I was born in the Highlands of Ethiopia where I spent most of my childhood life. The suburbs of Addis Ababa city was my first home. My parents; Mr. and Mrs. Kahia , my elder brother called Sammy, my younger brother called Jimmy and I made up our family. These are the people who made my early childhood life. At the age of three, I was very much attached to my mother. I remember how sad it felt when she left me for the market every early morning. I could cry uncontrollably with emotions attached. She could then promise me something sweet and as soon as the thought of leaking candy comes to my mind, the tears definitely dry up.
I grew up as a boy who wanted to know everything in life. I always wanted to know how things in my environment functioned and the reason behind the happening. At some moment, I could even go behind a TV screen just to confirm whether somebody was actually behind there. I used to ask so many questions but there was one answer that was common to almost all questions. “It is normal” I disliked the answer with a lot of passion. My parents were Christians. We used to go to church on Sunday apart from my father who went to church on a daily basis. He was a doctor by profession but with the preaching and the bible teachings he used to give us made me think he was better off being a pastor. Sunday was always a special day. Everything about Sunday was unique. We used to wear special Sunday best as per the tradition of Ethiopians. A white robe, white scuffs with neatly tailored bid. I liked the sense of fashion and style in it. We used to take special Ethiopian dishes with all the family members at a famous hotel called Koket. Basically that was how I spent my Sunday. In one word I could say marvelous.
When I was in grade five, my parents decided to move to a different country. Kenya was a country I liked to visit. While I was schooling in Ethiopia, I developed interest for subject such as social studies and languages. The feeling of meeting new people and learning new languages intrigued me at first though leaving my friends, the teacher I loved and our neighbor’s children was quite sad. Kenya was totally different from Ethiopia. The culture: food, dressing, language and social life was all new. The people themselves were different in their complexion. Most of the Ethiopians were light skinned while in Kenya most of the people are dark skinned. I faced difficult moment trying to adapt to the new environment. The only language I could communicate through was English. Actually all the members of our family had a problem except for my mother. She is of Kenyan origin but got married to an Ethiopian man (my father). She could speak fluently in Kiswahili (National language for Kenyans).
I joined a new school in Kenya. Learning Kiswahili proved difficult. My mother had the task of teaching us the new language every evening at our home. My father, my elder brother and I were all taught the same thing at the same time. For once, I felt that I was at the same level of study as my father. As for our teacher, my mother, we even started calling her Mrs. Kahia just to make fun out of it. It took a while before we caught up with the rest of the Nation. But however slow, we finally made it. Kenyans are peaceful and very friendly people. Some of my fellow pupils even volunteered to teach me some of Kiswahili phrases at school. This made me be at better position than my father back at home when the lessons began.
There is one particular moment which is very vivid in my mind. I was playing in the field during break time at school. I saw a black Mercedes E200 parked in front of the head teacher’s office. I was dead sure that it belonged to my father but it was very unusual for him to come to school at that hour of the day. Before the teacher called me, I hurriedly headed to where the car was. The looks on my father face was more of gloomy. I knew something was amiss but what could it be? It was a shocking moment. I had lost my mother to a road accident. I was twelve years old when she passed away. It was a very saddening moment. Sad that death swept her away so fast. With the kind of connections and closeness I had with her, I felt a gap in my life which could not be filled by any other person. She was a very special being. She literally made my life. Despite this, life had to move on. Each day came and passed providing opportunities I had to explore for a better future.
I liked Kenya’s system of education. It was more of impacting useful knowledge applicable in real life situation. I liked art. Actually I loved acting, writing, drawing and painting. I had to make a decision of studying art in detail. In a sense, art has proved to be a catalyst in this process of change which completely transformed me. Art opened up my life to the outside world. My walks and talks spoke volumes about my interest in art. With the tool of creativity and anxiety of exploration, I managed to come up with new Ideas that my audience welcomed warmly.
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Cohen, J. J. (1996). Monster theory: Reading culture. Minneapolis [u.a.: Univ. of Minnesota Press
Finnegan, N. (2007). Ambivalence, modernity, power: Women and writing in Mexico since 1980. Bern: Peter Lang
Adams, T. D. (2000). Light writing & life writing: Photography in autobiography. Chapel Hill [u.a.: Univ. of Nor Cline, S., &
Angier, C. (2010). The Arvon book of life writing: Writing biography, autobiography and memoir. London: Methuen Drama. th Carolina Press.
