An Ethiopian Spring by Eskinder Nega Lyrics
I stand behind the policeman and look over his shoulder. The commissioner takes the papers. They are all written in English. The commissioner just scans the papers and hands them to the deputy. They will no doubt increase the “evidence” against me.
“You can go,” says the commissioner again. It’s an order.
It looks like all my writings have been expropriated. The policeman closes the door carefully and gives me back my other items. Before we leave the room, the commissioner suddenly opens the office door and catches us:
“Eskinder.”
“Yes?”
“What is your phone number?”
The deputy is ready to write my number. I tell him. He writes it.
The commissioner returns to his office.
The policeman is in front of me, and I follow him downstairs.
“Where are you going?” the policeman asks me after he receives the gun he’d checked.
“To Piassa,” I reply. “Are you going there too?”
“No,” he says. “You will go half way with us.”
When we get inside the car, I sit next to the driver and the policeman with the radio sits next to me.
"Wasn’t it peaceful?’’ he says as we prepare to depart from the Federal Police Commission building.
“You are my lucky charm!” I tell him, smiling.
“How’s that?” he asks. He appears to be astounded.
“I thought you would take me to jail, but here we go; you are taking me to where I belong.”
The policeman with radio laughs hard. Anybody can tell he is laughing from the bottom of his bottom. Even the solemn looking driver smiles now for the first time.
“We will drop him at the National Theatre” the policeman tells to the driver. The driver starts the car, in a peaceful way this time, and we leave the building behind us. We drive out of Mexico Square and reach the Wabi Shebele Hotel.
“Did you understand each other?” the policeman with radio asks me politely.
“The main thing is that we do not kill each other because of our differences,” I say.
He does not reply, but simply nods his head up and down. I also observe the driver; he is focused on the road – a road with so many automobiles.
“Several youngsters paid with scarification for us not to kill each other,” I continue.
He doesn’t respond immediately.
“We are all a children from one country,” he says after a few seconds of silence. “We are all human beings. Political differences can be resolved by peaceful dialogue, and we don’t have to kill each other.”
Anybody could feel that statement came from the bottom of his heart.
We are arriving at the back of the National Theatre, and they drop me off there. I find a taxi, then, and head to Piassa.
When I arrive at Piassa, I take deep breathe. The air is fresh and pleasant. And of course, the policeman words are still touching my heart.
We have hope!
“You can go,” says the commissioner again. It’s an order.
It looks like all my writings have been expropriated. The policeman closes the door carefully and gives me back my other items. Before we leave the room, the commissioner suddenly opens the office door and catches us:
“Eskinder.”
“Yes?”
“What is your phone number?”
The deputy is ready to write my number. I tell him. He writes it.
The commissioner returns to his office.
The policeman is in front of me, and I follow him downstairs.
“Where are you going?” the policeman asks me after he receives the gun he’d checked.
“To Piassa,” I reply. “Are you going there too?”
“No,” he says. “You will go half way with us.”
When we get inside the car, I sit next to the driver and the policeman with the radio sits next to me.
"Wasn’t it peaceful?’’ he says as we prepare to depart from the Federal Police Commission building.
“You are my lucky charm!” I tell him, smiling.
“How’s that?” he asks. He appears to be astounded.
“I thought you would take me to jail, but here we go; you are taking me to where I belong.”
The policeman with radio laughs hard. Anybody can tell he is laughing from the bottom of his bottom. Even the solemn looking driver smiles now for the first time.
“We will drop him at the National Theatre” the policeman tells to the driver. The driver starts the car, in a peaceful way this time, and we leave the building behind us. We drive out of Mexico Square and reach the Wabi Shebele Hotel.
“Did you understand each other?” the policeman with radio asks me politely.
“The main thing is that we do not kill each other because of our differences,” I say.
He does not reply, but simply nods his head up and down. I also observe the driver; he is focused on the road – a road with so many automobiles.
“Several youngsters paid with scarification for us not to kill each other,” I continue.
He doesn’t respond immediately.
“We are all a children from one country,” he says after a few seconds of silence. “We are all human beings. Political differences can be resolved by peaceful dialogue, and we don’t have to kill each other.”
Anybody could feel that statement came from the bottom of his heart.
We are arriving at the back of the National Theatre, and they drop me off there. I find a taxi, then, and head to Piassa.
When I arrive at Piassa, I take deep breathe. The air is fresh and pleasant. And of course, the policeman words are still touching my heart.
We have hope!