I asked for a receipt for the far-too-expensive visit to the small Ethiopian farmstead. The men just stared blankly at me. Was I getting ripped off? I sounded like my mother and realized that her way of dealing with things had shaped me. I tried to smooth things over with wit and charm, and without drawing attention to my womanhood. After all, women certainly don’t have much say in matters here. Secretly, I thought the guide was arrogant before realizing that he came from the line of clan leaders. And eventually, I sat in a young wife’s hut and listened to her singing, as beautiful as the savanna wind at 5 p.m.
Transformation begins underneath our garments of customs, habits, conditioning, culture, and biography. They are our protection and also our tools; they divide or unite us. But only beneath them can what has become be set free. With light. And as it increasingly takes hold of matter, light must eventually become love. Where I am aware of my identities, where I am simply myself, behind my outer garments, there I encounter my human raiment.
Translation Laura Liska
Image Farmstead in southern Ethiopia, 2023, Photo: Gilda Bartel
