Prayer Ful

I’m going to get to the positive part of the blog in a minute, but I’ll start with some complaining.

First of all: Ethiopian garrulity. These people love to talk and aren’t necessarily concerned if the talk doesn’t seem to go anywhere. In itself and in day-to-day life, this can be a little annoying but endearing. Meetings take longer, and it’s difficult to tell when someone is done talking to you. But it’s a little like living among Tolkein’s Ents. It’s devastating, though, to any English major living overseas. Because what’s the point of living outside of America if you can’t write Hemingwayesque expat stories? And Ethiopian speech is incompatible with minimalist dialogue.

Look, for example at this failure of a first draft:

It was September when the rains stopped. They had filled the stream coming through Adwa and spilled into the surrounding fields, sculpting spring out of the sandy ridges that sloped down towards the water like thirsty dogs lowering their necks. John Collins had liked the rains. Their soft patter on the roof drove away his insomnia.

After another sleepless night, he decided to turn back to arake. He left the compound and headed toward the kursi bet, spotting Dawit. They greeted.

John, was your night fine?

Yes, Dawit, it was fine, thanks be to God. Was your night fine?

Yes, it was fine, thanks be to God. Are you fine?

Yes, I’m fine, thanks be to God. Are you fine?

Yes, I’m fine, thanks be to God. How are you?

Fine, thanks be to God. How are you?

Fine, thanks be to God.

Thanks be to God.

Thanks be to God.

Are you fine?

Yes, I’m fine. Are you fine?

Yes, I’m fine, thanks be to God.

Amen.

Amen.

*********************

See what I’m saying? And that’s just a greeting, and a significantly abbreviated greeting at that.

Perhaps the worst part of Ethiopia is the prayer. I suppose that sounds bad. (Shoot, I even feel a little bad for writing it.) But for some reason, churches here amplify their prayers throughout the whole town—in the middle of the night. That means that on some days at 3:00 or 5:00 in the morning, I’m woken up (Danielle seems able to sleep through it) by two different churches’ offering up prayers to compete with the hyena calls. Not only are they loud and late, but they are in Ge’ez (the Ethiopian Latin), and so most pious members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church can’t even understand them. On top of this, they often sound perfunctory. All in all, it feels like the priest is rushing through something he has to get done in the middle of the night in a language he knows you can’t understand, but thinks you really need to hear anyway. When the prayers are exceptionally loud, I wake up Danielle with my grumbled invectives and then fall asleep praying to myself that all the priests in the area get laryngitis.

Enough grumbling.

Our neighbors bought a puppy a few weeks ago. Meron is both fascinated with and terrified of her. Her name is Bobby (pronounced b-oh-bee), so I'm torn between calling her Bobby Lindley and Bobby Knight. She's super cute, but they keep her tied up most of the time, and it makes us feel awful whenever we pass her and she whines. Here's a photo of her with the boys in happier times.

Perhaps my favorite thing about Ethiopia is ful: the fava-bean-based breakfast food that is just the sort of pick-me-up you need after a night of enduring Adwa’s cacophonous piety. Ful has one of the best Wikipedia articles there is, so you can read all about its history there. You make it by cooking fava beans for hours. Then you add oil, cumin, some chili, a little bit of sunshine, and some other things to end up with a delicious, hearty breakfast. You top it with fresh tomatoes, onion, and jalapeño (or whatever else you choose) and eat it by scooping it up with fresh bread rolls. Traditionally, Muslims eat ful during Ramadan since they need a filling breakfast during the fast. Here, it’s a great meal for Orthodox fasts since it’s vegan. You can get a non-vegan version of it, though, by ordering “Special Ful” to which they add yogurt and scrambled egg.

Every foreigner I’ve met in Ethiopia loves ful. Foreigners also tend to love Ethiopia’s peanut butter tea, which (I’m pretty sure) is half strongly sugared black tea and half runny, organic peanut butter that has been heated up and possibly thinned. I keep telling Danielle that when we move back to America I’m going to open up a ful and peanut butter tea shop. Needless to say, I’ve been scouring the internet for ful recipes to use at our future cafe. It’s difficult to find exactly what I’m looking for, though, because ful is primarily an Egyptian dish. This recipe is pretty good (I like how in the video they say the lady also teaches belly dancing; thank goodness there was no demonstration), but it’s just not the same as the ful we eat here in Adwa.

Get some fava beans, and give it a whirl.