I am not passing judgment on your use of the word, I just choose to embrace another word to identify my nationality.

by Teddy Fikre. Posted: Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Let me take you through a recent journey I had. As I was purchasing some coffee at a local bakery, I see who I assume to be an Ethiopian lady at the counter. Living in the DC area, this is not really a revelation, if I go a day without seeing an Ethiopian or an Eritrean would be a shock to the system these days. As I approached the counter to purchase my coffee, almost instinctively, I said “Selam” to her. Maybe it is because I lived in America for such a long time or the fact that I probably said Selam in my distinctive Americanized Amharic, whatever the queue, she looked up with almost a look of surprise and said “Habesha neh?”

At that exact moment, I paused. I wanted to answer in the affirmative, but I was once again caught off-guard with her word selection. Really, I should not be, the word Habesha is ubiquitous these days—almost everyone uses it right? However, reflexively, I resist that word as if I was a child forced to eat spinach. I wanted to say “No I am not Habesha, I am Ethiopian”, but of course the more diplomatic side of me answered “Yes, I’m Ethiopian”. I never denied her question about being Habesha, but in my own way, I revolted from that word and answered her question to let her know that I am in fact Ethiopian.

I don’t know why the word Habesha repulses me so much. I have done my research to figure out the origins of the word and I have been led to inconclusive ends. Some say it is a name that is indigenous to our culture, while I have read in other places that it was a derogatory word given to us by Arabs much the same way that white folks use a special N word to label black folks. Moreover, I also find it to be a word that is meant to blur the meaning of being Ethiopian. I understand that people use the word Habesha as a means of unity—Habesha can mean either Ethiopian or Eritrean. However, I do not want to forgo my Ethiopian heritage for the sake of uniformity. Why can’t we be called Ethiopians or Eritreans, be proud of our respective countries, without having to use another word to unite us? Why can’t we be united while we recognize our differences instead of using Habesha to blur the differences?

There is an underlying hypocrisy in my rejection of the word Habesha. If the fundamental reason I don’t like the word is because it is a moniker given to us by outsiders, one could easily point out that the word Ethiopia is also a name given to us by the Greeks, a word which means “Burnt Skin”. Anytime someone points my contradiction out, all I can do is tell them that it is a personal preference that I call myself Ethiopian instead of Habesha. In the same light, I will not begrudge anyone that prefers to call themselves Habesha instead of saying Ethiopian. We all have our own choices in life, but just remember, if you ask me “Habesha neh?” in the future, when I reply back to let you know who I am without affirming your direct question, I am not passing judgment on your use of the word, I just choose to embrace another word to identify my nationality. I am Ethiopian.

Browncondor