The Other Story
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Located somewhere in Africa lies barren, bone-dry desert, stretching out for miles. The sun, blanketing every square-inch of land completely. My lips get parched just thinking about it. The people, resembling skeleton-like shadows — swollen bellies, crawling, helpless, hungry. It was a famine, I believe. 3 years ago, or 20? I can’t seem to remember which unreliable definition they carved into my “world issues” textbook.
Ethiopia — “one of poorest countries in the world.” Ethiopia — starving people. Ethiopia — “adopt this child.” Ethiopia — “99 cents a day.” Ethiopia — Famine. Ethiopia — “what?” Ethiopia — “Where?” Ethiopia — “Who cares?”
It is this type of blatant ignorance that many have, because they’ve been fed — stuffed to the brim with all this misguided information. This magnificently beautiful country deserves a more genuine and authentic narrative. Many get the opportunity to tell the other story, but refuse to take it. I want to change that.
When I was 11, my father and I went on a trip of the lifetime. It was the summer of 2010, and school had come to an exciting close. The minute I got home, I rushed straight to my room and started packing for my first ever adventure outside of the continent.
My ancestry derives from all over the country. From the rural, green, high-top mountains, to the fast pace urban streets. My parents were both born there; I, however, originated from Canada, which was home for me for quite a while. That all changed for me in the summer of July when my Dad and I walked out of Bole International Airport. Everything was busy around me. People were laughing, talking, greeting each other. Everyone there enjoyed themselves, and it seemed to be a pretty good time. The thing about this place is that, everyone who lives there loves being there. There’s never a dull moment in the country. With each body moving to the same rhythmic tunes, and various spices coursing through our vanes. It was nothing like I ever imagined, or what any media outlets showed me. It was home.
It was hard for me to wrap my head around this completely different and exciting new world. Several weeks had gone by, and by that point, all I could think was, “Does anyone else back home know?”, “Do they know it’s nothing like any of our teachers told us it was, when we learned about countries on the map?” It frowned upon me when I came to the realization that they probably didn’t. That they, like me, saw the same poverty ad. The same celebrity couples who were generous enough to adopt a helpless African child. The same pictures of starving people. The same percentile of the same endless drought. And with enough effort, you notice the repetitiveness.
Do not get me wrong, poverty is an extremely crucial topic globally, but it should in no way be an issue labeled to one region of the world.
If all there is to be told about a country who’s grown significantly; economic, cultural, and health care wise over the past 20 years, is poverty, then that really shows the continual incline of ignorance in the number of news/media outlets, both literary and broadcast.
I guess my goal with this is to try to educate and break down the walls of ignorance that stand before many. I am an Ethiopian who holds great pride for my people, culture, and country. Let’s stop the stereotypes and give Ethiopia the recognition it deserves.
To my country and my people — “Betam ewodishalehu!”
