(Short Story)

BY ALEM HAILU G/KRISTOS

I remember the day to the minute detail as if it were yesterday. It took place on the eve of Timket (Ethiopian Epiphany) in the setting from Kazan chis Meneharia to Sidist Kilo.

Early in the afternoon, bells from churches in our vicinity began rhythmically ringing in a heart-palpitating manner by way of summoning the faithful ‘it is high time to see off the replicas of the Ark of the Covenant,’ carried out by priests due to start procession to the holy water sprinkling pool found in Jan Meda, which literary means a gigantic field.

Mother called my siblings and me and said,

“Hurry up, let us go to Saint Gabriel church and join the ever-snowballing congregation that is tagging and flanking the arks as well as paving the way ahead with ululation and songs in tune with the drum and harp beats, trumpet blows, and Sistrum rattling and rustling.”

As was everybody else, we were attired in our Sunday best true to the saying ‘Let a cloth not meant for wearing on Timket get in tatters.’

Earlier, Mother had warned us “Do not let a speck of dust alight on the clothes you put on soon after taking a shower.” Though we went out to gamboling fields to play with our peers who were dressed similarly, it was strictly we observed our mother’s instruction. Every year she liked hammering home “Kids listen to me ‘Timket symbolizes the act of cleansing from sins or the task of ablution.’” Because of this behest, the message encapsulated in the festival had long sunk in.

Locking the main gate of our house at the foot of a hill and picking pace, we rushed upward to Saint Gabriel church at the top of the road.

The circular church built in the old style, including the fences, has seven concentric circles mirroring the seven heavenly skies.

Both women and men were dressed to kill with snow-white linen cotton dresses not forgetting trailing their children made to dress analogously. Earrings, necklaces, jewelries and hairdos adorned women.

Soon, we got swallowed by the white flood of people dragged towards the congregation. The fantastic designs of the attention-grabbing costumes were telling loud indigenous designers’ superb talent and the taste of purchasers, who meticulously selected the clothes to stick out from the crowd. Almost all were well dressed in clothes and putting on caps befitting the occasion.

A young beautiful girl in our neighborhood approached us from behind greeted us, and soon, to volunteer to carry my baby sister by way of helping out my mother. “Eden how polite you are! What nice parental guidance you have passed through. Wow, you got the costume in a dress and trouser form. It draws a special attention,” Mother casted an appreciative glance towards her.

“Thank you, mom! Yours, with a flower embroidery neck downward and bearing a cross at the bottom, too is dazzling,” Eden reciprocated with appreciation-packed looks.

“Mine helps to preserve the old culture, while yours to modernize it,” Mother affirmatively nodded her head.

“You are right Mom. We need both. Yours for holidays, while mine for working days are preferable,” Eden smiled expressing assent.

“Given your beauty accentuated by your attire and your comely manner, a lucky– pious man will stand a chance to woo you for marriage,” Mother saw her with a beaming face. The girl blushed flattered by the comment.

Mother continued “It was on Timket day my husband singled me out and beseeched me to be friends gently hurling a lemon towards me as per the traditional way of declaring love. He was a choir in Sunday school. He got me registered there. As he was a God-fearing, fine-looking, and dashing chap, I did not put much resistance when he asked my parent’s permission for marriage.”

When we entered the church on time, on the podium, Levitical priests were carrying gold-embroidered umbrellas for the Arks. Taking a break during preaching, attired in motely and eye-catching ecclesiastical robes and arrayed into two columns, the rest staging religious songs in front of the platform. “The heavenly was baptized by the hands of the earthly...” they were kicking the floor with their prayer sticks rhythmically which was matched by the clapping of the crowd.

The bishop was reminding the laity “as clearly put on Joshua 3:3 ‘when you see the Ark of the covenant of the LORD Your God and the priests the Levites bearing it then you shall remove from your place and go after it.’” He continued, “let us share the blessing this opportune moment presented to us by ululating, singing and, in a religious way, dancing emulating King David who did the same before the Ark of God that smashed the idol Dagon before retuning back to its right place.”

After a reverberating ululation from the women folk and clapping by men the bishop continued.

“As Jesus Christ headed from Galilee to Jordan River to be baptized by John the Baptist, we take out the Arks and head to nearby rivers as is the case in the provinces or pools as is the case in towns. The processions from different corners of the Addis make confluences here and there up to Jan Meda. They make a white ocean at their destination.

In the procession the Arks make blessings. That is why they choose different roads in their return trip. The baptism of Christ, the incarnated word, by John the Baptist, shows His modesty and the grace the latter acquired in baptizing his creator.”

He continued “After the Arks stayed there night long, tomorrow in a similar manner we shall escort them back as Jesus returned from River Jordan to Galilee to officially start his Miracle in Cana of Galilee true to the intercession of Saint Mary.”

“Now let us start our march to the pool where the water will be blessed tomorrow for sprinkling the laity with,” he added.

When the laity began pouring out into the street, all and sundry, mixed with the crowd began heading to Jan Meda. Some celebrants, as custom bids, were carrying a long stick painted different colors for hovering high.

Vendors were calling out “Do you need chewing gums, sugarcanes; green chickpea fruit s and the like?” Grownups were buying the items, especially for children who were expected to inherit the religious, cultural, and historical event and, in turn, to bequeath it to their offspring in the timeline.

When the Ark from Saint Trinity Cathedral joined the one from our abode, as she did previously, Mother decided to return via the back gate of the Cathedral with younger siblings.

When I saw Father around the parliament telling Mother “I saw Dad,” I ran towards him as the road was blocked for traffic movement. Waving her hands Mother greeted Father from a distance.

“Thank you, Eden, for your good gesture of helping me out, ”my mother received the baby. Then stretching an umbrella, she readied herself to hit the road back home. “You are welcome,” Eden bowed from her chest.

Mother usually saw off the Arks up there and quickly returned home to handle heavy domestic chores for the holiday such as baking huge traditional bread and preparing Ethiopians’ favorite dish, a chicken soup of mainly red pepper and butter ingredients. On the morrow, on the same spot, she often welcomed and escorted the Arks back to church.

“Dad, have you been in the Ministry of Education?” I pointed to the organization where he worked then.

“I have been in my office finishing the task I started,”

“You arrived just in time,”

“Yes, last year you were a bit late.”

“You remember things well.”

“Mother has washed your traditional clothes twice. It will be dry by now given the hot sun. Will you put it on tomorrow?”

“Why not? When else should I put it on if not for Timeket, a day symbolizing humankind’s redemption from their sins? It is also a Day of Reconciliation between man and God that was put asunder owing to the devil’s divisive wedge. It is a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sin. We have to emulate the example and come to terms with whom we are browbeating,” he explained to me things with the help of his hands.

Mixing with the ever-increasing number of celebrants Father and I started heading to Jan Meda.

“Dad, as the celebration will be a mammoth one tomorrow as usual will you afford me a piggy shoulder for a better view? “I eyed him imploringly.

“Why not?” he said snaking his right arm around my neck.

A bit up hill, the laity accompanying Arks from Saint Mary church and Saint Mark church joined the river of people. They turned the dark asphalt, which extended from Arat kilo to Sadist Killo, to one that seemed greased with yogurt.

When we entered into the fenced field Jan Meda packed by an ocean of people, I noticed in a special corner by the pool pitches were erected for the Arks and priests.

“Will the priests spend the night here?” I saw Dad. “Yes, tomorrow the archbishop will bless the water. Deacons and priests will sprinkle the holy water towards the eager crowd. Prayers will be conducted night long.”

In the extreme corners some boys, making circles here and there, were peacefully playing harmonicas and inviting interested girls to dance either in the traditional or modern ways. One of the song verses run,

“While I whistled on the roadside.

Helen came out.

With little effort

Her dough-drenched dress

To hide.”

Others were engaged in circus-like games to the delight of kids and merry-making youngsters.

“Dad, as compared to last year, an increasing number of white men and Africans are seen. What are they doing here?”

“They are tourists who came to Ethiopia hearing about the time-old magnificent cultural-historic and religious celebration that has no match worldwide.”

“Who told them about the celebration?”

” The tourists might have watched documentaries, or they might have read newspaper articles about Timket. They might have heard from friends and relatives who saw things firsthand.”

“Yes, last year I heard a white lady with golden hair, an interviewee on TV, saying ‘I never saw so many people at a given place. The vibe resulting from the religious and cultural mix is electrifying. I saw unity in diversity... It was a voice over.”
“What an interesting thing. You attend TV shows with pelted eyes all ears. Keep up the good Job,” Dad tapped me on the back.
On our journey back home, from afar I saw Eden with one of the Arat Killo University students who were sat on the fence of the compound. According to Dad, the students sat on the horn of a dilemma torn between joining the river of people or going back to the library to study hard for the upcoming first-semester exam.

On the morrow, the archbishop preached “Epiphany is a day the 3-in-1 mystery is revealed—our Heavenly Father in the sky, the Holy Spirit in the form of a bird, and Jesus in the Jordan River. As John the Apostle in 11:9 put it, God’s temple in heaven was opened and within his temple was seen the Ark of the covenant.”

Soaked with a fair share of the holy water, Dad and I similarly joining the mass returned escorting the Arks to their respective churches.

Preceded by ethnic groups paving the way by way of staging respective traditional dances and songs, Sunday school students, and deacons, in turn, were preparing the way for the Arks, to which young boys were rolling out carpets nonstop. ///