A small, frail figure with a piercing gaze, Emperor Haile Selassie stood firm against the advance of Mussolini’s Fascist troops. As Italy invaded Ethiopia, the only independent black state to survive the scramble for Africa, the emperor rallied support for his nation and inspired a fervent following far beyond its borders. After enduring years of exile in England, he returned to Ethiopia to a hero’s welcome, reinstated as emperor. The scene is vividly depicted by French author Laurent Gaudé in his book “Hear Our Defeats”. Here are excerpts as translated from French by Alison Anderson.
He decides to cross the avenue. Addis Ababa is a beehive of activity. He walks between two cars, their shock absorbers so worn down that the bumpers practically touch the ground; he immerses himself for a moment in the chaos of traffic, then comes out on the other side of the sluggish flow of vehicles. The Americans are in position. He has spotted them. Two outside the building. A third one a bit further along. There must be a few up on the roofs. There is surely a car somewhere, ready to intervene. They are there, the trap is set, and the statue of the Lion of Judah looks down on the endless stream of cars and the conspiracies of man with equal indifference.
Addis Ababa is jubilant. He enters his city with Wingate by his side. Behind them march the triumphant men of the Gideon Force: Ethiopians, Sudanese, Kenyans, all mingled together, all in rags, but the crowd can’t see that, all destitute, but the crowd cheers them wildly. This war that surrounded them, this war that is causing the world to tremble: the Second World War is offering them victory. The Italians have withdrawn and once again Addis Ababa has its king of kings. They marched from the little village of Um Idla to Mount Belaya where the Gidoen Force has its headquarters. They marched and their ranks swelled with each village they passed through, rousing the countryside. They marched to restore the dignity that the League of Nations had stolen from Ethiopia, and today the throngs in the streets are cheering for their Negus, home again at last.
The gloom in the building is restful. Two young boys are sitting on the stairs, avidly exchanging notes or photographs. Scarcely looking up, they let him go by. He goes up the stairs. It is not as hot in here. The men from the commando will follow him before long, that much is certain. They will tell the two boys to go and play somewhere else-which they will do, scrambling to pick up their meager treasure. He knows all this. He has experienced similar moments so many times, in other cities. The car will park opposite the building, engine running, door open. The only thing he doesn’t know is whether it will be to take Job away, or to erase all trace of the men who have killed him.
The crowd cheers as he goes by. The city is jubilant. Haile Selassie is back in Addis Ababa, and when he left a few years ago it was being ransacked, Addis Ababa that lived through the occupation and tried to fight back, as on that day when nine grenades were thrown at Graziani, nine grenades that should have killed him nine times over, but it is difficult to kill men who live by blood, and fate is oddly considerate sometimes. Graziani got to his feet, and Addis Ababa, which had been holding its breath, had to bow its head again. Today the city is singing, exulting in the passage of its emperor, with Wingate by his side, and he wonders what a victory is, when no battle has been won. It is thanks to the British that he has come back. He did not put the enemy’s armies to flight. Addis Ababa is cheering him but he can still hear the Italian journalists’ insults in Geneva: “Pickaninny!” The country may be celebrating the victory, but he feels as if some part of the defeat at Maychew was never effaced, nor will it ever be. Perhaps it was only by blood that he might have truly avenged the affront? Perhaps he will only truly smile the day Mussolini is hung his feet on Piazzale Loreto in Milan, like a pig to be slaughtered? He marches through the streets of Addis Ababa. The crowd screams with joy as he goes by. Now he will reign, he will recover his prerogatives, his court, his people, his power. He will no longer be a fugitive hiding in caves or an exile in the rain of Bath, he will live in grandeur and enjoy the respect of his subjects, and so he is trying to savor this city that is his once again, the warmth surrounding him and that he has missed so much. People everywhere are chanting his name, but he can feel no victory inside, or nothing in any case that is equal to the defeat he suffered, nothing to erase the humiliation at the League of Nations or the endless waiting in Bath, as if defeat always weighed more than victory, as if in the final analysis there could be nothing left in the hearts of men but defeat.
Laurent Gaudé Hear Our Defeats
Translated by Alison Anderson
Europa editions 2019
Observe how the writer depicted Emperor Haile Selassie: “A small, frail figure with a piercing gaze…” Now ask, Would the same writer have presented Queen Elizabeth as “a small, frail figure with a ( ) gaze?”
Observe the narration/photo pertaining to the procession “at their head, riding on a white horse is their Colonel (Colonel Wingate) who did such a splendid march with them from Sudan …” “their Colonel?” “splendid march?” It was no longer about Ethiopia; it was about the triumphal entry of a British colonel. Later, we see a re-enactment in Jerusalem as another Briton Balfour entered Jerusalem on white horse pretending to be some messianic figure! British duplicity knows no end; that act in Jerusalem is the reason for the never ending conflict in the Middle East/Palestine.
In the case of Ethiopia, the British gave the green light to Fascist Italy to invade our homeland in order to weaken the Axis Powers. Brits also blocked armament to Ethiopia. Emperor Haile Selassie went into exile in Bath, UK where he lived under dismal conditions. He and his empress had to pawn silverware and jewellery to buy coal to heat up their dingy residence.
Our patriots fought and fought hard five long years to finally regain their freedom. Now at the head of the march back was a British colonel (spy) with intent to paving the way for (indirect) British rule. Haile Selassie was too smart for them (he knew enough of world affairs to notice American ascendancy to make appropriate adjustments in time). The Brits eventually made their way back as UN referendum monitors in Eritrea where they hid a time-bomb that eventually removed Haile Selassie from power (resulted in the present chaos). This in no way is to deny the stupidity and missteps of two generations of Ethiopians incapable of setting the country on a path to democratic governance (and instead wallowing in ideological scum).
Look around and you’ll notice that wherever the Brits have been is where we’ve been having conflicts that have decimated lives and economies (Iraq, Afghanistan, Ethiopia, Sudan, Somalia, Palestine, and so on). Add to that loot from around the world now in Britain. UK gov to this day has refused to return artifacts and sacred objects stolen from our land and people five generations ago.
Keep fighting; the Empire only understands a good fight, not decency or civility. I think Ethiopian gov should name “Churchill” street “Ali Berki,” the hero of Karamara! No need dignifying racist/fascist Churchill.