Sunday with Eden | Nov 12,2022
Apr 13 , 2025
By Kidist Yidnekachew
Living side by side with others – sharing walls, staircases, even the same unreliable electricity – should make greetings feel natural. A simple “hello” seems like the least we could offer one another. And yet, I often find myself hesitating. Despite my best intentions, I struggle to consistently greet my neighbours. It's a habit I've tried to cultivate, but a strange cocktail of fear – the fear of a cold shoulder, of an unreturned smile – and perhaps a touch of ego, the reluctance to be the one to break the ice, often holds me back.
In my head, entire conversations unfold. I imagine brief banter, casual check-ins, and maybe even shared laughter. I see these people daily. Some I’ve spoken to before. Yet when our paths cross on the dusty streets of our neighbourhood or within the shared confines of our compound, an invisible barrier rises, preventing that simple, connecting "Hi."
Just yesterday, I saw a neighbour from the next block. We’ve spoken before, mostly about our shared frustration with the frequent power outages. It’s a common grievance here. Our two blocks often go dark, thanks to what the condominium committee claims is an overloaded supply worsened by our “excessive” usage.
It’s become nearly impossible to bake injera during the day. If someone switches on both an electric stove and a mitad (a traditional clay griddle), the entire block plunges into darkness. Some days, the lights flicker like a cruel joke. Cooking, cleaning, even working – it all turns into a waiting game.
Anyway, this neighbour – his wife had been expecting. Lately, I’d seen guests coming and going from their homes, and I figured she had given birth. I don't typically greet his wife either, another instance of my hesitant nature. But I genuinely wanted to ask him how she was doing and to offer my congratulations to both of them. As I passed by and saw him standing at his door, the moment was right. And still, I said nothing. I just looked at him and walked on. Instantly, I felt like a terrible neighbour.
There’s another woman I often see walking along our road. Every time, I consider greeting her. But again, the same hesitation stops me. So we pass each other, our eyes meeting briefly – a silent acknowledgement of our shared presence – and then we carry on. Ironically, when we sit together during community meetings to discuss issues like electricity, conversation flows easily.
It’s not that I greet no one. There are a few people I always say “hi” to, and thankfully, they reciprocate. Once I make that connection, it becomes second nature. I treat it seriously, like a lifelong commitment. I’ll smile and greet them every time, even if they don’t notice me. But when someone I’ve built that rhythm with stops responding, just once, it throws me. I start to overthink. Did I do something wrong? Are they upset with me? I have little patience for inconsistency. That is why I hesitate to start in the first place.
Sometimes, I wonder if others see my silence as snobbery, an aloofness that suggests I believe myself to be above a simple greeting. Maybe they think I’m cold or full of myself. If only they knew the internal battle raging within me, the awkwardness, the self-doubt. I can’t say exactly when greeting others became so difficult. I remember a time when it felt easier. Maybe the change is in me. Maybe it’s in all of us.
Maybe it’s my ego, whispering warnings of rejection. Or maybe it’s self-preservation, a habit born out of too many uncertain encounters. Whatever the reason, I find it undeniably difficult to be the first to extend a greeting.
Still, there are those exceptions. A few early “hellos” that opened doors to genuine connection. And every time that happens, I’m reminded of how powerful a greeting can be. It tells someone: You belong here. You are seen.
And sometimes, that’s all anyone needs.
PUBLISHED ON
Apr 13, 2025 [ VOL
26 , NO
1302]
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