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| Selected Articles by Teodros Kiros, PhD |
| Reflection 15 April, 2010 | Teodros Kiros (PhD) He has slept all morning, next to a ninety-year-old man, who breathes with a painful struggle. The old man’s snores could be heard from far away, but G sleeps through the noise. As he rests in bed in a rehabilitation center, his mind takes him back to his distant past and he remembers his big round eyes surveying the world of his youth with a characteristic lucidity that many of his classmates still fondly remember. At the tender age of twenty-five, G was chosen to be the president of Ethiopian youth. He spoke eloquently for five hours without stop, without notes, and with a controlled passion. In the 60’s he was a student leader at the university intoxicated with the waves of change led by student revolutionaries. He too swam in that flow of change, of revolution. His closed eyes now are busily revisiting the past, and his lips are uttering words, as if he were speaking to someone. He smiles again, when he remembers the parties at the university to which he went with stripe shirts and tight jeans, an envy to many; he remembers also the heavy drinking on the weekends, and the endless dances, which lasted all night long. Briefly he opens his eyes to see himself as he remembers them all. Now he lies in bed. In his early 60’s, he has been confined to the bed for the past ten years, after two massive heart attacks and three strokes, the last of which led him to this rehabilitation center by the ocean in Revere, Massachusetts. Once more he closes his eyes, giving himself up to memory. |
