This past Friday was Ethiopian New Year. I awoke in the gray shadows of the morning to rambunctious chanting outside our window. The children of our hospital staff were carrying out the yearly tradition of yelling for lemons. The steps of the ceremony are basically as follows: 1. Kids gather outside your front door and chant, “In Qutattash!” (It’s New Years!) in exuberant expectation. 2. You sleepily drag yourself from under the covers, and go open the door. 3. If you have any lemons, you give them each two. If you don’t have any lemons, you have to give them a birr. 4. They go away. Thankfully, we had just enough lemons to pacify our visitors.
At breakfast, we wished each other a “Happy 2002!” Ethiopians follow the Julian calendar, which is 7 ½ years behind our Western Gregorian calendar. A local story explains the disconnect. Apparently, the world leaders gathered and decided upon creating a new calendar. The Ethiopians thought it was a wonderful idea, and sent an emissary to collect the new design. Unfortunately, what with the difficult road and the distractions along the way, it took him 7 ½ years to arrive back with the calendar. Yet, in typical enthusiasm, the Ethiopians decided to begin following the calendar right away.
No one works on New Years. We spent a delightful day lazing around the house, trying to be as unproductive as possible. The medical staff had a relaxing day as well… at least until later when the post-holiday trauma began to filter in to the ER - mostly those who had over-eaten or been injured in drunken brawls. We ordered tea and cakes for all of the hospital staff who had to work, and good cheer was preserved.
The next day was Sabbath – the first time I have ever enjoyed two consecutive “days off” at the hospital. I joined in the mass choir which performed for the celebration at church. We belted out multiple local songs, all in Oroomiffa and all in unison. The rafters were strung with twirled toilet paper (to resemble streamers), a few strands of plastic flower chains bedecked the sanctuary, and the pulpit emitted an electrifying strobe of red Christmas lights, which kept the congregation mesmerized throughout the service. Smiles radiated from every face. A New Year meant new chances to do good.
On Sunday we were back to work at the hospital. Still, it seemed like a new exuberance pervaded the building. We were so inspired that we couldn’t help but make New Years’ resolutions together over lunch. I intend to have better posture. Renee plans to wake up earlier. Paul resolves to exercise more often. We’ll do our best to keep these promises… but then again, if we slack off, the rest of the world’s New Years is only 3 ½ months away…