A Cartoon Serving the Truth

Mornings in Asmera were mostly cold. The cold cement floors of the harmonica shaped houses (our dwellings resemble North Korea‘s too), and the high altitude of the city chill the bones of the old and the mostly malnourished children. Fortunately, the prices for charcoal, and wood in the 50s and 60s were not prohibitively expensive for most of the civil servants and some blue collar workers. The family would crowd around the ubiquitous fornello and watch the mothers, and occasionally the girls, prepare the often frugal meals.

Imagine a school boy and his siblings around the circle of the fornello. Long before attending a chemistry class, the boy observes the oil often floating above the boiling water prepared for shiro, which was the staple sauce for the urban households in Eritrea. This same kid and his twin stayed in their familiar city not bothered by the perturbations of the ghedli events until late into their formative ages. Although resources for reading, and other purposes, were scant during the long years of besieged Asmera, the twins’ craving for it was likely not diminished. That is what probably sustained them. They were among the few educated elite who chose not to embrace the armed struggle – or shibaka, to use yikealo’s lingo.

When the “liberators” arrived in their midst, they were as conceited and arrogant as conquerors in all the annals of history. They loved to describe their long years in the hills, and the gebar as mayen tseban. Not long before their alleged short political “honey moon”, lo and behold, a famous cartoon appeared in the Tigrigna newspaper that completely demolished their claim. The imposed orthodoxy was unmasked. It said, “hizbin tegadeltin mayen zeitin koynom.” Cartoon art is poor in our region, and particularly in Eritrea. The crude quality of the drawing was compensated by the earth shaking theme embedded in it.

The cartoonist was Abraham Sahle. Like his brother, and probably for lack of choices, he had employed himself for the government. That was understandable for the unemployment rate in the country was almost total. What was profoundly astonishing was the little bombshell he threw. And more astoundingly, he got away with it. This is a country where Isaias was widely known for his intolerance and vengeful behavior. The reason is, according to some old Asmera residents, this: the twins were among the few old Asmarino survivors that had the acquaintance of the dictator.

The rumor mills then described either or both of the twins as belonging to the hakeya circuits that Isaias indulged. Their membership in the hakeya circle was a precious asset. It is presumed to have even protected them from the prying eyes of some of the senior EPLF leadership who were mad at their absence from the politics of insurgency, and were allegedly after them. The fact that the twin brothers were simply powerless and without any core of influence may be the other factor that saved them.

Nonetheless, the public in Asmera loved the historic cartoon, which popped not long after what might be defined as the first hundred days of ghedli rule. In contrast, many people in Diaspora were straining their necks to position their face for some acknowledgement from the all powerful dictator, a circumstance not unlike the characters depicted in the classic: The Emperor. Others were happy if they get a nod or a handshake from what they call lalewot akalat. Without doubt Abraham’s single political cartoon will remain to overshadow the mostly innocuous and timid pieces written ever after in Eritrea, including the hundreds penned by his brother. After having seen Abraham’s cartoon, a glimpse at Amanuel’s pieces would result in anti climax.

The miscellaneous pieces by Amanuel, and particularly those in the Eritrean Profile, were inoffensive and possibly only entertained the bored, and the foreigners in Asmera. The piece he wrote about Massawa is a good example. He lamented about the port city as too hot and inhospitable and meant only for the night, but chose to keep silent about the absolute political darkness reigning in the country. His writings, although not openly slavish to the regime, did also include praises to the fighters and occasionally the quintessential Eritrean mother for its “sacrifice” and “tenacity.”

It seems he was threading a thin line, and could not have kept his job without writing some romanticizing articles. It is still inexplicable why he had almost detached himself from the glaring reality. Would not his pen served a better purpose by boycotting the regime’s rags. With a brother such as Abraham, and the senet hizun that lasted almost two decades in the country, the hypnotism explanation is weak and pathetic. Did he by any chance write any critique during the brief respite of the private press after the debacle of the war with the neighbor in the south?

What clicks in the mind of a well learned person such as Amanuel Sahle, and particularly somebody who studied French literature, once Durue and his fellow teacher, film maker and free lance journalist Seyoum Tsehaye disappeared from his beloved old city (as he reminds us in his first posting in awate.com)? Victor Hugo’s The Miserable Ones? If by any chance it did, the comparison with the fate of convicts in 19^th century France, such as the hero Jean Valjean is very unfair. Mind you the hero and others at the time were brought before the court of law, their families had the right to visit, and Parisians were often familiar observing convicts either in carts or on feet with their heavy chains rattling. When the hero in this particular novel made a successful escape, the fanatic for the law gendarme, Javert, assigned to him arrested him finally. Like the hero, the gendarme’s fate was also tragic. In deep remorse for his action, he jumped from one of the bridges and killed himself.

Dissidents and other innocents in Eritrea are however picked up under the cover of darkness, and there would not be any trace of them. No chain rattling is heard, or families whispering quietly delivering food parcels in clearly labeled prisons. Such scenes are non existent in what the zealots call feisty Eritrea.

If by any luck he had not shed tears reading The Miserable Ones years ago, this is the time to do it. And this is the moment to expose the everyday cruelties of the dictator on the ordinary citizens of the land. Enough talking about the last days of the few prominent lalewot akalat. We are eager to see, Eri-post, Amanuel’s column at Awate.com shoulder this noble endeavor. The long and cold wintry days of Sweden, its welfare society and reminisces in old age may together help materialize it. If our wish is fulfilled, the performance gap between the writer twin and the cartoonist will be bridged. We eagerly wait for him to recount about the ordinary Eritrean les miserables. Back to the other twin now.

The “oil “Abraham used as a metaphor in his cartoon was likely the harmless cooking oil that most urban households use in lieu of the rare and expensive butter. What the country instead suffered during all the last accursed 18 years was from the asphyxiating, stultifying, and impermeable swamp resembling the present ecological disaster from the massive fuel oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. Who amongst us has not seen the oil soaked Pelican in the Gulf Mexico. Its beak wide open, it seems to be fighting for its life. This famous picture of the Pelican that sent shivers throughout the United States and the rest of the world may also be compared to the helplessness, and the naked political repression in Eritrea. There is a difference, however.

The massive Gulf Oil spill was mostly the fault or irresponsibility of mainly the global British Petroleum. Although the problems that caused it are complex and has confounded everybody, there is a sense of alarm and urgency among the populace in America. Despite the calamity and the distress it is causing, the ecological disaster may be lessened thanks to the proactive citizenry, its multitudinous institutions and the elected government.

In the case of Eritrea, the “oil spill” is both the government and to a lesser extent the hypnotized public. Thus, the imprint from the unattended “oil spill” for the last 18 years will without doubt remain the most lethal one. The irony is that for the last 20 years the credulous public was duped by the regime as a custodian of the environment. Forced or indoctrinated thousands of people in Eritrea, and particularly the youth, participated in mostly poorly planned and conceived projects. According to one observer, we have therefore the most terraced land in the world. Yet, drought and famine have made a permanent presence there.

Just like the oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, which was built almost a mile in the dark depths of the ocean, that collapsed, and tumbled into the deep waters, our nationalism project was also instigated, planned, launched and built on shaky pillars by groups in secret and shadowy corners. Peaceful political deliberation and discourse were resoundingly absent within the public realm from the get go. The political fallout and complex humanitarian emergency that has become part of the landscape now is undoubtedly a direct result of it. The greatest paradox is that a few years before independence a senior cadre of the EPLF was conducting a “seminar” solemnly warning about an incident of nuclear or other waste polluting the long Red Sea Coast line. Nothing of that sort of calamity has occurred yet.

We have instead none other than the ghedli itself as the supreme pollutant and the ultimate calamity to ever threaten the people of the land. They are the metsote alem as the gebar would put it. In order to redeem the people, the task is none other than cleaning the noxious waste itself. Only then can we likewise serve the truth, and be vindicated.