Those fellow countrymen of mine, who have as they claim have “effectively cordoned themselves of the ‘dirty game of politics “. They also preach a “gospel of politics 101“. In the sermons they organize and preach in, wherever they go or whoever they meet it’s easy to spot their eternally dominant doctrine – “Politics is a dirty game!” though even in their desperate act of depoliticizing themselves, they’ve never been outside the cupola which they occupy and are imprisoned in till they are emancipated by the revolutionary fervor of the damned thug. Their declaration of an ultimatum against the realm and the arena of Ethiopia’s politics is one that could easily be encapsulated in an Akan proverb, “One should never rub bottoms with a porcupine.” But just committing ourselves to “political celibacy” going to get us anywhere? As far as I have seen what exactly was going in my country, Ethiopia, there’s nothing we’ve attained  through political asceticism except a generational blame game. We the young ones are the “idiots who play with fire“, “the deaf imbeciles who do not listen to what we’re told by the ‘experienced elders‘”, “thugs who delve the country into the abyss of chaos while the elders have ‘a dream of prospering our country’ though their nostalgic memories of ‘the good old days under Hailesellasie (Janhoy)’, when sheep costonly 3 Ethiopian birr” and “Tej was flowing like the Nile and full of ‘true Abyssinian honey and hop‘.”

We the young ones are their patsies, their crying pillows to bury their grudges, their outlandish yet childish whims and wishes. They want us, me, to condemn whatever they condemn, to worship whatever they worship, to despise whatever they’re disgusted by, to “believe in them because they know better than us.” We are their, objet trouves, their fetish, their ideological plaything. Are they not old, experienced, well-fed, well-educated at the American, English and French (Lycee schools)?! They’re supposed to know a lot better than us. They’re supposed to imbibe us with their philosophy of being a proud countryman. We, the millennials, “know nothing more than sex, film and fashion.” We are, as the our “charitable Irish elder and ‘great humanitarian, saintly savior of Ethiopia“, Bob Geldof, has told the world of our inability to be temperate, humble and civilized in the wake of the Paris attacks and even went with his senile reflections in which he declared “stark warning to millennials as the conflict in the Middle East rages and terror attacks blight Europe.” Out of his retirement-generated wit and “wisdom of the sages” he has “warned of the dangerousness of the millennials“:

“This generation, your generation, is already stained with blood. Your age group are the killers of Syria. The people your age are murdering people in Beirut, Sharm el Sheikh. And most immediately in our minds right now, those people who went to a pop concert in Paris, who tried to watch a football match, who went out with their girlfriends or their parents for a drink or a coffee, those people were killed by people of your generation. “

But the real question is, who the fuck are those politically unfit big boys to preach us of the gospels of “dirty politics” while it is us who suffer most? Isn’t them who are the trees that do not beyond their survivalist existential dilemma? Aren’t they the age-old obstacles to a genuine improvement in the human predispositions? Are they not the bumps on the road to a world without their mythomania?

NB: If they told us politics is dirty, we should not and must not play with fire, we should not and must not ask “politically incorrect and indecent questions“, we should just live thanking the government under which we live (as the “idyllic life” they led under the Emperor bears witness), that we “should and must be content with whatever kitsch we’ve got, that we should and must be “religious, pious, peaceful, creative and collaborative” while they tarry on the opposite bank of the river, while they dance with their succubi and incubi, what do the hell they think should our fate be? Should we just listen to their confabulations, stories of their adventurous life with the dinosaurs, unicorns, the chimera, the Pegasuses – that they were the true, one and only, swashbucklers?

We got here from them, they begot us. Yet we, the millennials are their eternally convenient object of contempt. In their dim and myopic eyes, we’re nothing more than “a property that needs proper handling.” They are blind enough to evade the fact that they’ve wrongly and eternally tampered with our generational destiny. We have become monsters because, I claim, they trained us to be their “little monsters“. They lurk in the shadows, while we wander in the sun in the desert of reality and jungle of confusion we inherited from them. They give use the guns, the pens and the orders, we execute them in a pedantic manner. They lecture on the art and value of ignorance, we destroy our historical relics. They pee their pants, we pay the ransom they owe their shadowy enemies. They suffer from nightmares, we believe that we’re truly living in the end times.

 In fine, politics could be dirty for them because they are natural born dirt. They could perceive the millennials act of engaging in politics as arson. The fact is, whatever they say, whatever the blubber about “out of their genuine generational concern and god-given aptitude for the maintenance of the peace of humanity“, we may have lost control of our destiny but not anymore. We’ll go on dismantling every last piece of their “temples of wisdom” though in close scrutiny they are notorious temples of doom! All the demand from us is absolute silence of all sorts – they are cuing to us that, we should shut the fuck up and move on!

Here the most relevant and never to be forgotten  question is and must be, “should we shut up“, as they commanded us? Should we go on being their sacrificial animal?

Published by Hibamo Ayalew

Very recently I've come to the decision that I've to say what I've to say in ways I wanted to say irrespective of the "feelings" of the mediocre creatures out there crawling the earth in search of solace where there's none. Seeking wisdom in the Desert of the Real.

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