Imagination

The Ending

Saba's flowy shirt and long dress played tag with the wind as she stared at the cars in front of her. Gone were her American jeans and band t-shirts as she stood there pondering how to cross the road. Here she was again, a full year since her first visit to Addis Ababa, surveying the dizzying sight before her. It would have been what she described the road as in her previous trip. But not anymore. This time, she dug her toes into the curb as she rocked against the edge of it. Studying the direction of cars once more, she braced herself and stuck one foot out as she gained momentum, ready to swing herself out into the street like locals did.

"Hold on!" somebody called. Saba halted and spun to where the noise came from, certain that it had been directed her way. Standing behind her was a man grinning from ear to ear while holding a pile of books, a huge shoulder bag on his side as he struggled under the weight of them. He seemed happy, probably because she turned around in time to search for the origin of the voice. Saba thought he looked familiar somehow as she studied him. Books... all those books that he was holding...A scene flashed through her head as she dug up more scenes, trying very hard to understand who he was.

"I'm really sorry, but do I know you?" Saba asked with her eyebrows furrowed.

"You seem prepared to cross the road without help this time." The man replied brightly. At that very moment, a memory plopped itself right down in Saba's head, reminding her of the first time she faced this road situation.

"Oh, it's you!" She exclaimed. Never would she have thought that they'll meet again, yet, there he stood on the street, still holding all those books as they acknowledged each other.

"Are you still bringing books over for the guy?" She replied, faintly remembering a guy giving up halfway while crossing the road. He had too much expectations when he came back from abroad, and as she looked on at the traffic, she wondered if he succeeded in the end.

"No, he left the country. Said he had to go somewhere better, to a place where he could cross the roads like a normal person and buy books whenever he wanted." The stranger replied with a dry chuckle. It was obvious that his voice was pitiful and laced with disappointment. He further explained that the guy told him all about his stories while being abroad, something that he loved as he has never been out of the country before. Now that he was gone, he had nobody to go to, and hence started reading books, hoping that he could learn more about the world as he grew older.

Saba frowned as she picked at the hem of her shirt. Well that's unfortunate of him. She's always had the mindset that people shouldn't give up too easily when in times of trouble. There's always a solution to the problem as long as you're willing to work on it. Deep in her thoughts, she missed out on the stranger's question.

"Would you like to drink coffee? I know a shop nearby that sells great ones." He asked her while glancing at his watch.

"It's almost teatime so there'll also be pastries, which you Americans love."

As they headed away from the road and into the market, Saba couldn't help but think about how much she had missed pastries. Throughout the whole summer of being back to this country, she had been submerging herself into the Ethiopian life with her family and the locals, eating Injera and drinking Tej during meals and for snack. She wouldn't say they're bad at all, but if she were to choose, food in the US would be much preferred. But well, Addis Ababa is her home country, right? Her mouth watered and stomach growled as she thought about all the scones and croissants back at the coffee chains in America.

Nearing the café, her eyes started to wander off to the glass walls of the shop, which displayed a wide variety of pastries in front of the window. On the left side of the coffee shop, however, was a local restaurant. A poster hung from its wall, claiming that they produced the best Kitfo among all the restaurants of Addis Ababa. The staff of the restaurant stood at the entrance, calling out and welcoming customers into their place as they smiled warmly. This was not something that Saba noticed. She had been craving pastries too much to even notice, only blindly following her brain's decision into automatically directing her legs towards the coffee shop. Standing outside the shop, her hands traced the shapes of the pastries in front of her against the glass window. The look on her face priceless. It seemed as if she was a toddler visiting the candy store for the very first time.

She only managed to snap out of it when the stranger asked her a question.

"Have you had our famous Kitfo dish before?"

She stared at him dumbfounded as she shook her head. No, she hasn't. Yes, she had tried Tere Siga and gotten a stomach cramp before; but no, she has not tried Kitfo before. Plus, she didn't want to. Simply looking at the poster made her stomach churn. Why would anybody want to eat raw meat? Aren't they afraid of salmonella? She certainly didn't want to get a stomach cramp again. That pain costed her days of lying in bed. However, she had sworn that she'd try as many new food items as she could on her second trip. It was part of immersing herself into the Ethiopian culture after all. Yet, she has also missed her buttery pastries terribly. Rooted between the two shops, she felt torn and unable to decide which one to go into.

The doors of both shops swung open.

She entered the one on the right.

Sometime later, with paper bags in hand, she unlocked the door to her uncle's house and dunked everything onto the dining table. The table teeter-tottered under the bags' weight as Saba's family member gathered around the table.

"Just a little addition to our last dinner together tonight!" Saba chirped as she went back to her room to pack her things.

Outside in the living room, she heard her youngest cousin exclaim to the delicious smell of pastries. She could imagine him hopping up and down from the delight of getting an extra treat after dinner. She pressed her ears against the door as she stilled, listening to additional voices.

"Konjit, can you imagine? Saba brought a plate of Kitfo back!" Saba's uncle cried out in surprise as he emptied out the contents in the paper bags.

"This girl has grown up and matured a lot. She is starting to get used to the Ethiopians' way of living." Konjit replied. Saba could hear a smile in her voice when she said that, and with such thought in head, her heart swelled with pride.

Looking at all her freshly washed clothes on her bed, she placed them back into her suitcase and folded them neatly. Stepping back, her eyes swept over her suitcase, proud to see that it had been evenly divided into two parts. One side consisted of the American belongings she had left in the house before leaving last time; the other half contained thin, long sleeved shirts and dresses that her Ethiopian family went to buy with her on her first day back to Addis Ababa. Closing the suitcase, she sauntered out to the living room and grabbed some Injera, absolutely ready to eat some more Kitfo before she parted her family.  

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This was a reflection written after reading 'The Suitcase' by Meron Hadero