We built a huge bonfire in the middle of the village. We gathered thick sticks and dipped them into the fire, pulling them out only after they had blazed into torches. Then we raced together from adobe to adobe. Muslims and Christians, Eritreans and Ethiopians, bullies and prey — on this night, all of us forgot our differences and united. We ran from adobe to adobe, waving our torches fearlessly, chanting out our ancestors’ cry: Hoyo Hoyo, Hoyo Hoyo Hoyo, Hoyo Akho akhokay, Berhan geday Berhan neibel, Hoyo, Himaq wisa, Hoyo, Quincha wisa, Hoyo, Tekwon ito, Hoyo. Oh, new year, let it be a good one, all the evil leave us, let peace join us, let harvest come. Our parents waited for us at their adobes and chimed in enthusiastically when we approached, “Hoyo Hoyo, Hoyo! Hoyo Hoyo, Hoyo!” They told us that in the old days, in the old country, before the rise of Mengistu and the Dergue and desolation, adults had passed out presents to the children during Hoyo Hoyo — money, candy, food, and even homebrewed liquor for the older kids.
What do You think about Of Beetles And Angels (2008)?
