Ethio Latte
Injera, ayeb, alicha doro. I pronounced the words carefully, unsure of whether I had the pronunciation correct or not. The waitress nodded along, however, so I must have gotten it right enough. These are Ethiopian foods from Café Desta here in Tucson, and I was out having ethio lattes with my sister-in-law. I was interviewing her for an article, and she, decked to the nines in Christmas decorations, was happily telling me about her travels and her experiences as a nurse.
There are three Katies in my family. There's myself, of course: I've gone by Katie since I was born. There's also my grandmother and my sister-in-law. When I got married, we all took a photo together. It's funny; between our two families, we share a lot of names. Besides us Katies, Jack's mother and my mother both go by the same name, and Jack's father and Jack both answer to Jack. It's given me some inspiration for future names for my sons; I'd like to name one of them Jasper, a name that carries the J- sound of this hypothetical child's father and grandfather, but which is its own unique name.
That's far in the future, though. On this day at the café the beautiful waitress brought us ayeb, a crumbled cheese, injera, dry thin pancakes, and alicha doro, meat cooked in red-orange spices. She had long black braids and a gold nose ring that catches the sunlight. I, having no idea what to do with the food, fold some of the ayeb into the injera and take a forkful of alicha doro. It was my first experience with Ethiopian cuisine, and it was delicious. My sister-in-law smiles her lovely smile over her cup of coffee. We enjoy the time together, just us two.
I am grateful for the companionship of my fellow women. These last few years have taught me much about appreciating the support, help, and comfort that women provide for one another. I've been writing handwritten letters to some of these women, getting back in touch with pen and ink, and it's given me time to think over how rich my life is with women. I haven't always had many friends, or even people to reach out to. As I write this now, though, my best friend is just a click away on my phone. She lives across the country, but her words are as present as ever, and, as I start working on my book and on my podcast, her encouragement means everything to me.
