Our Side of the Story

Grateful for the wins and the losses🖤

Wait today isn’t Friday? *sobs in losing track of time and stress*

And and vent if you want something off your chest. If you want to talk about something that made you happy or completely drained you @DebbieTesfaye.

No you don’t understand this language is just so beautiful.

I forgot to send songs yesterday.

Fleeting Scenes: Between Provision & Uncertainty Inundated with her thoughts, she almost forgot to tell the taxi redat, “weraj ale.” After hopping off the minibus, she walked a few extra miles than she usually did. A loud honk snapped her back to reality, the reality of her crossing speedy traffic. “Watch where you’re walking,” the driver exclaimed at her angrily. Yet, she didn’t seem to care much. How am I going to tell my father? And, my baby... how am I going to look at his eyes? What am I going to do? Jesus! Jesus... Are you even there? Is this really one of your ways of disciplining me? Because I am not liking it one bit. And I don’t even see how this isn’t beyond my ability… You know, sometimes... sometimes— “Emayie!” he interrupted her. She hugs him tight and gets teary, but shams. “Ema, the teacher gave me a sticker today, look,” he says before stretching his hand to show her his star. She smiles at him with what feels like a knot in her intestines. At least you have a reminder of your beloved teacher now. “High five, my boy!” she cheered. “Is that Enquye (my jewel)?” a thick voice asked. “Yes, Abba. Ema is here,” shouted the little boy. She shushed him before replying, “Abba, I’ll see you in a second. Let me just get changed.” She went to the bathroom and immediately opened the tap to cancel the noise. Then she looked deeply at her reflection in the mirror. She smiled before tearing up. She sobbed before she laughed madly. She gritted her teeth and swallowed all her pain down, washed up and went to her paps. Their house has three rooms—the kitchen, the bathroom and the bedroom/living room/everything else. She walked a few steps to the bedroom, but turned around and got into the kitchen instead. She prepared the butagaz stove that seemed very worn out. She lit the match and put it close to the stove so it could catch the flames. Trial after trial, the stove still didn’t catch the fire. Angry, she threw the empty matchbox and took a closer look at the stove. Its oil compartment was dry. No drop was left. No match, no oil, no salary, no school, no medical care... What else? What else have you prepared for this wretched soul of mine? “Enquye, aren’t you coming?” “I’ll be there in a minute!” She walks into the small bedroom that’s decorated with photo frames and bible verse posters. She sat by her father’s bed and held his hand. They felt better than usual. “You seem unwell, my dear, what happened?” “Uhm,” her mouth opened, her heart swelling in pain. “Ema, since it’s Friday, can I play that game on your phone?” She smiles at him and unlocks her phone before giving it to him. Giving herself a few seconds before looking back at her father’s eyes. “I don’t know where to start, Abbaye. I am lost.” He repositions his sit and looks at her with eyes that look like the cosmos. “You can start anywhere, my daughter. I’ll listen,” he began. “My ears haven’t failed me yet.” He chuckled at the last bit making her smile. “They fired me, Abba.” A warm tear made its way down her cheeks. “They fired me, and aren’t willing to give me my salary. I have not paid Leul’s school fee. Your check-up is in a week. I just discovered that we’d ran out gas. I just don’t know.” He grinned at her and held her hand tight. “My daughter,” he pulled her into a hug. “God is with us, do not be overwhelmed.” Oh yeah, he definitely is with us. But heyyy He seems to really confuse struggle with blessings when He provides, huh... After she calmed down a bit, he continued, “And what’s their reason for dismissing such a hard-working employee?” “Not enough budget to sustain 10 janitors,” is what they told me. “Wasn’t the company on the papers for making a great profit last month?” She shrugged sighing heavily. “Ayzosh, lije,” he said. “This, too, shall pass anyway.”

I still hear the names I’ve been called. Their laughter still rings in my ears when I said “I don’t know what’s wrong with me but my insides hurt” I’m protective of my dreams. Once, sharing who I want to be tomorrow brought painful days I never want to think of. I’ve been told I’d never make it as the things I dreamt of becoming. It’s uncomfortable when I feel eyes raking over me, I’m reminded of the whispers behind my back and the disgusted orbs I used to be greeted with. Physical contact is a no. I try my very best not to offend arms eager to hold me but a mere brush of a skin against mine sends the whole of my body through a tremor and every inch of me is reminded of the touches I begged to run from. I prefer listening because my words were never acknowledged. It’s a strange feeling, being heard. Neither of these are poetic, nor are they beautiful. But I think my heart is learning to be grateful for both the rose and the thorns.

I live for genuine smiles and what they do to my heart. Smile more please :) *I know this made you smile*

It’s a good day to not make people feel small, happy Sunday💜

It’s a Kassa Tessema Saturday🖤

Amoriode (verb) a · mor · i · o · de | \ a-mȯ-rī-ōd \ the act or an instance of dying while doing an activity you love.

There’s this weird feeling I have whenever I see people walking with their earphones in, if I walk up to them and ask what song they’re listening to we’d click. And despite not knowing their names or who they are I would immediately like them. I’ve never tried it though, I plan to nonetheless.