webmaster
© Copyright DEHAI-Eritrea OnLine, 1993-2010
All rights reserved
From: Araia G. Ephrem (agephrem@yahoo.com)
Date: Tue Nov 30 2010 - 07:15:29 EST
FOOT STEPS
Realities of hope!
VIDEO SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WOvkPLqqEA
Songs have some power and capture their own memory lane. I remember when I was a tiny kid. A three-sisters-Sudanese band called "Al Balabil", came to Asmara. My big brother dusted his jackets off readying to go to the concert. He shaved his mustache, and splashed some Linetti aftershave. I wanted to go with him. He didn't mean it, but I was left off. And I died of jealousy. I cried and I cried; I remember. But that was when I was a tiny kid. What do tiny kids feel? Sometimes the table turns around.
Many years later, parking my car, I didn’t notice a mini school bus discharge a bunch group of tiny kids of ages not more than eight years of age. And, an enthusiastic tiny voice caught my attention.
A tiny voice declared to the bunch pointing, “that is my uncle, he speaks my language too.” She desperately attempted to catch her peer’s attention, and she went on with exaggerations saying, “he comes to our house too.”
Stepping off from my car, unaware and heading a walk ahead; I glanced back to the bunch of some small kids trailing behind me freshly boarded off a mini school bus. But the tiny voice sounded familiar. Familiar in spirit. Familiar on her yearning of voicing her identity. Yearning to be identified as a pride of a special connection.
I spotted and looked at the kid who made the statements. She had a tiny figure compared to her age equivalents. She broadly smiled when I spotted her. She seemed to encourage me to corroborate with her declarations. She was full of energy when she spat the words of pride; and as if to convince me of the facts of her declarations, she repeated her statements. With her eyes locked on mine, she once more said, “see, that is my uncle. I told you! He speaks my language. He comes to our house too.”
She captivated me with her gesture of emotions to reach out. I broadly grinned at her and slowed my pace. I corroborated with her wishes, and greeted her in her mother language. "kemey aleKi" I said. Then turning my effects to the crowd whom the little princess was trying to impress, I gave her a high-five. I repeatidly greeted her in her native language. Her tiny hand rose to the occasion, and her smile never left her tiny face.
“See, I told you,” she continued bolstering filled with pride.
I walked few paces beside her, which paid the school bunch’s full attention to the little princess. And when I split, I parted her farewell in her own language. "Are you coming to the Kids Days Event?" I asked her. She yelped once more. And, she said that she would be there.
“See, he speaks my language. He is my uncle; he comes to our house too!” She boastingly seemed to have sealed her argument convincing her bunch that she is from a special place with a special trait, quality, language and special connections.
In her own words, she wanted to tell the crowd that she was a special package. That, she was from Eritrea! A little girl declaring her voices for freedom within!
Parting me, she continued pacing with her little crowd chatting. She looked back and waved her tiny hands farewell. “Bye, bye for now,” she motioned her small waves with a bright pride smile. And the little princess went on walking ahead with her school mates huddled around her. She exaggeratedly continuing chatting in pride.
I remembered my Gallant Brothers/Sisters. I was about to shed some tears. But, the hope of the future made me feel better. I walked stronger!
I smiled with recognition that I was blessed. “A miracle doesn’t have to mean something vivid more than this,” I uttered to himself.
If you want to find miracles, then look around. They are all around you.
Sometimes, we look back and see ourselves. And, chances are we would do anything to relive the most memorable and loved memories we had encountered. Eritreanism had always been about love, care and empathy. Otherwise, it would have withered earlier on. It did not, because it was about love and care. And it shall live! All we have to do is pass it on to the next generation.
Our gallant Brothers/Sisters paid the tickets of freedom for us to do what it is that we aspire and desire to do! It ain't that difficult to understand that. It ain't difficult to pass the hope to the next generation. Is it? Is it? I say, it ain't! It is the power of love that is!
Come celebrate Kids-Day with us. You will recover the past!
VIDEO SONG: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1WOvkPLqqEA
God/Allah Bless Eritrea
Eternal Glory to Our Martyrs
Araia G. Ephrem
----[This List to be used for Eritrea Related News Only]----