradox which I add to my ever-growing list of “stuff that just don’t make sense”. I have, however, learned that tradition is a means of turning some unrelated or partially-related event in history into something positive. Though Thanksgiving is based on the controversial founding of this country, today it serves to bring families together and nurture a positive attitude about life.

Every year, I see how people change their attitudes and remind one another of all of the blessings each can be grateful for. For me, my family is my greatest blessing. And instead of being reminded to be thankful for this blessing every year, this holiday reminds me that the reason they are so wonderful is that every day is like Thanksgiving in our house. My sister and I were brought up learning to be grateful as a way of life. Encouragement and positive thinking is the norm. To us, Thanksgiving is just the one holiday we celebrate where we break from the traditional doro wut, tibs, alicha, gomen and injera. After several attempts, my mother found a Thanksgiving menu which worked and consisted of chicken, green-bean casserole, rolls, sweet potato soufflé, mashed potatoes, stuffing and cranberry sauce. Since she discovered this tasty feast in 1997, she has prepared it every year since. Bless her heart.

So, though I can appreciate that a tragic event can turn into a positive tradition hundreds of years later, I am not convinced that we need to base positivity on any event in particular. My friend, Matt, always jokingly cries out saying “I am so happy to be in zis cun-ti-reeee”. But, honestly, I realize the sacrifices which were made for me to be where I am every day. Having a thankful heart does not mean you must sit at a dining-room table and list things you are grateful for. A thankful heart is one which always strives to make a difference in this world, to succeed, and to spread positive energy. This way, the sacrifices which were made for us are not squandered. A ‘thanks’ every once in a while is important. But the meat of this thanks is in our daily actions.

Liya Endale

This blog submission was written by Liya Endale.  The views of guest bloggers are not the views of Ethiopian-Americans for Change.  Guest bloggers represent the broad dissection of views and outlooks within our community.