Ethiopian in Japan?

It's been a fat min since I've written on this blog but that certainly doesn't mean the are you Ethiopian? moments have stopped - just means my laziness levels have increased exponentially.

So as you know (or should know by now) I'm in Japan.  A brown female in Japan is virtually unheard of outside the confined quarters of base.  I literally never see any brown women walking around.  It's like they never leave base.  And while that's possible, it's a literal tragedy if that's the case.  I mean, I haven't even seen any random ones walking around touristing around Tokyo.  Guess we ain't bout that Asian life.  I've seen a couple African men in Tokyo though.  I'm like a unicorn to them when they see me  - eyes wide open in disbelief and whatnot.

I digress.

So I'm walking back to my hotel room from the gym on base, right.  Sweaty, d'guisting, and barely matching with my clothes.  It's about 1pm; there are only a few people outside because most people have found their perspective place of lunch by this point.  I know for a fact I would seen an extra deep brown African around if he were indeed where he claimed to be.

So I'm walking...briskly mind you because I'm running late getting back to work.  Out of nowhere some random African guy comes up to me while I'm walking and tries to start a convo with me.  I have my headphones in which I thought was the universal sign for DON'T TALK TO ME, but that's either not the case where he's from or he felt so compelled to speak to me he paid that little detail no mind.

"Hi."

*sighs internally, removes one headphone from my ear* "Hi."

*SN* I had to respond politely because I couldn't see what he rank was.  God forbid he be an officer and I didn't speak.  Plus I'm trying to be super nice to all the Afro Americans I happen across since there are so few of us #u.n.i.t.y

"Are you Ethiopian?"

Guess we just gon jump right into it then.

*laughs* No, but I get that all the time - all the time.

"Oh.  Because I saw you from across the street and thought, 'She must be Ethiopian.'  Your nose, your eyes, your hair.  The way your face is. Yes."

"Nope."

"Where are you from?"
"Maryland, USA."

"Oh, OK.  You might be Ethiopian.  You look it."

Then he proceeds to usurp 15 precious minutes of my time telling me about his struggles with the liberty policy at another base in Japan and troubles he had getting another brown girl the help she needed for completing her OCS (officer candidate school) package.  The advice about OCS was greatly appreciated - I already knew these hoes weren't loyal, but it was nice to have it confirmed.

In any event, I the fact that this man literally sped-walked to catch up to me just to ask if I was Ethiopian because he "saw me from across the street" had me tickled  for the rest of the afternoon.  I'm so small; there's no way he could have seen my face from that far away and reached those conclusions.  IDK where he came from, but apparently my faux Ethiopian game is still strong even across the Pond.

2 Languages 1 Convo

I went to down to Pentagon City Mall this weekend just so I could see what I was missing way up in the nothingness of Laurel/confirm I wasn't actually missing anything.  The technical name for the mall is "The Fashion Centre at Pentagon City" because the mall is basically filled with clothing stores.  Basically it looks like a big fancy Tyson's Corner or Columbia Mall.  The latter is 15 min from my house.  Needless to say, I wasn't impressed.

What did impress me were the pair of Ethiopian ladies that tried to goop me and confuse my mind with their east African trickery.

So I'm walking, right, and as I pass these two obvi Ethiopian ladies, one of them stops to ask me a question.  It went something like this:

Lady:  Excuse me...
Me:  Yesss...
Lady:  lawfhweufha awlifwei aowiefja;owe
Me:  *literally pauses for like 10 sec and stares blankly* what??...
Lady:  *looks at me like I'm playing a trick on her* How do you get to Macy's?
Me:  Oh...yeah...this is my first time in here so I don't know where anything is.  Sorry...
Lady:  That's OK *walks away*

OK, America, I think know I'm not crazy, but now I'm starting to second guess myself.  I know she said "excuse me" in English...that's how I knew she was talking to me.  But her second question was def not in English...at least I think.  I literally couldn't understand a word she said...I couldn't even make out the word "Macy's", and that's an English word.  I mean, I know I  must have looked like a dang fool to her because I remember that pause being hella long.  Sometimes I'll hear things in English but they might sound funny or the person said it really fast so it doesn't compute in my mind, thus I assume it's not English.  I don't think this was the case; I think ol' girl for real switched up the languages on me mind convo.  She trapped me with English then came strong with the Amharic from behind.  Didn't even see ti coming; I'm impressed.

Now I'll have to be weary of English-speaking Ethiopians too...

Tale of the Ethiopian Whisperer

Had an adorable moment today at a grocery/drug store by the gym:

Chevy Chase, MD

So I walk into Rodman's store, right.  As soon as I walked in I realized everyone was Ethiopian, and as I later found out, the store was owned by a father-son duo of...you guessed it, Ethiopian decent.

So I walk in, right...  everybody gives me suspect eye.  I turned down an aisle looking for eggs...the entire aisle turned and looked at me like I had walked in on some kind of secret Ethiopian mafia meeting or something.

Needless to say that wasn't the right aisle.

So I finally find the eggs and go to the checkout line.  I checkout with no problem.  As I turn to leave, the cashier from the other registers whispers in the softest most adorable voice ever,

"Salaam...hi..."

Now I knew what he said before the English part, and I knew it was directed at me.  I even knew how to respond.  My immediate hesitation was prompted the English translation.  But his little whispery voice was too ador to ignore, so I eventually turned around and smiled back.

I felt bad because I didn't want goop the man into thinking I'm one of his peeps, although I may have inadvertently done that by smiling.  I honestly wanted to respond in Amharic...took everything in me to just smile and walk away.

If he keeps whispering like that I might have to actually respond.  He don't want this work.


Now that I know my brethren are running the joint I'll be shopping there quite often.  That plus the fact that they had pints of blueberries for $1.99.  That's better than Wal-Mart.  My people ball so hard.

The Boston Drunk and the Pakistani

While in Boston this past weekend, an old drunk approached me and kid sister while we were sitting/resting outside the Chinatown entrance.  I'm sure the women folk can understand where I'm going with this...you're sitting there minding your own business and some drunk fool/creeper walks up to you and starts babbling on in inaudible English.  You want to run away but you don't want to be rude so you sit there and take it.

Yeah, we've all been there.

So this dude starts going in on how beautiful I am and mumbles something along the lines of, "where are you from?" after going on and on about how he loves all kinds of women.  It was so inaudible that kid sister had to translate after many awkward moments of me starring blankly at him after he'd stopped talking while I tried to process WTF was happening.  The thought process was so deep I literally didn't hear him stop talking, although it wouldn't have made much difference if I had anyway because I couldn't understand a word he was saying.  He probably thought I was psycho or something.  Whatevs.

*SN*  Why do drunk people feel the need to speak??

Anywhos, he threw out a couple interesting suggestions, some of which I'd heard before but they still don't make sense to me:

• Pakistani
• Indian
• Dominican 

I laughed slightly, to keep from engaging too much, and told him I was just regular black.  He was visibly disappointed with my response, although I'm not sure if that's because he guessed wrong or being Brown was just too boring for him.  I didn't care either way, I just really wanted him to go away.

This is the 3rd or 4th time someone has mistaken me for Indian/Pakistani, so he wasn't totally alone in that regard.  But I don't get it; I don't think I look Pakistani or Indian at all, do you?

That's a for reals question.

One person says something, OK, they're just crazy.  But when several people say something, they might be onto something.  I've heard it's the nose ring that does it, but I've never seen a nhappy-headed Indian before, so that would pretty much seal it for me.  I don't know, man...

The ol' drunk said a bunch of other things but they were inaudible too, so pretty much our convo consisted of a bunch of "uh huhs" and "OKs" on my behalf.  He eventually went away when I motioned to kid sister that we were leaving; he said he would go so we wouldn't have to.

At least some of his chivalry was still alive.

The "Original" Harlem Shake?

So I just discovered (don't judge me if I'm late) that folks are saying the Harlem Shake originated from a form of Ethiopian dance called "Eskista".  I've known about the dance just not what it was called.  It also happens to come from my favorite genre of music.  As for the dance itself, it's a lot harder than it looks (trust me).

*SN*  I hope you watched the whole video from the Eskista link.  It's from Ethiopian Idol.  Wait til the end when the judges are talking...such a beautiful language.  I must master this tongue.  Also, I totally know that the words to the song she was dancing to...it's on my iTunes, although I have no idea what I'm saying.

I see no similarities between it and the Harlem Shake, but if I had to choose, I like the Ethiopian version better.

American Negroes sure can ruin a beautiful thing.

A Fat Ethiopian? Not in Your Lifetime...or Theirs

Did anyone ever notice how small Ethiopian people are?  I've never ever encountered an overweight Ethiopian.  Ever.  Haven't seen one in music videos or interviews (don't ask me why I watch these when I have no idea what they're saying), haven't seen one in DC, VA, MD, MA, PA, OH or any other acronym I've visited in this country.

My conclusion:  they don't exist.

Pretty much I need to get on this "Horn of Africa" diet of slim-but-healthy goodness, meaning I'm probably going to have to secretly stalk the Ethiopians at my job to find out what they eat.  I hope they don't catch on... although if they do, I could probably get a couple free meals out of them...and ya'll know how I feel about free food (and T-shirts for that matter).  I'm also gonna try to hit up all of the Ethiopian restaurants in DC and sample some food - totally doable if I start yesterday soon.  But first I'll learn to pronounce somethings so I don't look like a fool in front of my people.

The inspiration for this came from my recent encounter with my honorary Ethiopian mother yesterday.  She's cute as a button -like seriously- even though she's got to be well into her 30's.

But you know what they say:  black don't crack.  And if that's the case, Ethiopian is forever because there's no reason she should look 5 days older than me when she's gotta be at least a decade older.

She's my height, probably like 3 lbs, very slim, very classy, and delightfully stylish - pretty much like every other Ethiopian I've ever met, which got me thinking...why is that?  Why are their genetics created in such a way that they never get fat...or tall for that matter?  What kinda secret foods do these lovelies eat that keeps them slim well into adulthood when most Americans are like 21945761 lbs overweight and blaming hormones and slow metabolisms?  Do they not have hormones and metabolisms too?  They don't even have fat children.  No baby fat to be found here - no chubby cheeks or fat lil' legs.  Just slim throughout the entirety of their lives.  I must learn these secrets.  Might be too late for me, but not for my future almost-Ethiopian offspring.

White Boys and Ethiopians

That awkward moment when a white boy thinks you're Ethiopian.

I wasn't expecting that.  But then again, I don't think anyone could.

I got the, "What is your ethnicity?  Are you like African or African American?..." question, which I've never gotten from a white boy before.  Usually they just assume all brown people are brown Americans.  That, or they're just too afraid to ask.  Or they don't know the difference between brown Americans and Africans.  Whatever it is, this was new to me and didn't trip my EQAS or "Ethiopian Question Alert System".

I quickly responded without thinking, "I'm African American".  I don't usually give that response but I've never had that question posed to me, and given the options available, I'm obvi not African.

*SN* Yes there is a difference between "African" and "African American".  

He said, "Oh, so what part of Africa are you from?" and that's when it dawned on me that I should provide some clarification, "I'm just 'regular black'...what did you think I was?".  I certainly wasn't expecting "Ethiopian", but that's exactly what I got.  I proceeded to go on about how my father is frequently mistaken for West Indian, which he politely responded, "yeah, I was gonna say either Ethiopian or West Indian.  Something like that."

There are several hilarious things about these moments as they took place:

1.  Since when do white boys know about Ethiopia or the West Indies?
2.  Since when do white boys know about other brown cultures other than the American Negro?
3.  Since when do white boys know about the American Negro?
4.  "Are you like African or African American"? - this whole statement
5.  "What part of Africa are you from?" - THIS.
6.  The fact that this whole thing even happened


We continued on about how I go around breaking the hearts of real Ethiopians when they realize their Ethiopian-radar may need some fine tuning after incorrectly guessing my heritage, and I shared a few stories of past Ethiopian run-ins.  Even after we talked about it for a little while, I was still taken aback, and I told him this was the first time a white person ever mistook me for Ethiopian.  Of course I didn't mention how I didn't think they knew about other brown cultures.  I just opted to soak up the hilarity of the moment.  I must befriend this culturally knowledgeable white man.

Day made.