What’s Salad gotta do with it?

I’m fond of all my friends. I can even say I love some of them. I may not have any problem wishing them to “go your way and prosper” the minute they walked out of my life. May even quote Premier Meles Zenawi and wish them “MenGedun CherQ Yargilachu” if splitting on bad-terms. But I’m there for them when they need me. Giving the sympathatic ear, holding the hands & pointing ways out of the rock & a hard place they might have found themselves stuck in. Not the ‘YeLib” or lasting-friend material. But good while I lasted.

Being fond of my friends, and understanding them, their jams, and the reason for them, however, doesn’t mean I don’t find them weird from time to time (almost as weird as myself, at occassions). My friends scare the crap out of me as well as the next person. Which can give a nasty turn to the sister, for scaring the crap out of everybody was supposed to be her territory.

Take my friend Genet for example. She is one of those with whom I get together whenever an occasion which calls for ganging up against the multitude arises (no “Awet Ne Hafash” for us, Nossar! We order French fries and give the stuff all we got, calling them names and shaking a disappointed head over their stupidity). Genet shares most of my passions, understands the source of my anger & frustrations and respects my opinions (when I’m not being typically “me”, that is). Sociable, graceful, always obliging and infinitely patient, she’s more or less what I wish I could become at her age. This doesn’t mean her individuality alludes me. But a kindred-individual, I’ve always seen her, much smarter than many, and a lot cooler than the undersigned.

Which is why I found it weird when I heard her being chocked up regarding things that don’t seem to matter on more than one occasion.

This friend of mine is a hard-core EPRDF fan.