I too was blessed by Mother Meselesh.  I would take groups of African
American youths to the Horn of Africa and she was always warm, kind as she
imparted love and wisdom into the children.  I asked my son did he remember
eating Ethiopian food with her.  He remembered the wonderful meal.  These
days I have had much death in my family and I am weeping because I don't
want anymore loss.  I am healing through writing poetry.  I wrote this poem
from reading email testimonies about Meselesh kindness.  Fabu


In Memory of Meselesh Ayele, A Darling of Africa
"How Can We Sing the Lord's Song in a Strange Land"


It is difficult to live
in a strange, cold land
and often Wisconsin feels like both.

When there are people
whose lives offer you a resting place
then you can be refreshed in their presence.

Meselesh Ayele
a Darling of Africa
was a resting place for a great many of us.

She cared
in the finest African tradition
by offering us food, encouragement and a peaceful space:
The Horn of Africa.

Her arms and life giving spirit
embraced children, women and men.
Oh my sister, we are missing you already.

How have we sung the Lord's Song 
in a strange land?
We have known and been loved by those like Meselesh,
a Darling from Africa.





At 08:57 PM 4/4/2000 -0500, you wrote:
>    Another day has begun, but the world is somehow different. Today the
>world  attempts to grasp that change. This day began like most days, but
>without  MESELESH AYELE, the owner and proprietor of "Horn of Africa"
>restaurant  on 117 E Mifflin Street. There is an empty place at the table. 
>We have experienced a deep loss. Perhaps that feeling will be mitigated in 
>time by realizing how much we have gained from this remarkable woman's
>capacity  for giving. Much has been said about her entrepreneurial
>abilities and her  influence on the African community here in Madison. I
>can add nothing here on  that subject.  Meselesh served as our African
>ambassador to the greater Madison community  with her restaurant "Horn of
>Africa." She was known and loved throughout  the city by the lofty and the
>meek. Fortunately for us, we had her restaurant to  help satisfy our
>craving for a place owned and run by an African—a place so  welcoming and
>so vital. It was her love for all people, that opened door after  door,
>heart after heart.  We should not forget that there was a woman behind that
>love. A woman who  provided free food during the African Association of
>Madison, Inc. inauguration  in 1993, and at several other fundraisers over
>the years. She fought hard with  the City to obtain permission for
>"SHEKERE" African Dance Band to play at the  "Horn of Africa." The
>restaurant turned out to be a popular hang out of  many Africans in
>Madison.  Meselesh was a patriot. Most of us would not know it but she
>devoted an  immense amount of time and her own resources towards the
>re-building of her  native country Eritrea after several years of war with
>Ethiopia. Through  fundraisers, tee-shirts sales, potlucks and even her own
>testimony, she lived  for a free and truly independent Eritrea.  The fact
>that she was a black African woman in a white America, with little  formal
>education would probably be seen by most as an impediment to success. She 
>was a successful landlady who owned several multi unit rental residences in
>the  prime parts of the city. When banks turned her down for financing for
>the  opening of "Horn of Africa," she walked away and financed the venture 
>herself. Meselesh was a woman of remarkable character and deeply held faith
>who  possessed an incredible enterprising talent. She literally conquered
>the  doubters, the skeptics, and the faint-hearted with the love for work
>and  accomplishment. Meselesh, like generations of black women, provided me
>with an example of  faith, tolerance, the value of work, and the power of
>love. I felt connected to  her as though she was an aunt, a mother, a
>friend. We all know death is a part  of life. Yet, to lose Meselesh is
>inevitable, but still a sobering event. She is  an African treasure.
>Meselesh lives on through her sacrifices. Her footprints  will continue to
>be discovered over and over again by future generations—her  perpetual gift
>to the world. I'll miss her.  

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