The small church of the Convent of the Franciscaines hosts an unusual flock every Sunday morning as on that day it offers Lebanon's only Ethiopian Orthodox service. The mass, given in the community's native language, Amharic, has been a steady event for 7 years. Attendants arrive by service or entire buses, not only from Beirut but also from the mountain and other areas.
These women almost all work in households, either live-in or freelance, and the religious service doubles for them as an occasion for social gathering and a taste of home. They come draped in the traditional matala, a sheet of white linen with embroidered borders, which they wrap over their hair and their modern clothes. The shoes, removed before entering the church and lined up outside, betray their owners' awareness of and obvious delight in fashion. Just outside the entrance a little stand is set up where religious items can be purchased as a means of gathering funds: votive images, prayer books, audio and video tapes in Amharic, but also candles and brilliantly coloured umbrellas that lend an additional element of popular Ethiopian culture to the scene.
The Ethiopian Orthodox Church, one of the oldest in the world, was established in the early 4th century after Meropius, a Christian philosopher from Tyre, was shipwrecked on the Ethiopian coast on his way to India. His two pupils survived and christianized the country. One of them, Frumentius, was eventually ordained first Abuna (bishop) of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church by the Patriarch of Alexandria. Due to the church's early creation it retains Jewish elements such as circumcision, food restrictions, the Sabbath, and a striking artefact: the Tabot, a replica of the Ark of the Covenant, that every church possesses and that only priests are allowed to see and handle. The Ethiopian liturgy however is of Coptic origin and influenced by the Syriac tradition.
No less than 150 festivities punctuate the Ethiopian Orthodox year, which begins on September 11. Timkat, the Epiphany, is a particularly colourful holiday, during which the Tabot is carried by the priests in a procession: touching it brings healing. Also noteworthy is Maskal, said to be in memory of the finding of the true Cross by the Empress Eleni, that coincides with the mass blooming of the golden Yellow Maskal Daisies.
The current head of church, Patriarch Paulos, has estimated the number of Ethiopians in Lebanon to 30,000, divided among Orthodox, Muslims and Catholics. They came to Lebanon looking for a way out of dreary financial conditions back home. Kidist, who looks around 20 years of age or younger, has had to interrupt her journalist studies due to lack of funding. She came here 7 months ago and expects to return to home and college in a couple of years. "Friends who work here send home beautiful pictures," she explains. "They look so different, and their lives have changed. We come to see and to change our own lives as well." Although other countries such as Egypt also attract Ethiopians in search of a better life, to the Christians among them Lebanon seems to occupy a special place as "the blessed home of the Virgin Mary".
It is rare to see even a single man among the parishioners: given the nature of the work offered, that is household work, the community is overwhelmingly female. Gradually however, it is taking on a less temporary character as families are getting founded here. Kidist's sister Sara for instance, was there with her husband. They got married in Beirut and do not necessarily intend to return to Ethiopia. "God knows what the future will bring," she says when asked about her future plans. The attendants as a whole seem satisfied with their lives, but it should be kept in mind that their very presence at the service means they enjoy exceptional freedom. It is still a common practice in the country to forbid outings to foreign household workers even when they are otherwise well treated. "Some do well, some don't", says Sisay, who works under contract, to make it clear that she doesn't believe her community can be said to particularly suffer at the hands of Lebanese employers.
One young woman cuts in with mock fury to say she doesn't like Beirut. Kidist explains that her friend found herself in a house where she was mistreated. "The madam was cruel to her, the children were bad, she was threatened with rape… It's something that happens," she states. With surprising good humour from both her and the former victim, she adds: "So she did what we do in those cases: she ran away. And now things are good for her."
Depending on the household they end up in, the women learn Arabic or English, which they pick up quickly. Kidist chuckles: "They come here not speaking one word of Arabic, and after three months they are perfect! Well, maybe for simple words, at least". This allows those among them who have freedom of movement to function quite well in the society, moving around easily and going shopping. One of the several Lebanese men waiting outside the church for their charges comments warmly: "They're a sweet people!" Based on the Ethiopian women interviewed, this friendly attitude is more the rule than the exception, and if it is so we can look forward to a gradual improvement of their conditions in Lebanon, that in turn would bring the country the richness of a new culture.
As the white-veiled crowd scatters, one woman calls back: "You have to come back for a festivity, that's when it will be really beautiful!"
      | Article by Joumana Medlej |