from Beneath the Lion's Gaze

Sara heard the gate creak open and keys rattle. She wondered who was foolish enough to wander outside after sundown since patrol cars had begun to roam through the neighborhood. The police were everywhere these days, looking for possible suspects in the rash of bus burnings and shop lootings that had been taking place around the city. These bold acts of violence and rebellion, growing increasingly more persistent, kept most citizens locked behind closed doors once the sun dropped into the horizon. An unnatural quiet now descended on Addis Ababa's nights. She heard the side door groan open and soft footfalls in the corridor. Dawit. She checked the clock above the TV; it was close to seven. Soon the family would be sitting around the television trying to ignore Dawit's silence and Hailu's stares.

Sara waited for Dawit to go into his bedroom, then got up and knocked on his door. She sensed the hesitation on the other side. "It's me," she said.

The door swung open and Dawit stood in front of her dressed in dark trousers and a black long-sleeved shirt. "What?" he asked, feigning a yawn.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked. His nonchalance, more pronounced since Selam had gone back into the hospital last week, was irritating.

He looked down at his clothes with a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"

She pushed past him and into his room. "Are you going to try to treat me this way too?" She and Dawit, though eight years apart, had always been close. When he didn't answer, she sighed. "Abbaye keeps asking me to make sure you're home at night. He's trying to do so much all by himself. Help him."

"I know," Dawit said. "I'm being careful." He set the notebooks on the floor and sat on the bed facing her.

She eyed his clothes. "I didn't go to college but even I can tell you look like one of those troublemakers burning buses and cars." It was when Sara looked closer that she saw his eyes were red, that streaks lined his cheeks. "Where were you?" she asked. She'd long suspected that Dawit grieved intensely and alone for his mother.

"At Lily's," he said, referring to his longtime girlfriend. "After a meeting," he added.

She noticed a small red book next to his lamp. "You've been to three meetings already this week. At least that I know of. And now you're reading Mao? You're never home."

She was struck by how age and muscle had chiseled his features into a more angular version of her husband's, eight years his senior. There had been a time when the family could hardly distinguish a childhood photo of Yonas from a recent one of Dawit. The wide forehead was now more pronounced above thick eyebrows, and he'd developed a sharp, strong jaw. The brothers shared the same mouth, the same gentle curve of the bottom lip, the same mouth her daughter had inherited.

"There's an important rally tomorrow. We want to force the emperor to give us a meeting and discuss reforms," he said.

She laughed. "The emperor meeting with students?" She caught the hurt look on his face before he hid it with an arrogant shrug. She softened her tone. "We're all going to the hospital tomorrow, even Tizita. Please come, just for one day."

"I have things to do." He was having a difficult time meeting her gaze.

"You'd rather go to a rally? You already missed going to the hospital tonight." She watched his features harden, his mouth set as firmly as Tizita's before a temper tantrum.

"You don't know how lucky you are to have a family, and all you want to do is push them away," she said. If her parents were still alive, there would never be a day of disagreements between them.

He stared at the floor the same way he used to do when she would lose her temper with him when he was a child.

"If...