The drive to Shashemene was very good. The road there is very smooth and it is about 240 km from Addis Ababa. We left on Tuesday morning at around and arrived in Shashemene early afternoon. We got a little confused on the way because there were signs saying Shashemene hospital and other such signs before we actually got to the place we were looking for. My host told me of a shop that sells oils and incense that she wanted to stop at. Well when we arrived it was lunch time and the place was closed. This shop can be recognized by a large painting on its wall of a black Lion of Judah with an Ethiopian flag as the backdrop. It is located beside the Ethiopian world federation office. Apparently this federation has been given international NGO status and is using a land grant. All of the rastatfarians in Shashemene do not live together. Actually there are several groups, including the 12 Tribes, The House of Nyabinghi and those that are associated with the EWF. There is one more whose name escapes me now. this was news to me as i thought all Ras was Ras and that was it.

We pulled over in front of another shop that happened to be opened. A young man stopped by the window and said “wha yuh a seh?” I understood what he was saying of course but my host just stared back at him with a blank look on her face. “evryting irie?” I then said “yes we are doing fine.” she asked about the museum beside the EWF and was told that it was closed. We then made our way into the shop. The storekeeper, a woman about 5’7” with a luminous black complexion was giving some screws to a young man along with some instructions about something that needed fixing. She wore a traditional west African outfit. We then introduced ourselves. Upon hearing that I was from Jamaica she asked me which part. I said St. Ann. “Really? I have a lickle shop in Ocho Ryos.” Really? Wow, I lived not too far from there. I asked her how long she had been in Ethiopia. She leaned forward on the glass counter, her chest resting in the cradle her folded arms had made. She told me. I asked her how it has been. She said rough. my host then asked what exactly she meant. She then went on to tell us that what she thought life would be like here and what it actually is, is 2 different things. “We are taught back home in the teachings you know that we are one blood. Hmph one blood? One blood? It’s a different thing ma dear. A different thing. You see, to Ethiopians we are still farenjis, they expec’ dat yuh come wid a lot of money. And some of di bredrin come ova here an’ ah pop sport and a live big life, drinkin’ areke (a local alcoholic drink), and mixing up with the young girls and givin rasta man bad name. When di money finish dem doan have nutten. They caan fine no work.” She spoke of rastas being harassed by the police, apparently they are allowed to smoke ‘herb’ in their back yards, but she spoke of police coming into the people’s yards and charging upwards of 2000 birr for possession of a spliff.

Once we got her going, she let it all out as if she had been waiting, dying for someone to ask so she could speak her piece. “Mi ah no paupa, I come here to help, I leave 2 homes in Jamaica and I have a little business at the entrance of Dunn’s River Falls ( a famous tourist spot in JA), if you si a shop name Marlene No pressure shop, ah me dat.” She said she is basically using the money from that store to live on in ethiopia along with whatever little she makes from the shop we were in. she then spoke of disunity among the rasta in the community itself.

"that set live up dere, this set live ova here, everybody want they own land and they own church. everybody wants to do they own thing and nobody wants to work together. "

"You see dat school across the way? Ras so and so built it for rasta children and Ethiopian children now they force the children to cut off them locks, any child wid locks cannot go in there. " She said the same for another school down the street. "Yuh si dat? and is we buil' it." . then she told us of a Ras bredrin who was employing a young man. He paid the young man and the man wasn't doing the work. He fired him and the young man came back and shot him – dead. she said the local authorities weren't doing anything about it. "the more you give the more they want," she complained, pausing to wipe the tears from her eyes. In addition to this she says, there are rumors of the government wanting to take back land. she said this land was gift from HIM and they are trying to take it back.

“So you si everywhere rastaman go we sufferin’. But anyway we believe in his majesty selassie and that will bring us through.” I purchased some very potent oil and left my friend, squeezing her hand and telling her to "hush" and take care. She said "pray for wi, yuh hear?" definitely, definitely.

We then made our way to the house of Nyabhingi. Here women are required to cover their heads and wear a skirt. In front of the brightly painted house is a structure made of concrete concentric circles. Intermittently throughout the structure are ornately decorated iron gates, painted red, greed, gold and black with several stars of david. Atop it is an Ethiopian flag and inside are many flags including the Black national flag conceptualized by the Jamaican national hero honorable Marcus Mosiah Garvey, the Ethiopian flag, with and without the lion of Judah and flags that say ‘Jah lives’ on them. We drove around their church, still under construction, past a little area where the ironworker was making more iron art for the church and pulled up in front of the house. At the door a tall, dark person stood and heard the person say “mi nuh haffi look ah who?” (I have to see who it is.) the person had locks wrapped up and a long outfit on. The person had, also a beard aht was about 2” inches long. So I referred to the person as a he to my host. My host having been there before quickly corrected me, “that’s a woman.” But she has a beard, not quite sure now if I had actually seen it or not. “yes she does.”
Oh.

The entire compound is very beautiful, there is lush green grass everywhere and flowers growing around the church. The sky was a clear blue that day and the sun radiated gently over the property. We went up the steps to the verandah, on the other side of the steps was a wheelchair ramp. We greeted the lady, the only lady in the house of mainly men. Inside was dimly lit, to the left was a little room, in front of the room on a board was painted the rules of the ‘theocratical churchical house of the nyabhingi.’, which included the 2 I previously mentioned. In corner facing it was a small cd player and a large drum with a chair. On it sat papa _____. I am not good with names, in case you haven’t figured out by now. He wore a bright mustard pair of pants with a matching sweatshirt. Behind papa on a portable blackboard was written the Amharic alphabet. To his left (my right) against the wall was a table. The tablecloth hung all the way to the ground and on it was written the house of nyabhingi. Above the table were pictures of Haile Selassie and his wife and Marcus Garvey. The table was full of books, “important utterances of H.I.M. Haile Selassie,” volumes 1 and 2, there was a bible in Amharic and in English. Other books included, 12 great black leaders. Some were published in London, some in new york and all looked like they had seen better days. To the right of the table was another room, the kkitchen. My host asked the lady if she had any of the nice food she had had on her previous visit, to which the lady replied “I can really call it food still, but I have 2 lickle frittas here.” Well by this time the author was well hungry, I’m telling you those were the sweetest tasting fritters I ever had. After our snack we promised to return in the morning for what the lady called ‘real nice food.’ She said she would be expecting us in the morning. We climbed back into the vehicle and made our way to Wondo Ganet.