The newspaper seller

It was a late Saturday morning. The cold which was descending had
the power to make not only a person but also the smooth asphalt streets,
electric poles, green leafed trees and the buildings wish for massawas sun.
An hour had passed since the sun had risen in a crawling pace, as had been
its habit for several days now. It had a dim light and the heat emmitted was
as usual.
Therefore that Saturday was similar to the way it had been before, but
it was not quite the same as it. The city was the same as before, but it was
not quite the same as before. The streets were the same as before, but they
were not quite the same as before. Even the man who was tall and thin with
a lighter dark skin, watching the slow movement of the city from his news
paper selling post on the right side of the street was the same as before, but
he was very very sure that he was not quite the same as before.
The city is Asmara. The street Harnet Avenue. And the man named
Semere is a newspaper sales man. The newspaper seller is known for
attracting customers by reading loudly new healines of the Hadas Eritrea
newspaper from his post that is painted in the colors of the Eritrean flag. The
editors of the newspaper had even published a story covering his life history
as a token of their appreciation.
Did the city have a good morning? Did the streets have a good
morning? I swear on my fathers name it is so lonely that it resembles the
wilderness, too lonely for a holiday season! he said to himself, holding the
rifle which was given to him before six months between his legs. And he
proceeded to read the days publishing of the newspaper with a bored
demeanor. The rifle has never left his hands for six months, three weeks and
three days now because he has to go to military training early in the morning
everyday after leaving his all night job of guarding a ware house located a bit
outside the city.
He found the whole newspapers content to be an interview done with
the president. He neither hated nor liked it. He could not relax because of the
loneliness of the not yet awakened streets. He shoke his head in
disagreement with his nerves, it is in the evenings that the streets are full of
people.
But where are the ones that read the newspaper as if it were their
breakfast? Where? Where? he said interrupting his reading and placing his

rifle behind him on a stack of newspapers. He focused his attention on the

decorated street. He focused his gaze as far as Bahti Meskerem with his
small eyes which quite unlike him looked bright and intelligent. They were
submerged in his round dull face.
Harnet Avenue seemed to him like a beautiful woman who had
collapsed after drinking a poison. It astounded him how he could have come
up with this particular resemblance of a beautiful woman? And a poisoned
one! He believed that it must be an imaginary picture he got from reading
countless short stories in the newspaper in his over 10 year experience of
work as a newspaper sells man.
________________________End of page 1__________________________

Wrong! he did not believe that. It was a mind picture he created all
on his own he silently argued. He was sure, he had never ever seen a
poisoned person be it man or woman. It was clear for him when he saw her
again that this woman was wearing a shining white cloth, had soft long hair,
and a dark well moisturized skin. It became clear to him that she was
extremely beautiful.
Goodness! Can she be the one referred by our moms as Mariam
Asmereyti (Mary of Asmara)? He asked himself. But before long he
remembered Mariam Asmereyti has fair skin, which makes his guess invalid.
On the contrary he attempted to compare her with Mamet who used to be a
well known poet. He remembered he had once read an episode in the
newspaper which narrated Mamet was a prostitute.
He thought it would have been great if ones wife had the physical
beauty of a prostitute and laughed heartily at the thought he was having.
While laughing; the beauiful prostitute who buys newspaper from him daily
emerged in his mind. Had she not persuaded him to call her prostitute he
would have had no problem calling her Qeyah (fair) as every one else did.
Every morning except for today she would come hurriedly saying
Semere my brother, does your newspaper have a tasty breakfast in it? and
would leave after snatching it from his hand. Most times she would leave the
change and her laughter lingering behind.

Where did she go today? Her where abouts did not concern him too
much though since he was numb with thoughts of the beautiful poisoned
woman.
He said again havent I once read in the newspaper about a black
queen who ruled Egypt? although he could not remember her name, he was
sure that she had been dark and beautiful.
When he said all queens are beautiful, he marvelled at his ability to
remember the queen of England. As a little boy with his mother and father,
he had seen her on her visit to Asmara but the image was not so clear for
him maybe because he was too little at the time or maybe because it was
such a long time ago. His father who used to be a soldier for the Italians had
so much respect for the English monarchy because British soldiers had
treated him very well when he was captured in Kessela at the end of WWII.
Who do I think she is? He was wondering who to associate her with.
Knowing her identity has suddenly started to seem very important to him.
She knows who she is, she does.......she does he said very seriously.
I came up with an amazing imaginary picture which is more important
than knowing her identity he thought proudly. He was swollen and inflated
with pride. He felt sick with desire to see this creation of his in the form of a
poem, novel, painting or sculpture. For the first time in his lifetime of more
than 50 years he regretted lacking skills for this. Sitting on the stack of
newspapers where his rifle was placed he started to feel bitter about his bad
luck.
________________________End of page 2___________________________
Good morning Semere A voice he knows very well nudged him back
to reality. The voice belonged to the administrator of Zoba Maekel (central
zone) who had a face that looked like it was wrinkled due to excessive
alcohol consumption.
Praise be to God administrator. We are at the mercy of Asmaras
loneliness and cold. Semere answered. The administrator disappeared with
his newspaper with out any further response. That put Semere in a bad mood
and he wondered angrily how dare he deny me a smile or even at least a
bright face?!
Even though the administrator was not usually as talkative and boring
as the Minister of education who came shortly after him, it certainly was

peculiar indeed for the administrator to be that quiet on a Saturday morning,

semere noticed. He suspected something was not as it used to be. And the
man who was the Minister of Education swore that things were not as they
used to be.
Semere was thinking didnt he talk with me for a whole hour
yesterday? trying to remember what he and the minister had talked about.
But he could not remember and he did not care enough to continue trying.
Semere Semere! You are the only one who is punctual and who
respects what he does, nobody else does that anymore. These people..... not
only do they look down on their jobs but they also have started to look down
on the newspaper. Will things get better this way? How can things get better
for the future this way? There is no way they would. Eritrea wake up this
instant! It is already morning. Saturday is almost past, do your work now.
Read the Gazette, Gazette! the minister pronounced the last two words
loudly.
Seeing some youngsters passing across the street Semere hurried to
read the newspaper loudly. Steadying his breath, clearing his throat, he
started to read loudly hoping they would come around attracted by it.
His excellency president Isaias Afeworki holds interview with national
news broadcasting agencies in occasion of the new year. He said more
shouting than loud. Fortunately the group of four girls and one boy started to
walk in his direction. But they continued towards Semaetat Avenue with out
as much even a glance in his direction. No! one girl had given him a mocking
glance, he noticed.
It is good that your eyes are nothing like my daughters eyes, which
are as bright as the morning star, Ugly! unpleasant to look at! he cursed
silently at the girl who had looked at him. His face looked like a dried leaf
with the excessive disdain he felt. He hoped she would come back though.
Failed hope. He started to think about his dark, tall and well built daughter.
It has been years since he had had a day of rest apart from Sundays;
when he sits at home and chats happily with his family. Last Sunday they had
gathered with his wife and his two daughters and were having coffee. Most of
thier talk focused on his eldest son. They have not heard from him for
months now after he had left for the Sudan.
if he were still alive we would have heard from him, you think he
would lack the money to call from a mobile phone? What ever the reason is, I
am really scared I wont ever hear from him again says his wife. Since the

disappearance of her son; she was getting thinner and smaller each day. I
am sure he is alive. Answers Semere.
__________________________end
3_________________________________

of

page

How can you be sure? asks his wife angrily. She does not allow
anyone to deceive her regarding the existence of her son. She has started to
become more and more emotional at every mention of her son. She held a
grudge against the government for not paying any attention at the
disappearance of her son.
My son went to Sawa with out even finishing his education, he fought
bravely during the war, he only left to Sudan after being frustrated because
release from the military was impossible unless you bribed someone or knew
someone. It is a cruel government. She preaches at every mention of her
son. She was extremely angry and sad because nobody seemed to
understand her, not even her close women friends.
It doesnt do harm to wish well, but my son is........ she did not finish
her sentence. Hadnt her youngest daughter interrupted her she was about
to say my son is most probably eaten up by the soil of a foreign land by
now. She was angry with herself for imagining her vibrant, funny son as
dead. She noticed her husband watching her as if he were in a trance and
she regretted even starting that sentence. She never, not even as an intent
of humor, wanted to make her husband angry. She believed he was a great
father who would do anything to take care of his family. It made her really
proud that he worked two jobs with out complaining of being weary or sick.
Truth be told she had missed him so much somedays that she had wished he
would, forgetting all else, spend somedays in the kitchen with her. So she
should not upset her husband. Bless her soul her daughter who was watching
TV from upclose had interrupted her before the words had escaped her lips.
But mom you should be certain your wishes will come true when you
wish them, or else they simply fail to happen, right dad? asked the child.
Semere has always been fascinated that his daughters were more intelligent
than him and his wife. He regrets not having been more intelligent than his
parents. But he was not pleased she had asked him for confirmation. Not
going far she could have asked her older sister who was brewing coffee.
Before he even finished his thought his older daughter started to speak. Is
she being serious? he thought. He remembered he had noticed his daughter
had been behaving strangely.

Mom, dad I have decided to get married. Every movement in the

room suddenly halted. All four of them stared at each other for a long time.
For Semere the moment stretched until it seemed years have alrealdy
passed. Did his daughter use the word decided instead of am thinking
of?! Goodness!, I want to get married has become replaced by I am getting
married! What is the brides father supposed to say now?!.
It stunned him to see the mom embracing the daughter happily. It
must be a great thing to see your daughter getting married these days with
the scarcty of young men he thought. It felt to him as if the tiny room they
were in had been thrown off of the ground and into the sky by the loud
ullilating sound emmited by his wife.
It was not mystery for him that she was constantly worried about the
future of her daughter who was still going to highschool. He remembered she
had said once we should not let my daughter go to Sawa just to see her
precious years being wasted and her life becoming joyless. We should do
something. Doing something meant sending your kids abroad he had
understood quickly. Many parents were doing that.
________________________end of page 4___________________________
She had also said to him if we can find the money for it we should
send her to Sudan, then maybe my sisters or your cousin might help her but
if they didnt then fate would have to depend on her luck.
He remembered her crying bitterly when he reminded her luck? What
is luck? Death, disappearing, kidnapping, imprisonment are also luck too.
But how it pleased him to see her tears were happy tears now, not that of
fear.
He himself was feeling nothing more than amusement by the
announcement of his daughter. For years he has not been able to feel
anything. But as a parent he agreed with himself that it was better if his
daughter finished her education first.
Right! His daughter should finish her education first. Can education be
finished? But at least she should attend college and obtain a college degree.
And in the mean time if she could find some one of the same educational
level then she can get married either on her graduation day or afterwards. It
disappointed him that his dream of seeing her graduation ceremony might
not be realized.

Now now! Who is marrying her? Is he rich or poor? Someone who is in

his national service or someone who has managed to obtain release from
that duty? Someone who lives abroad or within the country? He decided to
ask her gradually but he prayed who ever he is would not be a Colonels son?
Truth be spoken he did not have any strife with any Colonel but he has heard
that all Colonels see their inlaws as trade partners and that they really strive
to find rich inlaws.
How many Colonels are there in this country? But he left the question
unanswered because he could not comeup with the answer. As her father he
felt obligated to say something, and looking straight at her and trying to
sound firm he said first of all you should focus on your education. You are
too young to even consider marriage. He was looking at his wifes face
trying to read from her expressions if he was being too firm. The room
became very quiet as if there were no people in it. Before long his daughter
started screaming in a voice that was high enough even to disturb the
neighbors.
I say Ive had enough schooling, Ive reached 10 th grade. I can read
any book and understand it. Ive no problem reading any English book of my
choice. Can you understand me dad? she said and started to add animal
dung to the fire on which the coffee pot was placed. The house was full with
new smoke. He intended to reply I dont understand you. Ive never been
able to understand you since your birth but instead he did not utter a single
word.
When she said for example books by Dostoviski, Hemmingway,
Aristotle, Chinwa Achepe, Fokler, Tolstoy, Shakespare, Tony Morrison,
Daniella, Paulo Coelho she paused with a proud poise. The way she spoke
was filled with passion, her body was moving with the flexibility of a sewing
thread. Her big eyes which she inherited from her mother were red and
blazing. It felt to Semere like every ounce of her being was possesed by
spirits of the spiritual world as if she were their underworld bush.
________________________end of page 5______________________
She continued Beyene Haile! How can I forget Beyene Haile? Poems of
Beyene and Saba should not be forgotten, melodies of Haile Meles........ I can
recite every word of their poems. I can sing it for you, should I sing it for
you? closing her eyes, she drew in a long breath.

Leave that for another day my daughter, now lets focus on the topic
at hand. Who is taking you in marriage? Tell me immediately Semere
interrupted feeling more and more fatherly by the minute.
Oh the groom! My future husband, your future son in law, brother in
law....... she was smiling brightly her face looking like a beautiful flower.
Semere, the newspaper seller, was silently proud of his daughters beauty.
Who is he? Your father is right, tell us! tell us! her mom insisted.
Tell us now! Who is he? her sister added. The three of them
surrounded her as if they intended to have her for dinner.
Patience patience! she motioned for them to sit down. When they
were back on their seats she continued to speak still standing.
It is better for you to know about his father instead of him, and this
information should be kept between the three of us, for I am hunting the
father. When she said this all of them, especially her father became gloomy.
Why? What does his father do? her sister asked with eager
anticipation.
She replied he works at the office of the president. He is a big, big,
bi....g! government official
Semere grasped that she intended to make the man sound even more
powerful than the president himself a man who has been in extreme power
for almost half a century now. He did not utter a word though, either because
he did not want to argue or he did not know how to argue.
After the wedding we are going to go to Paris for the honey moon.
She continued. Her little sister gaped at her with a mouth opened wide. The
younger sister knew nothing of Paris except stories of romance, war, kings,
military Generals told to her by her older sister.
Eiffel Tower, tall mettalic statue of the city, a person who dies with out
seeing it is almost like a person who was never born. The older sister had
said. Maybe it was because of this she had desired to see it all one day in her
life time. The fact that her sister was going to see it before her and as soon
as some weeks later for that matter, induced mixed feelings of happiness
and envy within her.
____________ end of page 6___________

How can you be sure of this? her mother inquired. It has been long
since she has understood to be sure was to never be sure and she
concludes no body can be sure in this unsure world.
I dont have an answer how. But Ive a definite answer to why Im
sure replied the girl sitting on the floor.
Okay, why? Dear God! What times........! marvelled her father,
standing up from his seat and looking down at her.
Because I want to get out of this country. Eritrea is too small for my
dreams and mind. I mean I have a dream and Eritrea is a closed up nation. It
has too many boundaries and hinderances. It has tied its own entity by
limiting ropes causing it low level of enlightenment. It should not have been
like that but it is, it is!. Why oh why?! As for me, I can not live here and I can
not fight it. Or if I am to fight it I should be a little distant. I am a universal
being eventhough I happen to be created in Eritrea. I want to be what ever I
permit myself to be, live where ever I permit myself to live, and follow who
ever I permit myself to follow. When she finished her sentence her eyes
which were full with tears resembling a heavily pregnant cow gave way to a
torrent of tears. Tears that had been gathering this whole moment or even
probably the whole of past season.
Dont cry my dear daughter said her mom crying herself. Semere
was in his own physical pain feeling as if his daughter will marry the next day
and leave them to a foreign country the day after that. He was starting to
miss her already and this added to the anxiety he felt about his lost son.
Father, mother, I would have chosen death to the alternative of being
separated from you but I am being called by my dreams, my age and my
desires. I am getting closer to you not leaving you. This marriage is my exit
visa. My husband would honor my wishes even if I tell him our destination
will be the bottom of the ocean. She said. And when they were thinking she
has finished speaking she started again
Father are you worried about the dowry? Dont be. I have already
spoken to the inlaws. I have told them my father is an ex-fighter of
independence who does not have a penny to his name.
Hearing this caused Semeres feelings to be torn apart. He appreciated
his daughters courage in discussing her familys poverty with her future

inlaws. But he was sad at her foolishness in exposing her fathers

inadequacies. The fact that she did not realise that the first wedding of one
of his children would have been supported financially by his relatives, loved
ones, friends and even customers made him unhappy. He was certain that he
had the kindness and sympathy of everyone who knew him.
No never!, kindness let it be, but sympathy? He has never liked any
one who pities him. He is a strong man who manages to work two jobs in a
country where finding even a single job has become nearly impossible. While
almost every one with ability and brains was exchaning gossip in the bars
and cafes of the city, he has given up on rest as he had on his dead parents
except for a Sunday of rest in a week.
___________________________ end of page 7_____________________________
On the day next to that Sunday evening, he ate his breakfast and
after finishing his military training he spent the whole day at his paper selling
bench. When evening came he went to the ware house that he would be
guarding the whole night. A whole week has already passed with out him
having sat down and seriously talked to her. Tomorrow is Sunday and a
delegation from the grooms family were coming to ask for his daughters
hand in marriage. He realised he was feeling more and more uneasy
everytime he remembered that.
How is he going to afford a wedding? And where are all his customers
this Saturday? Where did they disappear to? How about the poisoned woman
who was unconcious, who could she be? He could only form a line of
questions with out answers.
Ziada my girl, pretty as a christmas tree he lamented softly looking
at the stack of unsold newspaper. His mind begun to get engulfed by a dark
cloud of hopelessness as if selling the stack of newspapers would have
enabled him to afford the expenses of a whole wedding. In an attempt to
escape he turned his gaze to Harnet Avenue which was still lonely
eventhough midday had already passed. The sight of the poisoned fallen
woman in her shining white clothes deeply shoke him although he tried not
to admit it.
Can she be gual hidirtina (mystical invisible people described in
eritrean myths)? he thought. He has customers that say to him spending a
day in Harnet Avenue is equivalent to spending a day in the shores of a
beautiful ocean. And that always refreshed him. He does not like to argue or

comment to them, he just listens intently. Even if he wanted to argue or

comment his brain was not gifted in such things. He hated encountering
anyone who make their ignorance obivious to all by displaying themselves in
arguments and comments.
A person whether he is knowledgable or not should ask questions.
Asking has the power of the light getting rid of darkness. It would have been
great if all conversations were in the form of questions. But some people fear
asking quesitons as much as death. Anyone who hates asking questions
should never speak or work. He says in talks with himself. Many customers
have told him they dont like president Isaias Afewerki because he does not
like to be asked quesitons. Truth be told he was refrained from uttering
opinions that were supportive or opposing to the president. Any body who
knows Semere can attest to the fact that his refrainment comes from lack of
knowledge rather than fear. Any deeds done by the government or
interviews given by the president do not impress his mind. But he has never
been heard to say it does not impress me. He always has been stingy with
his opinions.
///////////////////////////:::///////////////////////
What are you talking about Semere, why would gual hidirtina visit
Asmara? To find what? said one of his regular customers. A man with fair
skin and grey hair. Semeres knowlege about the man was scant. He knew
the man who always wears white suit and shirt was named Zeray that he
used to be a professor at a university of a foreign country and was married to
a pleasant heavily built German wife who calls Eritrean newspapers
crocodiles of deception.
___________________ end of page 8_________________________
To the newspaper salesman ideas brought by Zeray were as foreign as
the white clothes worn by him. He has never ever been able to understand
the man. Such a shame. He has heard the man had given numerous
interviews on TV. But to Semere this man, the president, the government, his
daughter and now Asmara were becoming an enigma.
Deqi hidirtina love tasty things, sweet things. Asmara is struggling to
find food that it could put to its mouth, she cant satisfy the apetite of deqi
hidirtina (deqi=plural of gual) he said. The newspaper seller noticed Zeray
was unchanged as usual.

Teacher have you watched the interview with the president? asked
Suleiman a tall man whom they had not seen approaching them. Suleiman
used to be a judge in the court of the Centeral Zone but he was fired from his
job for reasons Semere was unable to fathom. Now he was a taxi driver and
he was one of his regular customers. Zeray started to respond yes...
rubbing his hands together.
Yes, I tried to follow it. But my wife was upset with me saying I dont
want to hear lies at the start of the new year. What could have I done? What
could any husband do? Because she was leaving the next day to visit her
family we instead watched a movie while I pampered her. He said pointing
the palms of the hands he had stopped rubbing to the heavens. Before a few
months when he was handed a rifle like everybody else he had stopped
talking with any one for over two months, remembered the newspaper seller.
What kind of movie did you watch? asked the tall Suleiman.
It was an american movie, American he answered evading the type
and title of the movie. When he pronounced the word American he
stretched his neck upwards.
Isnt it better to watch tigrigna movies in the seasons of christmas
and newyear? said the newspaper seller. If he did not have a job of guarding
the ware house he thought he would have enjoyed happy moments with his
wife and kids watching tigrigna movies.
It demands tolerance to watch tigrigna movies. What is demanded
while watching American movies? Only language. It is enough that I have to
tolerate the struggle of living in Asmara with out adding the torture of
watching films that lack even a drop of art. It would be a suicide. This in itself
is excersing the gift of choice. We have the unhinderable right of controlling
what we choose to see and hear. Though there might be people that must
have been forced to watch the interview either in this nation or abroad. We
cant say there arent. Saying this he bought his news paper and before
disappearing he asked the tall man how about you Suleiman, did you watch
it?
__________________ end of page 9________________________
I tried and tried but then I gave up. My wife and kids protested they
would never watch a man who would not speak a single word considering
them and wanted to watch a Turkish series. They won and I ended up
watching the interview with my PFDJ neighbor. He answered semi proudly.

So how was it? I am sure he said nothing about implementing the

constitution said Zeray.
The reporters did not even ask about the constitution. Answered
Suleiman adding but I did not watch the second part. I missed it! in a tone
that seemed to have regret in it.
If I am right it was being broadcasted yesterday. I had gone to the
airport to see my wife off. I could see him speaking on the TV that was
turned on in the cafe. But the volume was very low and hardly any one was
glancing in the direction of the TV. That is no proper way to treat a president
who has sacrificed his life to rid the country off its problems he said and
disappeared crossing the street.
Did you say you missed it Suleiman? You did not miss it. You can miss
nothing when there is the newspaper Semere said trying to force a news
paper into his hand.
Oh I havent declared it to you yet Semere, have I?, I have officially
stopped buying newspaper. When Suleiman said this the newspaper seller
gaped at him not knowing what to say to that. If the people stopped buying
news paper he feared that his livelihood would dwindle. And with the
wedding of his daughter approaching, Goodness! such a bad news. What
would come of this in the end, he struggled for an answer.
Why, but why Suleiman? This news paper is becoming more and more
attractive eachday you know He managed to say at last.
It is inevitable Semere, inevitable. This is the 21 st century. This is the
time when any body can be as they please. We have reached a civilization
that defies everything. I mean the world has reached that. And Eritrea is
attempting to join this civilization with only one newspaper. Do you think a
newspaper is supposed to be like this? A newspaper is supposed to be a
device that enters every home and uplift our knowledge to the next level.
When he said this he shoke his head while stomping the ground with his right
foot. The newspaper selles man finding the ideas of Suleiman being as
unreachable as his tall height was gazing up with an inclined head. An
unusual youth named Berhe joined them.
Perfect, well said Suleiman, you have made me happy. Said Berhe
tapping Suleiman lightly on the shoulder. Berhe is an author who has made a
good name for himself writing short plays and he always carries a green
backpack on his back.

 We are lost, people!. Completely lost from the market of civilization.

It is better not to mention their names, better left unmentioned. He said
smiling, it seemed more like an angry smile to the news paper seller.
A newspaper is the train of development. Great newspapers create
huge developments. Everything begins as a thought. Thoughts are expressed
in words, and a newspaper is the tongue for that expression. Giving the
newspaper seller one nakfa he took a newspaper and placed it in his bag.
__________________ end of page 10___________________________
A person who reads this newspaper is reading the minds that are in
this nation. Can any of you tell me this contains the minds of Eritreans? Is
this really the capacity of our brains, wish, power, thought and vision? Is it? If
you defeat me in this arguement I will forfeit my citizenship. Ill forfeit it,
forfeit it! he said looking at the girls that were passing him closely.
Is being Eritrean something you can acquire wishing it or abandon
hating it? questioned Suleiman. The newspaper seller was intrigued by the
statement of the weird writer. He had had moments of hating Eritrea on
occasions life had become too difficult for him. But it had never occured to
him he could decide to be the citizen of another nation leaving his current
citizenship. He immediately thought if citizenship can be bought by money
only rich people would be benefactors of this. At last he was lost in the
thought of which country he might have chosen to be a member of had he
had the money for it.
I am neither a Greek nor an Athenian who said this? asked Berhe
looking up to the top tip of the cathedral.
Socrates! answered Suleiman.
How is Socrates lesser than Jesus? Why have we not payed heed to
his thoughts? In this country people who view their citizenship as a religion
are becoming more and more. Rather than being a religionless citizen I
choose to be religious person with out a citizenship. Or rather than a
principleless citizen, I would choose to be a man of principles with out any
citizenship. I did not choose to be created as an Eritrean, but to die an
Eritrean or not is my choice. For me it is like this. I love Eritrea. I love it as
much as I love my home not more than that. When it was invaded I defended
it, went to war for it. There are people who dont love their homes in this
country but they have the nerve to advise me to love my country. Lets think
now why such things dont get written in this newspaper? Lets write what

the love of a nation means! Why dont we write that it is wisdom to love the
world? How many articles have been covered in this newspaper about the
unity of Africa? he damped quesiton after question upon them.
Berhe I think first should come the unity of East africa. Said
suleiman.
But before that the Red Sea should swallow Eritrea and Ethiopia. I
would have advised God to remove these countries, which cant deal with
their poverty and backwardness, from his map. Im being serious. Berhe
swore for them. Both of them looked at each other puzzled by his statement.
You are extremely cruel Berhe. Any one who cant think broadly is
cruel. The mother of cruelity is ignorance and nothing else. If you see
everything only from your own experience and age, you will be wrong and
cause others to have a wrong understanding. And you are called a writer. You
should practice to stretch and stretch the neck of your mind until it breaks,
so that you will be able to see there is light over dimness, peace over war,
justice over oppresion. Like it or not every junior generation is wiser and
sharper than its senior. saying this Suleiman breathed heavily. Semere
noticed he was angry from the way he spoke.
My girls are definetely sharper than me. Especially the older one, she
reads a lot and thinks that much. She is as familiar with the Eritrean history
as with our kitchen. Said the newspaper seller with pride.
__________________ end of page 11______________________
He was about to tell them that she was planning to get married inorder
to get out of the country but he cut himself short. And then all of a sudden
he became deeply anxious about how he was going to afford the wedding.
Prevent her from reading the Hadas Eritrea newspaper. People like
me are spending one Nacfa on it each morning out of habit not love for it.
Said the writer.
Oh what do you know Berhe! she avoids even touching the newspaper
except for times I ask her to help me understand the news or the
complicated statements.
And how
expectantly.

does

she

make

you

understand?

asked

Suleiman

She tells me to comprehend it in reverse, for example if there is a

news saying Electric supply coverage is being expanded in the nation, she
interprets for me the Electric supply of the nation is on the verge of collapse.
If the news says the government is striving to ensure social justice, she
explains the government is striving to ensure social oppresion. He noticed
they were listening to him intently and with awe and continued to brag that a
whole day wont be enough to describe how smart his daughter was.
You have a bright daughter Semere. How old is she? asked a thin
snobbish looking young man who joined them a while ago with a second
person.
He was a historian by profession and his name was Robel. According to
Berhe he had once written a book titled Badme, lies, deceit, war and
martyrdom. Berhe had also warned him not to disclose that secret to anyone
else stating they were the only two people who knew of it. But the
newspaper seller was certain that the strong and happy man who always
roams the streets with Robel also knew about the book. The man was known
as wedi gezae, and it was rumored that he had been one of the top
commanding officers and brains of the EPLF during the struggle but he was
suspended from his job now. He and Robel had a friendship known to both
God and men.
She has reached 17 years or so. She is young.......not so young. A
girl.......a woman. She is a young woman, has come of age. He said placing
his rifle on his shoulder then putting it on the stack of newspapers.
Suleiman lets go and find Tsegereda said Berhe, and without saying
anything Suleiman followed him. Robel leaned on the wooden table of the
shop and worded a request that intrigued the newspaper seller.
I want a wife, would you give her to me to marry? I need a woman
that makes me see my ignorance, who exposes my arrogance, whipping it
with the whip of her intelligence. Please I need a wife that strips me naked of
all of it. I beg you, give her to me. All of Robels composure had
disappeared, it seemed to the newspaper seller.
_____________________ end of page 12_____________________
To you, I would give her to you with pleasure. She would have married
you happily. I dont want to upset you but she has already decided to marry
the son of a big, big, bi.......g government official. He said. The way he said

big, big, bi.......g intended to make the man seem bigger than the president
himself as his daughter had made him sound last week.
So it is your daughter who is marrying the son of colonel Kiflay? said
the suspended colonel known as wedi gezae approaching him closely with
eager curiosity.
Yes, no. No, yes he answered both confirming and denying at the
same time.
We had lunch at their home sometime ago. I could not find any flaw
with her despite all my deligent search. She is both beautiful and bright. She
is not the kind my father would approve of. She is an independent girl. I saw
her enjoying a freedom that Eritrea has been unable to enjoy after all the
price paid for it. He removed the heavy jacket he was wearing and put it on
his shoulder. He continued speaking getting too close to their faces.
Coffee. Coffee!, I would have declared coffee should be brewed by her
and no other woman. He said.
She has always said brewing coffee is the main art of a woman and I
myself have not drank any coffee but hers for years now. Said the
newspaper seller attempting to elevate his daughters fame to the roofs of
the tall building that was next to them.
The groom must be educated Speculated Robel
He could not obtain a passing mark to enter college. He works in the
ministry of defense. You dont need education or skills to work in the ministry
of defense. Said wedi gezae. That his son in law had neither education nor
profession displeased the newspaper seller.
So your daughter is marrying the boy for a purpose. Ha ha ha
laughed Robel, emitting a laugh they had never heard before, and
continued....
We live in a time where marriage has become a weapon. Her aim is to
leave this country which is suffering with draught of thought. I feel sad. Even
if I am told the history of menkae is being repeated, run and save yourself!
I choose death to leaving this country, death. More than food this country is
lacking in thoughts. It cant succeed in holding on to minds that ooze
thoughts. Generations that were supposed to expose mysteries of the Red
Sea are leaving it one after another. Why dont we write all these in our

newspapers. Oh I forgot! We dont have newspapers. Nothing has been

pleasant since the death of our newspapers. I would have chosen for our
people to lack bread and electricity instead of newspaper. He said his face
expressing his remorse.
What are you saying Robel? We have newspapers that are dead?
Clarify it for me! Explain! screamed the newspaper seller. He looked as if he
wished to die himself rather than hear of dying newspapers.
Long time ago there were newspapers in this country. At that time
everything was transparent. And the light was reaching everywhere. We
could see each other with out any cover. The government could see us and
we could see the government as well. But then the lights died. And gradually
darkness descended on everything. A cover that hindered someone from
seeing the other was created. We stopped seeing. The government could see
us but we could not see it. Saying sadly he continued....
______________________ end of page 13________________________
The problem with Eritrean people is that they forget. A while later
they will forget they were under a shameless colonization for a hundred
years. After wards they will also forget the sysytematic oppresion of 20
years. People who forget their past do not have a future, how do you make
them understand this? Even if they dont understand it, how can you preach
to them that individuals but not people should be forgetful. Hopelessy
waving his arms in the air and dragging wedi gezae by the elbow he
disappeared towards Semaetat avenue.
Semere was immersed in deep thought looking for an escape. What
have I grasped now? I have not understood anything of what he said. How
would we have communicated if he had been my son in law he shook his
head forcefully. He became deeply silent thinking how he was going to
accomodate the delegation that were coming tomorrow to ask for his
daughters hand in marriage.
///////////////////////////////sss////////////////////////////////////////////
The thrifty sun which was barely shining the whole day began to set at
the crawling pace with which it rose in the morning. And in the afternoon
lonely streets of the day started to resemble a succesful market filled up with
people and cars. And Semere, the newspaper seller, after his companions
had left him to pay heed to their own affairs was observing the streets and
every time a person would pass through he read contents of the newspaper

aloud. But no one was even bothering to look his way so disregarding his
attempt to sell newspapers he rather preferred to just gaze at the avenue
with his sleep deprived small eyes. Inwardly he was scanning the streets
trying to find the poisoned woman who laid in the street wearing sparkly
white clothes. Unlike before she was nowhere in sight. His eyes dug the
streets until everything was overturned. What was there before was not
there anymore but what was not there before sat there glaring at him.
Where are they trying to go? he asked himself looking at the people
that were rushing about around him. This place is becoming a village of
women. You look over only to see girls, look the other way to find only
women. Where are all the young men? young men possesing prominent
torso, great afro, hairy calf, their strong arms could have made wonderful
train tracks and a train could have gone pew! Pew! there he thought and
laughed. He stopped laughing abruptly and was thinking oh oh! and my
blessed son where is he? My son.......my son tears threatened to engulf him.
On the street across from him he observed Tsegereda, the beautiful
woman with soft light dark skin who always wears a blue scarf, coming his
way. Besides her was Segen the thin tall woman who was in the buisness of
trading paintings.
He guessed when they reached him Tsegereda was going to ask him
Hallelujah! Do you know why I like this tall man? He likes and respects her
because all her conversations are in the form of questions. And that is her
customary question that she asks everytime she sees a photo of the
president.
________________________end of page 14_______________________
He has learned from her what the answer was so he did not worry. Like
he expected she asked her usual question once she reached him.
Yes! Yes! He has caused Eritrea to miss and long for itself. He
answered. She was extremelly happy and refreshed. But for anyone who
bothered to look deep in her eyes she was anguished and longing, a fact that
did not elude the newspaper seller. She has once told him her father was a
martyr and that she grew up with her mum in Arareb. He even saw her in his
dreams smiling at him but it no longer happened because of his excessive
exhaustion. Though he does not know where it stopped he also had feelings
resembling love for this pretty woman. As for her, except to call him uncle
she did not have any further interest in him.

He thinks he has heard it rumoured that she was once married to a

journalist and that her husband was imprisoned while she was pregnant. And
he was certain he has been told by Berhe that she suffered miscarriage due
to the shock of hearing her husband was jailed. Berhe also breathed that she
has completely changed becase of all this. The fact that he noticed her
expressing both calm and volatile personalities at a given moment was
considedred a stark observation by the newspaper seller. She was an
incomparable heroine to him becase she refused to accept a rifle.
He has heard people give many opinions about her change of
behaviour. Some said she was a jehovah witness, others said she had
become a pentecost follower, others said she had conevrted to muslim, while
some said she had become bahai and some said she no longer believed in
God. Concerning Tsegereda he had an opinion of his own. Even though he
had not enquired whether her husband was released from jail or not his
guess was she misses her husband.
Hearing her say havent war and coloniazation distorted Eritreas
soul? made him shift his attention to her. She continued
Havent we become murderers inorder to kill our killers? Havent we
spilled the blood of the ones who spilled our blood? Our soul has been
purchased by evil spirits, hasnt it? And havent the evil spirits made our
rulers their messengers? she stopped speaking and focused on the picture
of the president. Then continued in a whispering tone...
Lets look at the eyes of this man, can you read it people? Is he not a
person who gave his soul to evil spirits for the sake of Eritrea? If it was not
so, do you think he would have changed a country he has toiled all his life for
to a cave of suffering and shackles? Do you think he would have sentenced
his comrades and friends to live in squirrel holes while he spends his nights
dancing? Berhe the weird writer with Suleiman the tall man following him
came from behind her and gave her a pressing kiss on the cheek.
My companion where have you been hiding? To where did you
disappear to closing your mobile? he questioned her. It was obvious from his
tone he had missed her.
Precious, do you think my mobile works with water? Have you
forgotten we live in a city desperately lacking electric power? she said.
_________________________ end of page 15_______________________________

 It would have made little difference even if it were to work with

water, did Leonardo Davinci say I love to see a person who smiles
regardless of all his problems! Look at all these Asmarinos despite all their
problems they are eager to smile... eager....eager said Segen. Eventhough
she was not young she looked 20 years younger than her actual age because
of her good posture and stylish clothes. She was not cosidered pretty, in the
eyes of the newspaper seller or other onlookers, but she had more than
enough self satisfaction.
It is good that Ive found you. Lets just hope they wont bill us for
walking on the streets. Now I dont care if Asmara migrates to a place with
water and Electric power. I mean it, I mean it! he swore for her. Caressing
her shoulders using both hands.
Semere how is my relative doing? asked Segen standing very close
the window of the bench. She meant his wife when she said my relative.
Oh yeah! They were relatives. And she will be one of the many family
members who will contribute thousands of Nacfa for the wedding of his
daughter. Great great, he decided to invite her before promisng his
daughters hand to the grooms delegation.
Your relative will be a mother in law soon. Everyone will be invited,
but mainly you and Tsegereda, mainly he said to her.
Bella bella! Is she marrying off a son or a daughter? instead of asking
him straight forward she asked in another way.
Her son has never been heard of since he went to Sudan, Segen. She
has an impressive daughter who resembles you hoping she understood he
meant they resembled in height and not looks. His might not have succeded
in that hope because he thought Segen looked pleased by his statement.
Delightful! So anything that you might need, anything be it small or
large I am here for you. Tell my relative not to worry about anything she
said and started to dig into her yellow handbag which was stuck close to her
body.
This cant be good! He started to pray she would not offer him money
infront of everyone. He concluded with himself that he would not accept
anything saying we will handle our own expenses even if she offered him a
Nacfa with six zeros on it. They got intruppted by a loud ullilating voice and
all their heads turned except for him. The person who was ullilating was
Qeyah and he knew she did that everytime she saw Tsegereda.

Qeyah was wearing a deep red colored dress (color of sheeps blood)
that was knee-high. Her shoes were also red. He quickly noticed her breasts
were almost taking steps ahead of her. She opened her arms wide and
greeted Tsegereda with a tight embrace.
Tsegereda honey I have been looking for you but could not find you. I
have missed you. She said.
Qeyah my dear, is Asmara not becoming too slow and cold for you?
said Tsegereda
It is becoming extremely slow. Like ice, ice!. I have never seen it get
this inactive. She said approaching Berhe.
Amore, amore kiss me she said to him offering him her face. Berhe
the weird writer kissed her with enthusiasm.
__________________________end of page 16_______________________
Wait a moment! Goodness! Did he kiss her on the lips? In the open
streets! What an indignity! What times! No no it must be my eyes. His lips
shadowed over hers but landed on her cheeks. Yes yes! He kissed her on the
cheeks. But the wicked Qeyah might have wanted a kiss on the lips thought
Semere
Semere my brother does your newspaper have anything for dinner?
she said approaching him. But when she saw the picture of the president she
spun her head around turning her back to Semere.
Listen to me, from now onwards I have stopped supporting this man.
She shouted. All of them knew that Qeyah was not only pro the president but
she also considered anyone who spoke against him as her enemy.
Qeyah dear, in Eritrea except obeying it is not allowed to oppose or
support. If it were to be allowed countless people would be on your side
having the same opinion as yours. The thing is you cant see them and they
you. I call it invisible reality. Invisible emotions, invisible opposition, invisible
struggle, invisible longing. Invisible leaders of change and their followers.
Just invisible invisible invisible said Suleiman waving his forearms from left
to right infront of him.
Dont you think he knows of my brother who died in Sinai? A lot of
young people like my brother have died there. He does not even express his
condolances to the families of the deceased. I hate him, hate him. From now

onwards I will not even buy a newspaper despairingly she pushed the stack
of newspapers on the bench towards Semere.
Semere, the newspaper seller, felt frustrated by her frustration. Truth
be told he has not heard Qeyah lost her brother in Sinai. These days he has
heard a lot of families receiving the news of death of their children in Sinai
and the sea. He was sure it was only a matter of time before he heard a
similar news about his lost son. But rather than to hear of his death he
prefers to never hear of the whereabouts of his son.
His oldest brother was never heard of or from again since he left years
before to join the Eritrean Liberation Front. But this was better than hearing
of a cofirmed death. You can always wish, hope, desire, long. He would rather
wait for the day that he might come back from where ever he has been in.
He wishes the news of his son would stay hidden like that of his big brother
rather than know for sure like Qeyah knows about her brothers death.
All of you are saying you will not buy a newspaper, we will wait and
see if this will change the country for the better he said to them at last.
Things will change for the better, Semere my brother. My only regret
is I have wasted all my time reading the newspaper instead of talking with
Tsegereda and Segen said Qeyah approaching Tsegereda and putting her
arms around her waist.
I will tell you one secret Qeyah, all of you. This is the last interview
our poor president is ever going to give said Tsegereda with her arms open
wide.
I am sure he will not step down from power voluntarily said Zeray,
the man who wears white suit and shirt. Segen appeared to be unsettled by
the coming of this man thought Semere.
___________________________
17________________________________

end

of

page

Semere rememered that the man has told her he has little respect for
her because she was not using her money in aiding her society. Segen had
held a grudge for him then. Later on Semere was told by Berhe that Segen
and Zeray used to be lovers when they went to school together. They left for
abroad together. But when they reached Europe Segen betrayed Zeray. They
betrayed eachother! Segen became succesful in time. Working to create her
empire of restaurants and hotels she never found the time to marry or have

children. Zeray attended many universities ending up with many academic

credentials and a German wife, eventually returning to live in his country.
Professor Zeray nobody is as close as you to the president so tell us
what you think, dont you think he wont step down voluntarily? Segen asked
him. No one calls him professor except for Segen. Some people call him
teacher, but the majority including the newspaper seller simply address him
Zeray. Zeray has always preferred that to being addressed professor.
Lady Segen I have not anything to hide from you your question is far
more precious than the paintings you trade for thousands of currency. I cant
afford to buy it. Let what Victor Hugo did for France be your answer he said
to her standing close by.
It is the end. End of what? Eritrea? No but for its leaders with
certainty he said to her in a melodious voice. Maybe not for the others but
for the newspaper seller it was a puzzle he could not understand, so he
waited for someone to say something.
I am sure he will not die said Qeyah with a body movement
accompanying her statement
Qeyah honey he will surely die. Dont we all? Arent we all judged for
our deeds? He has his own karma as we all have ours. Truthfully dont you
pity him? Shouldnt Eritrea mourn for its leader while he is still alive and
standing? Isnt he a poor man who single handedly destroyed what has taken
all his life to build? Poor man, poor man Tsegereda said tearfully. All of them
appeared saddened. Even the newspaper seller felt grief, a grief he has not
expressed for the loss of his son, at the pit of his stomach.
Tsegereda dont cry honey, he did this to himself. We did this to
ourselves Qeyah was saying trying to console her but she was crying
herself.
Tsegereda why do you pity him if he dies and cry? If you are crying for
yourself it is acceptable. All of us should cry for our own selves. He dreamed
about todays Eritrea and he befriended all the evil and shrewdness available
under the sun inorder to make his dream come true. He made all his
comrades his enemies. We are his dream. This suffering is his dream. Who
knows? Maybe his stars misled him declared Segen. She was standing
straight and stiff which made her seem harsh to the newspaper seller. He has
never heard such a serious talk from her and he was proud to have her as his

wifes relative. Even if she offers him the money she promised him earlier he
would not decline the offer he concluded with himself.
I will never cry. How can I feel sorry for Some one who turned my
world upside down if his world is turned upside down for him now? said
Berhe moving his backpack up and down on his shoulders.
______________________ end of page 18___________________________
Berhe, Berhe cant you see Eritrea drawning in its suffering? Isnt it
experiencing spiritual corruption? Look at the streets, the youth. Cant you
see they are with out their courage and determination? Are the people who
they used to be before 10 years? Where is their unity, brotherhood, pride,
religion, morale and freedom? Where is their freedom? With out freedom
what will they achieve? Do you understand Berhe? Understand or not? said
Tsegereda almost climbing the man.
What I have understood is young people have stopped considering
this country as their own answered Berhe.
What I fail to understand is where are our youth? angrily Suleiman
the very tall man.
What I have understood is I better go back to Europe before I am
burdened with a rifle said Segen.
What I dont understand is if young people are as unhappy with this
government as it is rumored why dont they demand and scream ho! for
their rights? shouted Zeray.
What I dont understand is there have never been fewer people in this
place but I have never been as busy in all my life said Qeyah.
What I dont understand is why I have stopped missing my husband?
Have I forgotten him? I am sure I love him. Will I ever see him again? they
were submerged in deep thought when Tsegereda said this. Tears were
dripping from her eyes like rainfall. The newspaper seller intervened saying
What I dont understand is I have not sold newspaper today the whole
day. Why, why? These people are disrespecting the newspaper, am I right?
How can we expect for things to get better with out the newspaper? picking
up a dozen newspapers and showing them.

Please lets get out of here. Suleiman take us somewhere. Teacher,

where is your beautiful wife? asked Qeyah. The newspaper seller assumed
she was looking for a drinking buddy for she has once told him drinking beer
with the German lady was indeed very pleasant.
She left for her country saying she will never set foot on it if Asmara is
not comparable to Cairo or Tripoli said Zeray. The group was joined by Robel
the historian and Wedi Gezae the suspended Colonel and immediately
afterwards Wedi Gezae started to talk. The newspaper seller considered it
quite normal nothing unusual that people would join a discussion no matter
not having been there for the most of it.
Zeray, there are some people both here and abroad who try to make
it seem new. I presume you are aware of it. We were just talking with Robel
about it. A revolution has a triangular shape. Some fight by their emotions
and feelings, some fight by their brains and intelligence, while others fight in
real ground in person. With little exaggeration it can be said at the moment
all Eritreans are fighting the government emotionally. A few are fighting
using their brains. While even fewer are fighting in person combining their
emotion and intelligence. I know people who have submerged themselves in
all three corners of the struggle but who have still not severed their ties with
the government.
_____________________________-end of page 19__________________________
Had it been beneficiary for the revolution to mention their names I
would have. In any case this is not a new thing said Wedi Gezae the
suspended colonel. And Robel adjusted his posture in preparation for speech.
Lets make one thing clear, if a human being stops to struggle that is
equivalent to dying. Freedom is a better ground for continued struggle not
merely the end aim of struggle. Even in the coming days if the people stop
their struggle saying they have achieved justice, the same thing will happen
to them as is happening today. Struggle is unending, people!. With out a
revolution be it the world or a single country might become the victim of the
back wardedness and ignorance of individual persons. Who do you think
invented the concept of revolution? he asked looking from face to face
alternately.
Qeyah, what are you doing here? Havent I told you not to be present
anywhere near me? Robel changed his snobbish composure and was as
angry as a wild animal. Qeyah kept quiet taking cover behind Tsegeredas

back. The newspaper seller was disappointed at the behaviour of the man
who was begging him for his daughters hand in marriage earlier. He would
have scolded Rober openly had both them not been his customers. He hoped
Robel would not drag her away by her hair like he had done a couple of
weeks ago.
Where did he take her that evening? He has heard Suleiman saying
that the poor thing escaped opening the other door when he boarded her on
Suleimans taxi intending to take her to his home. Suleiman had also
mentioned that when Robel was writing his book titled Badme, deception,
lies, war and martyrdom he had had a three year marriage contract with
Qeyah. When the contract expired Robel had asked her to prolong it for him
but she had adamantly refused. Although the enraged Robel bluffed he
would not give her a cent of the money they agreed upon but fearing she
might talk about the book, he had ended up giving her all the money with
out deducing a cent of it.
And now that he was writing another book titled Judgement day, when
leaders bow their heads he wanted a new contract with Qeyah but her
refusal has alienated him to her, as mentioned by Suleiman. It puzzled the
newspaper seller that Suleiman and even the wild Qeyah knew about the
existence of the book called Badme........ But he considered himself
fortunate to know about the book Judgement day, when leaders bow their
heads when he learned no one including Berhe, who is considered as all
knowing by Semere, had no idea of its existence.
Why had Robel choosen Qeyah? It astounded him. He suspected it was
not only for the reason that Qeyah was acquainted with most of the higher
ranking officials of the government as Suleiman has mentioned, there must
be something more he mused.
Hearing Tsegereda say Robel dont you know it earns a man the title
gentleman if he respects a woman among many women brought the
newspaper seller to the present. Immediately Qeyah appeared from her
hiding place behind Tsegeredas back her movement having the motion of
dancing.
No one owns me! her arms spread on both sides making her seem as
if she was about to fly. Qeyah, starting to appear fairer and fairer by the
minute to the newspaper seller, continued.......
_______________________end of page 20_______________________

Not a single person!, gets to dictate who I hang out with or where I go
to. I am who I am. If there is any one in our midst, in this city or in this
country; who finds my life style, choices, opinions and laughter disagreeable
he can very well hang himself. It is not my problem if any one hates the fact
that I dont think like them. What concerns me is my life. How I live and why I
live is my own issue. Why do you care about me? You are different from me
and I from you. We are separate. I am a free individual with choices of my
own. Semere please tell the newspaper owners to interview me. I want to tell
Eritrea that I can only be me and nobody else. Tsegereda is it shameful to tell
Eritrea that? she asked Tsegereda grabbing her by the shoulders and
shaking her.
Sorry Qeyah but I should be frank with you, I can not tell the owners
of this newspaper who they should interview said the newspaper seller. He
regreted he could not ask the owners of the newspaper, that would not sell
all day, inorder to make her happy.
Semere brother havent you been saying the newspaper was not
selling? Atleast you should share an opinion that they should not print the
presidents interview. Your opinion is yours regardless of you being educated
or illiterate, rich or poor. It is not your problem if anybody hates you for it
she said and getting to their center and spreading her arms started to
sing.........
shgey habuni shgey habuni! Aytetaliluni (give me my torch, give me
my torch and fool me no more). The song felt familiar so he was convinced
it was not an invention of the wild Qeyah. And honestly he loved the sound of
her voice. He thought it was soft and powerful. Eventhough he had never
seen an island in his life he thought such a heavenly voice can only be a
natural murmur heard in a green wild island that has yet to be discovered by
man.
Qeyah was repeating only one line of the song. Her right hand was
placed high above her head, moving imitating the grasp of a torch. After a
while she was moving her whole body in the center of the six people
resembling a burning wind. She laid flat on her back on the side walk then
rose up again with the power of a storm, continued rising until she was
standing on tip toes. He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he
saw her rising above their heads. She started to move in a circle at high
speed with her arms spread at her sides. Then she disappeared from his
vision. He looked and looked but failed to find her in their midst. Where did

she go? Where can she go? Any human being can not be invisible like the
spirits. Especially this wild Qeyah can not pass for a spirit.
And she definetely was not one! He heard her speak and laugh.
Robel with out my consent, no created being not even creation itself
can control me she said dragging Tsegereda away by grabbing her arm.
Tsegereda grabbed Segen and started to lead her away in turn. Segen
leading Zeray, Zeray leading Suleiman, Suleiman leading Berhe, Berhe
leading Robel, Robel leading Wedi Gezae dragging each other like children
they crossed the people rushing about them and disappeared in the direction
of Bahti Meskerem. Semere, the newspaper seller was looking at them with a
longing and worry of a father whose children were leaving to the other side
of the world.
____________________ end of page 21______________________________
His worry was more about his newspaper more than about them. The
newspapers failure to realise its enemies were increasing saddened him.
Why do they hate the president? he despaired. Yes! Why is he the hated
one? It is true nobody is comfortable in this country. No one including the
newspaper seller was enjoying the luxury of secure available sustainable
bread, electricity, water supply. Should this cause hatred directed at the
president? His attempt to solve this puzzle triggered a spark of an idea in his
brain. But he vowed not to do that even if he were to die.
Whether the president is alive or dead makes no difference to me. A
lot of young people, too young to know true happiness, died for this country.
A lot of educated, illiterate, old, young, wise and foolish people also died for
it. My parents died, my sister Senait is a martyr, my brother Efrem is lost he
probably is dead. I dont even know whether my son is alive or dead. Most
importantly this country is a country of people. It has people who reek of
knowledge. Many kind and wise people. If the president dies surely other
presidents will come. He said longing to see the extremely beautiful woman
in white clothes. And he was unhappy to see only cars that were competing
for space in the asphalt and people who did not bother to look his way.
It is like Berhe said it, I just should not be the one to die until the day
comes when there will be many newspapers he said sitting on the stack of
newspapers forcefully, so forcefully a vibration was resonating across his
entire body as if he had landed on the ground. Seconds passed with out
having him thought of anything. But gradually he started to have memories

that were long since buried deep within his subconcious. Immediately his
mind was full of information and memory of events until it felt like he was
converting into one big pot container. I should never pass judgement or
opinion on anything he promised himself and he quickly passed through the
low roofed exit bending his back and running outside.
Glancing right he saw the bicycle he inherited from his father outside
looking like a frozen cold homeless person awaiting the sympathy of
bystanders. He looked to the right and saw countless young people, old ones
and children passing by the side walk infront of his little shop. They were
smiling, laughing, bumping into each other some coming and others going.
He wished to know where the goers were going to and where the
comers were coming from. He was disturbed by a voice inside him that urged
him to ask them, and that voice strangely sounded like the voice of the wild
Qeyah. Attempting to distract himself he focused on the red public buses
which were transporting passengers. He could not find anything new. But he,
he felt like a new person. He concluded everything was completely with
100% certainty as it used to be. Judging from the mirror of his years, Eritrea
has not changed even a tiny bit. It saddened him to see it was the same as it
ever was. He prayed in his heart for the future to bring better times to it. He
had the revelation better times are the times when he will be able to sell a
variety of newspapers with many colors and names on them. His attempt to
figure out why he was bothering about newspaper selling as if it were a noble
profession failed more than one time. Then he remembered what his father,
who was pro independence in the 40s and 50s, had said to him.......
Reading the newspapers is what made me understand that a bird
without wings and a person without freedom are the same. If there had not
been newspapers at that time, Eritreans would not have longed for
independence as for paradise.
______________________ end of page 22_______________________________
The nation Eritrea would not have occupied the hearts of all its
fighters. When Eritrea acquires its independence the first thing it should
focus on should be the newspaper, even if it cant afford it
When he remebered this saying of his father, the face of his hairy and
bearded graceful father came to his mind. His spirits lifted and he felt
refreshed as if his father has returned to him from a long journey. Closing his
eyes...........

You were right father. All that you told would happen happened.
Eritrea with out its newspapers got its eyes blinded, its ears deaf. It became
something other than itself, we became some ones other than ourselves. She
did not benefit from her children and her children did not benefit from her. It
is separation! They flee away to safety while it slips to its doom. It is all
nonsense he said. He spoke loudly but he was neither aware of it nor did he
care. He opened his eyes to find two very heavily built men with black
leather jackets standing infront of him. He did not know what to think. It
quickly became apparent to him the faces of both men were cruel and
mocking.
Behind them he saw the poisoned beautiful woman in her white clothes
now walking in the direction of Bahti Meskerem with the wind flapping her
dress behind her. Not long after her another woman who must be her
identical twin and wearing the same sparkly clothes passed them. A while
later he saw yet another beautiful woman in the same outfit on the street
across from them passing with a smooth glide. He saw a fourth one.
Guessing their numbers were in the tens he stopped paying attention to
them. But he worried whether this was a dream or reality and whether he
was losing his sanity. He believed those men with cruel faces and big bodies
were really standing infront of him, no he did not.......... yes he did. The
women in white clothes were strolling about in the streets while some of
them were on the roofs of buildings and others on the poles. What he noticed
as his last vision was that they were all happy. Two of the many approached
him one standing on his right and the other on his left.
You should be free. And we are the spirits of freedom. If perhaps you
die in your thoughts tonight we are here to escort you in your spiritual
journey they told him in unison. Their voice had a dreamy and mystic
pleasantness to it. Minutes passed with him merely opening and closing his
eyes. He absolutely had no idea what to think. But what ever may come he
was sure he had nothing to lose except his fear. Looking at the faces of his
visitors, who seemed to him like the head part of the killing spear, he smiled
and he whispered to himself the end.
The end
Written by Habtom Abraha
Translated by Tirhas Tsegay

P.S: This note is only to apologies for a typo error and to thank
you for reading this short story.