Holiday Reflection
By Bethlehem Gronneberg
Updated: Monday, December 26, 2011
Fargo, North Dakota – In a country where I left a piece of my heart, they celebrate x-mas otherwise known as Genna on January 7. Ethiopia and the Orthodox churches of Jerusalem, Russia, Serbia, Macedonia, Georgia, and other groups continue to use the ancient Julian calendar, thus the date “mix up”.
Growing up, I remember going to an overnight church service on Christmas Eve at the Holy Trinity Cathedral with my parents, friends, and neighbors. Yes, I said overnight and yes, the whole neighborhood has a pilgrimage together, on foot for a couple miles or more, to the nearest church. At the gate, we take our shoes off, cover our hair with a scarf and make the sign of the cross before entering the church. The energy inside the church has always been captivating. The ornate clothes the priests wear and their collective singing voices, along with the incense burning, the cascading rhythm of the bells and the worshipers’ ululating response, used to make me feel like the angels are circling above us and all around us. The thundering voices of the deacon, praying through the megaphone, sounded like the voice of God was descending upon us. Though I don’t understand the words of the ancient Ethiopian language (Ge’ez) that the church uses for the service, it was beside the point… I was in heaven! The minutes and the hours pass by and nobody paid attention. Time was irrelevant.
When we returned home after the service, my mom would prepare this awesome deluxe breakfast. Everybody would gather around the same big plate and my mom would start saying blessings. She would continue to pray for our families, relatives and the whole world. Silently, we would pray that she would stop, so we can start devouring the sweet aroma that is teasing our nostrils. We finally would get to eat and afterwards sip coffee while listening to the radio. Later that day, friends and relatives would drop by our house and the special coffee brewing and drinking ceremony would start all over again. Coffee is to Ethiopians, as tea is for the British.
The children would be outfitted with their new clothes, specially bought for that day. At that time in Ethiopia, we had a black & white TV and only one channel was broadcasted in the evenings for a limited amount of time, so the radio was a big part of our lives. Radio broadened my knowledge in all sorts of areas. It was our gateway to the world. My elder sister and I would huddle around the radio and listen to the programs intently — stories of Santa and christmas trees in faraway lands. It was fascinating. “Absolutely miraculous!!” we would say. The grass is always greener on the other side.
The festivities would continue with some more of my mom’s best dishes that she had been preparing the night before. We also had the local drink, called “Tela”, that my mom and her helper prepared months in advance. We were not allowed to drink it since it is brewed like beer. But all my relatives said my mom makes the best Tela. My mom may be old now but her Tela making recipe is still next to none. Some have even taken it with them overseas.
At night, the family would gather around for yet another round of the coffee ceremony. My Mom would start humming some songs and we would beg her to continue. She has these lyrics of songs that include the names of each of her children in it, sung to a beautiful melody. And now, I would say, “I will be home for Christmas if only in my dreams..”
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Related:
2011 Kwanzaa-Genna Holiday Celebration