<p>I started writing for newspapers by the year 1966 when I was in Ethiopia. The last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie I (who had the largest number of sobriquets in the world) was alive and kicking. The soft-spoken emperor was very popular with the illiterate population of the country wallowing in the depths of poverty and absolute ignorance.<br />The very thought that His Imperial Majesty and the Elect of God saved them from the clutches of the Italian marauders who occupied the country during Benito Mussolini’s time made them ever grateful to this diminutive figure who ruled over Ethiopia (formerly Abyssinia) for many years.<br /><br />I wrote and sent my first story to the famed Ethiopian Herald, Addis Ababa. It was about a poor vegetable vendor called Taddesse whom I befriended at Addis Ababa’s main market(called merkato) in the heart of the city. I waited for my article to see the light of the day for a couple of weeks. I reminded the editor several times about my contribution. When it was finally published, I was on cloud nine and informed all my friends both in and outside Ethiopia. They, too, were more than thrilled. <br /><br />I kept the concerned issue of the paper in a bag. Each day, I would open the bag and stare at my name ‘Thomas Matthew’ for minutes together. It gave me such a huge satisfaction! The Herald continued to publish my articles for a full two years. They never gave me any remuneration. (I was not particular about it, either).<br /><br />Once, I happened to go to the editorial office and meet senior Ethiopian journalist Yakuib Woldemariam (who had done his training in the UK). He kindly entrusted me with a regular weekly column, ‘People and Places.’ I could interview famous artistes, writers and singers of the country with the ID card of the Ethiopian Herald.<br /><br />In 1978, I left Ethiopia for yet another African country, Nigeria. The developing Nigeria was petro-rich and had many universities that taught history and science. It had quite a few newspapers and prominent among them was the New Nigerian, to which many well-known European writers contributed. I tried my hand at the New Nigerian too and almost all my articles got published. In 1987, I bid goodbye to this country of hospitable and affectionate people.<br /><br />In India, I started contributing to a reputed Indian newspaper that accepted and published all my articles and offered remuneration, too. All the time, I enjoyed reading my own articles more than anybody else’s. I spent minimum of a solid minute staring at my own name in black print. This was the greatest thrill of my life, excepting the sight of my first-born daughter, Manju, who incidentally is working as a journalist in Australia.<br />As a writer, what I enjoyed most was reading my name in print. Only a writer can explain that feeling. My first article (penned in 1966) is still with me and gives me much inspiration to continue writing in my favourite field — the middles.</p>
<p>I started writing for newspapers by the year 1966 when I was in Ethiopia. The last Emperor of Ethiopia Haile Selassie I (who had the largest number of sobriquets in the world) was alive and kicking. The soft-spoken emperor was very popular with the illiterate population of the country wallowing in the depths of poverty and absolute ignorance.<br />The very thought that His Imperial Majesty and the Elect of God saved them from the clutches of the Italian marauders who occupied the country during Benito Mussolini’s time made them ever grateful to this diminutive figure who ruled over Ethiopia (formerly Abyssinia) for many years.<br /><br />I wrote and sent my first story to the famed Ethiopian Herald, Addis Ababa. It was about a poor vegetable vendor called Taddesse whom I befriended at Addis Ababa’s main market(called merkato) in the heart of the city. I waited for my article to see the light of the day for a couple of weeks. I reminded the editor several times about my contribution. When it was finally published, I was on cloud nine and informed all my friends both in and outside Ethiopia. They, too, were more than thrilled. <br /><br />I kept the concerned issue of the paper in a bag. Each day, I would open the bag and stare at my name ‘Thomas Matthew’ for minutes together. It gave me such a huge satisfaction! The Herald continued to publish my articles for a full two years. They never gave me any remuneration. (I was not particular about it, either).<br /><br />Once, I happened to go to the editorial office and meet senior Ethiopian journalist Yakuib Woldemariam (who had done his training in the UK). He kindly entrusted me with a regular weekly column, ‘People and Places.’ I could interview famous artistes, writers and singers of the country with the ID card of the Ethiopian Herald.<br /><br />In 1978, I left Ethiopia for yet another African country, Nigeria. The developing Nigeria was petro-rich and had many universities that taught history and science. It had quite a few newspapers and prominent among them was the New Nigerian, to which many well-known European writers contributed. I tried my hand at the New Nigerian too and almost all my articles got published. In 1987, I bid goodbye to this country of hospitable and affectionate people.<br /><br />In India, I started contributing to a reputed Indian newspaper that accepted and published all my articles and offered remuneration, too. All the time, I enjoyed reading my own articles more than anybody else’s. I spent minimum of a solid minute staring at my own name in black print. This was the greatest thrill of my life, excepting the sight of my first-born daughter, Manju, who incidentally is working as a journalist in Australia.<br />As a writer, what I enjoyed most was reading my name in print. Only a writer can explain that feeling. My first article (penned in 1966) is still with me and gives me much inspiration to continue writing in my favourite field — the middles.</p>
