Iddir, metaphor for solidaity in Ethiopia Solomon Dejene The aim of this paper is to gain insight into the relation between iddirs and sustainable development in Ethiopia. The material to achieve the aim is gathered through literature review and field work. The method of analysis is inspired by Norman Fairclough’s critical discourse analysis (henceforth CDA). CDA focuses on the relation between language use and social reality. It combines three forms of analysis. The first is linguistic analysis of text. It deals with wording, grammar, syntax, cohesion, metaphor, transitivity, and so forth The second deals with discursive practice which is an analysis of the (processes of) production, distribution and consumption of texts. At this stage we look at inter-textuality and inter-discursivity. The third form studies the socio-cognitive effects of discursive practice, in particular, reproduction or transformation of status quo. Definitions of the key concepts are given in the introduction of this book. One of the issues to be dealt with is to what extent iddir can be considered indigenous. The paper is divided into four sections. The first section is a review of several publications on iddir. The second section is an overview of data gathered through field work. The third section contains a critical correlation of theoretical insights gathered through literature review (section one) and empirical insights gathered through fieldwork (section two). The final section contains some conclusions concerning indigenous knowledge and sustainable development. A Journey on the Landscape of ‘Iddir’ This section reviews literature on iddirs in Ethiopia, their origin and development,significance and function, as well as their relation to the government. The literature is vast and diverse, and is written by both Ethiopains and foreigners, from various perspectives: , historical, sociological, economics and anthropological. Meaning and etymology Iddir is the most widespread indigenous voluntary association in Ethiopia. It is unthinkable to imagine a village without iddir with the exception of some remote areas. Iddirs’ composition, system, approach and size may differ from place to place, but they all are community oriented, and mostly religiously and ethnically heterogeneous unless the area is homogenous. They have a high level of participation at all levels (Dejene 2003) and promote self-esteem as each with his/her minor tasks counts (Alemayehu 1968). They are also egalitarian and transparent (Dejene 2003). Accountability is one of their outstanding traits. (See Pankhurst 2004, 2003; Dejene 2003; Pratten 1997) There are several sorts of iddirs. The most commonl ones are neighborhood and workplace iddirs; that is, people working under an employer. There are nowadays women’s iddir, friends’ iddir, youth iddir, faith-based iddir, family iddir, former schoolmates’ iddir, etc. The number of members varies from about twenty to over a 1

thousand depending on the area and the network. In work places the number is usually related to the size of the organization (Dejene 2003; Pankhurst 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Fecadu 1974). Concerning the etymology of the word iddir, Pankhurst (2003) presents a claim by a certain yähibrät minch iddir (tr. source of union iddir) which asserts that it was the first iddir. This iddir was apparently established in 1907 in Addis Ababa during the reign of Menelik II. The group belonged to Soddo-kistane Gurage1 merchants who were discriminated and despised in Addis Ababa. They were also not allowed to hold meetings in public. They buried their dead at night. Caught during one of their meetings they were brought to Fitawrari 2 Habtegiorgis, the then minister of defense. When asked why they transgress the rule by holding a meeting, they answered him ‘yebelo zemed motem, biddir yelebkewey’ in their own language (Guragigna of kistane dialect). Taking the word biddir as loan he asked them about it and their response was that they had called helping the bereaved biddir. Habtegiorgis approved their meeting on such occasions and gave them 5 silver Birr and suggested that others should follow this exemplary system. He recommended that the name should be iddir instead of biddir (Pankhurst 2003). Contemporary Kistane Gurages say that the word biddir is loan/debt as in Amharic. What they said to the minister can be translated as, ‘when a relative of someone died, don’t you owe him something?’ In other words, ‘won't you go to the funeral?’ or ‘won’t you bury him?’ The word biddir seems to have the same meaning as in Amharic with its figurative connotation of paying tribute to the dead and his/her family by attending the funeral. But the minister took it literally and gave them some money. Others still say that in some sebat bet 3 Guragigna dialect biddir is a special type of dirge that expresses the relationship between the deceased and the one who dirges. As in some Ethiopian cultures, the way one dirges, is related to his/her relation with the deceased. And biddir is a kind of dirge which is mistaken by the minister as loan. So he gave them the money which they seemingly needed for the burial. The other view is that the word iddir might have its origin in the Amharic word dir which means web. Some elderly people say that Menelik II settled some of the patriots in Addis Ababa. As a result they lost the broader contact they had in their home villages. So they seemingly put their heads together and decided to form a dir (web). The saying dir biabir anbässa yassir (union of webs can tie up a lion) is assumed to have inspired the initiators. They wanted to tackle the problem of city life by forming a dir. The insertion of the ‘ ə’ sound is said to have evolved through time. Others say that the was not originally ə’ ‘ there but a preposition in a rural Amharic dialect to mean ‘wäddä’ which is ‘to’. It can also mean to say something emphatically or while repeating when not heard. Even to this day some people use the ‘ before a destination to mean ‘to’ or when asked what they ə’ just said. Later on it is taken over by everyone and has become a proper name
1

Gurage is a minority ethnic group. There are certain sub-ethnic groups and the Soddo Kistane is one among the sub-ethnic groups. 2 Fitawrari is a traditional military title in Ethiopia. 3 Sebat bet (lit. tr. seven houses) is a collective name for seven subgroups of the Gurage ethnic group.

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pronounced as ‘ədir’, spelled nowadays as iddir. However, further study is required to arrive at a definitive conclusion in regard the etymology of the name. Origin Alemayehu Seifu (1968) claims that no iddirs existed before the Italian occupation. His argument is that rural life was disrupted by the occupation due to which the city became attractive for those affected. This caused an accelerated migration and urbanization. For those rural people who were not accustomed to the way of life in the city it was difficult to cope with it. Communal life, mutual relationship among neighbors/relatives was strong in their former home. In towns people live in physical proximity yet in anonymity. Such a feeling of uprootedness and confusion along with the lack of connection in time of need necessitated the creation of associations like iddir (Alemayehu 1968). Fecadu (1974) claimed that iddirs originated around the Italian occupation in Addis Ababa by migrant groups from acephalous backgrounds. He argues that the migrants transplanted their rural social structures to town with certain adjustments to the city way of life. His study reveals that people from centralized social and political systems did not initially join the iddirs. He relates this with the military camp like organizational structure of most of the Ethiopian towns which did not encourage differentiation or the development of independent social organizations. In the late thirties of the 20th C, the Italians restructured the towns and dismantled the politico-military structure along with its system of patron-client relationship. That was, according to Fecadu (1974), a turning point for the migrants and the lower stratum allowing them to organize themselves. Mekuria (1973) supports this reasoning and claimed that the Italian occupation caused dislocation and uprootedness as ‘the countryside was the battleground for the Ethiopian Patriotic Forces’. Farmers were executed for harboring them. People sought safe haven and work in the Italian garrison towns. They were isolated or they purposely isolated themselves. However, with the presence of high risk of death, they formed a network at least among themselves in order to have a decent burial. He further claims that iddirs initially drew membership from the same ethnic group or from people coming from the same locality by transplanting their traditional mutual support system. On the other hand, there are academics, among others Pankhurst (2003), who are of view that iddir started in Addis Ababa several years after the city was founded in 1886. He argues that there was no reference to iddir in the historical travel literature and chronicles prior the 20th century. According to him, the word iddir appears only in the D’Abaddie’s Amharic dictionary of 1881 with a meaning ‘custom, usage’. Korten (1972) too asserts that iddirs date back to late 19th century Addis Ababa. There is also difference of view in regard the urban or rural origin of iddir. Pankhurst (2003; Damen & Pankhurst 2000) asserts that iddirs are exclusively of urban origin. His argument is that there is no evidence to link traditional forms of cooperation in the rural area with the establishment of iddir. In line with Alemayehu, Pankhurst further elaborates that iddir should not be confused with the traditional trend of mutual help and other 3

associations. Its urban traits are vivid in the fact that there is a list of members, written bylaws, monthly monetary contributions, regular meetings, differentiated and fixed coverage scheme. Such modern system was solely urban as it is related to a monetized and literate setting rather than in the rural area where these did not exist. Yet opponents claim that iddir is a traditional mutual support system that is transplanted from the rural area with certain modification so as to fit in the urban life (Dejene 2003; Fecadu 1974; Markakis 1974; Mekuria 1973; Levine 1965). Fecadu (1974) claims that the strong social orientation among the Gurages and other neighboring ethnic groups has led to the establishment of such urban support systems that could serve fulfill the social and material needs of the new migrant communities and channel their connectedness with their villages. But Dejene (2003) states that iddirs could trace their origin in some rudimentary mutual support form in rural areas long before the Italian occupation. His conjecture is based on the commonness of mutual support networks in rural areas. But he is of opinion that iddirs assumed their current form in urban areas where monetization is high. It is hardly known how many iddirs there were before, during and even after the occupation as they were not registered. It was the 1966 association registration regulation that made a change in that iddirs must be registered in order to become a legal entity (Pankhurst 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Markakis 1974; Korten 1972). A number of iddirs were registered but the vast majority did not see the need for registration, or was afraid that the government would interfere in their activities. However, this became in no way a constraint to the expansion of iddirs (Shiferaw 2002). Most academics agree on the fact that iddir membership was originally limited to the poor(Dejene 1993; Fecadu1974; Markakis 1974; Mekuria 1973) Initiators Endreas and Pankurst4 (1958) were the first who lit up the debate by stating that iddir might have its origin among the Gurages. They base their claim on the fact that the Gurages had a custom of tending the cattle of the deceased and work on his farm as long as two months. However, Alemayehu (1968) rejects the reasoning of Endreas and Pankhurst by arguing that such mutual support systems exist among the Amharas and Oromos. Years later, the other Pankhurst (2003) drew on the formers’ argument. He illustrates it by referring to a pamphlet by Yehibret Minch iddir (a Soddo Kistane/Gurage iddir of merchants of hides, wax, fat and coffee) to which I referred earlier. Pankhurst infers from the pamphlet that the iddir has both ethnic foundation and is of Gurage origin. He also argues that opponents of this view do not come up with any counter evidence. Fecadu (1974) associates the origin of iddir with ethnic groups from a non-centralized socio-political system. Accordingly they were initially formed along ethnic lines and local
4

This Pankhurst should not be mistaken for the Pankhurst referred earlier. This is a historian and the father of the earlier quoted Pankhurst who is a sociologist.

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connections mainly because members of one ethnic group settled in one neighborhood. Even if he states that iddir is borrowed from acephalous ethnic groups such as the Gurages, he does not directly link the origin of the iddir with any particular ethnic group. As the residential segregation was abandoned in post occupation Ethiopia, iddirs have become multiethnic and played an integrative role by bringing people of different ethnic groups together. Ethnic and Functional Transformation Many of the publications on iddir claim that iddirs started as an ethnic-based association and later transformed themself into multiethnic associations due to both internal and external factors (Dejene 2003; Pankhurst 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Pankhurst & Damen Hailemariam 2000; Fecadu 1974; Mekuria 1973). By external factor is meant the pressure from the government. Both the imperial and the Derg governments discouraged, in some cases, even forced ethnic-based iddirs to change their names and reconsider their membership (Pankhurst 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Pankhurst & Damen 2000). Internal factor means the self-transformation of iddirs in accordance with their environment. The fluid nature of iddirs has made them adaptable to the multiethnic context of the urban setting in which multiethnic based membership was a natural result (Dejene 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Fecadu 1974). Alemayehu (1968), on the other hand, reasons out completely in the opposite direction. He asserts that iddirs started as neighborhood associations. Later on occupation and tribal iddirs came into existence. Mostly the primary aim and manifest functions of iddirs are to provide mutual support and decent burial in time of death. This includes the provision of financial, material and emotional support to the bereaved. Some think that the spread of iddirs has to do with the high value given to death in Ethiopia. Many academics claim that iddirs have transformed themselves from burial associations to multifunctional ones. Many iddirs undertake nowadays a number of development and business activities and provide micro credit. The development programs include sanitation development in the neighborhood, building smaller infrastructures like feeder roads and sewerage systems, day cares, schools, good social (neighborly) relations, social control, and the likes. (See Dejene 2003; Pankhurst; 2003; Shiferaw 2002; Pankhurst & Damen 2000; Fecadu 1974; Mekuria 1973). In some cases iddirs have also served as a pressure group on Bähalf of the community to the local administration to facilitate the provision tap water and the likes. The term ‘elders of the community’ refers in the urban context to the iddir officials (Markakis 1974). Most of the published documents on iddirs claim that iddirs have evolved from a monofunctional or limited area of function to a multifunctional network. Even if Alemayehu (1968) mentions that iddirs’ primary function is helping each other in time of trouble, he does not differentiate the functions diachronically. He simply states the social functions as supplementary ones to the support rendered during mishaps. His statement would raise the question whether iddirs started off principally as burial associations. 5

Iddir – Government Relationship Among some of the efforts by the government to involve iddirs in various community development programs there were a few with certain results, particularly in the later period of Haile Selassie (1930 – 1974). The first initiative dates back to 1957 in which the Ministry of National Community Development took the initiative to establish model community development centers in collaboration with iddirs. By involving 16 iddirs the Ras Desta Community Center was created (Mekuria 1973) and the Teklehaimanot Center was the result of a cooperation with125 iddirs (Kebebew 1981). A striking development was the involvement of parliamentary candidates to promote their campaign using iddir as platforms in the absence of political parties during the first elections in 1957, 1961 and 1965. Politicians joined iddirs to use them as platforms to promote their own political agenda. Associations began to be seen as pressure groups for development. Members of Parliament began to raise development issues, notably after the second elections. However, parliamentary democracy was also rather limited serving the interests of the imperial system and the landed elite (Fecadu 1974; Koehn & Koehn 1973; Clapham 1969). Because anything remotely political was not tolerated, iddirs were forced to include a clause in their statute: ‘The iddir will not pursue any political activity or interfere in the administrative affairs of the government’ (Markakis 1974; Koehn & Koehn 1973; Clapham 1969). Yet in many factories the iddir served as trade union in the absence of any trade union or a legal basis to form one (Shiferaw 2002) Another effort by the city council of Addis Ababa to organize iddirs at the wäräda (district of a city) level and an umbrella organization at the city level was not implemented as the would-be committee members were for the most government representatives due to which the iddirs pulled out.. Other collaborations were short-lived as the high participation of iddirs was misused to lobby against the then students’ movements, against girls who wore miniskirts. Iddirs were also mobilized to march on the parade for the 80th birthday of Haile Selassie (Clapham 1988; Koehn and Koehn 1973). After the Emperor was dethroned in 1974 the military regime obliged iddirs to donate their tents to the military for the war against Somalia and the rebels in Eritrea, then a province in northern Ethiopia. Their halls were either confiscated or forcefully used by the käbäle (smallest local administrative unit) for free. It also forced them to contribute money from their meager reserve capital to the war. Mothers, actually women’s iddirs were taken to military camps in order to prepare food for the war. The regime was crystal clear in its move to use iddirs for its purpose. Iddrs were given no choice but to cooperate with the government (Pankhurst 2000; Shiferaw 2002). The little development work they did in their respective neighborhood is taken over by the käbäle that is set up by the government to have control over the local. The käbäles called their meetings exactly at the same time in which the iddir meetings took place to make it at best difficult at worst impossible for the iddirs to hold their meetings. The käbäles use also iddir meetings to conscript militias. Iddir leaders were pressured to become members of the regime’s Workers’ Party. Other attempts include replacing the voluntary iddirs by käbäle iddirs 6

which did not succeed. The regime’s stringent policy drove iddirs further to a corner and forced them to provide service only during mishaps and joyful moments. However, those iddirs or umbrella of iddirs who already had some property such as recreation clubs were left alone (See for details Shiferaw 2002). In the later period of the military regime, iddirs were no more closely followed or pressured by the security. So, they started organizing certain activities to support their members by raising funds (Shiferaw 2002). The military regime was overthrown in 1991 and replaced by the former rebels from Tigray with an ideology of ethnic politics. This government has shown interest in the partnership of iddirs and holds some consultations. However, its inclination to use the iddirs to its own political ends has made it still difficult to undertake any significant joint project. According to Pankhurst (2004, 2003) the government has expressed its interest on various occasions to use iddirs as vehicles for development. A seemingly noteworthy action was that of the government consulting iddirs to participate in the workshop on the draft national law of ombudsman and human rights. Furthermore the recently established Social and NGO Affairs Office in Addis Ababa conducted a survey of iddirs. Pankhurst (2004) further states that since the reorganization of Addis Ababa in Sub-cities (which could be compared to the former wärädas/districts), there has been frequent contacts with iddirs and some Sub-city offices have established councils of iddirs by the Capacity Building Desks. Contemporary Traits of ‘Iddirs’ Between December 2007 and April 2008 the author conducted field work in Addis Ababa and Emdibir, a village 195km south west of Addis Ababa. Both in Addis Ababa and Emdibir, I was able to reach as many as a hundred iddirs thanks to a number of umbrella iddir associations that have emerged in the last few decades. Formally the research population consists of 37 iddir members with whom I had mainly audio recorded in-depth interview and unrecorded casual conversation on related issues. 20 were in Addis Ababa and 17 in Emdibir. Furthermore, I also had several casual discussions with iddir members outside my research area. In Addis Ababa 60% were women while in Emdibir the women research population was a mere 30%. In the age category also there is variation between Emdibir and Addis. While in Addis Ababa the age range varies from early 20’s to late 80’s, it was from early 40’s to around 70. The social standing varies from a daily laborer and unemployed to higher middle class. I conducted also participant observations during regular and extraordinary meetings of some of the individual iddirs and one umbrella of iddirs. Furthermore, I looked into the byelaws of a couple of iddirs. Manifest Functional Aspects of ‘Iddirs’ In order to understand a picture of iddirs, it is helpful to describe briefly their structure and what they do in time of death and joyful moments. Basically, the iddir has a danya (literally: judge) which is the presiding chairperson. Since a couple of decades the danya 7

is named in some cases liqämänbär (chairperson) or säbsabi (one who gathers) or the names are used interchangeably. The other posts are aqabe näway/hisab shum (treasurer), gänzäb yazh (literally cash holder) and a tsähafi (record holder/secretary). Since iddirs have been broadening their area of work, they have recently included a number of posts and committees. Members contribute a fixed amount of money per month and receive a certain amount of money in time of mishap. The most common ones are the financial benefit one gets if she/he loses a family member. The amount one receives depends on the closeness of the relation who passed away and the capital of the iddir. There is either a clause in the byelaws determining the condition and the amount or members make written agreements. As to the other support during the bereavement period the byelaw of the iddir prescribes the presence of the members for three days; however, those close to the bereaved visit and console the family for several days. The women iddir members will sit around the lady of the house and the men around the man. As soon as death occurs in a member’s family or a member passes away, members communicate with each other, particularly to the leaders. An informal impromptu committee will be formed to organize things even if the responsibility ultimately falls on the executive committee. In most cases those closer to the mourner will organize things. Among the men some members will go to the funeral while others stay behind to pitch a tent in the compound or on the street along the house and fill it with chairs as there will be tens of people coming to console the bereaved for days. The women also divide themselves into two. One group will go to the funeral and another will stay behind to prepare food for all who come after the funeral. Those who could not make it for the funeral due to work will come in the evening and take over some of the tasks if required. Normally the tent and the chairs will stay for three days. Marriage is not an affair exclusively for the bride and groom. The parents have a big role particularly in the organization of the wedding ceremony. So, the iddir of the parents have a role in the organization of the event. But the role of the iddirs is the provision of the necessary materials, arranging and decorating the place and serving. They will not be a part of the ritual, for instance, in the Church or the municipality. ‘Iddirs’ and community development One of the other developments in the iddirs is that members can rely on financial support or credit in time of sickness. If a member or one of his/her family members needs medical treatment and she/he does not have sufficient money, the iddir will provide her/him with the money either as loan or a benefit. If it is a loan she/he will be exempted from interest for a certain period of time. The period varies from iddir to iddir and the financial capacity of the iddir. Such support system exists in both urban and rural areas; in the women iddir and in the mixed ones and also in workplace iddirs. 8

Not all iddirs are involved in physical development work and even those who work have relatively small projects. On the other hand, iddirs work on the cohesion of the community. The not-formally-reported shimgelina 5 (mediation, reconciliation and harmonization) work, especially, in the Gurage area is highly significant. This aspect of iddirs does not usually come to the forefront as the process of mediation and reconciliation takes place within a core group of the very process who is entrusted with the responsibility. The conflict need not be within the iddir in order to be resolved. It could be an iddir member with someone either a member or nonmember. It can also be a marital conflict. Both parties will forward their preferred elders. In some cases, it is the presiding elder who forwards the ones who would work with him to resolve the issue. However, he needs to get approval by both parties for his selection. Usually the mediators are between 3 and 5. Both parties need to agree on the elders that do the mediations. Even if a number of conflicts do not reach the court room thanks to the iddir elders, such activities are not included in the annual reports of iddirs. This is mainly due to the fact that such issues are considered to belong to the private terrain of the concerned The mere fact that their membership is diverse in terms of religious affiliation, ethnic belonging, political stance and socio-economic position, they contribute in a way to the development of the community by preventing the fragmentation of the community and its resources. At the same time such a diversified constituency makes it in a way cumbersome to identify and prioritize a project that would satisfy all members. Furthermore, the tasks they fulfill in time of mishap and joy can be considered as a development program. If it were not for the iddirs, a number of households would end up in financial and mental crisis. Isn’t one of the development programs of a number of NGOs counseling and guidance in time of crisis like loss of one’s properties on fire? The iddirs provide financial assistance in as much as their capacity allows them. They also support members emotionally by being present in time of joy and sorrow. By standing by the side of the bereaved or the one who lost her/his properties on fire or even by sharing responsibility in organizing a wedding, they have therapeutic and counseling function. ‘Without my iddir I can’t receive those who would come to console me in a modest way when something happens to me.’ ‘Without my iddir, I can’t survive.’ ‘Tesfa 6 is really our tesfa.’ Such are the expressions among the economically weak members. The ones with fair income and the well-to-do say, ‘The iddir stands by me and helps me in time of mishap and joy.’ ‘I need the people around me in time of joy and sorrow.’ According to the custom meal is served to those who come to console the family. The phrase, ‘receive…in a modest way’ implies that this custom may not be fulfilled in a satisfactory
5

Shimgelina is about mediation, reconciliation and harmonization. The mediation serves to resolve problems and bring about reconciliation that should lead to a harmonious living together of the community not simply coexistence. In case of marital conflicts the aim is more the reconciliatory aspect and the preservation of the family institution. 6 Tesfa is the name of one of the umbrella iddir associations in central western part of Addis Ababa. Officially it is Tesfa Social and Development Association (TSDA), an umbrella of 31 – 35 iddirs, but it is popularly known as Tesfa and the word means hope.

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way if one does not have the financial support of the iddir. The second expression depicts even a dire situation that might confront people if they do not have the support of the iddir. The third one is a poetic way of expressing one’s gratefulness to the initiative of the umbrella association. In the case of the richer ones, much emphasis is on the social as the interviewees say more about the social support they get from their membership. This is also described by one member who is destitute and jobless, ‘No rich man can organize the funeral of his family member without us. They need us not only for our work but also because they are alone with their money otherwise.’ This describes the interdependence of the community which is also one of the aspects of the iddir. This interview reveals that there is interdependence and solidarity between rich and poor, or in general among the people. This discourse draws on the traditional discourse of iddirs that emphasizes on the happening around funeral and bereavement; hence, maintaining the existing social conditions instead of changing it. Another commonly used expression is comparing iddir members with one’s family or relative. ‘They [iddir members] are my family.’ This expression gives it more of relational perspective than functional. However, one of their impediments not to be well involved in development activities is their financial weakness despite their popularity among rich and poor and their capacity to mobilize nearly the entire neighborhood community. This makes them also weak in their capacity to negotiate with other partners like the government, NGOs including churches. As partly social-security associations, they frequently pay beneficiaries a substantial amount of money. This is even exacerbated due to the frequent occurrence of HIV/Aids related deaths. Also because most of the iddirsdo not have a buffer to protect themselves from bankruptcy, their financial capacity has been weakening. Most of them do not receive either technical or financial assistance from the government even if they would fulfill tasks that belong to the government. Their relationship with the government has always been very loose. Only in times of national crisis would the government lay contact with them in order to organize something. The Ethio-Eritrean war (1998-2000) is a case in point. Although registration is required by law in order to be a legal body, there are a number of iddirs that are not registered. Such iddirs keep their money at the treasurer’s or danya’s house or deposit in a bank by entrusting it to two executive committee members who would open a two persons’ and/and account. The iddirs are mostly known by the local administration but have barely contact with it. Even most registered ones have very little or no contact with the local administration. Those that have formed an umbrella association do have official contact for the government considers them as a development association. They have fair but cautious contact with the local administration. Three of the umbrella associations I visited have their offices in the käbäle compound. All three want to leave it as soon as they can. Even though their relationship with the käbäle is not bad, they do not feel free to work in a politically loaded setting as the käbäle sometimes interferes in some of their works. 10

The relative freedom iddirs enjoy under the current regime has provided them with an opportunity to reconsider their role in community development programs. Particularly the initiative of an NGO by the name ACORD to consolidate the resources of iddirs has been successful in Addis Ababa, Shashemene, Dire Dawa and other regional towns. ACORD has given workshops to and trained leaders of iddirs on democracy, basic civil rights, women’s rights, financial management, administration and so forth. In various parts of the capital and also other towns a number of iddirs have formed an umbrella in order to consolidate their financial and human resources. Individual neighborhood iddirs or an umbrella of iddirs asks occasionally some cooperation or support from the käbäle or sub-city administration. The bureaucratic bottleneck and the unwillingness of the local authority have created a gap between iddirs and the politics. Such umbrella associations are formed by consolidating resources in order to support the deprived and the elderly. A number of the tasks are fulfilled by members on voluntary basis. Each member iddir contributes a certain amount of money to keep the work of the umbrella moving. The money they collect from the member iddirs is by far below the need. So, they design projects and submit to donors. With the support they receive they renovate shanty houses, help (HIV/Aids) orphans go to school and have decent life. They also provide micro credit facility for young women and men mostly to set up petty-trades or small businesses. In collaboration with the käbäle, some of them have employed security guards in each neighborhood to make the area safe 24/7. In order to pay the salary for the guards each iddir member contributes a certain amount of money on top of the monthly contribution in accordance with his/her income. This will be supplemented by money collected from merchants and rich people from the neighborhood. It is worth explaining this collaboration as it is one among the infrequent collaborations between the käbäle and an umbrella organization of iddirs. After the post-elections riots in 2005, the kolfe area – a mixture of rich and poor, business and residential houses – became ever unsafe. Girls could not walk on the streets with their mobiles; shops were plundered regularly; street gangs terrorized the entire area. People did not give any response to the call of the käbäles when the latter wanted to consult them. In the end, the käbäle sought contact with iddirs through TDSA, to address the problem. The iddirs discussed the issue in their meetings and forwarded some people to work on it. In the end the iddirs formed a body of security guards to make the area safe. With the help of the local police those eligible for the job received basic training. It should also be noted that the micro credit facility they provide to their members ranges from filling one’s household to small scale business for self-reliance. This consists training in small scale entrepreneurship which is accompanied by a micro credit facility to get started. In one of the destitute areas of Addis the women said, ‘Thanks to the microcredit facility, there is no household in our neighborhood without furniture and a TV.’ The language use draws on the earlier social conditions in which the one having furnished home and a TV while others not. At the same time the way most of the women 11

put it clearly indicates that the microcredit has made them and those who benefited from it feel confident and equal with the rest. In several cases, they also pay airfare for students who have won a scholarship to study abroad but are unable to pay the airfare. The most outstanding job they are doing concerns the counseling and guidance they provide to orphans. These are also coupled with financial support for their schooling and accommodation. In most cases, women have also got the opportunity to get awareness training on issues like family rights, child rights, women’s rights, and the likes. Since a couple of decades, iddirs have also become somehow gender sensitive. For instance, a few decades ago nearly all neighborhood iddirs were gender based where men and women had their own separate iddirs. The men’s iddir is usually bigger than the women’s. They possess materials such as tents, chairs and benches while the women’s iddirs are usually smaller and are geographically confined to a smaller neighborhood. Their basic functions are the preparation of meals and serving during various occasions. They usually possess only kitchen utensils. In some cases, smaller women’s iddirs were subsets of a larger men’s iddir, to which only the men’s spouses were members. Members explain that in the last thirty years, the so-called men’s iddirs are no more exclusively for men. Initially they started opening up for women whose husband passed away. But gradually most of them if not all started taking women members. Even though not in big proportions, some have already women in their executive committees and subcommittees. On the other hand, the women iddirs remain exclusively for women and their major tasks the preparation of food, emotional, financial and labor support in time of mishap or joy. Even if some people prefer nowadays to order from a catering company for a wedding party, they do not want to miss the support of the iddir as the wedding ceremony is not only a one day event. Days before the wedding neighbors and family members would come for the preparation and the dance party. Even if the bye-law does not oblige iddir members to provide such a support, they will certainly come and help in the kitchen. This is particularly true for the women iddir. According to many members, the kitchen is also the place where they share their personal stories with each other. However, during their monthly or quarterly meetings, they raise issues that are related to the iddir’s management, finance, administration and the likes. Weddings and bereavements are occasions in which they meet in small informal groups to share their personal things and pour out their hearts. ‘We speak out our heart in the kitchen.’ ‘Those women who do not like to work in the kitchen will have their reward.’ ‘Even those who do not like to eat the meal we prepare will regret it later. Nobody will eat in their house. What would they do with the whole prepared food then?’ So the meal is also an expression of equality and respect.By talking about the kitchen as a place where they can be themselves women deconstruct the traditional meaning of the kitchen as a symbol for patriarchal society that categorizes women as belonging solely to the kitchen. By speaking about the kitchen from an emancipatory perspective, the women recontextualize the kitchen. The language

12

use implicates that the kitchen is no more a symbol of oppression but where women empower themselves. Iddirs are thought to be egalitarian not only in terms of social and economic standing but also in terms of gender. Women and men have equal votes and participation. Although most of the executive members are men, the role of women in decision making is equally significant. Yet the fact that women are not equally represented in the executive committee is an issue that necessitates further inquiry. Most among the members associate this with the women’s preference to do more in the household than outside home activities. Such language use draws on the classical role division of men and women. Others assume that it has to do with their lesser educational and administrational exposure. Nevertheless, there are men in the executive committee with lower education level and hardly any experience. In this regard, it is noteworthy that all male respondents said that they would be glad to have women in the executive committees while among the women it was only those holding a seat in the executive committee who plead for more women representation. The remaining women said that they would prefer to do more in the background, amongst themselves in the exclusively women iddir and in the household. Again here is a tension between traditional and modern discourses. On the one hand, the emancipation of women is supposed to be expressed in their participation in the leadership, on the other hand others think that their having equal rights need not necessarily be expressed that way. These two competing discourses coexist in the community. While most women have exclusively women’s iddir, most men do not have an iddir solely for men. However, to the question how many iddir membership they have, most women answered by naming the iddirs which they identify as men’s iddir. Only when asked further they mentioned having women’s iddir. Again while referring to their women’s iddir some of them use diminutive forms like tinishua (the small). Yet the women’s iddir has its own leadership committee, byelaws and all what is required of any iddir. Even then the language use of many women implicates as if it is subordinate to the so-called men’s iddir or as if it is insignificant. The paradox is that most women do not hold a leadership post in what they call men’s iddirs. It is also mostly through their women’s iddir that they get trainings and awareness workshops on a number of themes. While it did not come to many women to name their own exclusively women’s iddir, it is unusual to still identify the iddir that has both men and women members as men’s iddir. The one that they identify as men’s iddir took only men in the past, but in the last decades it is no more exclusively for men. Men consider the iddir of their wives as their own. In listing their membership nearly all men included the iddirs of their wives. Be it here noted that while naming this some of the men use the term, ‘through my wife, I have ...’ The language use here is ambivalent. It could mean that it is ultimately he who pays the contribution as the only breadwinner of the household. It could also mean that it is to the benefit of the family therefore of his. What remains still intriguing is that most of the women do not put their women’s iddirs in the list. 13

Besides, naming the inclusive iddir men’s iddir is in a way drawing on the dominant patriarchal discourse that classifies iddirs into two groups, that of men and of women. This has double implications. The first is that it disowns the women. Second it implies that the women value women’s iddir less than the mixed ones. This could perhaps be related to the financial, material and service the so-called men’s iddir renders which is mostly more than that of the women’s iddirs. All the interviewed women use the traditional title danya (judge) while talking about their leader whereas most men use liqämänbär (chairperson), some interchangeably and still others danya. The word liqämänbär translated as chairperson has in Amharic a little bit of loaded meaning which has, though not explicitly, political color. Furthermore, a wider use of the title liqämänbär came during the period of the Marxist-Leninist military regime (1974- 1991). However, the title danya is traditionally used to mean the leader of the iddir or other traditional associations. The post is considered to be non-partisan. While liqämänbär has an implicit connotation of someone with a position both ideologically and hierarchically, danya on the other hand implies objectivity, non-partisanship and one among his equals but with authority. In using the word danya , women draw on traditional iddir discourse. By using the traditional iddir discourse (the use of the title danya), women seem to recontextualize iddir while men might have the inclination to stick to the hierarchical ordering of the society even in the egalitarian iddir system. Beyond economics and functions If asked why a person becomes a member of an iddir the first answer one would get is related to its service in time of death. Nevertheless, when asked if one would terminate her membership if the services would be provided by an organization for the same contribution, in almost 99% of the cases the answer was no. Members give several reasons. The ones that stand out are the need for the contact or its social aspect and the feeling of ownership. If it were to be done by an organization from outside, it would be too administrative and less personal. People believe also that the iddir is their own. ‘Why would I quit the association that we, ourselves, have formed?’ Such was the answer of many respondents while the iddir predates most of them. The sentence begins with the first person singular ‘I’ and goes further with first person plural, ‘we’ and ‘ourselves’. This syntactic structure is not due to a lack of cohesion in the sentence, but a way of communicating the relationship between the person and the community. The fact that most respondents mix or interchange the first person singular and plural indicates the interrelationship between the individual and the community. The ‘I’ is presented as a person with free will and that is responsible for choosing to become a member, to stay or to leave. The sentence clearly communicates that the person has a preference. The ‘we’ is the universal set where the ‘I’ is placed as a set or subset. However, the ‘we’ which is the entire iddir or the members is in no way something outside of the ‘I’ nor the ‘I’ is simply a part in the whole – ‘we’. But there is an organic relationship between the individual ‘I’ and the community, iddir, what we here call ‘we’. ‘We have formed/shaped the iddir’ implicates that the ‘I’ also has a role. 14

And when asked if one would find it acceptable if iddir dissolves itself most respondents answered by nominalizing the verb dissolve, ‘the dissolution’. In fact in the Amharic version, the word biqär is used which is nor exactly the same as dissolution. And the English translation is not exactly equivalent. Most of the answers sound, ‘The dissolution of iddirs does not make me happy.’ ‘They can dissolve it but I… Further, the respondents have added their attachment to the iddir and the members. Such nominalization is a metaphorical representation of the process in which the agent is excluded. Even if the agent is not named in the question, one might have sensed that it would lead her in such a direction as to explicitly implicate the agent. So mostly they steer the direction of the interview and answer by nominalizing the word in which they consciously or unconsciously avoid any suggestion in this regard. Nominalization can obfuscate agency thereby responsibility (Fairclough 2003). This is a kind of mechanism in which iddirs protect themselves from making political statements publicly. As iddir members talk among themselves and with those whom they trust that the government would like to have control over the iddirs, they try to avoid such insinuation using nominalization. Yet, in the second quote, we find the subject ‘they’ without any earlier reference who this ‘they’ is. We can say that these expressions potentially contain suspicion toward and fear of the government. The language use indirectly draws on, be it in a contrary way, an existing discourse of fear that the government would interfere in dissolving iddirs and make them under the käbäle. By not speaking out openly, such a discourse would avoids challenging the prevalent politics and contribute to the maintenance of the existing social and political system. Some members associate iddir more with the social interrelationship than with the service. The following quote illustrates this clearly: ‘my iddir members are like my relatives, or even sometimes closer than relatives… They are like brothers and sisters to me.’ Even if not exactly in the same words, the majority of the respondents have given such a response to describe their attachment with the iddir to the extent of attaching more than one’s parents. First iddir members are compared with relatives and later with brothers and sisters. In grading the level of relationship, the family is closer than relatives. The affinity one has with his/her relatives might not be as close as iddir members due to geographical distance. So equating iddir members with relatives did not satisfy them. They would like to express it as a more intimate relationship. By saying that they are like brothers or sisters, the relationship one has with other iddir members is elevated. They are not really brothers or sisters but ‘like’ brothers or sisters. Others still extol the iddir by saying that it is even more than one’s parents. Those who make such hyperbolic comparison relativize it immediately among others by personifying iddir as a brother/sister. The metaphor used by members symbolizes the high value members ascribe to iddir and is deeply rooted in their attachment to it. This should also be read in relation to what is said earlier which sounds, ‘that is for us the reason to live’. The demonstrative pronoun ‘that’ refers to the iddir and the interrelationship the members have. This informal association and the social interrelatedness that comes forth out of it are expressed here as a defining factor for the person who is a member of the iddir. The person is defined in her/his social setting. ‘No matter how rich one could be, his life 15

would be meaningless without iddir.’ By contrasting it with meaninglessness of a person with wealth but no social connections, this sentence profoundly defines the social value of iddir. In general, this is a discourse that goes against the traditional discourse that represents iddirs as nothing but burial oriented like most of the publications on iddir. It should also be noted that members can hold any leader accountable at any time of his/her term. Leaders are constantly aware of their position. Failure in good leadership quality, embezzlement or any other undesired shortcoming can mean being held accountable at any moment. Therefore, leaders are continuously in contact with members. Even if mostly the byelaws prescribe a certain percent of the members is required to call a general assembly, it is highly likely that a general assembly can be called to hold leader(s) accountable if a certain portion of the membership finds it necessary. This gives members a feeling of ownership and sharing responsibility. This makes iddirs unique. In short, iddir is an association of and for the people. It is theirs. They have created it, made it to what it is now. People feel that the iddir is their own organization. Most of them have a sense of ownership. This is true to those in Addis Ababa and Emdibir. Most members say, ‘The iddir is our own. We have put a lot of effort in it for years.’ A number of the respondents uses expressions such as, ‘we have formed it ourselves’; ‘It is our own organization’. That is why it is unimaginable for most members to abandon it even if the activities would be carried out and the service would be provided by a third party. Even those iddirs that are not involved in any activity other than services around burial are not willing to give up their iddir regardless of the possibility of getting the service from another organization. Unraveling the Multiple Layers of ‘Iddir’ In this section we make a critical correlation of our literature review and field work. It is critical because we look at iddir from the perspective of sustainable development which is a normative reference as explained in the introduction to this book. Origin With the exception of a few, most academics agree that iddirs came into existence around the beginning of the 20th century and became widespread during the Italian occupation. The opinions of those interviewed are diverse. While some think that it has always existed in another form, others link it with the establishment of Addis Ababa and the settlement of the aristocracy with its entourage of protocols and laborers. After the victory of Adwa over Italy in 1896, Menelik started a cautious centralization process. The growing town, Addis Ababa, attracted migrants from the countryside. These migrants were not entirely detached from their family in the rural area. They were not accustomed to the centralized and patron-client system of their new area (Fecadu 1973). Also the autonomy of their respective regions was bartered for the consolidation of the

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power of the central monarch (Messay 1999; Bahru 1991). This added to the uprootedness due to migration compel them to form a social fiber. Haileselassie intensified the centralization process in such a way that he ended the duality that existed for centuries between the regional nobilities and the imperial monarchy (Assefa 2005). The centuries old tradition of regional autonomy and national unity came to a grinding halt. Haileselassie refused to recognize the title ‘king’ for the regional lords but ironically stuck to the title Nägusä Nägäst (king of kings/the kingdom)7. In this regard, the Constitution of 1931was the beginning of the end as it paves the way to declare the infallibility of the nägusä nägäst and his absolute power over the people of Ethiopia (See Messay 1999; Bahru 1991; 1984; Schwab 1979; Markakis 1974). Even if none of the interviewees gave an explicitly supporting argument to this point, it is not unreasonable to argue that the ever growing centralization measures necessitated the formation of a social fiber like iddir. As people settled from rural areas particularly those from the south where the patron-client relationship was absent, such hierarchical structures might have driven them to establish a network to preserve and realize their identity. The problematic situations during the Italian occupation too drove people to form small network units in order to survive. After the Italians left Ethiopia in 1941 there was optimism in the Ethiopian society but Haileselassie showed no sign of changing his course of centralization (Messay 1999). ‘As civil servants, merchants, and laborers outside our birthplace, we had no one except yagär lij (people who came from our area). . We tried to make life as it was in our area of upbringing. Even if burial, märdo (news of the death of a family) and the likes play an important role, we use the iddir to socialize (lämahibärawi hiywät) and make life easier (nuron lämaqläl).’ The phrase ‘we had no one…’ clearly depicts the need for social connections that was behind the interest to form a network. Yet burial and märdo matters might have given a decisive role in the formation of an iddir. This corresponds with what Alemayehu (1968) claimed that a lot of things could be postponed but burials could not. The Därg regime was even harsh in its centralization measures. It built excessive military apparatus to rule the people with an iron fist. The regime constructed a pyramidal hierarchy of government apparatus starting from the käbäle that is meant to exert control over the grassroots. The käbäles were not allowed to deviate from the dictates of the central regime; however, they had autonomous authority over the citizenry under their jurisdiction (Clapham 1988). In the name of socialism and national unity, the local power was channeled toward promoting the ideology of those in power. No challenge or opposition was tolerated (Assefa 2005). The regime confiscated land and big companies thereby destroyed the spirit of competitiveness that existed for centuries (Messay 1999).
7

The translation of the Ge’ez nägusä nägäst as king of kings or emperor is an adulterated translation. The word nägäst has no singular form which means that it could not be the plural of nägus/king. The word itself is described in Ge’ez grammar as mädbäl which means compound noun. So my argument is that the word nägäst could mean the whole complex structure of a nation which I equate with kingdom. Therefore, instead of king of kings or emperor, I would translate it as king of the kingdom. The official translation of Nägusä nägäst as emperor implies that the throne itself assumed this common (mis)understanding of the meaning of the title.

17

Autocratic politics alienated the people from authorities. So, ‘people must learn to innovate and to adapt the remnant of the past to meet the demands of the changed circumstances in which they find themselves. Innovation and adaptation always have characterized human behaviour, but now their systematic and intensive application has become requisite to survival.’ (Biernatzki 1991:19) During this period iddirs grew not only in numbers, but also in sorts. People sought in the iddirs a kind of refuge and a social fiber. Even though the post-Derg regime has declared a decentralized rule mainly based on ethno-linguistic lines dividing the country along assumed linguistic territories, the central government dictates the regional states. Abbink (1997) describes it in a vivid way that power in the current Ethiopian political system is entirely concentrated around the Prime Minister and the Council of Ministers. In the name of helping oppressed ethnic groups, regional territories were delimited by the central government without even any research. Such a drastic measure that disrupts the existing way of life has caused a series of ethnic conflicts particularly in areas where diverse groups live. Group/ethnic identity weighs more than personal identity. Accordingly people’s personal and territorial identities have been defined for them only on the basis of their ethnicity. Other alternatives have been blocked systematically. Parliamentary seats were made available mainly for ethnic parties. Ministerial posts are distributed based on ethnic affiliation, of course, as long as one is proponent of the party and its system (See Abbink 2006; Bahru & Pausewang 2002; Messay 1999). In such predominantly ethnicized discourse, the national census in 1996 forced people with mixed ethnic lines to choose one even if they may not have any affinity at all. The same thing was done in the 2006/7 census. Against such trends people tend to form groups where they can be themselves, where they can define themselves in relation to others. Iddirs seem to have fulfilled this desire of people. Members state that they see their fellow members as individual persons and would like also to be seen as individual persons. Ethnic and political affiliations do not play a role in membership. ‘Perhaps I may have my own idea on ethnicity, but here we see each other as equal. It doesn’t matter to me if someone is an Amhara or an Oromo or a Gurage or a Tigre. She should pay the monthly contribution and be present where she should be.’ In a dominant ethnicized political discourse the language of ordinary iddir members seems a competing discourse. During the interviews members show pride in their iddir as they believe that it is only in the iddir that even those from the ruling party and dominating ethnic group have no privilege nor any influence. Function In this regard Dessalegn states that informal institutions such as iddir have a variety of significance in shielding the individual and family from the intrusion of the state and form a neighborhood solidarity also creating an alternative realm of discourse where the formal structure is criticized, ridiculed or rejected. He further states that the strength of such informal institutions lies in their autonomy and fluidity. (See Pankhurst 2003). Shiferaw (2002) confirms this in his masters’ thesis by stating that traditional and indigenous 18

organizations are part and parcel of the coping mechanisms and survival strategies of people. Expressions like, ‘Without my iddirs I can’t receive those who would come to me…’, ‘Without my iddirs I can’t survive.’ suggest that the iddir serves as coping mechanism. ‘I need the people in time of sorrow and joy.’ This depicts a social coping mechanism. The first quote draws on the commonly known discourse of iddir as a burial association while the second one draws on the socio-economic condition of the person One can see that the political instability and the collapse of a natural social fiber since the late sixties have made people to find ways in which they could give shape to their need for interpersonal and social relations, and belongingness. Even though the operational potential of iddirs was limited by the political control, they provided people personal security, a sense of belongingness, an authentic interpersonal relation, a system with which they can identify themselves, etc. This is corroborated by Alemayehu (1968:14) who states that people likely join an iddir to get some love and attention. Some people become members apparently ‘to satisfy their desire to belong, which is closely tied to the desire for security. People believe that in belonging they gain security, for in conformity there is comfort and in union, security, real or fancied.’ In the words of some iddir members this is confirmed, ‘They (iddir members) are my family.’ ‘They are like brothers.’ With the relatively better freedom they enjoy in the post-Därg period, some of the iddirs have started a number of fundraising activities and built halls for their meetings and rent them for various occasions. Others opened cafes. Still others have begun to provide credit facility for their members in order to lend them a hand in their effort to be self-reliant. Initially, such projects were run only by a handful of iddirs Such income generation activities have enabled them to provide more money in time of mishaps as well as do more for the community at large. This in turn creates job opportunity for the lower strata as they are the ones that are employed in the iddir ‘businesses’ (See Dejene 2003; Shiferaw 2002). This is also corroborated by nearly all interviewees particularly of the umbrella iddir associations. Nature The claim that the iddir started off as ethnic association is one way of representing reality. Asserting that iddirs started of as associations based on people’s area of birth and upbringing is also another way of representing reality. Even those iddirs who are associated with one ethnic group say that it is related to the locality where they came from rather than to their ethnic group. Good examples of this are yemecha iddir and Bäha Giorigis yekäffa iddir. Markakis (1974) goes even further by stating that Christians and Moslems have separate iddirs as the funeral ceremony has religious aspects. Markakis’s discourse seems to overlook that religious differences in Ethiopia cut across family lines and ethnicity. And the service rendered by the iddir is much broader than only the funeral. Besides, in the Ethiopian context Christians and Moslems attend each others’ religious funeral ceremony. Observations of a few funeral ceremonies and interview with members indicate that his is superimposition of the ethnicization discourse. All the interviewed 19

people confirmed this by saying that neither religion nor ethnicity would have a role in their iddirs. A textual analysis of the pamphlet to which Pankhurst (2003) refers would help us understand whether his arguments are convincing. In order to justify that the iddir would probably be the initiative of the Gurages, Pankhurst refers to a pamphlet of a Soddo Kistane iddir, one subgroup of Gurages. The pamphlet does not give any reference to the fact that their iddir was formed as an ethnic-based association. What was true until recently is that merchants8 in general and those merchants who trade in such raw materials in particular were despised and discriminated. The Soddo Kistanes might be the first to establish an iddir, but neither the pamphlet nor other historical research has yet provided us with convincing argument to substantiate the conclusion that their iddir is ethnic-based. On the other hand, based on this very pamphlet one can definitely conclude that they formed a group because they were discriminated and given a despicable social status certainly as merchants. By ascribing ethnic identity to the formation of their iddir, academics have maintained an ethnocentric discourse that dominated Ethiopia in the late sixties through the seventies and since the nineties. Rather iddirs were founded by those who came from the same area, like yäSälale täwälajoch iddir (people born in Sälale), yäMecha iddir (People of Mecha), yäKämbata iddir (people from Kämbata), etc (See Shiferaw 2002). Most of the names denote a certain area rather than an ethnic group. Name of an area could possibly be associated with an ethnic group, but it does not per se mean of one particular ethnic group. Most of the members and at times all members of such iddirs could naturally belong to one ethnic group, but it is not justifiable to label them as ethnic-based iddirs. People who came to town from the same locality formed an iddir and name it after their locality. Mostly such iddirs are formed to be solidary among themselves and with the people in their birth place which is expressed usually by means of contributing to the development of the area in accordance with their capacity. According to some members it is also a way of keeping the memory of their village alive. Reference was made above to an iddir member, ‘We tried to make life as it was in our area of upbringing.’ This clearly describes that the initiative is related to longing one’s background and searching for identity. Furthermore, yäSälaleSälale täwälajoch iddir is an iddir for people who were born in Sälale. Even if Sälale is in the Oromia region and predominantly Oromo, the very name of the iddir will allow someone born in Sälale with a different ethnic background other than Oromo, to become a member unless the statute explicitly makes it impossible. It is highly unlikely that they would include someone from another area purely because she/he belongs to their ethnic group. This means, yäSälaleSälale täwälajoch iddir will certainly not accept an Oromo from Jimma, Arsi, or wherever. Furthermore, Shiferaw (2002:51) corroborates this with his claim that iddirs designated under ethnic and regional name during the imperial period did not exclude others with the
8

Until recently merchants in general were despised and had derogatory names like mechagna nekash.

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exception of some Gurage iddirs. Comparing this with the post 1991 reemerging iddirs with ‘ethnic orientation’, he claims that the reemerging ones are strictly exclusive. This is substantiated by the words of the iddir members of Bäha Giorgis yäKäffa iddir and Yemecha iddir9. One member of Bäha Giorgis yeKäffaKäffa iddir said, ‘We are yäKäffa iddir and that means we have attachment to the area, but we are not ethnic-centered.’ Again the meaning of the name of the iddir is negotiable. Those who formed the iddir probably had something in mind in naming it after their place of birth and/or upbringing while later members and outsider (researchers, members of other iddirs, etc.) use their own resources to understand and give it either the same or different meaning. The names yäKäffa, yäKämbata, yäWolayta, yäGurage, etc. are somehow ambivalent. They can imply both the area and the people while the names yäKäffoch, yäKämbatoch, yäWolaytoch, yäGuragewoch exclusively mean the people who belong to that ethnic group. It must also be noted that a number of such iddirs are named not only after the locality but a Church of the locality yet they include Moslems. Bäha Giorgis yäKäffa iddir is a good example. It is named after local Church, St. George nearby Bonga, Käffa. People from minority ethnic groups might form an iddir that has/had members solely of their own ethnic group. But this is mainly because most of the minority ethnic groups like the Kämbatas, Wolaytas and Dorzes come from an area that is relatively small and homogenous. It was also a common phenomenon that people who came to towns from the countryside would form an iddir as they settled usually in one neighborhood 10 (Fecadu 1974). In such a homogeneous setting, one cannot expect otherwise. Even after the demography of the towns is changed, those iddirs maintain their existence as a link to those in the rural area and to those who still come to the towns. The other reason is that as some of the people would like to be buried in their place of birth or in a family burial place, mainly these iddirs facilitate such a process. Such a reading of social fibers is related to the ethnicization discourse that dominated the political elite and the students’ movement in the country in the 1960’s. Haileselassie’s oppressive and autocratic regime along with its mainly Shewan inclinations, caused resentment among other ethnic groups and even Amharas. The students’ movement and the elite sought redemption in a Marxist-Leninist approach by demanding selfdetermination for all nations and nationalities. They assumed themselves as liberators of the mass (Messay 2006; Messay 1999). This ethnicization discourse began in the sixties and reached its climax in the early nineties.

9

Dejene Woldeyohannes, the father of the author of this article, has been a member of the Mecha iddir for years even though he is not at all an Oromo by birth. He was born and brought up in the Mecha area. His father settled there as a child. Their iddir is oriented toward solidarity between those who are living there and those who have already left. Their aim is to strengthen solidarity among the people of the area rather than based on their ethnic affiliation which many academics misread as ethnic-based development. 10 Names like Gondere seffer, Gurage embassy, Gojjam berenda, Dorze seffer, Tigre seffer, Gofa, etc. indicate that people from the same area did settle in the same neighborhood.

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Such a discourse constructs an ideology and affects the power relations. By following a Marxist-Leninist ethnic discourse, the students’ movement constructed a reality. ‘Certain uses of language are ideological, namely those, in specific circumstances, to establish or sustain relations of domination. The ideologies embedded in discursive practices are most effective when they become naturalized, and achieve the status of ´common sense´.’ (Fairclough 1992a: 87). Accordingly once the ethnocentric discourse wins terrain among the elite and certain political wings, social reality has been read and described from that construct-perspective. A number of the academics doing research in the area of iddir and other social fibers have taken this reading without paying attention to its ideological implications. It is also possible that they deliberately ascribed ethnicity to it. That is why iddirs have been (mis)read as social networks originally set up out of ethnic affiliations while they were in fact started as associations for people who were born and grown up in the same area. Burial or development? Many have also described iddir as a mutual aid in time of death. To justify their argument they claim that Ethiopian culture puts emphasis on death. Dejene’s statement ‘the oftendisapproved after-death services’ (2003, 45) emanates from such a discourse. He uses a nominalization to avoid agency. The sentence structure assumes that the reader shares the view of the text producer. By obscuring the subject, Dejene tries to make his reader believe that this is a statement that is taken for granted. By whom is the after-death service disapproved? Again iddir members think rather in a different way. ‘It is not only the financial support I receive that matters to me but I would also like to have my iddir members around me if something happens to me.’ Death is an integral part of life. Death, more specifically burial, is a witnessing symbol of the life of the deceased and/or the family. ‘mot näwa hulachenenem yämiyastäkakəlän.’ (It is death that makes us all equal). The more the number of people attends the funeral of a person the more it says about the social relation or in a way the righteous nature of the deceased and/or his/her family. This is also true if the weather is good during the funeral. Expressions like qäbari atasatagn/ayasatah (May God not deny me/you of people who bury me/you) or swears like, mäqabərəh lai alqoməm (I swear not to attend your funeral) are usually taken literally while their implications are related to interpersonal/social relations in the community. In the former expression lies a tendency of the person to live in peace and friendly terms with the people around him/her. The second expression comes forth out of serious personal or social offence done against a person. ‘I don’t want to have my funeral attended by a few people as if I don’t have families.’ This is comparable expressions were used by a lot of iddir members. This indicates that burial is not purely about burying the dead but testifying his/her (social) life. Fecadu (1974:367) has some nuances in this regard. He states that the ‘primary manifest’ aim of iddir is ‘mutual aid in times of misfortune, death, sickness, etc’. He does not limit the aim to death or burial matters but builds it around a number of mishaps. Furthermore, 22

the fact that he uses the phrase, ‘primary manifest’, could be an indication to other notmanifest aims. Alemayehu (1968) states that one can postpone marriage for lack of money but burial cannot be postponed. As death absolutely necessitates an immediate action, those who formed iddir prioritized the service around death. This should also be seen in the context of a group that is not well-to-do. Bearing this in mind, it is not difficult to grasp why death plays a manifest primary role in iddir. The nature of such associations is more than what their manifest functional aspects (like burial matters) make us think of them. For iddirs burial matters are the ones that bind all together. Both rich and poor, young and old, healthy and sick die. As iddir’s structural nature is egalitarian, their binding symbol revolves around death which is also non-discriminating. It is not so that iddirs were/are too concerned with death and burial matters but it is because they deal with death as an integral part of life. By organizing a good funeral ceremony, they keep the life of the deceased in their memory and/or in the memory of the remaining family members. In regard iddir – government relations Pankhurst’s (2004, 2003) depiction corresponds with the text of most iddir members, especially over the periods covering the imperial and the military regimes. However his depiction of the contemporary iddir – government relationship seems less critical. Inquiring into iddirs’ view on this and the concrete measures taken to really involve them in development programs, one would find out that the effort is rather nominal or propaganda and PR oriented. The involvement of iddirs in a workshop on a law draft is of course a positive development but the point should focus rather on whether the suggestions and comments made by the iddirs were taken seriously or it was meant purely for political PR purposes. Most iddir members relate government’s initiative to involve them more to its own political interest than to genuine commitment to development. Pankhurst’s reference to a new desk at the sub-city offices needs to be investigated thoroughly before affirming the positive input of the government. He seems not to have inquired into the identity and history of those councils of iddirs that have now a desk in the Sub-city offices. Are these iddirs originally neighborhood iddirs? Are they politically non-partisan? How come the iddirs that stand out most in their multifaceted projects are not provided with such opportunity? How is the relationship between those officially in the office and their constituencies? How do other iddirs perceive them? These and other related questions need to be answered before one can ascribe either positive or negative value to this development. It is also worth mentioning the step the government took to show its commitment to transparency. On 21 December 2008 Prime Minister Meles Zenawi held a consultative meeting of the metropolitan women and residents forum. The forum was composed of residents designated by the käbäle administration to take part. While the PM addressed issues related to the current political, economic and social situations with special reference to its relevance to each household, bypassing iddirs in such an occasion implicates the degree of commitment the government has to really involve the grassroots. 23

Concerning this some iddir members said, ‘We know why they selected these people? And who they are?’ Solidarity Iddir is a communal and cultural reaction to the unfriendly social, cultural and political order. It is a non-verbal discourse against political hegemony, cultural alienation and national instability. When there are conflicting interests and world views between individuals/groups/regions and authorities, social fibers arise as a means to hold on together. No wonder that the more oppressive regimes become the more diversified smaller units of social fibers have been emerging in the form of various types of iddirs. Not all social fibers will achieve in satisfying the need and interest of the deprived, but those that survive the external pressure and bind the people together become part of the culture. Iddir, born of oppression, conflict, deprivation and alienation has outlived the regimes and the systems that disrupted smaller units of social mobility. Iddir is one of the most significant survival strategies of the (urban) population in Ethiopia (Dessalegn 1999; Dejene 1993; Salole 1986). It is a realization of the principle of subsidiarity in a political order where the central government has strong power. Iddir membership is a kind of indescribable education. One learns there the ethos of his/her culture, his/her personal responsibilities, and his/her personality in relation to others. Culture gives people a sense of identity, security and personal esteem. Culture is an instrument with symbols, rituals, stories, world-views that people use to give structure to their lives. (Biernatzki 1991). Iddirs are ‘root paradigms’ for the Ethiopian society. Root paradigms are cultural models for behavior. ‘[R]oot paradigm…is probably concerned with fundamental assumptions underlying the human societal bond with preconditions of communitas.’ (Turner 1974: 68) Iddirs assume also human bond in that their main leitmotif is the well being of the community. Root paradigms provide participants a pattern to structure and regulate their (social) actions at every stage. They give people form and stability to ‘processual units’. In their written and unwritten norms iddirs structure the community and determine their (social) actions. At the same time the egalitarian nature and the unmediated relationship between persons which does not in any way submerge one in the other preserve and make realize their uniqueness while realizing their commonness. Such relations do not blend identities but freed them from conformity (Turner 1974: 274). Their egalitarian nature and their relational function transcend their structure. Their structure attempts to define each member as a separate entity but the ‘anti-structural’11 characteristic dictates. This is manifest in the social activities that take place beyond what is expected according to the written norms.

11

The term anti-structure is used in Turner’s studies to connote a body that is undifferentiated, equalitarian, direct, extant, nonrational, existential, I-Thou relationships. It is not in the negative sense but rather a generative center in the positive sense. (Turner 1974: 272-298)

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Iddir is a locus where the person can be defined interpersonally and relationally. This relationality expresses itself also in the participation of the person in the community, which is a manifestation of human agency. The high level of participation in iddirs promotes human agency. Agency is here directed not only toward the person but also the community. This directedness toward the community reveals itself in the solidarity one finds in the iddir. Solidarity uncovers a disposition, buried under the established social and political conditions, toward cooperation, mutual aid, common feeling, therefore toward the common good. Solidarity is anticipative insofar as it draws a picture of the future human being, who will ultimately be free to develop its cooperative and common strengths without hindrance (Kurtz 1999). Iddirs came into existence partly because of deprivation, discrimination and oppression. By forming an iddir people express their solidarity with each other and build a buffer to defend themselves from a system that is unjust. Conclusion From our literature review and field work it seems clear that iddir is a rather recent construction. However, it can be considered to be indigenous in the sense of a locally grown response to national and inter-national challenges. It is spiritual because it draws on localized forms of Islam and Christianity. Iddir contributes to development through community building and conflict resolution in a ‘democratic’ way.. As such it guarantees harmonious relation and mutual interdependence through which people are able to work not in the traditional top/down approach but with a two way strategy.. It is sustainable because iddirs offer mutual support between members and they try to offer insurance to children if the present generation passes away. Whether iddirs will be able to survive the rapid population growth and urbanization process in Ethiopia is yet to be seen. But they have been able to resist unstable economic conditions and harsh political pressure in the recent past. References Abbink, J. 1997. Ethnicity and Constitutionalism in Contemporary Ethiopia. Journal of African Law, 41(2), 159 – 174. Abbink, J. 2006a. Discomfiture of Democracy? The 2005 Election Crisis in Ethiopia and Its Aftermath. African Affairs 105/419, 173–199. Abbink, J. 2006b. Interpreting Ethiopian Elections in Their Context – A reply to Tobias Hagmann. African Affairs 105/421, 613–620. Alemayehu Seifu. 1968. Iddir in Addis Ababa: A Sociological Study. Ethiopia Observer, 12 (1), 8 – 33.

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