FREEING A SLAVE

Evening Post, Volume CXXI, Issue 36, 12 February 1936, Page 4

FREEING A SLAVE

A DIFFICULT TASK

THE LAW IN ABYSSINIA

When I first met Waletu, I was greatly surprised, for she'was the first Ethiopian girl I had seen working in a European way, says a correspondent writing from Addis Ababa to the "Christian Science Monitor." She was wearing a light blue suit and a white apron and had a tiny white cap on her curly hair. Most of her. companions have fuzzy or woolly heads, but Waletu was born with a beautiful "permanent." Naturally, I had no way of guessing that she had once been Abainich. Indeed, I didn't even know she was Waletu. Nor did I pay any attention to her hair. What struck me was that an eighteen-year-old Ethiopian girl should be such an efficient helped in an office. And that she could speak English. She was the interpreter between an Armenian and myself and did very well, but she seemed rather bashful and quite professional, so I thought I'd better not embarrass her by trying to s,tart up a conversation. But one day my "boy" brought me a cable while I was in the office and after opening it I showed it to Waletu. She read the one word of which it consisted, "Married," and asked me if I knew what it meant. "Yes," I replied. "The younger one fof my twin daughters was married today." Upon hearing" that, the Ethiopian girl began to show some curiosity, even daring to ask, "What is her name?" "I'll tell you hers if you'll tell me yours," was my answer. "All right." I "Helen." "Waletu." "Well, I'm awfully glad it's that; Waletu sounds musical, somewhat like our beautiful name, Hiawatha. I was afraid it might be some awful word full of Gees or Kays or Zeez or other such sounds." "But why did you think that?" "Oh, I don't know.. I remember the name Has Gugsa and I've read of a Weizeru Abebich. I'm glad you escaped them." "Well, my name used to be Abainich; I wonder how you'd like that." My curiosity was greatly aroused by that revelation, and I couldn't help but ask: "Does that mean you are married?" "No, my name was changed in an entirely different way—not like your daughter's," she informed me rather reluctantly and added, "I haven't time to tell you about it today." I showed myself surprisingly patient and courteous, even though a reporter, and before I' had finished the necessary visits to her employer I learned her story. DAUGHTER OF SLAVE. Abainich, which means "strong," was the daughter of Askali, a slave woman owned by a widowed nun living in Ankober, with two sons, of whom one, Mihail, had studied in Paris. Askali worked as a servant for an Armenian merchant, Bononian, and regularly gave her monthly wages of about 16s to her owner, the nun. Some days when Askali came to the Bononians to work she brought her little girl with her. This was' not very often for Abainich had to tend the nun's sheep, but still it enabled the merchant's wife and daughter to become acquainted with her. The shepherdess wore nothing but a very dirty, ragged shirt, her hair was clipped in a ludicrous way so as to leave a shaggy fringe of curls about her head, and she seemed wilder than the goats she watched. Still the Bononians became much attached to her and asked the slave mother if the child couldn't also work for them. The mother was pleased to have her daughter in so good a family and the nun also agreed when assured that she would get about 8s a month from; her little slave's job. Abainich looked like quite a different child when dressed in clean, white clothes and when curls were allowed to grow all over her head. She was also very cheerful, helpful, and devoted and learned to do her new tasks surprisingly quickly, even picking up English, which was often spoken by the Bononians, who had studied m American schools in Constantinople. Naturally the Armenians were horrified at the thought of the bright little girl's eventual return as a slave to live in a primitive hut with her slave mother and slave-owning mistress, the nun. So they were delighted, on making inquiry, to learn that Abainich's father was a free man, since the new antislavery law, decreed by the Emperor Haile Selassie in 1924, gives all children of at least one free parent the right to be free. FIGHT FOR FREEDOM. But of course possession is nine points of the law and the Bononians didn't know how they could really liberate the little girl. They saw she was growing up to be efficient ,and attractive and felt sure that1 Mihail. the son of the nun, would soon claim her as his property. So after due arrangements, and with the grateful approval of her mother, they sent her to the capital, 100 miles away, to live with the family of a friend. These became even fonder of her than the Bononians and for four years. brought her up almost as their daughter, although they kept her in greats seclusion and never let her appear on the streets alone. They feared that the young man who claimed to be her owner would steal her. During this time Abainich's slave mother was subjected to cruel treatment by her owners, who tried to compel her to tell where her daughter was. The wretched woman was kept in chains for months, was beaten and nearly starved, but refused to tell. She said that what she had to suffer was nothing if it only enabled her daughter to be free. But finally the inevitable happened. Twenty-three-year-old Mihail, who claimed to be the owner of 15-year-old Abainich, discovered where she was living and engaged agents in Addis Ababa to watch her. On a September day in 1933, when the whole capital was celebrating. Ethiopia's greatest holiday and scores of thousands of people were on the street, Mihail's hirelings seized Abainich and carried her away in an automobile. No trace of her was to be found and it seemed certain that her slavery had begun. A STOLEN GIRL. ' The Armenian protested to the antislavery bureau in the capital and described the whole case to the Judge. Being one of the many Armenians here under French protection, he made full use of that, fact and threatened to bring the affair to the attention of the French Press unless Abainich was found and released. Ethiopia is very sensitive to charges regarding the existence of slavery here, and the stealing of this girl was especially flagrant, since she had complete right, accord-ing-to the law, to be free and the man (who. claimed her had a European education.

So the anti-slavery bureau used far more haste and vigour than is customary in this country and Abainich was soon found. She was placed in the custody of the anti-slavery Judge himself, who kept her in his house and she was helped from a fund maintained by the Emperor for slaves seeking freedom. Her case dragged on for more

than six months, for the man who claimed her did everything possible to win his case at Court. Especially he brought pressure to bear on the girl's mother so as to make her tell the Judge that Abainich's father was a slave, which would deprive the girl of the right to be free. The ignorant and defenceless mother was completely in his power, but refused to yield. She was subjected to privation, starvation, chains, and torture, but defiantly told her owner that whatever lie did she would testify that her daughter had a right to freedom.

And she stuck to that decision. Mihail, in spite of all his wiles, could get the case deferred no longer, and the Court unanimously declared the girl free. It went further even and announced that if the young man dared molest her further, he would be severely punished as a slave dealer.

With great joy Abainich returned to the family of the Armenian, in whose office I found her some two years later. She is still careful never to go on to the street alone.

"And where is your heroic mother?" I asked, after I had heard her story.

Waletu's voice was full of sorrow as she said: 'She is in my new name. When the Court pronounced me free, I received another name. I chose it myself. And I picked Waletu, . not because of its sound, but because it means 'suffering for another.' "

There are still many thousand Abainiches in Addis Ababa. Some of them carry water in great black jars past my room every morning.