




“In this context, a notable event occurred in 1966 in Asmara, where King Saud Ibn Abdulaziz, who had been forced to abdicate two years earlier, was due to meet the emperor. To avoid a diplomatic imbroglio, Haile Selassie chose not to receive the king in Addis Ababa but to shift their meeting to Eritrea instead. King Saud came over two weeks beforehand in order to enjoy some rest and recreation on the Red Sea coast. On his arrival, he was met by my father Ras Asserate Kassa, who was governor-general of Eritrea at the time. One evening, the Saudi king asked Asserate Kassa to cast an eye over the presents that he had brought for the emperor. These included a monstrous grandfather clock mounted on a vast chest of drawers and two huge and extravagantly decorated vases maded of fire-gilded bronze. The king cannot have failed to notice the sceptical look of my father’s face. When asked if these gifts would be to the emperor’s taste, Ras Asserate replied, with all due diplomatic circumspection: ‘The emperor already has a great many vases and grandfather clocks’. With a sigh, King Saud enquired: ‘But what on earth doesn’t he have ?’ Quick as a flash, the viceroy responded: ‘A Mercedes 600 Pullman’. The king thanked him for the tip and directed his underlings to obtain such a car as quickly as possible. A call was hurriedly put through to the Mercedes-Benz factory at Unterrukheim, and the Swabian car manufacturer duly lived up to its reputation for reliability: 48 hours later, a six-door, burgundy-red Mercedes Pullman was standing outside the palace in Asmara, gleaming in the African sun. And when Haile Selassie arrived in the Eritrean capital a few days later, King Saud picked him up in the Mercedes and announced to him: ‘Your Majesty, this is your car!’.
(Taken from “King of Kings”, Asfa-Wossen Asserate, Haus Publishing, 2015 p. 211-212)

“At the Italian Legation the chief problem at the time of my arrival was not political, but did not require any less tactful handling on that account. The Negus had sent over a wild buffalo as a gift to the Duke of Abruzzi. During its first day in the Legation grounds the animal had broken loose and torn around the park to the terror of both visitors and residents; therefore the proper disposal of this gift was the agitating question. To cage the animal for shipment to Italy would be costly; to ship him uncaged would be dangerous, and it was necessary to get him out of the way quickly both for the sake of comfort at the Legation and to show proper appreciation of the honour paid to the Duke”.
Taken from “Africa’s Last Empire: Through Abyssinia to Lake Tana and the Country of the Falasha”, H. Norden, 1930

“After these events the Empress’s suspicion and fear of her co-ruler increased. Worked on as she was by the priests, she became more and more bigoted and unbalanced. At the deathbed of the Emperor Menelik, her father, she had promised to help and support Lij Yassu, and was now seized with remorse at having left her promised unfullfilled. Her former husband – she had been married to Ras Gugsa Olie, governor of the province of Amhara, but this marriage was dissolved on her accession – now did everything possible to infuse suspicion of Ras Tafari, whom Gugsa envied and hated. Then in the Empress’s immediate circle were men ready to use any means of removing her co-ruler, whose reforms and modern views they could not or would not understand. The real instigator of the conspiracy against Ras Tafari has never been revealed, but one day in September 1928 words became deeds.
Early in the morning of that day Ras Tafari left the Little Gibi for the Great Gibi, whither he had been summoned by the Empress. As soon as he had stepped into the Empress’s reception-hall, troops assembled, unknown to him, in the Gibi court-yards; the palace gates were shut, soldiers took up positions along the wall which surrounds the Gibi hill, and machine-guns were placed on housetops so as to command the roads of approach. The object was to capture Ras Tafari and depose him.
News of what was happening at the Great Gibi soon reached the ears of Ras Tafari’s wife at the Little Gibi. Quickly summoning all the house-people who were at hand, she distributed weapons among them and ordered them to hasten to the relief of their lord. Soon a yelling crowd collected outside the Great Gibi and demanded that the doors should be opened. Ras Tafari found himself suddenly surrounded by a crowd of threatening soldiers who had been alarmed by the shouts and commotion, and seemed about to take violent action. Without for one instant losing his calmness or self-possession he walked slowly through them, and so great was the power of his personality that the soldiers unwillingly drew back and at his orders opened the gates. When his servants poured in he cried in a voice that carried far:
‘The man who fires the first shot, be he of my own people or my opponent’s, shall die’.
In the stillness which followed, Ras Tafari mounted his horse and rode quietly out through the gate, to be received with shouts of rejoicing from the mob outside. The psychological moment had passed. The coup had failed.
Ras Tafari’s behaviour on this occasion won general approval among the Abyssinian people, who love to see personal courage in their leader. Many who had hitherto been his enemies now condemned the attempted coup. The Empress Zauditu was one of these who most eagerly denied having had anything to do with it. To show her appreciation of him she formally made over to him the entire rule – being at this time very ill with diabetes – and on October 7th, 1928, with all pomp and ceremony, Tafari Makonnen was crowned Negus (King) of Abyssinia.”
(Taken from “The Abyssinia I Knew”, General Virgin, London 1936)

“Much of His Majesty’s success was due to an extraordinary ability to attend to the myriad of administrative details, the most minor of appointments to offices in remote localities, the most insignificant of expenditures, each trip abroad of every official, including (thanks to discreet observers) details as to persons visited, every authorization to provincial officials to come to Addis Ababa, to extend their stays in the capital, every directive to return to the provinces, the most minor of ministerial disputes, and the peccadilloes of his entourage.
None of this would have been possible without instant recollection of names, faces, and conversations, of the particularities of the most remote localities in Ethiopia and of events however distant in time or significance. Once, following the Liberation in 1941, while passing out gifts to his followers, a man came forward to protest that he had been overlooked. His Majesty turned sharply on him: ‘You lie!’ he growled, and, calling him by name, reminded him of the exact time and place at which the Emperor had rewarded him for obtaining urgently needed mules for the Army.
That same powerful memory, constantly nourished by intelligence sources, supported him in the delicate task of imposing his appointments, dismissals, incarcerations and banishments. Able to recall in detail long-forgotten errors, indiscretions, or admissions, Haile Selassie would coldly hang before the protesting dignitary the intricate tapestry of that official’s past life and conduct from which the latter could only avert his embarassed gaze.”
(Taken from “Ethiopia At Bay, John H. Spencer, 1987)

“Our first meeting with the ruler of Prester John’s old Kingdom was most formal. We presented our credentials and he welcomed us to his country in a reserved – almost frigid manner. He was very much on his dignity. (…)
But Ras Tafari in his home was a different man from the regent we had called upon in the official reception hall. He was dignified always but he was also cordial and engaging host. (….)
We did not come really to know the ruler of Abyssinia until our fourth visit to his home. We had just returned to Addis from our first trek through the southern provinces. Ras Tafari was much interested in our trip (…)
We were having a tea in the large living room that afternoon and Fuertes showed him some paintings of the birds of Abyssinia, done in camp – but exceedingly well done. The Ras was much impressed, especially by one of a guinea-fowl, so much so, in fact, that he ordered an attendant to bring in a live guinea fowl. He compared the live bird to the picture and gasped at the resemblance (…)
Later, by way of diversion, a small lion cub was brought in and turned loose on the floor – to the great confusion of the Ras’s little brown dog that had been romping around the room. The lion was not more than two feet high but stalked about doing his best to imitate a full grown felis leo, growling and showing baby teeth threateningly. Tafari Makonnen was greatly amused at the cub’s attempt to be fierce. He caught up the baby lion and growling back at him hissed:
‘Tidlik ambassa kufanoo’, in a awed tone – fierce big lion – then added as an aside – ‘tinnish hyah’ – little ass.”
(Taken from “Savage Abyssinia”, James Baum, 1927)

“This evening was unusual. I had to tell my great-grandfather that I was going to Europe. I was excited, and yet something did not feel right because my mother only gave me one day to pack my bags. I remember how she persuaded me to go. She said I was going to see my two cousins who had recently left for boarding school in England. Also, I would go on a skiing vacation to Geneva, Switzerland. I would be back in two weeks. After a lot of agonizing, I resolved to tell my mentor the impending news. I opened the door to his private residence area and saw him standing in the middle of the room near where he had his desk. I bowed down and greeted him with a kiss. He smiled at me and said, ‘Mendin new wedaje? [What is it, my friend?]’ I restated what my mother had told me in a flippant sort of way, hoping he would disagree with her. He had disagreed with her in the past about her insisting on me not wearing any pants because girls only wore skirts. I hoped that he would rule on my side again. I was feeling sad, and my eyes were almost filling with tears. My heart sank when he looked at me and said, ‘Malefia, yihun. [This is acceptable. So be it.]’
Knowing I could not change his mind, I sucked it up and told myself it was going to be OK. At the same time, I did not relish the idea of leaving my home and my family. Besides, I knew I had to travel alone, and that made me concerned. I had this feeling in my gut that this might be the last time I would see my great-grandfather, who had raised me like his daughter since a very young age. I thought to myself, ‘This can’t be happening. No way. I have to come back to Ethiopia one day. This is my birthplace. This is my home.’
While all these thoughts were speeding through my mind, I noticed he slipped a small, sealed white envelope into my hands. ‘This is for your journey,’ he said. I accepted the envelope and bowed again—this time with a lump in my throat—but I was determined not to cry. I turned around toward the door that led out to the hallway. When I opened the envelope, I found several crisp US hundred-dollar bills, which I placed in my purse.”
(Taken from “It was Only Yesterday”, Hannah Mariam Meherete-Selassie, 2018)

“Yet however different the delegates’ political standpoints may have been, Haile Selassie threw all his weight behind ensuring that the conference was a success. When Nkrumah saw that his plan for a United States of Africa was not well received by his fellow leaders, he was determined to leave the conference without more ado. Even the most impassioned pleas could not alter the Ghanaian president’s resolve, and the meeting seemed on the verge of imminent failure. At the eleventh hour, however, Haile Selassie took Sekou Toure on one side. Clutching his hand, the emperor looked deep into his eyes and addressed the president of Guinea: ‘Mon fils, je vous prie’ (‘My son, I beg you’), imploring him to prevail upon his ‘brother’ Kwame Nkrumah to come back to the conference table. Moved by this intervention, Sekou Toure replied: ‘Oui pere, je vais essayer.’ (‘Yes father, I’ll try’). And he did indeed succeed in getting Nkrumah to return to the negotiations.”
(Taken from “King of Kings”, Asfa-Wossen Asserate, Haus Publishing, 2015 p. 232)
“Even this triumphant ticker-tape parade (in Manhattan), though, could not match the rapturous welcome given to the emperor by a jubilant crowd of African-Americans when he visited a Baptist Church on 138th Street in Harlem. The pastor of the church, Reverend Dr. Adam Clayton Powell Jr., greeted Haile Selassie ‘in the name of the 700,000 Afro-Americans of New York City, men and women of every faith, belief, and disbelief’. Powell extolled the emperor as ‘the symbol around which we place all our hopes, dreams, and prayers that one day the entire continent of Africa shall be as free as the country of Ethiopia.’ A 200-voice choir then sang the ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ from Handel’s ‘Messiah’; the emperor was visibly moved when he heard the refrain ‘and he shall reign forever and ever’.”
(Taken from “King of Kings”, Asfa-Wossen Asserate, Haus Publishing, 2015 p. 191)
Handel’s ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ is a song from his work in english language, an “Oratorio” called “Messiah”, composed by him in 1741. In Harlem, they sang unto His Majesty the following verses:
“Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
The kingdom of this world is become
the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ,
and of His Christ;
And He shall reign for ever and ever,
King of kings, and Lord of lords.
King of kings, and Lord of lords.
King of kings, and Lord of lords,
and Lord of lords,
and He shall reign,
and He shall reign for ever and ever,
for ever and ever,
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
And He shall reign for ever and ever, for ever and ever.
King of kings! and Lord of lords!
King of kings! and Lord of lords!
And He shall reign for ever and ever,
King of kings! and Lord of lords!
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!”