ETHIOPIWHERE?!?: Enkutatash (Happy New Year)

Travel Advisory: Attention Lambkin, the lost sheep of Little Bo Peep, Baa Baa Black Sheep and others of your kind. Travel to or through Ethiopia during times of Orthodox holiday, government holiday, or even Hallmark Holiday is not advisable. Risk of abduction, dismemberment, and death is guaranteed. Many have tried…all have died. Due to total annihilation of our lawns, the US Embassy as well as the British Embassy, Irish Embassy, and Scottish Embassy will no longer provide refuge or asylum should you find yourself in grave danger.

It’s pretty much safe to say that it sucks to be an Ethiopian sheep. They are hauled around by one leg….hoisted to the rooftops of various vehicles where they lay hog-tied with head lolling over the side while the mini-bus hurtles helter-skelter down the road at dizzying speeds…and even carried backpack style (seriously…I have seen this!). And if you thought that sheep transport methods sound awful then I shudder to tell you about the holidays. Ethiopian holidays are not something that a sheep anticipates with excitement like that of a child on Christmas morning. This morning, New Year Day 2001, my wake up call was not that of an over zealous rooster, but a chorus of very panicked sheep repetitively crying…”not a good day…definitely not a good day…flee if you can…run and don’t look back….every man for himself!”

Unfortunately, for the sheep anyways, there were few, if any, survivors by day 2 of 2001. I alone participated in 3 sheep slaughterings. One was a given, but I had not prepared for three. I had been invited to spend the day with Tambarat, Gigi, and her extended family. Our first stop, Gigi’s parents’ home. It was there that I learned yet another Ethiopian tradition…and I must admit that this one took me aback. Prepare yourselves…it is customary that the sheep is slaughtered within the home! I of course couldn’t resist asking “why?” and yet I should have anticipated the answer. “It is TRADITION, of course!” So…as per mode of transport #1, the poor little sheep was drug into the living room by one leg and slaughtered as the kids played, the TV droned on and I calmly sipped my Pepsi. While the men commenced with the quartering, the women sliced, diced, and fried meat that couldn’t have been any fresher, and in less than 30 minutes from start to finish we were eating. Knowing now the speed at which this process can be done, what in the world takes OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE so long to get a meal on the table??