Countryhumans, but it's all Africa

🌙 ❝ Nostalgic ❞ || 🇪🇹🇦🇪🇱🇾

~ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ~

⮕ 🇪🇹 Ethiopia (cis female, she/her)

⮕ 🇦🇪 United Arab Emirates (cis female, she/her)

⮕ 🇱🇾 Libya (cis male, he/him)

~ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭 ~

⮕ This is sort of about the Timkat Festival (specially the festival celebrated in Ethiopia) but not really. Timkat is a festival that celebrates the baptism of Jesus. But this is more a oneshot to give Ethiopia more depth to her character but I do so by basing the story during Timkat. So I don't go into any depth at all about the festival itself but I mention a few traditions.

⮕ The Timkat Festival happens on January 19th, so I am publishing this like, a month late. I wanted to publish it early but I low-key forgot it existed ✌️

⮕ Tbh, my other oneshot actually grew on me and I really like it and now this one doesn't seem that good in comparison.

⮕ I actually have a good reason to not like this one so much. It kind of ends more abruptly and it's kinda cringe imo. I don't know how well I like Unem's personality and she'll probably be completely different when I actually establish a personality and character for her. For now, she's kinda just here

~ 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 [🇪🇹] ~

       Ethiopia let out an audible sigh of frustration as she cupped her hand above her eyes to block the sun from blinding her. She looked up, tilting her head back as much as the blistering sun would allow her to. ❝ If you fall, I'm not taking you to the hospital. ❞ She called out, her gaze never leaving Unem as she watched the younger girl climb up a nearby tree. She could just feel the stares of stand-byers om her, making her sweat and redden in the face. She should've just taken Eritrea. He would've behaved. But noOo, he wanted to go see his girlfriend this time of year.

     ❝ I'll be fine! ❞ Unem called back, looking down at them from her position while her arms remained wrapped around the bark to prevent herself from slipping. It wasn't a very tall tree; she wouldn't kill herself if she fell, but it certainly didn't seem very sturdy or meant to hold a human at all. Ethiopia could tell. Unem could not. ❝ I can't see over everybody else! ❞ Unem grunted while pulling herself up more. She wrapped around the center of the tree then proped her chin on her folded arm. 

     Ethiopia shook her head, clicking her tongue a few times as she turn away from Unem to face Libya, who had simply been sitting quietly in his wheelchair and looking around. Her eyes trailed to where he bad stopped to stare at; there being so much going on, she almost felt it impossible to truly understand what has caught the man's attention. Eventually, she paused at a dance group from Gamo, watching as they perform Eskista in their white dresses and matching turbans; the colourful horizontal stripes almost creating a wave-like effect as they moved. She almost wanted to join them.

     She recalls a time when she did join them. A time where she didn't have responsibility—where she didn't have Unem. It had been a long time since, but she could so vividly remember being a little girl and running away from her mother just to go prove how much she'd learned over the year and show off what she'd been practicing. Looking on it now, she never was that great and certainly had no place being up there with everybody else, but it didn't matter to her then. What mattered was just being out there. It was being somebody else and forgetting the expectations, even for just a moment. It was being with people who didn't mock you for slipping up or for crying because you tripped. Being up there felt more like home than home ever did.

     A piece of her is still there. Wanting to show off her moves. Wanting to ignore the chuckles and the giggles from bystanders. Wanting to take the risk of an ass beating at home just for a moment of happiness surrounded by women who you just want to call "mother". It's a piece so small that she forgets it every single year until she finds herself standing in that one spot that brings it all back. And sometimes it feels like a year never goes by. Like she'd just been dreaming, and every memory she made over the years is fake, and she's still a 7 years old girl waiting for the perfect spot to hop in who simply zoned out for a moment and just imagined the future. 

     The other pieces of her reminds her that that's not true, and she is, in fact, an old woman who lost that happiness and ability to imagine a long time ago.

     A thud brought her back to reality. In all honesty, it had felt like she was being brought back to life. Her breath quickened as she tried to take in the air she hadn't been inhaling for a few moments. Libya was now closer to her, his hand wrapped around her own and resting on the armrest of his wheelchair. She wasn't quite sure if she'd touched him first or if he'd been the one to reach out, but she didn't want to push too deep into it. After that, she isn't even sure if she has the mentality to understand, even if he did explain anything.

     She turned to where the noise came from and spotted Unem rushing over to them. She had a wide smile on her face but dirt on her knees, and the bow once snatching her waist now dangled loosely off her shoulder. To say Ethiopia was shocked would be a lie, and to say she was annoyed would be an understatement. The feeling she once had of purity and happiness slipped away within an instant. It always did.

     ❝ Oh! Unem! ❞ Ethiopia gasped, pulling her hand away from Libya's and reaching out to brush some dirt off of Unem's abaya. ❝ You're all dirty. ❞ 

     ❝ So? ❞

     ❝ What do you mean "so?" How old are you? ❞ a frustrated sigh slipped out of her as her hands were pushed down by Unem. She took a step back, watching intently as the other girl wiped some dirt off her own cheek and brushed the wood from her hands. Part of her wanted to make sure Unem had no spilters or dirty cuts. Another—much stronger—part of her wanted to smack her into next year. Ethiopia couldn't believe she would embarress herself like that—does Unem ever even think, or is that brain just for show? 

     ❝ Did she fall? ❞ Libya interrupted, adjusting his wheelchair so he could be facing the two of them. Ethiopia nodded, though she was unsure of whether he could tell or even look at her. She knew his peripheral vision sucked more than America sucked Soviet for money—I mean whaaaaat. Who said that?? Wasn't me.

     ❝ Yes. She did. ❞ She responded after a moment of hesitation. She rubbed her temple with her index finger and closed her eyes for a moment to think. When she dies, God better have a good explanation on why he sent her Unem. Or else she'll ensure there will be no God anymore and he'll be in the ninth circle. 

     Unem simply giggled, skipping past her so she could position herself behind Libya's wheelchair and wrap her hands rightly around the bars. She leaned over his shoulder, her head directly next to his before 

     ❝ Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry. ❞ She declared, moving Libya before he could even interfere. Not that he could interfere—what was he going to do? Walk away?

     Ethiopia hesitated on following them. Her heart desired to walk away and go join the other Gamo women instead. She wonders how many of those women were relatives of the women she had looked up to all those years ago at just seven years old. She wonders even more if any of those relatives spoke about her and how many families have her as their protagonist in their stories. Yet she knew she just couldn't dare leave Unem unattended with Libya for more than 5 minutes. She was an adult now. She's turning 755 years old this year. It's time she accepted that she was no longer a girl. It's funny how the things that happened the quickest keep you in a chokehold the longest, isn't it?