Hoooray! Horray! It Is a Holiday!

I can still close my eyes and go to those holiday mornings in my childhood. I can smell and taste the food. I can hear the music in the background. I can see my mother, wearing her white holiday dress, directing all the action in the kitchen. I can see my father and my grand father expertly skinning the poor sheep that met his end at the crack of dawn.

I remember taking a sickle and going out into the yard to cut long blades of grass which I then sprinkled all over our living room just as tradition required. That was my job. It was also my job to constantly linger around the kitchen and do as I was told until I was chased out after a particularly clumsy move.

Holidays have a certain energy about them. Everyone flushed with anticipation and a vague sense of complete fatigue, working away towards a big table of tummy pleasing dishes. Those days are imprinted in my mind and I always find comfort in remembering them.

Having a child has made me even more aware of the importance of these memories. I want my son to grow up with strong family rituals. This Genna, I am going all out. I have already clarified butter (which is something I have never done before). With some help, I have the doro all ready to be cooked. The injera dough has been fermenting for three days.

This Genna will be my family's first alone. I never before tried to make a real holiday hoopla the Ethiopian way. Paul and I just went to my parents and celebrated it with them. I am excited to make my own holiday. I am sure I will also miss my family. We will be spending the day with three Chinese guests, friends of Paul's from work.

This will be Buchela's first Genna. He won't remember it but I will.