There are around 200,000 Eritreans living in other countries, and about 500 of them stay in touch and debate issues of their newly-independent homeland via an Internet group called Dehai. The participants discuss issues such as religion, the new constitution and women's rights.
In the tiny new nation of Eritrea, East Africa, an experiment in government is under way. An important adjunct to this experiment is the concept of virtual community, as practiced by 500 Eritrean citizens who "inhabit" Dehai, the cyberspace version of their newly independent country.
Thomas Keneally, author of Schindler's List, described Eritrea as the "laboratory for the emergent nation, state." Comparing Eritrea--which gained its independence from Ethiopia in 1991 after a bloody 30-year struggle--to the United States of the eighteenth century, Keneally asked in a speech in Palo Alto in October 1994: "If it happened once before in 1776, why is it so farfetched to believe that the rebirth of democracy is happening again today in Eritrea?" The American revolutionaries suffered without the tools of global communications, but happily the Eritreans have no such handicap.
Eritrea is a, sliver of land along the Red Sea coast, about the same size (36,170 square miles) as Maine, with about the same population (3.5 million) as New Zealand. Running completely counter to the common image of a chaotic, degenerate Africa, Eritrea is a country with a vision and strong sense of identity, forged in merciless battles with Soviet-backed Ethiopian troops. Although the modern infrastructure of the former Italian colony was destroyed, the protracted guerrilla war brought out the best in the Eritrean people. They learned to be completely self-reliant, to work together harmoniously with no thought except the ultimate goal of victory. While the international media ignored or misread the Eritrean struggle for independence, the fighters (who eventually made up the entire population) created a new culture, a mosaic of traditional beliefs, battlefield pragmatism, and political ideology from East and West.
After the collapse of Ethiopia's brutal Marxist regime in 1991, Eritrea scheduled a referendum on independence. On May 24, 1993, the people voted overwhelmingly (99.6 percent) for independence, and the governing party began preparation for a constitutional convention in 1996.
Enter Dehai (a word in the Tigrina language which roughly translates to "news from home" in 1993, six months after the referendum. A group of Eritrean-American scholars working at US. universities watched with envy as their associates formed special-interest Listservs and created home-pages on the World Wide Web. Finally, Martin Roschelsen, a German graduate student at Stanford University, set up an Eritrean newsgroup. Eritreans throughout the United States began to communicate with one another.
Now Dehai operates globally on every continent. Paradoxically, the Internet does not yet reach Eritrea because the country's phone system is still too low-tech for the data traffic generated by Dehai's 500 enthusiastic correspondents. The African Development Bank recently funded new technology for Ethiopia and Eritrea which may allow Dehai to actually get its "news from home" next year.
Participation in Dehai is similar to any other Internet newsgroup. Messages are chaotic, unpredictable, and, on occasion, over-the-edge provocative. The wide dispersion and background of members lends an atmosphere of cacophony, especially when members lapse into their native language to use proverbs. Dehai membership includes Ph.D.s, homemakers, college students, businesspeople, doctors, and government employees. Each member has a dual identity--Eritrean first, and American, British, Canadian, Swedish, or German second--and many have dual citizenship as well. English is the primary language of the network, but many Dehaiers (as they call themselves) use idiosyncratic English. Dauntless, they plunge into the Net with heartfelt poems, complex arguments, and stories full of twists and puns.
The eloquence of many Dehai postings derives from the situation their writers find themselves in. To be an Eritrean overseas is to live in isolation, separated from other Eritreans and one's homeland. For some, it has been decades since they've been able to return home, and they've only heard from afar about the dramatic changes since independence in 1993. Those who plan trips back to their newly independent homeland are free with their emotions. Hidaat Ephrem wrote of her anticipation of her first trip back to Eritrea's capital, Asmara, in 1994:
When the morning air of Asmara brushes across my
cheeks for the first time on my arrival, what words can
possibly describe how I will feel? Anticipation alone has
become such an experience, I cannot wait for the real
moment. Most of the nights are sleepless now, I check
and recheck my shopping list. Do I have enough? Did
I forget someone? Can I
remember Asmara the way I
went around when I was a
kid, or will I need a tour guide? It would kill me if I required
a guide!
Hidaat anticipated the sadness that would accompany her on her trip home. She recalled the death of her mother, just months before the final victory of Eritrea's guerrilla forces:
She won't be ululating at the airport like other mothers.
What words can describe the void and sadness that is
steady in my heart as I kiss a cold stone that has become
her home now. . . I have only four weeks in Eritrea to
balance a lifetime of chaos and somehow find some new
perspective for the future.
Eritreans in the worldwide diaspora number more than 200,000. Many--in particular the highly educated ones represented in Dehai's membership--possess a clear sense of their roles in history. During 60 years of Italian colonial rule, the Eritrean people developed the ability to accommodate European behavior and technology in ways that their Ethiopian neighbors to the south never acquired. Through contacts with maritime traders on the Red Sea and caravans from the Sudan, Eritreans have long been sensitized to Arabic cultures, although they do not consider themselves Arabs (a suggestion discussed with some heat on Dehai). Christianity was established in the Eritrean highlands in the fourth century and Islam in the seventh century. The two faiths have coexisted peacefully in Eritrea ever since, even while crusades and jihaads raged throughout North Africa and the Middle East.
During the Cold War, the politics of petroleum made Eritrea, with its easy access to oil shipping lanes in the Red Sea, a pawn in the chess match being waged between the super, powers in the Horn of Africa. Distracted by their grandiose Plans for Ethiopia, Somaka, and the Sudan, the "players" alternately forgot Eritrea or sacrificed the nation in endless moves and countermoves.
The armed struggle for independence, which began in 1961, completely transformed--and almost obliterated--the pastiche of cultures that made up the old Eritrea. As depicted in Keneally's novel To Asmara, Eritrea's war for independence was a search for the lost soul of a people who had served as doormats for "too many others, for too many years. Eritrean men and women had to dredge up courage and perseverance they never knew they had. They had to forget the past, distrust their friends, forgive their enemies, and believe the impossible, year after discouraging year, for an entire generation.
In a nation with only 2 percent of the US. population, more Eritreans were killed in combat--65,000--than American soldiers were killed in Vietnam. One-third of Eritrea's guerrilla fighters were women. Most mothers lost a son--or daughter. Except for a few younger Eritreans who entered graduate studies after independence, nearly all members of Dehai left Eritrea at some point during the protracted 30-year struggle. The memories of this difficult transition were described by Issaias Yrgaw after he arrived in England:
The mothers say, "Go, go, my son, you will be safe anywhere but here." And they watch them leave in their blossoming years, full of excitement. They do not like looking back yet. The mothers choke at the thought of not being able to see them grow into manhood. . . . Time ticks away immeasurably as they struggle to get from country to country, to find a place where their plight will be understood, adapting to new cultures and learning alien languages. They have joined the army of refugees that roam from one corner of the planet to the other, fleeing the violence of crazy colonels kept in power by respectable governments. They are a new breed of world citizens whose eternal nightmares are passports, visas, airport bureaucracies, and stay permits. Their perennial problem is to try to explain the inexplicable: they dearly love their country, painfully miss their beloved families, and yet plead not to be sent back there.
The mothers have gone through a thousand nightmares and they have always lived to see the morning. Will they this time? They do not like this question. Instead an old Eritrean saying fills their thoughts: "Do not hurry the night, the sun will always rise for its own sake."
Finally, in 1993, the sun burst forth with a new Eritrea--a country which now has safe streets, no guns, and competent leaders who work for virtually no pay because there is little money for salaries. As Eritreans around the world discovered each other on the Net, they became a Greek chorus for the unfolding drama of their nations birth.
Dehaiers have enthusiastically joined in a worldwide debate on the content of the 1996 Eritrean constitution. The debate in cyberspace parallels one taking lace in constitutional committees, attended by delegates who meet periodically in Eritrea, as well as in major cities in Europe and North America. Since some members of the constitutional commission actively present their views on Dehai, while others silently lurk:' the virtual debate and the real one overlap.
Eritreans are completely at home in the give and take of constitutional debate. If anything, they are too democratic--meetings called for mundane decisions often consume hours of discussion. The Italians discovered during their years as colonial masters of Eritrea that the day-to-day affairs of people are regulated by village laws which pre-date the Renaissance. Since most of these laws were transformed into proverbs--even today, village children can quote from memory hundreds of ancient rules--it was impossible for Italian fascism (or Ethiopian Marxism) to take root in Eritrea. Citizens not only learn the law, they use it to determine who will be elected elders, how to handle property disputes, who receives inheritances, and to answer other questions vital to the community. Blessed with democratic traditions matched only by the Swiss, it is understandable that the citizens" of Dehai face the drafting of their nations first constitution with the utmost gravity.
Three questions in particular have been the subject of heated online debate:
* What should the role of religion be, and how will religious freedom be protected?
* How will women's rights be assured in a traditionally male-dominated, sexist society?
* How will traditional laws and practices be integrated into a constitutional democracy?
The first question--the role of religion--is a matter of great delicacy. Each morning in Eritrea's larger towns, the sun is greeted by cathedral bells and the call of the muezzin. Together, they make a reassuring harmony. There is a tradition of mutual respect, rather than tension be, tween Christianity and Islam that has survived attempts by Haile Selassie, the British military administration, and the Italian colonists to use divide-and-conquer tactics. Although Christians are now more numerous in government positions, Christians do not dominate Muslims, who constitute 50 percent of the population and control many sectors of the economy. After 30 years of life together in trenches and on battlefields, the bonds between Eritrea's Christians and Muslims are stronger than ever.
Two outside sources, radically opposed to each other but moving inexorably across Eritrea's borders, threaten this religious amity. They are the forces of Western secularism and Islamic fandamentalism. Religious values are too precious to both Christians and Muslims for the populace to willingly push faith to the margins in a completely secularized state. But Eritrea is an island nearly surrounded by a sea of extremist Muslim societies--North Yemen, Somaka, Saudi Arabia, and, most threateningly, Sudan.
The following dialogue between Kebire Ahmed (a Muslim) and Afeworki Paulos (a Christian) suggests how carefully the drafters must tread when religion is ultimately addressed in the Eritrean constitution:
Kebire: "The doctrine which has been held out by bigots of all sects, when condensed into few words and stripped of rhetorical disguise, is simply this: `I am in the right, you are in the wrong. When you are the stronger, you ought to tolerate me; for it is your duty to tolerate truth. But when I am the stronger, I shall persecute you; for it is my duty to persecute error.' The above is a very forceful argument; I hope it is wrong when applied to Eritreans; if not, it is our duty to prove the principle wrong."
Afeworki: "The crucial point is that, in a multireligious society like ours, the state should remain secular and should not intervene in religious activities unless there is a danger to public order or national security. This is, of course, the standard separation of state and church/mosque. But what happens when religion also regulates relationships between individuals--like what Sharia (Muslim customary law) does? In other words, what if there is a conflict between individual rights that the state guarantees and the application of a religious law? Unless one assumes that Sharia is just when it comes to gender equality, I see a potential conflict between constitutionally guaranteed rights and Sharia law."
Kebire: "In my presentation, I stated the obvious fact that religious association is voluntary. The person who joins the religion then assumes that its laws are just. If the person doesn't sanction or believe in the justice of the [religious] laws, then it is obvious--that person shouldn't join or be part of that religion; and those laws don't apply to him/her. Thus, Dr. Afeworki, the word assumes in your statement is the only possibility. I can't visualize a person seeing a religious (or nonreligious) law as unjust and still being a member of that organization. Nonetheless, as you stated, a conflict may arise if the organization interferes or imposes its laws on others (nonmembers) "
Afeworki: "Sharia deals with marriage, divorce, and inheritance, among other things. This leads us to the question of women's rights issues. I am not saying Sharia is unjust to women; I am simply asking for more discussion on the subject, particularly from our Muslim brothers and sisters'
The challenge of the Eritrean constitution, like the American one, is how to permit religious faiths to flourish without letting the government be overwhelmed by insistent demands from popes, mullahs, or preachers. If the Eritreans are successful in translating their traditions of tolerance into laws, they will be one of the first nations in Africa to make this all-important leap into civil order.
If charting a role for religion in the new constitution seems complicated, gender issues are even more complex and volatile. Traditional roles for women in village society were (and, in large measure, remain) elevated only slightly above the oxen used to plow the fields. Because human labor is such a large part of Eritrean farming, women perform innumerable and essential tasks. In small pastoral villages (where most Eritreans live), girls cannot be spared to attend school. Courtship and marriage rituals are decidedly unbalanced in favor of men. Large dowries are paid at weddings, and brides are used as bargaining chips for alliances between families and villages. In some rural areas, genital mutilation is still practiced.
To further complicate matters, sexual practices are restrictive in some ethnic groups and relaxed in others. One group, the Kunama, has a matriarchal system of authority, while near, by tribes practice patriarchal polygamy.
Traditional gender values are under assault from the Maeda culture--the pragmatic and egalitarian social codes developed during Eritrea's war for independence. Women veterans, many of whom were wounded in battle, are demanding equal roles in the new society. Another source of ferment are Westernized expatriates who are returning home. Asked whether she would accept a marriage arranged by her parents in the traditional manner, Jodit, an Eritrean-American college student who lives in southern California, replied, "If I think he's the right man for me, I'll pop the question myself." Such liberated attitudes would be profoundly shocking to older Eritreans, who will have to deal with them in coming years as returning youths set the social agenda.
The Dehai dialogue on gender issues has been forthright and, at times, amusing. Adey Fisseha, a woman, wrote: We have to accept the fact that women are people. No buts, no ifs. If there is anyone who believes that women are not people or not equal with men, my suggestion is simple: he should pack and leave Eritrea."
Ghidewon Asmerom, a man, said in response: Although I may agree with your solution of kicking anyone who failed to protect the rights of women out of the country, I doubt that it would be an effective policy proposal." Senai Asefaw, a woman Yale student, elaborated: "I think Ghidewon's idea of kicking out everyone who doesn't support women's rights is a little too harsh. It would leave Eritrea almost devoid of men and with a substantially reduced female population as well. I wouldn't have anyone to visit when I go home!"
The gender debate centers around the question of whether or not the constitution should include explicit language to protect women's rights. Dehai's women have weighed in with their opinions in unprecedented numbers. The majority, represented in the quotes which follow, are skeptical that gender equity can simply be legislated in a nation like Eritrea.
Sewit from Connecticut: "In terms of policy, to bridge the gap that exists between women and men at present, affirmative action may be a good political gesture. But as we all know well, the oppression of women has its roots in the family and in the socialization process. The individual person's attitudes, ideals, values, and practices have to change before equality between the sexes can be realized"
Zega from Stanford University: "I was wondering how articulating women's rights in the constitution will change any, thing? Are we tackling a traditional belief of men's superiority and women's inferiority? If so, how are most Eritrean men back home going to understand the idea of equality, an idea that has been fed into us by living in Western societies? They have lived this life-style for so long, how can any of us expect them to change, if they see nothing wrong with it?"
Adda from New Jersey: "When discussing Christianity and gender, it would not matter a great deal if there were a law giving women equal rights. Alhough the constitution would give us the right and the leverage to fight this battle, the most difficult battle that we have at hand is the one where we, women, have to change people's belief that men are dominant. How do we go about doing that? I feel that we have to empower ourselves first through education and become part of the process to change the existing belief."
Zebiba from New Jersey: Although the American Constitution strictly forbids discrimination by gender, till today the ERA [Equal Rights Amendment] has not been passed. American women constantly find themselves hitting a 'glass ceiling' when climbing up the corporate ladder. Although Eritrea has far to go in terms of building companies and corporations and industries, it is best to ad, dress this issue of gender inequality before such industries get firmly established. The most effective and proper way is to pay attention to the education of women, keeping tabs on whether they are taught to downplay their abilities or are given the same opportunities as men in school
This small sample conveys the impression that Dehai's women, writing in comfort far away from highland villages, resonate more with American feminism than their own culture. But other writers, like Rahel and Maaza, struggle to find the seeds of equality within their Eritrean experience.
Rahel from Boston: "I think there should be a concerted effort at empowering women economically. If cultural emancipation of women is closely tied to an increase in their earning power, it will be much easier to get people to endorse it. Maybe the biggest challenge in this fight is to figure out how to bring about these changes without ripping our society apart. As others have pointed out, the job has been made a lot easier because of the price paid by our tegadeiti [combatant] sisters. However, when I hear how some of them are now feeling out of place, considered 'too independent' and `unmarriageable' etc., I am reminded of the long task ahead."
Maaza from Dayton, Ohio: "In gender equality, Eritrean men and women need to take on the responsibility individually and collectively to continue aspects of our culture (and, yes, even religious beliefs) that are workable for us and revise those that are not. As adults we know what is right and wrong! Treating the opposite gender with respect and equality that one would want for himself/herself takes courage and self-confidence; to see that it adds much more to one's happiness and overall well-being requires time. . . . If Eritreans can team together, regardless of gender differences, fight for 30 years, and achieve liberation, gender equality issues should be an extension of that effort-liberation for all its citizens' "
The men of Dehai joined in the debate on women's rights, clearly (in most cases) supporting the egalitarian agenda put forth by women writers. The problem of religious traditions bothered Ghidewon, who is an acknowledged expert on Eritrean customs.
Ghidewon from Virginia: "I have to say that I have yet to find a major religion in Eritrea that's truly pro-women. There are none. Nil, zero, bado. Holy books of both Christianity and Islam have negative words and phrases that we cannot run from. It will be only fair to ourselves and to God to admit those negative aspects and proceed. What can be more ironical than when men try to play with words to convince people that this or that religion is better in the treatment of women. For heaven's sake, let the major religions of the world first give women equal rights in running the affairs of the religions before coming and preaching the equality of the holy books, which doesn't exist! Let's face it: many of the religions we know are for men, of men, and by men"
Most constitutions, including the US. Constitution, begin with an invocation of God, providence, or Allah. One Dehaier views such a preamble as a curse, rather than a blessing, from the standpoint of women's rights. Sara from San Francisco says: "I think the issue here is not which religion treats women better than the other. The issue is: are women treated fairly or equally in our society? The answer is no. So, what should the solution be? The solution should be a constitution which advocates the equality of all human beings and an education to our people on how to accept it and implement it. . . . In fact, if any of the religions do not advocate 100 percent equality for women, I say we shouldn't even base our constitution on religion."
Many contributors to this debate favored explicit language guaranteeing gender equity. One writer, Daniel from Connecticut, saw an opportunity for Eritrea to set a new course for other countries, including the United States: "Look how long it took for women and blacks in the United States to be legally and politically viable under a Constitution that presumably had ensured this heritage to them. The Constitution had to be amended more than once to be inclusive of these major groups of the US. populace. . . . The point is that as long as you don't spell out who is entitled to the benefits of a given constitution or democracy, you can always deny these benefits to sectors of your population. What does it hurt to be so inclusive up front? Is not the outcome, on the whole, going to be positive? rm not sure how many countries have gender specific language in their constitutions, but the number must be small. Herein is an opportunity, therefore, for Eritrea to take the lead on this issue in the democracies of the world"
The opposing view, which may well prevail when Eritrea's constitution is finally drafted, was set forth by Esmael from New York: As much as I agree with the philosophy and principle of full equality under the law for women and all oppressed ethnic and/or religious groups in Eritrea, I do not believe that a constitutional provision specifically designed for such groups is wise or warranted. In order for a constitution to meet the test of time, it must be gender, ethnic, and religion neutral. Programs to promote the advancement of designated groups within society are not a constitutional issue but, rather, the responsibility of the deliberative legislative body that may be established by the constitution. Various social-political issues will come to the forefront and recede over the years, and it is imperative that any document crafted as a constitution must be flexible enough to embrace such issues. By establishing specific provisions for such groups, either in the original document or by amendment, we may restrict the options of future lawmakers "
There can be little doubt that "Virtual Eritrea," as practiced among the members of Dehai, fulfills Thomas Keneally's definition of a "laboratory for the emergent nation-state." The question that remains is whether 500 widely scattered Eritreans can influence an entire nation--a country described in the May 31, 1994, Wall Street Journal as an "oasis of civility" and a "model for the rest of Africa"?
I put this question to several Dehai members and received an affirmative response, qualified but enthusiastic. Hidaat Ephrem, a poet and writer from Seattle, responded: "I first joined Dehai out of curiosity to see what Eritreans gathered through an electronic medium might have to say to each other. I found out quickly that Dehai is home to a large number of intellectual Eritreans with different backgrounds and skills, bound together by the love of their country. I have since made many friends. Though I haven't met them in person yet, the bond we share is very intimate and personal, which has been instrumental in having us work together on many projects with an easy and caring spirit."
The projects have been ambitious and strategically significant, including book collections and support for Eritrea's only institution of higher education, Asmara University. Dehaiers established a women's rights fund and committed themselves to a scholarship fund for Eritrea's elementary schools. Last, but by no means least, has been the vigorous debate on constitutional issues that will culminate in a new Eritrean constitution this year.
Beyond these good works--perhaps the most significant accomplishment of all--is the supercharged learning community which is being created and sustained by Dehai's members. Omer Mohammed Kekia, one of Dehai's elected leaders, writes: "The primary strength of Dehai is that it has facilitated the bringing together of Eritrean academics and professionals in different parts of the world. This coming together might at, tain a critical mass to make a difference in the reconstruction of Eritrea. At the moment, at least a good number of Dehai members have a good appreciation of the challenges facing us as a new nation. Dehai helped a lot in this respect"
Amanuel Melles, a marine biologist living in Toronto, echoes Omer's optimistic view of the impact the network will have on Eritrea's development: "The common denominator in Dehai is the interest members have about Eritrea. I strongly believe that this interest could be translated into a practical contribution to the development of Eritrea. In fact, by the time I joined Dehai, I realized that members had been active in projects and activities which are of help to Eritrea. I have the feeling that Dehai is slowly becoming and will be a significant component of Eritrea's development, especially in the educational sector."
Ironically, the qualities that make Dehai an effective community may have little to do with the convenience of technology. Omer Mohammed Kekia noted the similarities between interaction on Dehai and his nostalgic recollections of home: "As a friend once said, Dehai is a second home. Living in the industrialized world where life moves in the fast lane, there is little room for socialization and personalized contact, like a relaxed evening in a friend's house or in a local bar or tea room or in the shop of a friend, like people do in places like Eritrea. Dehai gives us that atmosphere."
One cheer for technology, then, and save the other two for the resourcefulness and sense of community of the Eritrean people. In this case, it is the messengers rather than the medium who provide the message.
On May 24, 1995, I sat with another member of Dehai and a group of 300 Eritreans in Los Angeles, celebrating the second anniversary of Eritrea's independence. Those who sat at our table (aU members of the same family) peppered us with questions about Dehai. They were indifferent to the technical details of cyberspace; they wanted to know who was saying what and how life was progressing in Virtual Eritrea. In the best African oral tradition, they eagerly wanted to share the news. this was a hopeful sign to me. The network had passed beyond the boundaries of the computer playground into a world of people who were singing, dancing, and praying for a peaceful future.
A speaker interrupted our chatter, asking everyone to sing Eritrea's new national anthem. Despite a lively band and song sheets in front of them, the gathered Eritreans stumbled over the unfamiliar words. I felt embarrassed for them, since I had been raised on lusty renditions of "The Star-Spangled Banner" and America, the Beautiful" Then it hit me: it's not the voices or even sincerity that evokes the patriotism of people--it is their deeds. I envied the new beginning that capricious history had given to the Eritreans.
John C. Rude is a freelance writer and educational consultant. In 1993, he helped to found Thirst for Learning, a nonprofit foundation to support schools in developing countries. In 1995, he served as a consultant with the Eritrean and Ethiopian ministries of education.