A Visit to Assefa and Alem's

Assefa is the Head of Maintenance at Meserete Kristos Seminary, where I teach. Since my arrival, he has fixed three things for me—a plugged sink, a broken desk, and a small water-damaged area of my ceiling. We’ve chatted about our mutual friends, Jim and Peg Engle, and about our families. When he invited me home to meet his family, I did not hesitate to say yes.

On a Friday evening, Assefa and I walked from campus to his home. He and his neighbors exchanged greetings as we passed by on the dirt path. Upon arrival, his wife Alem warmly welcomed me and ushered me into their living room. The small space quickly filled with love and laughter. Three-year-old Dibora stood by her daddy’s side, mostly quiet except for her sniffles. Five-year-old Yonatan rarely stopped chattering as he bopped around the room, coughing. He proudly recited the days of the week in his native language, Oromifa, the language of the ethnic Oromo people. He had just been learning this in kindergarten. Eleven-year-old Jitu showed me her fourth-grade school book called English for Ethiopia and read from the chapter she was working on. She showed me her exercise book too. Though the teaching methodology of copy and recite may be different from my own approach to language teaching, Jitu loves English! She reminded me of myself at her age—I loved learning, whatever the subject.

I thought I was going for coffee, but a full spread was set before me on the coffee table--pasta with tomato sauce, rice with green beans and carrots, spicy lentils, fried broccoli, steamed chard, and homemade French fries, or chips, as they are known here. It looked like a feast! There was injera and bread too. “This is amazing,” I said, and Alem replied, “It’s no problem,” an oft-heard expression in Ethiopian culture.

Assefa stood to pray in Oromifa, and then I stood to pray in English. At the end of each of my declarations of gratitude to God, the family said in chorus “Amen.” My students do this as well as we pray in class each morning.

As Assefa, the children, and I began eating, I asked Alem when she was going to eat. Though she smiled and said she would, she never did sit down to eat. She kept refilling plates, mine included. She kept prodding me on—“Eat! Eat!”—as she put more chips on my plate. When I couldn’t eat anything else, I asked her how to say “I’m full” in Amharic, the language that I’m trying to learn. (Theirs is a tri-lingual home, as are many homes in Ethiopia.) “Tagabeku,” she told me, and I said, “Tagabeku.” I added some words I already knew: “Itafetal”—Tasty, and “Amasaggenalehu”—Thank you!

After supper, the children went outside to play, and the three of us adults had coffee. Ethiopia is known as the birthplace of coffee, and coffee is Ethiopia’s top export today. Coffee, or “bunna” is a big deal here. Three times a day, Alem roasts the green coffee beans in an iron skillet over a small charcoal fire. She then pounds the beans with a large mortar and pestle, using her arm strength to reach a fine grind. She places the grounds in the bottom of the ceramic pot, then adds boiling water cup by cup. There’s some pouring and mixing back and forth till it comes out just right. A spoonful of sugar and a swish of an herb called tena’adam (rue) were added to my tiny cup of brew. Rich, brown, aromatic, delicious! Popcorn accompanied the drink, as is customary. That evening, I witnessed the fine art of coffee making.

Assefa, Alem, and I chatted while enjoying our coffee. I learned about their first meeting, their move to this area and finding work, their having children, and their families back home, far from here. I shared photos of my Archbold, Ohio family of origin and photos of my husband Bob and his art work.

We took pictures (Alem's little sister included) and said goodbye; then Assefa walked me back to campus. My heart was full from the warm hospitality shown me on my first home visit in Ethiopia.