Eritrean community here follows strife back home

Their prayer, pleaded in a haunting wail with hands turned upward to God, was for peace.

Monday, after local Eritreans heard the news that Ethiopia had bombed their homeland, dozens flocked to a church in Seattle for a hastily arranged ceremony.

Ethiopian MiG-23s had attacked the airport in Asmara, Eritrea's capital - the latest move in what is currently the largest war in the world.

The ceremony at the Kidist Selassie Christian Orthodox church, East Spruce Street and 24th Avenue, was called Mhlela, or begging for mercy from God.

"They bombed my hometown this morning," said one of the congregants, Hidaat Ephrem, a poet and staff member of the University of Washington's music department.

After the service, sadness turned to anger.

"Why is the United States standing on the sidelines, watching a nation destroyed?" asked Ogbe Habte, who came to the U.S. in 1983 and works for the Seattle Housing Authority.

Though acknowledging that the United States has sent representatives to the region in an effort to prevent the war from escalating, some Eritreans in Seattle say the U.S. could do more, as it did for Kosovo and Kuwait.

Tens of thousands of soldiers on both sides of the Eritrea-Ethiopia conflict have died since intermittent battles erupted in 1998 over the poorly marked border between the nations.

And Eritrean officials estimate that close to 500,000 Eritreans have been displaced by the latest hostilities, which began May 6, ending a tenuous cease-fire.

Compounding the tragedy, a new famine is threatening the region, and the war is making relief efforts more difficult.

As artillery shells continued to fall yesterday in southern Eritrea, peace talks began in Algeria. The talks did not begin with much promise.

Representatives from Ethiopia and Eritrea, whose leaders were once friends and were thought to be architects of a new African prosperity, are not meeting in the same room.

Thousands here have ties there

About 3,000 Eritreans and 6,000 Ethiopians live in Seattle. Many on both sides follow the war.

For Eritrea, the youngest nation in the United Nations, the conflict is nothing short of a struggle for existence.

Many Seattle Eritreans fear the war is not about the border but has been provoked by Ethiopia to retake Eritrea, the former province it lost in 1993, and regain access to the Red Sea.

However, officials in Addis Ababa, the Ethiopian capital, say it was Eritrea that started the border war in 1998, when it launched tanks into Ethiopian territory.

The latest offensive, the officials say, is simply to ensure Ethiopia won't be invaded again.

In Seattle, 200 Eritreans recently registered with the embassy and informed officials that they are prepared to fight.

"Anytime they call us, we're ready to go," said Fessahaye Kahasai, 33, a car dealer.

"We just want to defend our country," added Tesfaye Haile, 36, a chauffeur.

For now, the Eritrean government has not called for them, maintaining that Eritreans living outside Africa will better serve their country, one of the world's poorest, if they learn skills they can eventually bring back.

The war effort here

Seattle's Eritreans have given in other ways. They have written to Gov. Gary Locke, asking him to send supplies to the refugees and requesting he write President Clinton to help defuse the crisis.

On Saturdays, Eritrean UW students have carwash fund-raisers. Boxes of clothes are stacked from floor to ceiling at the Eritrean Association of Greater Seattle in Rainier Valley.

And since 1998, the Seattle Eritrean community - one of the largest in the United States outside Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., and New York - has sent nearly $2 million to Eritrea, some through relief organizations and some directly to the Eritrean embassy in Washington.

Hidaat, the poet, said the money goes to help refugees who are flooding into Asmara and into neighboring Sudan, overwhelming relief workers. But, she said, "I have no shame if I send money to buy bullets to defend ourselves."

Nations with similarities

A previous war between the countries, which lasted 31 bloody years and gave Eritrea its independence, was raging when Hidaat came to Lincoln, Neb., in 1972 to go to high school.

That war began in 1962, years after Italy pulled out of Eritrea, where it had been the colonial power since the 19th century.

Hidaat's late mother was alive during the Italian years. She spoke Italian, cooked the cuisine, but could not vote or ride in the front of a bus. She was prohibited from entering areas reserved for Caucasians.

After the Italians left in 1941, the British governed Eritrea as a protectorate. In 1952, the United Nations voted to place Eritrea under the Ethiopian monarchy, despite the fact that three-quarters of the Eritrean populace supported independence.

The war that broke out in 1962 took the lives of tens of thousands of Eritreans and Ethiopians.

After a coup in Ethiopia, Eritrea seceded peacefully in 1993. But in 1998, war broke out again.

Eritreans and Ethiopians both follow the ancient traditions of Islam and Coptic Christianity, speak similar languages and eat dishes of spongy bread and spicy meat. The mother of Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi is Eritrean.

But unlike Ethiopians, Eritreans have lived through decades of colonial rule, which they say instilled in them a fierce desire for independence.

`These are brothers and sisters'

The relationship between Ethiopians and Eritreans in Seattle has also soured. Hidaat said she has heard of a few marriages and business partnerships breaking up over the turmoil.

"Some people might not be on good terms because of the war," said Abraham Araya, who came to the United States in 1984, and whose father and sister live in Eritrea. "Community-wise, it's not a very smooth relationship."

But, he said, "people need to understand that governments come and go."

Abraham said the war hasn't affected all relationships between Eritreans and Ethiopians. He said he chose an Ethiopian friend to be his son's godfather.

Ezra Teshome, an insurance agent and a leader in the Ethiopian community, said he had not heard of any change in relationships.

"I'm very saddened about the loss of life on both sides," he said. "These are brothers and sisters."

Hidaat said she can't let go of memories of her last visit to Eritrea in January, when she met soldiers at the front and read them poems.

"Ever since the start of this war, their faces have haunted me," she said.

Joshua Robin's phone message number is 206-464-8255. His e-mail address is jrobin@seattletimes.com