The Five Senses of My People

It's the sound of Ethiopians, and it starts in the parking lots. The sound of many familiar Ethiopian dialects heard as you step out of your car. It's the Amharic, the Tigrigna, the Oromigna, the Guragigna and of course English - that Ethio-English, which only we Ethiopians can enunciate in our unique way. And as you approach the stadium, it's that familiar sound of Ethiopian beat blaring from the speakers placed by the kiosks. Teddy Afro, Aster Awoke, Tilahun Gessesse, the Tigrigna, Guragigna, Oromigna. It's that familiar Ethiopian beat that wakes up the last sleeping musical nerve in your brain. It's the sound of beautiful children laughing and adults exchanging heartfelt pleasantries with long lost friends and relatives.

It's the sight of the green, yellow, and red flag everywhere you look that is used to decorate everything around it. The sight of beautiful women, children, men and seniors with beautiful smiles - smiles so sincere, so natural with no motives no agenda - a rare expression of pure and unadulterated bliss. It's the sight of young Ethiopian men and women, dressed in their hip hop attire, showing off their iskista skills, snapping and rolling their shoulders like lions and lioness after a successful kill, as they strut to a classic Amharic tune, without missing a beat as if they had heard it all their lives. It's the sight of smiling worry-free parents, watching their children giggle and get lost in the crowd, with no fear that they might be snatched by someone for, although among strangers, they know they are still surrounded by a family of strangers.

It's the smell of Ethiopia, like the distinct powerful smell of kibe (Ethiopian butter), the main ingredient of the many delicious Ethiopian dishes, as the rue is to Gumbo and the grape is to wine. The sensuous smell of kibe, a careful and patient concoction of the many unique spices, so symbolic of Ethiopia's children themselves, smooth and spicy. It's the smell of roasting real Ethiopian coffee, not from Java but Kaffa. It's the smell of the Ethiopian women, that sweet intoxicating smell of perfume laced sweat induced by that sweltering July heat emanating from the many beautiful eumelanin skins. And yes, as one sitcom character put it, 'speaking as a man with an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality' (not that there's anything wrong with it) I dare say, the manly smell of the many handsome men and their colognes as well.

It's the taste of the many different Ethiopian dishes, the injera, the kitfo, the tibs, the firfir, the doro wot, the alecha, the kinche, the shiro, the misir. It's the taste of the sambusa, dabo kollo, the real coffee, the hot tea spiked in cinnamon and cardamom. It's the taste of the habesha dabo (bread) and the taste of the spices in almost everything you put in your mouth that sends a tingling sensation throughout your body.

It's the touch and feel of my people, that warm embrace with an old friend or a relative, the gentle re-assuring touch and caress of a friend, a loved one, or a lover. It's the warm feel of rubbing elbows and shoulders as you chart your way through a sea of gorgeous faces and huggable bodies, relaxed and not too guarded but not clumsily rude either. It's a touch and feel of brotherhood, sisterhood, fatherhood, motherhood and lasting friendships.

These were the 5 senses of my people from last week's gatherings in LA - feelings that were rejuvenating, reenergizing, rediscovering, reassuring, refueling, reloading, and ‘re-loving'... until we meet next time, whenever wherever it is, be safe. May you stay as charming and as beautiful as ever.

Chereka