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Ethiopians in Washington
Thursday, August 15 2024
location: upper floor, Apartment [REDACTED], East Watergate Building, Washington, DC
This morning Gretchen was up early trying to get some prep-work done for a cake she intended to bake, a birthday cake for Dina's father, who would be turning 87 in a few days. But she as finding it impossible to find what she needed in her parents' kitchen. The kitchen has an enormous amount of cabinet space, and vast quantities of things (you would not believe the number of measuring cups and colanders!). But where were the cake pans? And where were all the blueberries Gretchen's father bought yesterday? We both went around looking in all the cabinets (it was good to finally know where the liquor cabinet is!), but couldn't find any cake pans. So Gretchen turned her attention to tasks she could complete, such as making the frosting for the cake. But then it turned out that there wasn't enough powdered sugar. Eventually she was forced to walk to a nearby supermarket, in this case Whole Foods. Meanwhile, I'd made some coffee and was reading the latest news on the 14 inch Thinkpad that I take with me when I travel.
Eventually came back with the powdered sugar and was able to make the frosting. But even once Gretchen's parents were up and could look for the cake pans, none of them seemed suitable. It was looking like we might have to borrow some from a neighbor down the hall.
Then, to her horror, Gretchen discovered that some ingredient she'd used to make the frosting had gone rancid, imparting a "rancid nut" flavor to the frosting. She tried covering the flavor by adding lemon juice and such, but when I tasted it, I told her the honest truth: she would have to throw it out and start again. I hate unnecessary waste and don't have a particularly sensitive palate, so if that was my analysis, she knew she was going to have to start again. Initially she thought the old powdered sugar was the thing that had gone bad, but it later turned out that it was the shortening.
For lunch, Gretchen's father drove us across the Potomac to Arlington so we could take advantage of the lunch buffet at Dama, an Ethiopian restaurant we'd had a good meal at before. There is currently an enormous amount of road construction and modification near the Pentagon (which is close to Dama), and right now Dama is located something of a stump of unexcavated land, seemingly surrounded by exposed orange subsoil. The Dama buffet is entirely vegan, and as with all buffets, it was great to be able to concentrate only on the things that we like from it. I lay down a couple pieces of injera, covered it with various wats, and then added a couple additional pieces of injera to help me eat it all in the Ethiopian manner (that is, without any utensils). The meal as good, and it also passed muster with Gretchen, who, having grown up in the Washington, DC area, is intolerant of any but the best Ethiopian food. At some point I'd asked Gretchen's father why there are so many Ethiopians in the Washington, DC area, and he'd replied that Ethiopians tend to work in service industries in jobs such as parking lot attendant, a plentiful niche in a car-oriented big city like Washington. And once some particular well-connected hard-working Ethiopian landed his first Washington parking attendant job, his employer wondered where more of his kind might be found. So he contacted lots of friends and family back in Ethiopia. Now it's rare to go to a managed parking lot in Washington and not see that the people working there are all Ethiopian. And people who are good at attending parking lots tend to be good at many other service jobs, and soon Ethiopians had insinuated themselves in all of them. At this point, Washington DC has the most Ethiopians of any city outside Ethiopia.
After our meal, we went next door to the little Ethiopian shop, where Gretchen bought something like four bags of injera for us to take back to Hurley and put in our freezer. We also went to the bakery, which is part of the same strip-mall complex, so Gretchen's father could buy some vegan bakery items. (Ethiopians are reliably knowledgeable about what is and what is not vegan, since there are many fasting days on their orthodox Christian calendar that require them to temporarily eat as if they are vegan.) Interestingly, every time we (or Gretchen's father, who has been to Dama many times) has gone into the bakery, he's always noticed a group of six to twelve Ethiopian men sitting around at the tables drinking tea or coffee. They were there today, and it's not clear what they were there to do other than socialize. Meanwhile the teevee was tuned to CNN and was covering the story of an investigation into the death of the actor Matthew Perry.
Gretchen intended to spend much of the afternoon visiting Dina in Silver Spring. so Gretchen's father let her off at Metro station near the Watergate. Then we went to Trader Joes to buy a bunch more powdered sugar, as all the powdered sugar Gretchen had bought this morning had to be thrown out due to contamination with rancid shortening. I went into the Trader Joes to get the sugar while Gretchen's parents waited for me in the car. Then I suddenly realized I hadn't brought my wallet. Here was the one thing I could pay for, and yet I didn't have any way to do so. So I then had the embarrassment of bumming a credit card from my father-in-law, who had been paying for everything. (He seems to enjoy paying for everything, which is part of an effort to transfer as much wealth as possible to his children before he dies so that they &mdash, and through marriage, this includes me — can get it both tax-free and while he's alive to see the joy it brings us.)
With Gretchen off in Silver Spring, I had some down time by myself to do whatever I felt like. I took a bath even though I couldn't get the shower function to turn off, forcing me to run the water slowly so it fell from the shower spigot just on my feet. I also drank some from a flask I'd brought in my baggage.
Gretchen returned at around 7:00pm, and not long after that, the four of us were in the kitchen coming up with a plan for a modest dinner at home, one that would end up involving vegan hotdogs. While this was happening, Gretchen's father happened to mention something about his intense dissatisfaction with how things are going now in Isæl. Mind you, the guy has long been a supporter of Isæl, a viewpoint that was baked into his daughter Gretchen when she was young. As for me, I have never considered Isæl a good idea, focused as it is on the Jewish people despite the many non-Jews inside its borders. When I first spent much time with Gretchen back in 1987, I quickly learned that it was best if I didn't discuss my view of Isæl, which was much more sympathetic to the Palestinians than her tribalism could handle. Now though, since the blockade of Gaza and retributionary war launched by Netanyahu, Gretchen seems as if she is done with Isæl. But she's been with me now for decades, and it's been apparent for a long time that her tribalism has gradually been evaporating. This is partly a function of my non-tribalist outlook rubbing off on her. But it's also that she's become an evangelical proponent of veganism, a ready and available moral framework that has no patience with tribalism, no matter how well-intentioned. So I was amazed when Gretchen's father said that the way things are going in Isæl has made him into something of "anti-semite," a term he actually used (probably a bit hyperbolically) to describe himself. I didn't know what to say to that, being the only non-Jew present, but when Gretchen's father responded to some questions I had, it was clear that he was "done" with the people in Isæl who keep voting for Netanyahu despite the mess he makes and the poison he is visiting on his country.
A guy who loves to feed pigeons and his pigeons not far northeast of the Watergate.
Click to enlarge.
The landscape from Gretchen's parents' balcony, viewed from the east.
Click to enlarge.
The landscape from Gretchen's parents' balcony, viewed from the east.
Click to enlarge.
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