Rekik Tesfaye was raised in Harar, Ethiopia and moved to Chicago, Illinois, and is about to have the biggest life change of her life. Boarding school in the middle of nowhere doesn't usually occur in American conversations. She enrolls in Luza King...
PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER 1. In My World by Lazarus Lynch 2. Palm Trees by GoldLink
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I never knew what a Dad was, or could be. My mom was the breadwinner, having all the strength in the world. She always was the one picking me up from school when Baba claimed that he would. She always paid for the birthday gifts, that were signed From Baba*, down to the pretty bows and polished wrapping. The flights to Miami can be long like Arabian nights when you're nine years old. I used to think that we emigrated to the United States for Baba. But I learned, when I turned 17, that wasn't the case at all. When I grew older, I realized that he didn't pay for those flights.
Mom didn't make that much either. She tried her very hardest to accommodate her family of three, including herself. Her, and my aunt, Hanan, ran an Ethiopian Cuisine restaurant, not far from Skokie*, when we emigrated to Chicago. She managed to hustle consistently. She became able to pay for a nice house, a nice array of food every night. Lord knows how she made everything different than how it would be in Harar. I give her props for that.
She didn't want Hanan and me to forget it, though. We didn't even matter at age 7 and 5. But, we remember the camps we traveled to. The sand getting in our eyes as we walked into market places all over Africa. The missing smell of kitfo* in the streets as we entered Turkey. The cars we road in with drapes over them. The lines waiting for asylum. The plane touching down to the Windy City. Harar* was no longer home.
I was named after my grandmother, word for word: Rekik Selam Tesfaye. They didn't even bother to let me have my father's surname. Baba was just a sperm cell to my family. His body space in our family was completely useless. But, Baba really stopped coming around after my sister was born. That's when he decided to emigrate to the United States first: Miami. He probably had other arrangements lined up in the palm tree city.
My sister was named after my aunt, Hanan Mariam Tesfaye. They didn't feel like carrying any more kids to continue the pattern. And, I feel that.
I always thought that I would have to carry out the family legacy (But, what legacy?). Mom was famous for her cooking in Harar and traveled back and forth to Addis Ababa* for deliveries and events. The sweet smells of her Middle Eastern baklava and strong arms for the pots filled the streetsides. However, Baba originally was absent when times were tougher in Harar.
He left in the middle of the night, leaving no note. Just an empty dent in their bed. The gate opened as history was made: another father left his family for shits and giggles. That, was the moment that my mother realized that we were in this together. Even if we were six and four. We needed to step up our game. All the Tesfaye's did. All three of us living in the blue-walled condo. And I thank God every day that we made it out alive.
Our mother was different. She had a different soul than most moms in Africa. Every mother dreams of walking their daughters down the aisle at the reception, watching the vows be said, cooking THE FOOD. The children after. Cooking the food FOR the children. She just wanted us to be okay first.
Hanan and I never heard our mother say, "Daughters, go find love to carry on our family legacy." One: because she knew we really didn't have one. She was smarter than that. Two: our Mom was more of a boss to every utter that ignorant line. She'd never let herself get angry over a man of any sorts. Mom would always say, while we were patiently waiting for our turn to get our hair braided, watching African movies, "Daughters, never stop loving yourself for someone else. Always love yourself for you."
Boy, did it take years for me to figure that out.
Words to know:
Baba: common term for "Dad" with african and Middle Eastern families Skokie: A town north of Chicago, which has a lot of cultural and ethnic food, shops, and people. Kitfo: medium rare meat with spices, usually served with injera, which is a typical Ethiopian cultural food Harar: a small Muslim tribe that is located in south-east Ethiopia (not too close to Somalia Addis Ababa: the capital of Ethiopia.
Hey guys!! So this is a new book that I've been dreaming of writing. It kind of reflects me as a person and what I've been through, so, I'm so excited to continue this!! It's not fan fiction, so I hope people will receive it well. My Little Mix days are OVER!!!! LOL!! But, my dream is to improve this book and publish it.
But nonetheless, leave a comment on what you think!!
