Ethiopia - BA 2

Rebu 'a, Hadde Meskerem
(Wednesday, September 1st)



“Amare, Amare wake up.” My mother weakly says to wake me up.

My mother, Tenagne (gold), looks very sad nowadays ever since my little sister, Aamina (safe), died a couple of weeks ago after being born only three months prior. Daddy, Hakim (wise), told me that the infant mortality rate is 89.6. My dad is a very smart and important doctor that went to visit the United States. One day told me that there is one medical doctor per 100,000 people in Ethiopia.

“Anay degimay. (I am tired)” I reply as I rub my eyes to get the white crust out and notice my brother is not there. “Abey alo Kelile?”

Kelile is my aserte shewate (17) year older brother. His name means my protector and it fits him perfectly, since he is always looking out for me.

“Eating kursee.” My mother replies.

I walk out the room and join my family eating kursee. We live in Addis Ababa, the countries capital, in a nice downtown condo. There is some banee (bread), tesmi (butter), and tsaba (milk) on the table to eat before Kelile and I head off for school.

“Selam Amare.”

“Selam Kelile”

“Are you excited about your first day of secondary education?”

“Hagu siny. (I am happy)”














In Ethiopia the school system is primary and secondary education. Primary education is first grade through eighth grade, but at the end there is a mandatory national examine to determine if students can go to secondary education. If a student fails they must repeat eighth grade and take the examination all over again. After 2001, during secondary education students must take another examine after tenth grade to determine if they can continue their studies to twelfth grade. When a student passes they decide to focus in the Science or Arts stream, but if someone fails they have to either join the work force or go to a private college. At the end of twelfth grade they would take yet another national exam which determines if they could move onto university. With a pass, they get to choose two majors and two campuses and the government then assigns them a major and campus.

My mother always tell me to be grateful that I attend school since only 36% of children attend school, 18% reach grade 5, and 35% of the population can read. I know I am blessed and I am grateful but I want to help my country like my dad.
Kelile and I change into our school uniforms then walk to the autobus tetew tiblelu (bus stop) to head to secondary education at Dagmawi Menelik II Secondary School. Kelile buys a Addis tribune from a little boy off the streets for hadde birr (one dollar) and starts to tell me interesting stats in the articles.
Kelile ask “Do you know the school life expectancy is only 4.3 years?”, but hee’s really just telling me. “There are only 0.03 physicians per 1,000 citizens.” “16% of children are underweight.” “6% of births are attended by a skilled health professional.” “1 in 4 women die during pregnancy or childbirth.”
These stats run through my mind as we reach our stop and walk our separate ways to class. A typical morning school day started with class from 8 am (after the assembly with the raising of the flag) until 12 noon, lunch was from 12 until 2 pm, and then class again from 2 until 4 pm.
After school a lot of kids played futbol, hide and seek, and tag gefore heading home to do their chores.
Kelile and I only have to keep the house clean but most kids have to do more work. Boys have to help their fathers care for their cattle and land. Girls have to help their mothers do house work and fetch water.





My family usually eats dinner around 7:00 pm and talk about each other’s day. After that, we start to shut down for sleep and another day.
Looking back at my childhood I thank God I was blessed but can’t help to think about others who were not. I am esran shemonte (twenty-eight) now and am a doctor just like my father. I live in America now but am now sitting in Midway Airport going back to Addis Ababa for a visit. I don’t know if I will stay or not but I believe I should since many doctors from Africa leave their homelands and never return. I do not want to leave my country out in the rain but what can one man do. My plane is boarding now and I know once I close my laptop my life will change.