While Al had no idea now what was needed to make this peasant farmer whole again after everything he had been through, somehow he knew that the answer lived deep inside him in a place he had avoided ever since Tommy killed Billy. When Berhanu sat down with him later that day to report what he had learned, Al listened carefully for anything that would tell him what to do. He just hoped that it would not require a journey he wasn’t prepared to take.
“His name is Serranen ... Almaz’s father,” Berhanu reported. “The land he had farmed was owned by a prince. Serranen’s family had worked that land for many generations for the same royal family. The prince had decided to sell his land to another royal family because he needed the money to continue living his privileged life. Harvests had been bad in recent years, and then this drought put him in debt. The new land owner had his own farmers, so he told Serranen to leave. But where could he go when all he knew was farming and he didn’t know anyone with land who could put him to work?
Al listened intently as Berhanu spoke, grimacing at times.
“He and his family were walking for two days, looking for work, when some thieves took the few things they owned, including all their food. In the fight, Serranen broke his foot. The next day, their son wandered off into the wilderness to find food for his family. He returned a few hours later with a sack of berries,” Berhanu said ominously. “He had eaten his full before filling the sack for his family. But by the time he had returned, he had become very sick. His mother rushed to him when she saw him struggling to walk and breath. Within a few hours, he was dead.
“They buried him in a field of wild flowers not far from the road they were traveling. The berries were apparently poisonous, so they went hungry for two days, until an empty lorry returning to the Dessie shelter stopped to pick them up. They were amazed when it dropped them off at the shelter.
“Almaz and her mother’s prayers had been answered,” Berhanu told Al. “Serranen hadn’t prayed. He had been too angry by that time to talk with God as a result of what had happened to his son, with his job, and the thieves. Almaz believed that you, being an angel, had heard her prayer and sent the lorry to save them. It didn’t take much to convince her mother that you were an angel.”
As Berhanu told the sad story, Al closed his eyes and slowly shook his head after hearing about each hardship, and nodded when he heard about the impact they had had on Serranen.
“I can’t do this. How can I help him when I feel the same way about God? I don’t blame Serranen for feeling as he does” Al told Berhanu.
“So he will die, leaving Almaz without a father and Abebech without a husband? Can’t you just pretend as you said before and give them a small miracle?” Berhanu pleaded.
“I can’t give him back his son or his job. Those are the only miracles that matter to him now.”
“He just needs to know that in spite of everything, God is with him and loves him,” Berhanu whispered.
“How? I’m not a magician. The last time I tried to be one, when I was a kid, my tricks backfired on me. God is with him and loves him? After everything that’s happened to him?” Al looked into Berhanu’s eyes as if searching for answers.
Berhanu returned Al’s gaze with an understanding, sympathetic smile; it was as if he knew from personal experience that Al was wrestling with himself, and he was curious about the outcome.
Suddenly, Al had an epiphany—maybe it was sparked by the image of Almaz’s pained, innocent eyes, or maybe by Berhanu’s earlier question about why it is that people who have so much don’t believe in God.
A voice in Al’s head said softly and lovingly, “Isn’t it time that you stopped blaming God for what happened to Billy and Tommy?”
After a long pause, Al challenged the voice with, “Why?”
The voice responded with, “God didn’t hit Billy with the bottle. God didn’t put the gun in Billy’s hand. God didn’t create the animosity between the Apostles and the Disciples. God didn’t convict Tommy.”
“And God didn’t do anything to prevent these things, either,” Al snapped back.
“God has given people laws to follow and the freedom to do as they please.”
“It’s not that simple,” Al protested.
“Yes, it is.”
“No!” Al screamed.
“And isn’t it time that you stopped blaming yourself for what happened?”
“If I didn’t help Bookie fix the game, Billy would still be alive and Tommy would be free.”
“You made a mistake. Learn from it and move on. God forgives mistakes ... so should you.”
“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t. Please tell me how,” Al pleaded with the voice.
“Ahhh. Now we are getting somewhere. You can’t do anything to help Billy or Tommy now. They are in God’s hands, but you can do something to help Serranen and his family. It will do wonders for your soul.”
“I’ll try, but I’ll need help. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Listen to your heart,” the voice said before it went away as mysteriously as it came.
Al’s conversation with Berhanu then picked up where it had left off. “Yes, God and his love are with Serranen, even now,” Berhanu told Al. “Suffering is part of our lives here. Serranen knows this, but he needs a reminder to realize that God hasn’t abandoned him.”
Al looked thoughtfully at Berhanu in silence for a few seconds and then recalled Tsehye’s earlier comments: “Your bitterness speaks loudly. It tells me your soul is in pain. Listen to your soul tell you there is a God, a mysterious God who doesn’t always seem to care about you and others in this world.” Al covered his eyes with his hands, bowed his head, and wiped away a tear.
“What is it?” Berhanu asked. “Was it something I said?”
“Yes, and something an old wise man told me a few months ago,” Al said as he regained his composure. “I will do everything I can to help Serranen live,” Al said just as an idea came to mind. “Tsehye is a landowner. Perhaps Serranen can work for him.”
“What will you do?”
“I will try to be in spirit the angel Almaz thought God had sent to save them. I hope to show Serranen that God is with him to help restore his faith and his health. And I hope to move on with my life and not be held back anymore by a mistake I had made years ago,” Al whispered.
Al then went to Dessie’s post office, where he used its telephone to call the Nekempte post office and left a message for Tadesse. Al asked him to share Serranen’s story with Tsehye. Hopefully, Tsehye would ask Serranen to work some of his land. It would take at least a day to get his reply.
In the meantime, Al wondered what he could do to help Serranen deal with the pain from the loss of his son. And since he was back on speaking terms with God, he prayed for inspiration. When Al got a phone message from Tadesse the next day saying Tsehye had invited Serranen to farm his land, he then asked Berhanu to help him tell Serranen the good news.
On their way to his tent, Al received more inspiration. He would tell Serranen, a Christian, that even God felt the pain of losing a son, but then God experienced the joy of being with his son for eternity. Serranen needed to be reminded that his son is with God now, too, and that God would one day reunite him with his son. But at this time, his earthly family needed him to provide for them.
When Al and Berhanu entered the tent, Serranen was the only one there. He was lying on his back, staring straight up at the tent ceiling, even after Al and Berhanu walked up to his bedside. Al spoke to him in Amharic. “I am not an angel, but I have good news for you.”
Serranen’s mouth moved slowly to form a small, pained smile. “I will die soon?”
“No. A landowner in Wollega Province wants you to bring your family to live in his village and farm his fertile land,” Berhanu told him.
Serranen turned his head slowly to look at Berhanu and Al. “What are you saying? How can this be?”
Berhanu pointed to Al and told Serranen, “He
knows the landowner and talked with him. The landowner told him that he needed someone like you.”
Serranen turned his puzzled face to Al and looked at him for a few seconds before saying, “I was told to leave the land I had worked my entire life, the land my father and my father’s fathers worked for hundreds of years. I had prayed that I would find other land to farm. I was not successful in my birthplace, so we had to go look somewhere else. But when the thieves robbed us and when Alemu died, I thought I was cursed. I stopped praying because there was no use in it. Now you tell me this?”
“What is he saying?” Al asked Berhanu.
After Berhanu told him, Al spoke in English and asked Berhanu to translate. “No, you are not cursed. It just took more time to answer your prayer. Thieves can steal things from you, things that can be replaced. You haven’t lost Alemu. He is with God, and God knows your pain. He lost his son for a time, too. One day you will be with them. Alemu is now watching over you. No. You are not cursed.”
Serranen closed his eyes and a peace spread across his face. After a few moments of silence, he said softly to himself, but loud enough for Al and Berhanu to hear, “Land. I have land again. Thanks be to God.” He then turned to Al and spoke passionately about something that Al couldn’t understand, so Berhanu translated for him.
“He says his daughter and wife were right. You are an angel,” Berhanu told Al.
CHAPTER 64
New Beginnings
Serranen did get well and was healthy when he and his family left the shelter at the end of the summer with Al, who paid for them to join him on his return trip to Nekempte. It marked the beginnings of new lives for Serranen’s family and Al. New beginnings were also facing all Americans and Ethiopians at that time. President Nixon resigned on August 8, 1974, in the wake of the Watergate cover up, and a military coup deposed Haile Selassie a month later on September 12, ending his reign, which had begun in 1930.
The fact that Tsehye gave Serranen his new home and land that same week was an extraordinary stroke of luck, or something more. One of giving ownership to those who physically worked it. As a result, the parcel that Tsehye had given Serranen to work belonged to Serranen a few months later. In less than one year, he went from being destitute to being the unimaginable: a landowner.
While Serranen’s life took a tremendous turn for the better, it remained a tense, uncertain time in Ethiopia. When Al and Tadesse visited Tsehye and Serranen’s family a month after the coup, Tsehye decided to tell the rest of his story, which he had begun the first time he had met Al. Tsehye had stopped his story at the time after he had learned about Al’s issues with God. But since Al told Tsehye how he had come to know Serranen and had reconciled with God in the process, Tsehye seemed anxious to pick up his story where he had left off.
“I had been miserable. I was a man without a country. I spoke and wrote better English than Amharic, but I didn’t fit in with British society, either. Because I was black, even the least educated, poorest white man was treated with more respect than me in all but a few places. But if I was going to be happy living in Ethiopia, I had to unlearn all the negative lessons I had been taught about Africa in general and Ethiopia in particular while earning my Oxford degree.
“I had earned a living as a private tutor for the children of royal families in and around Dessie in the thirties when I began to appreciate the richness of Ethiopian culture. England had its royalty and so did Ethiopia. I made frequent trips to the holy cities of Lalibela and Axum to immerse myself in the Ethiopian soul. I became very proud to be an Ethiopian, so when Italy had invaded Ethiopia in 1935 and Haile Selassie made Dessie his base of operations to fight the Italians, I enlisted.
“And in 1936, when the emperor led a battle north of Dessie, at Maychew, I was there, too. But our forces were overwhelmed and had to retreat. As we left the area, I stepped in front of the emperor to shield him from a sniper and was shot. He was very grateful and later thanked me by giving me this land and some money to farm it after he returned from exile,” Tsehye told Al and Tadesse.
“You saved Haile Selassie’s life?” Al asked in amazement.
“Maybe. I saved him from being shot. His physician treated me.”
“Tell me, what kind of man is he?” Al asked. “Some say he is cruel and power hungry, that he deserves what is happening to him now. Others say he is a good man who cares deeply for his people. They mention that he abolished slavery, introduced parliamentary government, gave women the right to vote, and built Ethiopia’s public school system from nothing.”
“The emperor is a devout Christian,” Tsehye replied with a sigh. “In spite of the threat of the Italian forces all around us where I was shot just outside Lalibela, he insisted on stopping to pray in Lalibela’s churches before returning to his palace in Addis. He believed God would protect him, and he did. And prayers for my speedy recovery were also answered.”
“So what are you saying?” Al asked.
“He is a Christian man first and an emperor second,” Tsehye said. “I’m sure sometimes these roles clashed, just as the worldly roles of all believers do inevitably. But I think he tried to practice his faith whenever he could. I will never forget what he had told the League of Nations during his exile: ‘Apart from the kingdom of the Lord, there is not on this earth any nation that is superior to any other.’ These were the words of a man who believed in the dignity of every human, a dignity bestowed by God, not the will of man.”
“You must be sad now to see what is happening to Haile Selassie,” Al told Tsehye.
“Yes and no. He is an old man and has been just a figurehead for a while. I’m sad he is being blamed for the failures of those who were really responsible for the famine, the ministers who didn’t tell him what was happening so he could do something to prevent it. And I’m sad to think of what may happen to him now. But I’m happy that he is no longer leading Ethiopia because something needed to be done with the government. Haile Selassie doesn’t have the capacity to do what is necessary. At eighty-three, age has robbed him of the energy needed to be the kind of leader he once was, and unfortunately he has no capable heir to the throne who could step in.”
“Yes, something needs to be done, but how will low-ranking, poorly educated military personnel be able to lead this country?” Tadesse asked.
“Ha ha ha. That is a good question, a very good question. I don’t have an answer. Let’s hope God will provide one soon, and that he saves Haile Selassie from his new masters. By the way, are you still afraid of change?” Tsehye asked as he pretended to toss a handful of stones at an imaginary snake.
“Are you asking if I have faith that life will be better now in Ethiopia? Didn’t you tell me I need to have faith about Ethiopia’s future to make my fear of change go away?”
“Yes.” Tsehye smiled.
“I don’t have faith in this new government, so I do fear the change,” Tadesse said.
“I agree. I don’t have faith in it either. I have faith that in time God will help make life better for us in Ethiopia. But don’t let fear keep you from doing what you can do now to make life better.”
“I am a wood shop teacher,” Tadesse said humbly. “If I do a good job, we’ll have all the tables and chairs Ethiopia needs.”
“What about ladders? We’ll need ladders to climb.”
“Yes. Ladders too,” Tadesse grinned.
When Al and Tadesse said their good-byes that day to Tsehye and Serranen’s family, many questions about the future remained unanswered. But at least two things were certain: the joy in the lives of the new landowner’s family that was evident in Almaz’s laughter as she played a game with another villager her age, and the hope all expressed that their lives would get better as a result of any changes made by the powers that be in Ethiopia.
School opened late that year, but sessions were intermittent as the new government took shape. The monarchy was abolished and replaced by a socialist state. In-fighting among the militar
y left many dead in the struggle for power. The hope for a speedy, positive transition came and went. Not much was accomplished that school year, but when it finally ended, Al was given an opportunity to do something special to end his Peace Corps service on a more positive note while working with Tadesse.
Peace Corps had asked Al to manage a school repair project at the school where he had taught for two years. He agreed as long as Tadesse was his co-manager on the three-month project. It was a win-win for everyone. Peace Corps would pay for half the cost if the Ethiopian government funded the balance. Since it was an opportunity for the new government to do something visible to improve the educational system, it agreed.
Tadesse hired his wood shop students to do the work, using tools from the high school. It gave them an opportunity to earn needed money when no other jobs were available. Everyone involved felt proud to be part of building a new and better Ethiopia.
While the project was being completed, Haile Selassie’s eighty-third birthday on July 23, a national holiday for many years, was ignored. The King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Conquering Lion of Judah, and Root of David observed his last birthday as a prisoner in a house on the grounds of his former palace.
The day before the school repair project was completed, the government announced the death of Haile Selassie. It said he had died from prostate surgery complications and wouldn’t reveal the location of his remains. Others claimed he had been killed. Sixteen years later, following the fall of Ethiopia’s Marxist government, Haile Selassie’s remains were recovered beneath a toilet in his former palace that had been used by the man who replaced him as Ethiopia’s first president.
The timing of Haile Selassie’s death with the successful completion of the school repair project signaled the end of one era and the beginning of another. Just as nobody would have predicted what had happened to Haile Selassie in the end, nobody could say what the future held for Tadesse and his country. As Tadesse said good-bye to Al at the airport in Addis, they hugged because a handshake wasn’t enough.