Eritrea-My Search for a Beloved Family

My trips to Eritrea are always too short, not enough time to visit with all the members of the family, not enough time to shop at shuq, to find that clay pot to finish the set I got on the last trip, and always not enough days to see all the development projects in all the 6 regions. As much as I travel in Eritrea, there is always something-some right in Asmara that I don´t get a chance to see. Some trips seem more memorable than the others and they all affect me differently. There is one that will remain etched in my memory forever. I can relive that day in my mind; over and over again, and not really understand the load of it…I still don´t. Allow me to take you on one of my journey´s home and share a very special trip I made to a place high above the mountains surrounding Elabered. I was searching to fill a void, hers and mine…

My uncles kept their promise and picked me up at 8:30am for the short (hour and a half) drive from Asmara to Elabered, a beautiful city surrounded by menacing stone mountains and home to the famous Elabered Estates. I had gone through Elabered so many times on my way to Keren and never thought I would ever know anyone living there. I woke up my uncle´s wife and talked her in to going with me. She is not a morning person and she slept throughout the ride, I was happy to just have her there…she had to meet her too. We made occasional stops to take in the scenery and snap some pictures; I was too distracted, too anxious and too restless to pay attention.

We arrived in Elabered at about 10:00am and headed for the local administration offices- for help…you see, while I had brought the name of the person I was searching for, and information about the city and region, I did not have the name of the village…oops! We were going to need a lot of help locating her village and the Zonal Administration seemed to be the best place to start. From chatting with the folks there, we found out that there were about 11 villages that made up the Elabered sub zone. The villagers were amazing. They went out of their ways to find individuals from each surrounding village to try and help me with my search. I watched as my uncles talked to every person that came by with information…I saw them shake their heads and walk away with baffled looks.

"kab weSaie indya meSia, intay tifelit". They were blaming the mishap on the fact that I lived outside of Eritrea. How generous. It was entirely my fault, I should have known better, but in my haste, instead of taking all the information of the original paper, I just jotted down Elabered…As luck would have it, all 11 Administrators from all the surrounding villages were meeting in Eden that day, so we decided to go there and ask for help. They informed us that the meeting would conclude at 3:00pm and that we should return then to make our inquiry. While I was still nervous, I was a little bit more hopeful. We had a few hours to kill so we tried to make the best of it. We ventured into the markets in Eden and talked to the villagers and shopkeepers, hoping to find someone that might know her.

Each person we asked told another, and another and another…and in the few hours that we spent in Elabered, it seemed everyone knew what we were there for. Young and old, men and women stopped in their tracks and felt compelled to help. It was as important for them as it was for me. They assured me as they boarded the buses that they would continue the search. One thing struck me as I talked to the various people as we sat and talked with the people in Eden, they seemed to know all the Martyr´s families in their village…they seemed to know if the loss was a spouse, a child or two or more. They wanted to help me find mine, but without the name of the village, there was not much that they could do for me. We stood outside storefronts and made idle conversations, the bonds were instant; we share so much-we share a Martyr.

We turned back and headed for Balwa, a small town just up the street from Eden, to eat breakfast and wait. It was going to be a long day and I was determined to find her. My uncles chose their favorite roadside eatery and we sat down to eat but the search continued. We told the owner about our search and soon her neighbor came and our story was told to every customer that came. While we were there, an 80-year-old man came by, to rest his feet and get some tea. We invited him to join us and he did. After a few minutes of introductions, we began to talk about the country, his village and then about my search.

He closed his eyes and seemed to be in deep thought. He asked me for the name of the village and I told him I didn´t know. At first he thought it was a family member that I was searching for and then he realized that it was much more. It was getting late, he still had a two hour trip to the other side of the mountain, but he felt compelled to stay-it was as if we had known each other all our lives, and now my search became his too. He stayed as long as he could, before he left we took pictures and exchanged addresses and phone numbers. He walked away, turning back to wave as he made his way towards a dirt trail. Seeing him walk, we were amazed; his stride was smooth and his head never bowed, his feet seem to know the next step. I wondered if our paths would ever cross again, I hope they do, I need to tell him about my search.

We decided to drink coffee and the women kept us company. They stopped every passer- by to ask for help with our search and everyone seemed eager to help me find my family. With every sip of coffee, my heart beat faster; I didn´t know if it was the caffeine or my nerves. It was probably both. We found reason to talk to every man and woman that came by. After a brief chat, they would hug me and tell me Ajoki-don´t worry, meaning you´ll find her. I could not go back to Asmara without finding her…I just couldn´t. Time dragged on, and finally, it was after 2:00pm. It was time to head back to Eden and catch the Administrators before they left fro their respective villages. They were all told about my search during their meeting and my uncles were pretty sure that one of them would have information about her.

We arrived at the Eden Administrative offices just as the meeting was concluding and as they poured out of the hall, an elderly gentleman came towards us. He was the Administrator of Hadish Adi and had heard about our search. He had the information we were looking for. We piled into the car taking others that were also heading up the mountain with us. As we made our way up, they told us about the various development efforts taking place in their villages. The conversations included the new electric power lines that were being mounted. For the most part, the talk centered on my new family and they seemed as excited as I was about our impending meet. We dropped off some of the passengers and continued to the top of the mountain. The Administrator pointed upwards, to show me where we were heading to, I just wanted to get there as quickly as possible.

Hadish Adi sat co close to the heavens; the sun shone brightly and reflected on the aluminum rooftops. We drove up the winding road, passing the school and the health clinic. Children ran to the side of the road and women peeked out their doors at the sound of the car engine, it seemed to be disturbing the serenity of their mountainous abode. After about 45 minutes, we reached the top. It was truly magnificent. The view from above was spectacular. We parked in front of the Catholic Church, which sat on an open plateau overlooking the village. The Administrator got out first and asked me to follow him as he led me downhill towards a row of houses, greeting each inhabitant by name. My uncles went ahead of me and they were talking quietly, I couldn´t hear what they were saying. My uncle´s wife and I held hands and followed the men; she seemed as excited as I was.

We came to a set of houses facing each other. There was a traditional hut, hidmo, and right in front of it was a modern block. The Administrator called into the hidmo and we heard here voice. "She´s here", he told her and what she said brought instant tears to all our eyes. She said, "you mean my daughter", and he said "yes". She had never seen me before and yet she had taken me in as one of her own. She beckoned us into the hidmo and we nestled in each other´s arms for what seemed to be an eternity. She wiped my tears and I hers. "kitmeSini teSebieki"-I waited for you to come, she whispered in my ear. We let each other go long enough for her to meet the rest of my family. My two uncles, both veteran fighters, fought back the tears as she hugged them and welcomed them too.

She was 70 years old, but she didn´t look a day over 50. She introduced us to her daughter in law and took us to the house right across from the hidmo. We sat and talked and held each other throughout my stay, which was too short. Her neighbors came to visit and extend their well wishes. We drank coffee and of course, took lots of pictures. I gave her presents from my children and some groceries from the city. Before we knew it, it was time to go back to Asmara. She asked me to stay the night, but I couldn´t, I had commitments in the city. I told her that I would try to come back before leaving for America. I couldn´t go back…until the next trip which luckily happened just 6 months later.

When I received the letter giving me the details of the Martyrs family that had been randomly chosen for me, I was alone at home and not really prepared for it. I knew it was coming and I had imagined all kinds of things but not my reaction. I can´t describe the feeling; it´s the kind that gets your heart racing a mile a minute, makes you grin from ear to ear with happiness, while all the while your stomach turns into a knot and then there is that pain… right in the middle of your heart. I opened the envelope carefully, as though I was holding a sacred object. I read it and held it close to my heart. I sat quietly in my room and cried. I was overwhelmed. There it was, in black and white-"Relationship to Martyr-mother". Ade swue.

I immediately felt the weight of it all. It was a moment of both precious joy and inevitable sorrow. How could I ever fill the void left in her heart and in her home? How do you compensate for the life of a child who died for country and people? I kept reading on and found her name, which for a moment kind of blew me away and left me in a trance. Abeba Tesfazion it said, wow! She had my maternal grandmother´s name as her first name, and my maternal grandfather´s first name was her last name. What are the chances…both my grandparents died before Eritrea´s independence…it was as if they had come back to life. It was then that I looked at her address and it said Elabered.

The war for independence cost Eritrea dearly. Eritrea´s independence was not handed to the people of Eritrea in a silver platter. Eritreans had to fight a bitter 30-year armed struggle to win their independence from Ethiopia. The sacrifices were enormous. Thousands of Eritrea´s most precious sons and daughters gave their lives so Eritrea could be born. At independence, Eritrea not only inherited a destroyed nation but also a hurt population. There were thousands who were orphaned, thousands who were left with physical injuries, and thousands lost their sons, daughters, fathers and mothers. Hundreds of thousands were internally and externally displaced. Many languished in refugee camps in neighboring countries for decades. Thousands went to the United States and many more to European countries seeking refuge and to start new lives in exile. Just about every Eritrean family sacrificed a child. Eritrea would need healing space and time.

Barely 7 years into Erirtea´s independence, the minority mercenary regime in Ethiopia led by Meles Zenawi, following in the footstep of his predecessors, launched a devastating war of aggression and invasion against Eritrea. 19000 Eritreans sacrificed their lives to defend Eritrea´s sovereignty and territorial integrity. Meles Zenawi´s marauding forces bombed and grazed farms and homes and destroyed vital infrastructures such as schools, hospitals, water wells, churches and mosques. The bigoted regime also deported 80,000 Eritreans and Ethiopians of Eritrean origin from Ethiopia because it "didn´t like the color of their eyes". But nothing the ruthless mercenary minority regime did infuriated Eritreans more than the regime´s barbaric act of hatred-the destruction of Eritrea´s Martyrs cemeteries.

Here is an 8 June 2001 report by BBC that describes Meles Zenawi´s barbaric acts:

"…The buildings in the town are shattered, some were damaged by shelling during the war…But most of the damage was inflicted during the nine-month Ethiopian occupation… As with other towns, the administration, schools and clinics were systematically destroyed. The houses have all been stripped bare…But what has shocked and angered many people was the desecration of the town's Martyrs Cemetery. The burial place of soldiers who had fought during the war of liberation, and who had fought alongside the Ethiopian rebels who now lead the Ethiopian government…Even the bones of the soldiers had been dug up and left strewn on the surface…"

Once again, the people of Eritrea set out to rebuild their war torn nation and heal their wounds. A group of mothers from Italy immediately set out to rebuild the two destroyed Martyrs cemeteries in Shambuquo and Tokombia. Similar initiatives were taken by others to rebuild the rest. I was lucky to be in Eritrea to participate in the memorial ceremonies held after the completion of the rebuilding of the cemetery in Shanmbuquo and got a see Meles Zenawi´s barbaric acts throughout the village. As they walked me through their village, they told me of the Woyane invasion and the wanton destruction and looting that took place. Nothing hurt them more than to see their beloved Martyr´s resting place ransacked and destroyed.

In 2003, Eritreans in the Diaspora launched the Adopt a Martyrs Family project. It was a way to help the bereaved Martyrs families financially, but more importantly, it was a way of bringing healing to the nation. Whilst the Government of Eritrea (GoE) was spending a great part of its meager budget to support the families of each fallen Martyr, those in the Diaspora believed more could be done to help with Eritrea´s neediest. Eritreans have a solemn responsibility bestowed upon them by Eritrea´s beloved Martyrs. One of the responsibilities is the care of the loved ones that they have left behind. A list of 10,000 families was compiled and distributed to the Eritrean Diaspora. At $30 a month for two years, it was something every Eritrean in the Diaspora could easily do. The lifelong relationships that are being built, and the many hearts that are being healed are worth every penny.

On my second trip to Hadish Adi, six months later, to see Mama Abeba, I took my aunt along. Turned out her name, Abeba Tesfazion was not the only happy coincidence, we found out that her martyred daughter name was Weini, which was also my aunt´s name, herself a veteran fighter. Since I couldn´t call in advance to let her know that I was coming, I was hoping that she would be home and not out doing her early morning chores. I got lucky, she was home, and from the aroma in the air, I could tell that it was coffee time. She ran out of the hidmo ululating, calling on her daughter-in-law and neighbors. "She´s back", she kept saying over and over again, she seemed excited and I was only too happy to see her again. She looked well and still had that marvelous energy.

She sat us down to drink coffee with her two neighbors. The gentleman was 96 years old and the woman next to him was 98 years old. Neither one of them looked their age and looked very agile. They told us stories about the village, its people and the majestic mountains around it. After a few minutes of chitchat, she excused herself and went to the other room. Now what? Why did she leave so abruptly? Mama Abeba was gone for a few minutes and I realized what she was doing when she came back dressed in a pretty purple print dress. The colors suited her. I had taken her some chiffon prints during my last visit, and she had them tailored beautifully. She was now showing off her new dress…she deserved more. I wanted to give her more…

This time we would have more time; more time to chat and really get to know each other. After coffee, there was lunch. It seemed she had gotten herself a little chicken farm and was doing well on the family farm. I sat on her bed and looked around her one room dwelling. It had two beds and a corner chest filled with pots and other utensils. The pictures on the wall were of her newly wed son. "Just married" said the banner that was still plastered on the walls There were pictures of the newly weds and the decorations remained where they were hung. She told me that he got married during his last break.

I asked her if she had any pictures of her martyred daughter Weini. She reached for a chest under her bed and pulled out an item wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it to reveal the plaque, the one each family received from the Government of Eritrea. It had a picture of the Martyr with the date and place of death. The Eritrean People´s Liberation Front (EPLF) kept meticulous records of each of its members and in addition to informing the people of Eritrea through the reading of the lists in every single village and town, each family was also given a plaque with the Martyr´s picture on it.

Mama Abeba told me that she had put it away during her son´s wedding, to protect it. I looked at Weini´s picture and imagined what she was like. Whatever she seemed, I know what she is. She was one of Eritrea´s beloved heroines, a beloved daughter and to me…another member of my family that I never got a chance to meet. She was gallant and brave, as they all were, but she had to be very kind and extremely generous… she had to be…she gave her life for Eritrea´s liberation. She must have been a loving person… for you had to love the people to give your life for them. I asked myself over and over again, how could I ever fill the void she left behind? In all that she was and for everything she never got a chance to be…

At the end of the day, it was time again to say good-bye. When I got ready to leave, Mama whispered in my ear. She wanted to go with me; she wanted to be with me. Of course I would take her with me. I was happy to take her along, now she could meet the rest of my very large family. I wanted to ask her to come with me but I didn´t want to trouble her with climbing the mountains on her way back. The bus would drop her off in Elabered and she lived way on top of the mountain. She insisted and I gave in… only too happily. We arrived in Asmara and settled in my room and for the rest of the night we talked about every subject under the son. She got pictures of my children and I promised that I would bring them to meet her. I only had two more days in Eritrea and had lots of last minute shopping and visiting to do. I was happy to have her with me until the day I left.

That morning, we took her to the bus station. It was crowded and busy. She held me close and kissed my face. My tears rolled and her eyes swelled too. We were both not very good at hiding our feelings. "Gidefie"-stop she said as she wiped her own tears. "kitmilesini indikhi´-I said off course I am coming back. She held our pictures in her hand and kissed them. "seamiley"-kiss them for me, she said, as she boarded her bus. I watched her move towards the middle of the bus and then suddenly she was back, off the bus she said she wanted to give me one last hug and kiss. I watched her as she took her seat and waved through the window. I waved back and stood there until her bus pulled away…

On June 20th Eritreans around the world will hold candle light vigils in memory of Eritrea´s fallen Martyrs and I will join the thousands in the Washington metro area to commemorate with poetry, music and more. The pain lingers on, so we shed more tears, but they are tears of pride and of dignity, both of which came at a very high price. The Eritrean Diaspora can help ease the pain and heal the wounds of our beloved nation by helping the families of Eritrea´s Martyrs. Adopt at least one Martyrs family-its not just an act of kindness, it is a mutually supportive endeavor, and one that makes life much more fulfilling…it is for me.

Eternal glory to our beloved Martyrs… may they all rest in peace.