“Woah” I exclaimed as the sleeping cow lifted his head less than two feet in front of me. The absolute darkness of the night couldn’t be exaggerated as I led Andrea’s parents up the path to Wohis’ village. I flicked on my tiny “bargain-bin” flashlight only to see the shadows of a dozen or so cows who had bedded down for the night just outside the village. Of course, I had seen stakes in the ground here during daylight visits but with this being my first visit to a Gmz village after sundown, I knew that these bovine roadblocks would not be the only surprise that awaited us.
We had heard about the Gmz nightlife, but with Micah too tiny to be taking malaria prophylaxis we were very careful to stay at home during mosquito prime time. Now, with Andrea’s parents visiting, we knew that their experience of Gmz culture would not be complete without spending an evening around a Gmz fire. But, as we cleaned up from dinner, I began searching my mind for excuses not to go. Afraid? Not really, outside of the natural fear of a new and potentially awkward situation. I knew this would be an important part of John and Sue’s visit and besides, I had already told Wohis that we were coming.
So now, as we approached the village, the butterflies in my stomach evidently awoke with the realization that I was walking into my first real exam in the Gmz language. Everybody knew that Wohis had been meeting with me for the last 7 weeks and now here I was to show what a great teacher he was, or so I hoped!
After navigating the narrow path through the village, we entered what I knew to be the clearing just in front of Wohis’ house. It was hard to make out the house now, apart from the doorway blazing a brilliant orange against the darkness of the night. Obviously, the fires had been started. “Wohis daawat?” (Is Wohis here?) I asked as two little children ran out of the house to greet us. “Daawat.” (He is) they responded and invited us through the low doorway. The last time I had entered Wohis’ house, my eyes had to adjust to the darkness within; but this time, my eyes were startled by the brilliance of the two fires that effectively held the darkness outside from creeping past this home’s threshold.
After greeting everybody and finding small stools to sit on, the spontaneous exam began. I Introduced John and Sue and then fielded the simple questions asked by Wohis’ brother and mother. Before long, Wohis reached into the fire (literally) and pulled out some of the ears of corn that had been resting on the coals. Peeling back the charred leaves and breaking it in half, he handed the blazing ears of corn to each of us guests. Unable to hold my corn right away, I used my shoe as a cooling rack…hoping that the cows hadn’t left any mammoth landmines along the path on the way in. John, likewise unable to hold his corn, was playing charades with Wohis’ brother to communicate the white people’s hands didn’t come with built in pot holders. Next, a bowl of roasted and mashed pumpkin was placed before us as the family was obviously sharing their evening meal with us (right now is corn and pumpkin harvest season). Over the next ten minutes, we each began working on our corn while repeatedly being encouraged to remember the pumpkin which sat in the darkness at our feet. Suddenly, without any real transition, Wohis suggested that we head over to another house to drink keya.
Having passed the first part of the exam in Wohis’ house, I faced part two with confidence, even making jokes in Gmz as we entered the small hut – “look out, the foreigner is coming!” Throughout the night, I was in a very upbeat and talkative mood, which soon got the whole keya house laughing. Now, it’s not like I’m spitting out whole sentences in Gmz. In fact, getting a whole phrase like “the mother and father of the wife of me” off my tongue was enough to get a rise out of my keya companions.
What is keya? As a matter of fact, that’s the same question that these Gmz guys asked me “what is the English word for keya?” And much to their surprise, I told them that there was not one. Without being at all familiar with the world of fine (and not so fine) drinks, I could only compare it to what I know of beer. After all, it is a drink made out of grain (usually sorgum, millet or corn) and is slightly fermented. However, the taste of keya is not like the smell of beer (I can’t speak for beer’s taste because the smell was unappetizing enough for me.). So I don’t really know how to describe its taste qualities other than as a slightly fermented drink made from whatever grain is available at the time. One co-worker compared it to drinking dirty dishwater, which is probably accurate when one considers the dirt and bugs that find their way in the large fermenting pot. Regardless of whether my foreigner tongue appreciates the keya, for the Gmz people, it is an essential part of their lives. First, it is the main staple of their nutritional diet. Some Gmz people will go for days, weeks or even months without eating, only drinking keya several times a day, not that this is at all a healthy option. Keya is also an important element in Gmz culture as each night, Gmz men (mostly) gather around fires passing the keya around in the hallow half of a large gourd (which holds probably 2 gallons at a time). We, as guests, were not offered the large gourd to drink from, which was ok with us. Instead we were given a small cup which we shared between the three of us. Afterward, we were told that being given keya to drink meant that we were seen as contributing members of the society (probably through our employment of Wohis). However, the true honor will be when we are allowed to drink from the gourd itself, if that day ever comes.
For about an hour, we, or rather I, entertained the keya drinkers with what ended up becoming Gmz-Amharic-English lessons. Then, using the excuse of the old geezers having to get to bed, we said our goodbyes and exited into the refreshingly cooler night air outside the hut. By now, the stars had come out, drawing out attention upward where we paused to unconsciously praise God with our wonder and amazement. Oh that our new keya-drinking friends might soon join us in praise of this great and awesome God!
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