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The
Historical Responsibility of Ethiopian Public Scholars in the Redemption
of Ethiopian History & Fikre Tolossa’s Book
Ghelawdewos
Araia
February 27, 2017
The
reason why I was prompted to write this essay is because I have sensed the
rise of mythology over a declining historiography in Ethiopian
research-cum-study circles and publications of Ethiopian history; and in
some instances, it has become a standard practice to equate mythology with
historiography and this trend, which has become a vogue, is quite alarming
and I want to use this opportunity to call upon fellow Ethiopian scholars
to do their best to maintain and replenish the flowers (historiography)
that bloomed in Ethiopia in the 1960s and 1970s and beyond, and redeem
them before they are completely taken over by weeds (mythology) of the
present era.
One
of the reasons why Ethiopian history is mythologized and falsified is when
we Ethiopian scholars stop writing and researching; and in its extreme
case, when some Ethiopian scholars exhibit non-committal and callous
silence, it would not be surprising if the self-appointed historians
demonstrate the audacity to distort Ethiopian history.
Ethiopian
historians have an historic responsibility to combat the mystification of
Ethiopian history, and they must fulfill their obligation by reviving
ancient and medieval Ethiopian civilizations with their attendant rich
material and intellectual cultures. Time and again, I have tried to
underscore the unique Ethiopian civilization contributions to world
civilizations, including the phonetic Geez alphabets, rock hewn buildings,
high rise edifices, calendar, currency, herbal medicine etc. (See, for
instance, my article entitled The
Magnificence of Aksum: Revisiting Ethiopian Civilization.1)
Theda
Skocpol once said, “Our roles as public scholars, as influential
citizens, and as mentors for civically engaged young adults have never
been more important than they are right now.”2 Theda’s
eloquent statement (appeal) on scholars is quite a fitting to the central
thesis of this essay and to the message I want to convey to my fellow
Ethiopian scholars. It is our solemn duty and responsibility to educate
the young Ethiopians and lead them by example so that they embrace the
authentic history of their country and this would have a tremendous
positive impact on the psychological makeup of Ethiopian youth. To be
sure, the young Ethiopians are not only the torchbearers of what we
kindled but they are also the leaders of tomorrow. It is thus crucial that
we arm our young citizens with Ethiopian historiography.
The
young Ethiopians, who are now at their high school and college levels,
must be enlightened and must have theoretical clarity in order to further
fathom their history in depth. For this apparent rationale, thus, I like
to first discuss the difference between mythology and historiography.
The
etymology of the word ‘mythology’ is from the Greek mythos,
meaning story of the people; and if we add logos
(word, speech, study) to make a compound word, the fused term of mythos
& logos becomes mythology in English. However, even the original
meaning or intent of mythology (the spoken story of a people or oral
tradition) has lost its meaning and became rather the story of fantastic
creatures such as mermaids or gods and goddesses as in ancient Egypt,
Greece, and Rome. For instance, Ra and Apollo represented the sun in
ancient Egypt and Greece respectively; what the ancient Egyptians and
ancient Greeks in effect were doing was the personification of natural
forces, but Ra and Apollo were their mental images, their creations, and
they never existed.
In
modern parlance, we can safely conclude that fantasy novels have replaced
the ancient mythos, and to be sure mythology does not have to be
substantiated and/or validated, but it has the power to appeal to the
psychology of people and all that is needed is that the recipient audience
has to believe in it and embrace it.
Historiography,
on the other hand, is the exact opposite of mythology. Historians study a
given topic or event based on theoretical approaches, primary sources
(data), and techniques (methodologies), and although they do not
altogether dismiss oral tradition (and don’t depend on it wholly
either), they mostly rely on documentary and archeological evidences; and
their findings have to be substantiated, verified, and validated;
otherwise, they won’t become historical accounts. Evidence is extremely
crucial for historians and that is why the historical method (a technique
to verify a primary source) to authenticate their findings (in the case of
archaeology) and research (in documents) are checked, counterchecked and
tested for their validity.
The
essential difference between historiography and mythology boils down to
the synchronized validated knowledge in the case of the former, and
mystique obscurity in the case of the latter; while historiography heavily
relies on ‘core principles’ for determining reliability as in the
works of Scandinavian historians Olden-Jorgensen and Thuren, mythology
attempts to revive the silent ghosts of the past and pretends to give them
essentialized meaning so that the target audience believes in its claims
and make sense out of it.
I
am using this opportunity to evaluate (and not review in the conventional
sense) Professor Fikre Tolossa’s new book on the origin of the Oromo and
Amhara nationalities of Ethiopia. The author claims that Gojjam is the
true origin of these two peoples and they both have descended from a
primordial ancient ancestor by the name Deshet; and he gives his book a
subtitle entitled “The Contribution of the Oromo to Ethiopian
Civilization’” which is generally acceptable in Ethiopian history,
although some diehards have a hard time accepting such a positive image of
the Oromo.
When
the book became available for public consumption, it immediately stirred
controversy among Ethiopian circles in the Diaspora; its detractors
disparagingly critiqued it and its supporters celebrated the publication
of such a book and even invited the author for book signing ceremonies.
However, since I was unable to get the book when it first came out, I was
not in a position to come up with my own independent ideas about the
contents and the main thesis of the book; nor did I want to make implicit
assumptions and venture into intellectual gymnastics, and my best bet was
to contact Dr. Fikre and he was willing to send a copy of his book to my
address
Once
I got the book, I began to read between lines and with extra diligence in
order to avoid the bias I had from the reviews of the book; both from
supporters and detractors. When I finished reading the book, I found the
reviews of the detractors to have been exaggerated and biased, and equally
the supporters’ reviews to have been bent with reflections of the
current ethnocentric politics, although to my satisfaction the author
combats narrow nationalism and upholds throughout the book pan-Ethiopian
nationalism, a theme that I also hammered and promoted in many of my
previous writings (see for instance my article entitled Pan-Ethiopian
Agenda vs. Sectarian Ethnocentric Politics.3)
The
title of the book, however, is misleading because some readers could have
perceived its contents (before they read it) as narratives of and in
solidarity with the recent uprisings in the Oromo and Amhara regions of
Ethiopia. This is not surprising because some Ethiopian scholars and
pseudo-intellectuals in the Diaspora wrote on the necessity of a united
front of the Oromo and Amhara against the Ethiopian government or the
“Woyane regime” as they prefer to call it. By extension, these
so-called intellectuals clamored against the people of Tigray, a people
that has nothing to do with the current Ethiopian politics at local,
state, and federal levels; these kinds of toxic writings, of course,
negatively serve the Ethiopian cause, and contrary to unifying Ethiopians,
it divides them along ethnic lines.
Fikre
Tolossa, to his credit, severely criticizes ethnic solidarity in favor of
Ethiopian unity. In regards to the unity of the Ethiopian people and pride
in Ethiopian identity, Dr. Fikre stands out especially in his challenges
to the Oromo elites and organizations like the Oromo Liberation Front (OLF).
He challenges them by reaffirming his Ethiopian personality at the
psychosomatic level and by suggesting the use of Geez alphabets (as
opposed to Latin) in writing the Oromo language (Afan Oromo). He
criticizes Haile Fida, the late leader of MEISONE or All-Ethiopia
Socialist Party (now defunct), for his suggestion of Latin alphabets in
scribbling Afan Oromo (p. 99). For Fikre, Anassimos Nesibu is a patriot
who translated the Bible into Afan Oromo by using Geez alphabets (p. 100).
Fikre
Tolossa indeed is a true Ethiopian and a patriot, a least in the way he
advocates on behalf of the Ethiopian nation-state as opposed to
ethnocentric politics that has gained currency among charlatans of the
Ethiopian Diaspora. Not only does Fikre solidly maintains his love for
Ethiopia, but he also candidly confronts his fellow Oromo who don’t see
themselves as Ethiopians and he contends that these groupings are a
section of the Oromo “who don’t understand their own history or who
miserably overthrow their dear identity” (pp. 136-137).
The
author’s emphasis on the unity of Ethiopia in general and the unity of
Ethiopians in particular is demonstrated in his analysis of the
psychological makeup of Ethiopians residing in greater Dire Dawa,
south-eastern district of Ethiopia. Despite the diversity of linguistic
groups, the people of Dire Dawa do not focus on language differences. The
Dire Dawa and Harar people could serve as exemplar to other Ethiopians
when it comes to forging cultural and psychological unity (p. 70). In a
similar vein, on October 22, 2011, I advanced the same thesis of Ethiopian
unity in my article entitled “Wollo: Microcosm Ethiopia and Exemplar of
Ethiopian Unity.”4
Sometimes,
the author emphasizes the unity and the solidarity of the Oromo and Amhara,
which by the way reflects the title of the book in Amharic and the
leitmotif of these two Ethiopian nationalities throughout the book. For
instance, he states that the Oromo and Amhara must forget and abandon
their past differences and confrontations and focus rather on their common
values and live together through peace, equality, respect, and pride. If
indeed the peace and progress paths are sought, past recriminations must
be unearthed and future bright hope must be upheld (p. 122)
Fikre
Tolossa also boldly asserts that he loves Ethiopia and his Ethiopian
identity dearly and as a result his Oromo friends are perplexed by his
positive attitude toward Ethiopia; his rationale is that Ethiopia is a
great nation that bears the name of the great father Ethiopis; that the
forefathers have defended Ethiopia’s boundaries; and that the
forefathers played a role at global level; and for these reasons, he says,
“I don’t want to confine myself in a narrow place called ‘Oromia’”
(p. 126 and p. 254)
I
believe, Fikre deserves a huge acclaim for transcending ethnocentric
politics and promoting pan-Ethiopian nationalism. I don’t think his
critics have a problem with Fikre’s Ethiopian stance, although they did
not (or don’t want to) acknowledge the author’s good intentions in
challenging narrow nationalists while at the same time consistently
defending an all-Ethiopia unity and solidarity. However, it is highly
probable that the critics are offended by Fikre’s explanatory portrayal
of Amhara kings such as Yekuno-Amlak, Menelik II, and Haile Selassie II as
half-Oromo; and in the case of Emperor Haile Selassie having Oromo and
Islamic roots (p. 192)
Contrary
to the detractors, however, and as indicated earlier, there were a
significant number of Ethiopians who seem to have relished the book and
even extended accolades to the author and in many venues he was invited
for a book signing ceremony. But most of these groupings could have
assumed (given the title of the book) that Fikre, after all, wrote the
book with a deliberate intention to support the cause of the Oromo-Amhara
uprisings. Alas, the intention and central thesis of the book is not to
extol or praise the participants in the uprisings; it is geared toward
exploring the origins and cultural similarities of the Oromo and Amhara.
One
other thing that need to be mentioned, and which I think is an important
contribution of the book, is the Oromo role in the making of Ethiopian
civilization as discussed on pages 15-35. The author makes a comparative
language analysis, more specifically Oromo words incorporated into
Amharic. However, this comparative language must be defined with care
because it is the Amharic that is spoken in Shewa and to some extent in
Gojjam that has absorbed significant Oromo words as opposed to the Amharic
spoken in Gondar that has embodied plethora of Tigrigna words.
With
the above backdrop, and having presented the positive contributions of the
book, I now like to critically examine selective themes of the book that
may have contravened the essence of historiography; this by no means
diminishes the constructive themes of the chapters in the book, but I am
obliged to critique aspects of the book so that the present generation of
Ethiopians benefit from the interactive exchanges of views between Fikre
Tolossa and myself. Long before I got the book, I have told Fikre via the
email that I will render balanced views with respect to his book, and he
responded by saying “go ahead and do what your conscience permits
you.” I agree, and here I go:
Let
me begin with page 47 of the book, in which the author argues the grandson
of Menelik I by the name Aksumay became a pharaoh in Egypt when he was age
6 to 7. I will take this as a challenge, at least for now; but since I
taught ‘Ancient Egypt’ for so many years, I was unable to find Aksumay
in the chronology of Egyptian dynasties. Aleka Taye mentions him as
‘Aksumay Ramissi’, probably to mean Ramesses, but since eleven
Ramesseses reigned over Egypt as members of dynasties 19 and 20, it would
not be easy to decipher who Aksumay would be among these Ramesseses.
On
the same page, the author argues that the Amara soldiers served as
bodyguards to Aksumay and he attributes their name to the ancient city of
Amara in Mesopotamia (present-day Iraq). Also, a city with a similar name,
Amarna, was established under Pharaoh Amenhotep IV (Akhenaten), the
husband of Nefertiti. In my opinion, these names have nothing to do with
the Ethiopian Amhara people. The word ‘Amhara’ or ‘Amhare’ in
Tigrigna connotes to ‘beauty’ in the context of physical appearance
and conduct; thus, the Amara Ethiopian should be called ‘Amhara’ and
their language should be ‘Amharigna’. This rationale of my mine
implies that the Amhara, Oromo, Tigray, and other nationalities of
Ethiopia are indigenous Ethiopian people.
Between
page 47 and 49, Fikre discusses the genealogy of some famous Ethiopians
like St. Yared (the first African to compose musical notations in the 6th
century CE) whose ancestry is linked to Medebay (an Oromo ancestor). This
may very well be, but studies and further studies are required to verify
its authenticity. However, with respect to places named after Medebay,
Fikre is absolutely right; they are found in Tigray and Eritrea; the one
place found in Tigray, located in the Shire area, is Medebay Zana and it
is contiguous to Tahtay Maichew, Tahtay Qorora, and Tselemti beyond the
Tekeze River; that other place found in Eritrea is called Geza Medebay
(literally, house of Medebay in Tigrigna).
On
page 52, Fikre demystifies the etymology of the word ‘Ethiopia’ as
Greek origin to mean ‘sun burnt face’ and I agree with him entirely;
and to be sure, the Ethiopian nation was named after Ethiopis. However,
the Greeks have also used the term Ethiopia (from ethio+ops or sun bunt
face) to define black Africans; and Herodotus specifically mentions in his
writings “the Ethiopians by the Red Sea”. Moreover, “Aithiopicka,
a novel written by Heliodoros in 230 AD refers to all black people in
general and Egyptians in particular.”5 But, we cannot settle
down comfortably unless and until we figure out what the name of Ethiopia
was before Ethiopis. In the chronology of Ethiopian monarchs, at least
four kings reigned before Ethiopis for a total of 215 years; and during
these two centuries before Ethiopis, what was the name of Ethiopia? The
problem is that Fikre’s chronology of Ethiopian monarchs begins with
Ethiopis and ignores the monarchs that reigned before him.
According
to oral tradition and some Ethiopian chronicles, Ethiopia before Ethiopis
was known as Bihere Agazi (the Agazi nation), and this name was first used
after the Agazian (freedom fighters), whose name is derived from the Geez
word ‘Ag’aze’ meaning ‘to emancipate’. It is this Agazian who
forged a united front, defeated the alien Indian conqueror King Rama, and
put on the throne Akhunas Saba II, circa 1993 BCE.
Although
Fikre makes references to history books and the writings of local
Ethiopian historians in order to support his findings, I found it hard to
critically examine his rationale in the context of historiography. His
analysis is laden with Biblical sources (for instance, see pages 55, 60,
73, 163 etc) and this religious-cum-Biblical interpretation of history can
hardly produce authentic historical accounts, and heavy dependence on the
Bible ultimately leads to mythology; on page 60, for instance, the author
states, “…after Moses liberated the Hebrews from slave bondage…”,
but this cliché is fallacious if we carefully examine it in the context
of historiography; to begin with, there were no permanent class of slaves
in ancient Egypt (except for POWs that were temporarily enslaved) and
Moses clashed with the pharaoh and the Egyptians who professed polytheism
because he preached monotheism that was bequeathed to him by Amenhotep IV
(Akhenaten), the harbinger of the idea of one god as opposed to multiple
gods and goddesses.
Some
of the etymologies for some terms and/or concepts that Fikre argues to be
derivations from Ethiopian names are controversial. For instance, on page
56, he says the name ‘Portugal’ (a country in the Iberian Peninsula)
is a derivation of ‘Port Gal’ or ‘Port Gala’ (the Port of Gala or
Oromo), but this is untenable because the name ‘Portugal’ actually is
derived from the Latin ‘Ports Cale’ to mean the ‘Port of Cale’.
Similarly, on page 75 Fikre contends the ancestors of the people of Mali
are the Oromo of Ethiopia, and the word ‘Mali’, according to him,
means ‘what is it?’ As far as I am concerned and based on my teachings
and findings, the word ‘Ma’ in ancient Egyptian Kemetic language and
present-day Igbo means ‘to know’; in the latter case, ‘Ma’ is
interchangeably used with ‘Mali’. Besides, after teaching African and
International Studies for slightly over two decades, I never encountered
Oromo-speaking ethnic group in West Africa. In point of fact, fifty
languages are spoken in Mali but the major ones are Bambara, Fulani,
Songhay, Senoufe, Malinke, Tuarege, and Dogon.
In
regards to the origin of the Oromo language (p. 83), Fikre contemplates
that it could be from the Suba in the Irob district of Eastern Tigray,
because he reasons that there are similarities between the Suba and Oromo
languages. I am not sure about this conjecture and the author himself is
not sure about it either; however, Fikre’s hypothesis could prove right
because I have lived in Adi Irob and I happen to know a Sidama female
colleague who also lived in the same district and she told me that she has
sensed a lot of Saho words that are very similar to or sound like Sidama.
Furthermore,
on pages 90-91 Fikre discusses one Suba-Geez dictionary that was
discovered by Merraras Aman Belay and he believes that this would be a
wonderful opportunity in the revival of the Suba language, and in this
regard, I am in full accord with Fikre. Moreover, Fikre argues that the
Latin characters of Y, V, D, t, and S were borrowed from Suba. This does
not surprise me at all! I myself have taught my students in my Ancient
Egypt course how some Kemetic (Egyptian) words were incorporated into the
English vocabulary; here are some examples:
Kemetic
English
Abut
abode
Atackh
attack
Atum
autumn
Khenna
(boat)
canoe
Kaui
cow
Fut
foot
Ra
(sun)
ray (sunlight)
On page 93, Fikre contends that Ethiopians got the Geez language from the
Agazian, but he also says that there is no credible evidence that the
Agazian brought the Geez alphabets with them. Fikre wrongly assumed that
the Agazian came from somewhere (he believes they came from Gaza), but as
I have indicated earlier the Agazian are the freedom fighters who were
indigenous to Ethiopia, and the unique phonetic alphabets Geez, meaning
freedom, is closely associated with their name. On the same page, and
again on page 127, Fikre tells us that Ethiopis reformed or improvised
Geez alphabets but Aleka Taye and other Ethiopian local historians give
credit to Zegdur, the 31st king in the long Ethiopian
chronology. I think all of them were looking for one genius inventor in
creative writing, but I have a different take with respect to this
perspective: the Geez revolution should be attributed to a collective
genius and endeavor, as I have argued in The
Magnificence of Aksum: Revisiting Ethiopian Civilization.
In
regards to Fikre’s contention on page 161 with respect to King Esial’s
age, I am perplexed and flabbergasted because the author took it for
granted that the king lived for 480 years; and based on Biblical longevity
stories, he further argues that humans have the potential to live up to
930 years. And I say, what happened to scientific inquiry and reason?
Those of us who are engaged in scientific investigative discourse very
well understand that humans cannot live for four centuries let alone nine
centuries. If we observe and study the life spans of animals, including us
humans, we will be confronted by a hard fact; for instance dogs live up to
10-13 years; Blue Whales live between 80 and 110 years; tortoise live up
to 150 years; and the average life span for humans is 79, although in
recent decades our life span has dramatically changed to an average of 80
and 90 and even 100 in some cases; the longest living human that has ever
been recorded is 122 years and this is an exception to the rule.
On
page 173, the author tells us that the famous 4th century kings
Ezana and Sezana (aka Abraha and Atsbeha) real names were Usayzena and
Yizehna (to make them sound more like Amharic names) and further argues
that their mother Ahoye was the daughter of an Oromo but she had also
Amhara blood. Interestingly Ahoye’s coronation name was Abrihet, a
typical Tigrigna name; whence did this name came from if indeed Ahoye was
a mix of Oromo and Amhara? One important name that is not mentioned on
this page is Adefa, the brother of Ezana and Sezana; incidentally, it is
Sezana and Adefa who led the Ethiopian military expedition that conquered
Kush (the Nubia area of northern Sudan), and the first capital city of the
Zagwe Dynasty was named after Adefa.
The
argument that the people of Tigray originated from Iraq simply because
their name sounds like the River Tigris is logically untenable, and to be
sure the Tigrigna speakers Ethiopians were indigenous to Ethiopia like
other ethnic groups that I have labeled natives. On top of this, Fikre
argues that the Agazian were Israelites and their language was Geez and I
found this argument to be contradiction in terms because I could safely
assume that they would speak Hebrew if indeed they were Israelites and as
Hebrew is to the Israelites, Geez is to Ethiopians; Geez is spoken in
Ethiopia only and its speakers should be native to Ethiopia as well.
The
Biblical Moses, as discussed by the author, is the leader of the Hebrews
who emancipated his people from slave bondage that I already challenged
and questioned its credibility. On page 183 of the book, the story of
Moses is repeated again and this time we are told that Moses put the stick
that enabled him to part the waters of the Red Sea and a copy of the Ten
Commandments in a box and gave it to a certain Abba Biher, who apparently
is his brother-in-law.
The
Moses story is a typical mythology and a cliché in the Judea-Christian
tradition, and as I have already indicated at the beginning of this
article, mythology could derail a worthwhile reflection of historiography.
Moses got the idea of parting waters from the story of the Egyptian god
Osiris (Asar), in which ancient Egyptians entertained the idea of
‘slicing the water if the name of Osiris is called once and if his name
is called four times the heavens will collapse’. Moses also directly
copied the Ten Commandments from the Egyptian Declaration of Innocence (aka
Negative confessions) that contain all in all 42 commandments and the
latter was written before Moses was born. (For further discussion on this,
you may read my article ‘Is Christianity an Offshoot of the Egyptian
Mystery System.6)
If
we employ historiography as a methodology in order to unravel the story of
Moses, we would be compelled to use reason and figure out that Moses and
the Hebrews did not cross the Red Sea to go to Sinai; they were in and
around Men-Nefer (Memphis), the capital city of Lower Egypt, and if we
draw a line between Memphis and Sinai (north-east direction), they would
simply cross over the shallow Reed Waters but they would mostly walk on
land (via the Suez when there was a land bridge) and find themselves in
their destination.
Fikre’s
contention that Freminatos (later named Abba Selama or Kesate Birhan) and
Odesiyos introduced Christianity into Ethiopia is false is palatable to
me. Fikre is right because these persons who were too young when they were
in Ethiopia and could hardly carry out the converting mission. The author
convincingly argues (p. 185) that Ethiopians, on the contrary, taught
Christianity to these so-called harbingers of the Christian faith. I too
have ascertained the viability of this argument in the context of my
research and findings; in fact, long before Ezana became Christian, there
were Christian sects in Ethiopia.
On
page 196, the author correctly analyzes the history of marriage
arrangements amongst the powers that be; he indicates that the kings and
aristocrats decided the fate of their daughters’ marriage by assigning
them to be the wives of the sons of other kings and aristocrats, who were
relatively powerful, and he reasons that women played a role in
strengthening power relations. I agree with him entirely, but I like to
add the other dimension of such relationships. Such kind of marriage
arrangements were also made to maintain Ethiopian unity and mitigate
conflict. For instance, my own great-great grandfather, Dejazmach
Subagadis Woldu (d. 1831) made marriage arrangements of his siblings with
the lords of Semien and the chiefs of Hirgigo (near Massawa); his sisters
were also married to aristocrats in all Tigray, one of which was Weizero
Tabotu who begot Weizero Silas, the mother of Emperor Yohannes.
On
page 202, the author discusses the Era of Princes (1769-1855), a period in
Ethiopian history when the country was divided among regional lords for
seven decades; more specifically, Fikre discusses the reason why Ras
Michael Suhul could not ascend to the throne; the reason for this, he
says, was because Michael Suhul could not trace back his lineage in the
Solomonic dynasty. This argument is partially right; the other reason is
that Ras Michael dislodged the legitimate King Iyoas and the Fitha Biher (Justice of the Nation) and Kibre Negast (Chronicle of the Kings) won’t allow the coup maker
to assume power as a king; the coup maker, however, would be tolerated as
a kingmaker while usurping power and establish a weak symbolic king, and
that is what exactly Ras Michael did: he installed Emperor Yohannes II as
his subordinate.
Between
207 and 213, the author endeavors to prove the existence and the Ethiopian
roots of Queen Saba (Sheba); he bases his argument on some documentary
evidences and the Bible and I agree with him that Saba was indeed an
Ethiopian queen and not queen of Yemen as the Yemeni claim in their
official history. In Yemen there is indeed a place called Saba, but there
is no credible evidence for the Yemeni to claim her as their queen. All we
need now is additional archeological evidence on the Queen of Saba (aka
Makda and Azieb) to further reinforce the Ethiopian identity of this great
woman. Fikre’s argument on the etymology of ‘Yemen’ to mean ‘Ye
man’ (‘whose’ or ‘whose is it?’ in Amharic), however, is
doubtful. To my knowledge, ‘Yemen’ is derived from ‘Yumun’ to mean
fertile land.
I
like how Professor Fikre Tolossa portray Ethiopian women (p. 215) as proud
descendants of the great Ethiopian queens and I share his antipathy to the
condition of the present generation of Ethiopian women who have become
servants in Arabian countries; this phenomenon, Fikre adds, “is a shame
and sad encounter for Ethiopia.” What Fikre exclaims is a touching
outcry, but our wise forefathers said it all: Ye Wedeqe Zaf Metrebia Yibezabetal (roughly translated, it means
‘too many axe will fall unto the fallen tree’), but I have a feeling
that Ethiopia will rise again and modern Agazian will emancipate our women
from servility and disgrace.
The
author again mentions Queen Saba on page 217 and this time he tells us
that she was the only Ethiopian who sojourned to Jerusalem in order to
gain wisdom from Solomon. I am not comfortable with this kind of
mythological interpretation of history. I respect the fact that the
ancient Hebrews championed the idea of one god after Akhenaten and there
is no doubt that Christianity evolved out of Judaism, and it is for this
apparent reason that the Judeo-Christian tradition has a solid foundation
in Ethiopia. However, a significant number of scholars, including
historians, don’t seem to acknowledge (or don’t have the knowledge of)
that the bulk of the Old Testament is borrowed from the ancient Egyptian
theological teachings and writings. I have already mentioned the source of
the Ten Commandments; additionally, I would like to candidly tell the
reader that the Book of Proverbs of the Bible is a copycat rendition of
the Instruction of Amenemope, a
book authored by Amenemope, an ancient Egyptian philosopher who lived
during the 19th Dynasty, more specifically during the Ramesside
period (1300-1075 BCE)
For
the most part and to a great extent, ancient Egyptians and Ethiopians have
given so much to world civilization; they were givers and not recipients
of wisdom and innovation and it therefore sounds bizarre if we argue that
Ethiopians have gone to this and that place to gain wisdom and to study
philosophy and ontology when in fact they coined and promoted the latter
two kernels or embodiments of African conceptual systems. In plain
English, Ethiopians, like the ancient Egyptians, founded knowledge-based
magnificent civilization and can’t simply be recipients, although via
diffusion they also exchanged ideas and experiences with other
civilizations.
On
page 231 of the book, the author calls for national reconciliation for all
Ethiopians. He argues, if Nelson Mandela could reconcile his differences
with his yesteryear white apartheid regime oppressor, there is no reason
for Ethiopians not to act likewise at a larger scale given their history
of harmony for thousands of years. All it requires, according to Fikre, is
vision, honesty, and willingness; I concur, and it is for this good wish
for his country and the welfare of the Ethiopian people that Fikre Tolossa
must be considered a hero, as I have stated earlier.
On
page 235 of the book, there are some egregious errors that need to be
corrected. The author thinks that the names of places like Seraye and
Shire are of Syrian origins, but as I have noted earlier when Ezana
commissioned the expedition to Kush, some of the army commandeered by
Sezana/Adefa were known as Seraye and the general fighting forces as
Serawit, Geez terms to describe armed forces. The second error is the one
on the etymology of the word ‘Tigray’ that I have already dealt with
earlier; ‘Tigray’ did not originate from River Tigres and even if we
yield to the conjecture of Tegaru (the people of Tigray) originating from
Iraq, where does their Tigrigna language originate from and why couldn’t
they speak Arabic and/or other languages that were prevalent in their
hypothetical original home? The third error is that Fikre argues that
Tigrigna is closer to Arabic than to Geez but this is not true; Tigrigna
is much closer to Geez than to Arabic although it shares some words with
the latter and Hebrew; he further tries to support his thesis by saying,
“if Tigrigna and Geez are similar, Tigrayan students could have not gone
to Gojjam and Gondar to learn Geez.” In regards to this argument, the
author made a mistake by putting the horse behind the cart; Gondar and
Gojjam as learning centers of Geez came much later in Ethiopian history;
the first schools of Geez, Qine, Zema, calendar, medicine, architecture,
writing and mathematics etc. were established in Aksum; Gondar and Gojjam
are the inheritors of Aksum’s legacy, and it is not without reason that
giant theologians like St. Yared and philosophers like Zer’aa Yaqob were
from Aksum, not to mention brilliant emperors like Endibis, Aphilas, Ezana,
Kaleb, Gebre-Mesqel, Armah etc
On
page 247, the author makes a similar argument in regards to the closeness
of Amharic to Afan Oromo as opposed to Geez. I have argued in my book (in
Amharic and Tigrigna) entitled Cultures
that We Must Preserve and Reject that Tigrigna and Amharic are two
faces of the same coin and that both languages have indeed evolved out of
Geez. In brief, the parent language for both Amharic and Tigrigna is Geez.
Fikre is right when he argues that Afan Oromo and Amharic share
a lot of words, but like I stated earlier it is the Amharic that is spoken
in Shewa that shares many words with Afan Oromo .
On
page 248, Fikre states that Ethiopia was mainly Kushitic until the Semitic
people came from somewhere and settled among Ethiopians. The latter part
of this sentence is my interpretation of Fikre’s contention, but
according to recent finding, which I think is plausible, even the first
Semites moved out from the Horn of Africa (more specifically Ethiopia)
according to the esteemed late Professor Martin Bernal. For the sake of
clarity, I am including Map 1 (The Diffusion of Afroasiatic) and Map 2
(The Diffusion of Semitic) from Bernal’s book Black
Athena.7
Map
1 clearly shows how our early ancestors moved out from a central spot in
Ethiopia to different directions within Africa; these migrating people
were later known as central Cushitic, eastern Cushitic, southern Cushitic,
Omo, Beja, Egyptian, Berber, Chadic, and Semitic; all but one (the
Semitic) settled within the continent; some of the original Semites moved
out from the same spot and migrated to Arabia.
Map
2 likewise endorses the movement of Ethiopic to Southern Arabia and
further to the northern outer limits of the Arabian Peninsula. Moreover,
the people who moved out from Ethiopia and other people who migrated from
Egypt in the wake of a great civilization met in Sumeria, and as far as we
know the Sumerians were black people who founded the first kingdom in
Mesopotamia. This is an attempt on my part to demystify the Arabian or
Jewish origins for the Semitic identity; as I have explained above and as
the two maps clearly demonstrate the origin of the Semites is Ethiopia.
One
confusing term for identifying Ethiopians is the term ‘Habesha’ which,
in turn, gave rise to the name of Abyssinia (19th century
Ethiopia). On page 249, Fikre defines ‘Habesha’ to mean unclean and
filthy; to some extent the author is correct because in the Arab cultural
context and perception, Habesha refers to despicable, contemptible, and
deceitful people. The Arab culture is imbued with negative portrayal of
Ethiopians and they even have a maxim that goes as ‘Habesh Hanesh’
(Habesha people are like snakes). However, the original meaning of Habesha
is simply attributable to ‘mixed races’ with syncretic cultures.
On
page 264, Fikre reiterates the mosaic of the Ethiopian people and the
exemplar role that Ethiopia could play for other cultures and he also
makes a passing remark with the perennial rivers of Ethiopia “that have
been flowing for the last 3200 years.” With respect to the time frame of
the flowing rivers, we have to be careful; not that it is a big deal, but
for the sake of general knowledge, it should be known that the major
Ethiopian rivers like the Blue Nile were formed during the Mesozoic
period, that is, at least 180 million years geologic timeframe.
By
way of concluding, I like to underscore once again the significance and
urgency of teaching the correct and verifiable history of Ethiopia. We
Ethiopian public scholars must shoulder an historical responsibility to
educate authentic Ethiopian history to the present young generation of
Ethiopians. However, while educating Ethiopians, and by extension other
Africans and people of African descent in the Diaspora (for that matter
all people in the world who seek the truth), we must educate ourselves by
reaffirming and rediscovering Ethiopian history and we can do this only if
we employ a methodological rigor in historiography, which could enable us
to gather data that could be assessed in tandem with documentary and
archeological evidences. Ultimately, our endeavor in seeking deep
explanations of Ethiopian history will result in intellectually satisfying
paradigms and in enlightening the uninitiated Ethiopians. This is a
worthwhile mission, but time is of the essence!
Notes
1.
Ghelawdewos Araia, The
Magnificence of Aksum: Revisiting Ethiopian Civilization, www.africanidea.org/magnificent_aksum.html
, April
25,2005
2.
Theda Skocpol in Fernando
Zamudo-Suarez, “After Trumps Election, Political Scientists
Feel New Urgency,” The Chronicle
of Higher Education, December 16, 2016
3.
Ghelawdewos Araia, Pan-Ethiopian
Agenda vs. Sectarian Ethnocentric Politics, www.africanidea.org/pan_ethiopian_agenda.pdf
, August 4, 2016; see
also Beyond Ethnocentric Ideology and Paradigm Shift for a Greater
Ethiopian
Unity,
www.africanidea.org/Beyond_Ethnocentric_Ethiopian_unity.html
4.
Ghelawdewos Araia, Wollo:
Microcosm Ethiopia and Exemplar of Ethiopian Unity, www.africanidea.org/wollo.pdf
, October 22, 2011
5.
Ghelawdewos Araia, The
Magnificence of Aksum, Ibid
6.
Ghelawdewos Araia, Is
Christianity and Offshoot of the Egyptian Mystery System? www.africanidea.org/egyptian-mystery.pdf
, April 7, 2007
7.
Martin Bernal, Black
Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of Classical Civilization, Vol. II,
Rutgers University Press, 1993
All
Rights Reserved, Copyright © Institute of Development and Education for
Africa (IDEA) 2017. Contact author via webmaster@africanidea.org
Appendix:
Maps
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