Introduction: a homecoming

5When we reach Adi Keyh night has fallen. ... The town has few tarmac roads and our bus bumps awkwardly through the potholes before stopping in front of a three-storey building. Its walled compound harbours a simple hotel and a day time cafe. The room I share with Harnet from Germany and Selamawit from Sweden is damp and sparsely furnished. We drop our luggage into a corner and try to wash off the grimy layers of sweat and dust. There is no time for more elaborate styling. The local branch of the National Union of Eritrean Youth and Students has invited the guests for a dance party. It takes place in a hall some 100 metres down the road. When we arrive there, women ululate at the entrance and throw popcorn for a traditional welcome. We are offered freshly brewed tea, coffee and himbasha, a delicious homemade bread. The otherwise dismal looking room is decorated with a banner reading “Welcome” in various languages. In the rear red plastic folding chairs have been arranged in two neat blocks of rows. They face a stage at the front of the hall where a band is getting ready to play. We are ushered into one block of seats and urged to have more tea and bread. The other half of the room gradually fills with locals – mostly boys and young men between thirteen and eighteen, a reminder that most of the 18+ generation are still serving in the army. Only a year ago Eritrea was at war with Ethiopia. Even now peace is fragile. Adi Keyh is not far from the contested border area. Very likely most of these youngsters that are now staring at us with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion have a bother or sister in the trenches.

6After the official welcome the band starts playing. We duly clap our hands, but the clapping seems more restrained than earlier on the bus. Suddenly a young man of about 17 jumps out of nowhere onto the open space between stage and audience. He moves wildly, exaltedly, tries a breakdance element, stumbles, his limbs jerking grotesquely in mid air. But this is not some humourous stunt. Something is wrong with the guy. Two locals try to haul him off the dance floor, but he paddles free and only slouches off with a dazed look into the crowd once the music stops. When the band plays the next piece everyone gets up to dance, but the atmosphere remains tense. The third dance is for me. This time three young “misfits” occupy the floor, and one of them has sought me out as his dancing partner. He gestures me to join him, then moves closer, takes my hand and pulls me onto the dancefloor... There’s nothing for it. For a while the three guys and I remain the lonely entertainers of an awkward audience. Eventually some of the onlookers join in. I manage to retreat to a chair in the backrow where Harnet approaches me with a worried look: “Let's go back to the hotel,” she says. “This is no fun. Selamawit has already left.”

7But as we are leaving the hall, our roommate is coming back in. She is upset and angry. On her way she had run into a drunk elderly man. Brandishing his walking stick he had shouted at her: “I'll beat you, I’ll kill you ... .” She fled to the hotel, but found the front door locked. Some soldiers offered to show her the back entrance, but then tried to lure her into the wrong direction. Finally a passerby who “rescued” her expected to be taken to her room as a “thank you”. Unable to shake him off, she decided to return to the crowd... Now as we are walking back together the street is empty and eerily quiet. Selamawit leads the way around the hotel where a huge iron gate opens into the yard. She is still contagiously nervous. We chat for a while, but as we are getting ready for bed a tumult raises outside. From a balcony overlooking the dimly lit courtyard we see Fiori running through the gate, screaming. She is followed by a group of people. For a splitsecond I think it's some locals chasing her, but then I recognise other tour members. One of them slams the gate shut crying in German: “Come here! Help me!” Two guys hold fast against the gate while Yonas bolts it. The next moment a cascade of stones and furious voices hit the corrugated iron sheets from the other side.

8After some frantic counting of heads it is established that we are complete. ... Provided with tea “on the house” and huddled around two tables in the closed café some of the group try to reconstruct the happenings: Some time after Harnet, Selamawit and myself had left, the other Know-Your-Country-Tourers also decided to go. Outside the hall another group of local youth had gathered and tried to provoke the departing guests with insults. When one of them grabbed at a girl from Sweden, she said something rude to him. He spat at her in reply wherupon she slapped him squarely in the face. Others intervened and the situation threatend to escalate into a fight. Within the diaspora group someone had the good sense to call for a retreat. Yet when they turned to go, the locals began throwing fist-sized stones at them. They panicked and ran away, the locals at their heels.

9(…) Though no one got hurt, the shock is profund. Sara and Almaz look wide-eyed and scared. Bereket is simply bewildered. This is his first visit in eleven years and so much has changed. Yonas mutters to himself in German that he’ll take the next plane back home – to Frankfurt. Sam shruggs: “... can happen anywhere.” Paulos shakes his head violently: “But we are not anywhere! I thought Eritrea was the place where I belong! This is like running away from the Neonazis in Frankfurt.” – ”Worse!” Yonas exclaims, “At least there are no stones in Frankfurt!” The laughter that follows releases some of the tension. It also makes Harnet emerge from a long silence. She straightens up to declare defiantly: “This will bring us only closer together.” At this moment, her appeal to group solidarity even includes me, the ferenji. But at the same time the “us” separates the diaspora Eritreans from “them,” the local Eritreans outside. Perhaps that's also what Henok feels when he says: “We aren't Eritreans anymore.”

Long-distance nationalism, diaspora and the dilemmas of the second generation

14In the first part of this paper I ask, how Eritrean discourses on nationalism have been shaped by the experience of exile. And, more specifically: how has growing up in exile impacted the second generation’s notion of Eritrea and their own sense of Eritrean-ness? The second half of this text then focusses on the meeting of diaspora and local Eritreans. In what ways are the exiles' views reshaped when meeting with the local again? What consequences arise from these meetings for the transnational links between Eritrea and the diaspora: for the exiles? for the locals? And how do these encounters between a local Eritrean culture (of war) and an Eritrean exile culture influence the ongoing internal trans/formation of the Eritrean diaspora in Germany?

Exile childhoods

15The participants of the “Know-Your-Country-Tour” (KYCT) 2001 had in their majority been born or grown up outside Eritrea and did not know each other. A few “transnational” contacts existed among those who had already taken part in the KYCT 2000 and had kept in touch since. Some of this latter group also actively helped to advertise the 2001 trips among the holidaying youth in the Eritrean capital Asmara, e.g. by distributing flyers or just by telling anyone they met. Those who joined the tour mostly came in small groups from one particular diaspora country, or even city. During the five-day journey these “national” groups were never entirely dissolved, yet a general sense of we-ness became palpable especially when singing along to old EPLF songs everyone knew by heart. Their “performance” seemed so well coordinated and rehearsed that it created the impression of a school reunion conjuring up shared memories and experiences by singing their old tunes. The music seemed to provide a bridge between the foreign raised Eritreans, no matter where they came from. It was a rendezvous for similar childhood memories of Eritrean feast and festivals, demonstrations and meetings experienced in different places in exile. It also recreated an imagined home country that music and lyrics helped to reinforce. Music-making and other forms of popular culture served as a site for the creation of an imagined Eritrean identity. As an Eritrean youth group writes in the late 1990s about a dance performance:

Our knowledge about these dances comes mainly from the EPLF’s videos and festivals which where supposed to keep up a link with the liberation struggle. Most of us grew up with those videos, they are part of our own history. (Beles 1998: 36, translation B.C.)

16Before looking more closely at the situation of Eritrean children growing up in exile, however, it seems advisable to provide some more general information about Eritrean refugees in Germany, their organisations and links with home.

17The first Eritreans coming to Germany were male students, workers and sailors who had arrived in the late 1960s. Over the years the increasingly repressive political situation in their home region made them exiles. Many of them applied for asylum and also became loosely organised in political groups such as Eritreans for Liberation in Europe (EFLE). The number of Eritrean asylum seekers rose sharply after “Ethiopian revolution” in 1974 and the ensuing “Red Terror” of the new military regime in Addis Ababa. Throughout the late 1970s and 80s, it was increasingly not only men that swelled the ranks of the Eritrean refugee community, but whole families or women with children. Most of them became members of the Eritrean exile organisations whose work was almost solely focused on supporting the struggle at home.

18During the 1970s the two major Eritrean liberation movements, the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) and the Eritrean People's Liberation Front (EPLF) were competing for power and supporters from among the exile community. The EFLE joined ranks with the latter, and in the following years became integrated within the foreign branch system of the EPLF's mass organisations (cf. Hepner 2004). In Eritrea the ELF lost the military struggle between the fronts in 1981. Inside the field this situation provided the EPLF with the opportunity to consolidate their influence and to engage in social transformation based on Marxist-Leninist ideology. While the military wing of the ELF had dissolved, pockets of support for the ELF still remained in exile countries, but the mass organisations of the EPLF were by far stronger. Here I focus mainly on the EPLF, which by the mid-1980s had set up an efficient network of worldwide exile organisations.

19Following the socialist trend of their time, the EPLF organised their supporters in the so-called mass organisations, consisting of (peasants’,) workers’, women’s and students’ unions. These organisational structures built in the field more or less replicated in the exile Eritrean communities. In some ways they became perhaps more successful than in Eritrea proper where the EPLF’s influence was largely limited to the liberated areas, and not unanimously welcomed by a conservative peasantry (see Tronvoll 1998). In exile, the mass organisations supported the social and nationalist revolution, but also provided services, a link with home and an opportunity for Eritrean socialization. In the mid-1980s a great majority of Eritrean refugees was thus organised with the EPLF, making it one of the most efficiently run national liberation movements worldwide. Even the few formally independent Eritrean relief, self-help and professional agencies were mostly personally and structurally linked to the party. This effective bundling of forces and resources was not only achieved by appealing to the refugees’ undoubtedly strong sense of loyalty and dedication, but also by the systematic use of control mechanisms and coercion (cf. Pool 2001, Hepner 2003, Conrad 2005, Woldemichael 2005).

22Being in its core an “anti-establishment” youth movement, the EPLF drew strongly on the mobilization of young men and women who joined the movement not exclusively for patriotic reasons, but also because it provided a chance to escape from traditional constraints and hierarchies (cf. Tronvoll 1998, Quehl 2002). In other words, like any revolutionary movement, the EPLF was a destroyer of tradition and the societal order of old. In the exile countries, however, (traditional) culture and values gained new importance as a means of re-ascertaining one’s identity. Exile organisations thus had to embark on a tightrope walk between being keepers of a tradition they partly renounced, yet had to draw on for reasons of mobilising, uniting and maintaining an identification of the refugees with their culture and country of origin.

23Despite looking like a patchwork quilt with many gaping holes in it, the narrated image of Eritrea provided young exiles with a strong sense of patriotic pride and belonging that offered protection against the ignorance and insults they invariably experienced as an African minority in Germany. Stories about Eritrean heroism as well as the wrongdoings the Eritrean people had suffered yet not succumbed to, doubtlessly helped the younger generation to face a foreign, often discriminatory, and widely indifferent environment, and to give meaning to individually felt hardship. Most of all, however, the narratives, that were almost invariably presented from a “we” – perspective (cf. Nolting 2002, Matsuoka and Sorenson 2005) allowed also foreign-born or – raised Eritreans to put themselves into one line with past and present Eritreans fighting for their country's independence, as well as for recognition, dignity and social justice.

24This conjuring up of an “imagined community” (Anderson 1992) was further strengthened by the lived solidarity with Eritreans at home and among the exiles. The children attended political, cultural and social gatherings together with their parents, helped with street collections, the organisation of demonstrations and charity events, but were also engaged in an elaborate network of mutual support. Individual families had, albeit to varying degrees, contacts with their families left in Eritrea or living in Sudanese refugee camps. The sense of obligation and responsibility towards their relatives and their country contributed to making Eritreans less prone to adopting the image of the helpless, homeless, uprooted refugee. They not only helped to further the cause of the Eritrean struggle financially and morally, but always felt and acted as active, integral part of the Eritrean national movement. Apart from a continued willingness to make financial contributions this is also manifested in their readiness to act as ambassadors of their proud (proto-)nation. Until today, the question: “Where do you originally come from?” prompts diaspora Eritreans of all ages to embark on a lengthy (and always very similar) account of their country’s history. Structure, vocabulary and vantage point of these narratives identify them unmistakably as products of the EPLF’s nation-building efforts.

25The strong focus on Eritrea thus boosted the refugee’s self-esteem and empowered them to move successfully in their host society. But the prioritisation of supporting the struggle also had its downsides, especially for the upbringing of the 1.5 and second generation. Being often entirely consumed by the on-goings in Eritrea and in their organisations, parents erroneously assumed that return to Eritrea would one day end their life in exile and make integration into and deeper understanding of the host society unnecessary. Political and social activities drained most of the refugees’ energy as well as their financial and emotional resources. Membership in the EPLF (or ELF) mass organisations meant to take part in regular, sometimes daily meetings that reduced time for family life, careers or focussing attention on the children's education:

...as all Eritrean citizens love their family and country all [their] mind and thoughts were to help [their] family and country during the ... struggle. Although it cannot be said that [the families] forgot their children ... they did not give care to them as required... Moreover, most had the unstudied ambition: 'once the liberation of the country is achieved, I will go to my country taking my children! (Abraham Tekle 2001: 38)

26The following quotation highlights the extent to which life in exile was directed towards past and future Eritrea, rather than taking place in a here and now. Eritrean author Abeba Tesfagiorgis recalls:

...it was undeniable that I had been preoccupied all those years with the welfare of Ruth and Tamar [elder daughters who had become fighters], my family [those left behind], my country. I had tried to make true Eritreans of my [younger] daughters within a strong American environment. Was I really right in doing so? ... It was Muzit's first tennis lesson and she wanted her parents to be there. We were there in body, but where was my heart? And what year was it? Why did I not take a photograph? (Abeba 1992: 208; emphasis as in original)

28Thus the varying living conditions, family status, the parents’ political affiliation, their education and understanding of their children’s situation have it that the second generations' knowledge about Eritrean culture and history, the cause of their exile and extent of their transnational contacts may vary enormously. Moreover, children were more exposed to German culture and society had, in accordance with their age and experiences, other interests besides their parent's home country. The constant reference to Eritrea seemed at times tiresome to them or even provoked resentment: “Eritrea for breakfast, Eritrea for lunch and Eritrea for supper,” Nolting (2002: 65, translation B.C.) quotes a young Eritrean woman, reflecting on her parent's pre-occupation with Eritrea. Similarly, many of my interviewees also expressed the feeling of having to compete with a far-off country and unknown relatives for their parent's attention.

Breakdowns and new beginnings

31Especially the two-year period between liberation and independence was fraught with uncertainties and changes. Not only in regard to Eritrea's development and the return question, but also regarding the continued stay abroad. With the de facto end of exile, the relationship to both home and host country was to be redefined – formally as well as mentally. For one thing, Eritrean refugees in Germany had officially been registered as Ethiopians. Now, surprisingly, many of them applied for German citizenship (rather than Eritrean). One reason simply was that many refugees only now fulfilled the requirements for naturalization in Germany. Another, that travelling to Eritrea as an asylum seeker was risky. Visiting the country you purportedly had had to flee could lead to being denied re-entry to Germany. More generally, possessing a German passport gave many exiles “just-in-case” sense of security.

36Unlike the pre-independence period, Eritrean diaspora youth growing up in the 1990s had very little exposure to transnational Eritrean politics. According to Schröder (1992: 29) about a third of the Eritrean population in Germany was less than 16 years of age when independence arrived. Those who had been pre-adolescents at that time (and thus too young to be seriously involved), where now teens. By the mid-1990s there was a whole generation that had been entirely raised in Germany. Having been exposed to the German education system and mainstream culture they had also adopted cultural and moral values that differ from those of their parents. Not surprisingly this led to conflicts within the families (Berhe 1999: 42). Also community events and meetings which used to provide room for socialising and learning about the situation in Eritrea took place less frequently than in the 1980s. Besides, most teenagers felt out of place there. The elder generation's problems discussed there were not theirs, the constant talk about the developments in Eritrea led some youngsters to say: “What’s that to do with us?” or “Who cares about our problems?” – reflecting their parent's continued preoccupation with Eritrea. Often the youth also interpreted efforts to get them involved as yet another attempt of their parents’ to keep them under control.

37Still, even in the in-between years from 1993 to 1998 there were various attempts to organise Eritrean youth in Germany and keep them connected to their country. For one thing there were several football Eritrean teams scattered all over Germany that usually also had a youth team. The MahberKoms, though to varying degrees continued to provide Tigrinya lessons. So did some of the Eritrean religious communities that gradually became more influential as the dominant political organisations had broken away. German social workers as well as Eritrean-German friendship societies that had emerged out of earlier solidarity movements also provided for Eritrean refugee children, especially for the relatively large number of unaccompanied youth that had arrived only in the late 1980s. In Frankfurt a German teachers' association (with the help of Eritrean students) ran the “Eri-Treff”, providing free tuition and leisure time activities for Eritrean pupils and their friends. In 1993 they organised a trip to Eritrea. Another Eritreo-German project in Berlin, the “Workcamp Eritrea” was started in 1994. It organised for Eritrean and German youth to co-operate with young local Eritreans on an international summer project to plant trees in Eritrea.

41Apart from Warsay Frankfurt some 20 youth groups were founded throughout Germany during the war, persuing similar aims. In 1999 an umbrella organisation for Eritrean youth groups was created; again a former NUEYS cadre and embassy employee encouraged and coordinated this effort. The first difficulty had been to get in touch with all the existing groups as there was no “central institution” with which they were registered, even though the Eritrean Embassy in Berlin as well as the Consulate in Frankfurt make efforts to establish links with all sorts of Eritrean diaspora organisations. When the first umbrella organisation held its second meeting, several members complained that the term “umbrella organisation” smacked too much of control and hierarchies. It was then renamed Forum of Eritrean Youth Organisations (FEYO), and eventally a structure based on regional and topical committees (still reminding very much of the mass organisation's structures) was set up. Between 1999 and 2003 a number of meetings, joint events and projects were organised. Among the most successful of them were sports – or cultural events such as the annual Youth Festival. But FEYO also actively sought contact with the NUEYS in Eritrea. At a FEYO meeting in autumn 2000, a member reported about her work experience with a ministry in Eritrea and her participation in the “Know-Your-Country-Tour” that had taken place in summer 1999 despite the ongoing war at the border. It had even included a tour to the front and to the military training camp Sawa. The report was received enthusiastically by the young activists, and indeed I was to meet at least half a dozen of them on the 2001 tour.

Strange encounters and lost illusions

42But not all of the younger generation that visit Eritrea do so out of their own initiative or with the same enthusiasm shown at the FEYO meeting. And even if they wanted to join their parents on a trip “home”, many saw themselves enjoying beach life at the shores of the Red Sea rather than being dragged from one house to the next to be presented to an extended family. Not surprisingly, most youngsters eventually coming face to face with Eritrea (often for the first time) find it difficult to recognise the place as the Eritrea of their imagination. Especially teenagers, being not always firm in Tigrinya, are quickly bored by the daily routine of visits and have to be bribed into Sunday behaviour by allowing them to roam the streets of Asmara after nightfall. Here they are likely to bump into like-minded youngsters from their own or other countries of resettlement. Walking along Liberation Avenue and its busy side streets in the late afternoon and evening you cannot fail to notice groups of diaspora teenagers monopolizing certain meeting places, street corners, bars and restaurants, some of which are obviously tailored to suit their “western tastes”. The same goes for a handful of nightclubs catering mainly for exiles, tourists and foreign experts – not only in regards to decoration, food and drink, but also when it comes to entrance fees and prices. Still low by western standards they are yet beyond anything most locals can afford (cf. Treiber 2005).

43Whilst an Eritrean newspaper commented benevolently on the Babylonian mix of languages one will hear in Asmara during the rainy season (Eritrea Profile, 18 August 2001: 8), locals – and in particular the youth – seem less amused by these cosmopolitan graces. With a mixture of envy and scorn they view their “cousins” from abroad who hang around displaying their branded clothes, spending money and paying them little or no heed. There have been reports of tensions between exiles and locals virtually from the beginning of the annual pilgrimages in the mid-1990s (cf. Lehrerkooperative 1994; Hartman 1998). Others denied that there were any problems or put them aside as childish squabbles. However, during my sojourn in summer 2001, there was no pretending that all was fine between exiles and locals. One year after the end of the Ethio-Eritrean border war (1998-2000) the families of those killed had not been notified and were anguishly awaiting news from the front. In this situation the happy-go-lucky lifestyle of some young Eritreans from abroad provoked considerable resentment. Also, the regular fights between local youngsters and diaspora youth could no longer be brushed aside as “normal” in-fights between teenagers. The lines of conflict were neatly drawn between “us – the Eritreans from abroad” and “them – the locals”.

46In a cafe a group of teens from Italy questioned me about what I thought of Eritrea. Every favourable answer, however, spurred them into even louder complaints. Having covered the weather, the boredom, the state of hotels and toilets, we turned to the local cuisine. Finally one boy exclaimed exasperatedly: “But they cannot even make proper injera (a flat spongy bread eaten with most meals in Eritrea)! It’s all dark here. In Italy, we make it nice and light in colour”. In fact, the light-coloured injera you often get abroad is the result of using corn- and wheat meal as a substitute for the local teff. What’s very telling, however, is the lopsided view of what is “authentic” Eritrean culture. For the kids diaspora culture is true Eritrean culture, whereas local Eritrean culture is just a bad try. And what goes for food also rings true for less material ideas about Eritrean-ness.

47Another not unusual story is that of a German Eritrean who is shocked at her relatives' consumerism. Brought up on stories about Eritrean virtues and values such as self-reliance and industriousness, she had expected her cousin in Asmara to invest the money she gave to her, but found her relative had spent it on fashion items instead. Local Eritreans on the other hand tend to believe that living in “the West” automatically means being rich. How difficult it is to make a living abroad is not grasped, and less so, as many overseas Eritreans like to gloss over the downsides of their diaspora lives. In order to prove their success and ease a guilty conscience, gifts are made which sometimes financially ruin diaspora families for the rest of the year or longer. Consequently both sides feel misunderstood. The exiles feel their efforts are not fully appreciated while their relatives think them both arrogant and unwilling to do more for their poorer relations.

49Young Eritreans from abroad coming to Eritrea as interns, volunteers, or to collect material for academic studies, are mostly well in their twenties. Many of them still used to be members of the “Red Flowers” as children or were later active in Eritrean youth association, campaigning for Eritrea during the 1998-2000 war, or had chosen an “Eritrean” for their graduate papers. The majority of them represent the more educated segment of diaspora society. And as students or young professionals they also tend to be successful and “well-integrated” in their country of resettlement. Apart from “searching for their roots” and gaining work and life experience, most of these young people also wanted a chance to become acquainted with an Eritrea out of beles season, outside family homes and beyond prearranged trips to the Red Sea in air-conditioned Toyotas.

50Still, even though this group makes much more of an effort to adapt, personal experiences vary enormously. A NUEYS official who facilitated these internships reported that while some were happy and planned to come back; others had vowed they would not even return for a holiday. Rahwa, a young woman I met in Asmara had just left a volunteer job after being told by an Eritrean colleague that she was not a “real Eritrean” after all. The incident also led her to contemplate about her future:

I used to think some day I would go to live in Eritrea, perhaps with 30 or 40. It was always in the back of my mind. Now I cannot even imagine going back with 60. [Pause] But neither can I imagine growing old in Germany. I feel quite homeless now – like a Kurd. (Fieldnotes, B.C.)

51She was referring not only to her personal disappointments, but also felt that the Eritrea she had come to know did not have the bright future she used to imagine, but was sliding into authoritarian rule: “Even in 50 years there will be no democracy here,” she said in late August 2001. Less than a month from then political dissidents and journalists were arrested and private newspapers banned. And with the situation in the country growing increasingly tense, the diaspora (youth), too, became fragmented and paralysed.

From myth of return to myth of origin: reinventing the diaspora

54When presenting the findings of my research in Eritrea to an audience of mostly young Eritreans in Germany, I tentatively titled my presentation “The ‘Beles’– A Tenth Ethnic Group?” I added it was meant somewhat provocatively. During the discussion a young man said: “Actually, your title is not provocative at all. It’s the truth!” Some of the older listeners flinched, but the younger ones nodded or at least did not contradict the speaker. As the sojourns in Eritrea have shown, the “culture of exile” not only set them apart from Eritrean society but serves also to create a sense of solidarity and mutual understanding among fellow exiles from all over the world. This also explains why most young people go back to Eritrea for another holiday in spite of negative experiences. As a young woman from Frankfurt put it:

They [the locals] gave us a hard time, but still I feel quite homesick now, not for the Eritreans there, but for the friends I made there. I mean other Eritreans from abroad. In Asmara even people you hardly say hello to in Frankfurt are suddenly your best buddies. (Fieldnotes B.C.)

55I argue that journeys to Eritrea make most youngsters aware that something like an Eritrean “exile” or “diaspora culture” in its own right exists at all, and that it might be something of an asset, rather than a stigma. But as any other diaspora, the Eritrean diaspora cannot exist without a common point of reference: and this remains Eritrea. But rather than the myth of return, it is now the reference to a common origin that makes Eritreans abroad a community. Thus the summer holiday is no longer seen as a rehearsal for a potential return, but more like a celebration of one’s origin and community. Like an Eritrean version of the Jewish diaspora’s “Next year in Jerusalem,” the pilgrimage to Eritrea has become a part of diapora culture; maybe even a rite de passage for the youth from abroad. In any case there is a growing realisation that inspite of the existence of a wider transnational field that embraces both Eritrea and its diaspora, there is also a “here” and “there”; a “culture of war” and a “culture of exile.” In an article published in the Eritrean-German magazine “Selam Eritrea” in 1998, the youth group Beles very articulately embark on a discourse on identity, reflecting such experiences:

Parallel to Eritrean society an exile society is developing whose young generation is closely historically linked to the war and the country, but sometimes feels ... that their country of origin is a strange place to them. Beles is the attempt to overcome this feeling of alienation ... by acknowledging the social reality of exile and thus finding a new way of seeing ourselves as Eritreans. Beles is a fruit that grows during the rainy season in the highlands of Eritrea. About this time also most of the Eritrean exiles arrive in Eritrea... Hence the local Eritreans named them “beles”. The youth group “Beles- Young Eritrean Europeans” has adopted this name in order to build a bridge between Africa and Europe. What is usually considered to be two mutually exclusive places (Africa and Europe) comes together in “beles” - a “life in between” ... Our mother tongue, the feeling of home, the relationship to our parents are no longer easy to define. To explain contradictions which are none is our aim and this will make us capable of living in exile. (Beles 1998: 36/37, translation B.C.)

56The Eritrean diasporic youth, while still having a sense of looking back to the homeland maybe on their way to an articulation of a new culture and mode of survival. To focus (as Beles did) on a “life in between” my also help them to re-define their rather mythical relationship with their country of origin. Further travels and activities in and on behalf of Eritrea are undertaken no longer under the illusion that all Eritreans are “one people,” but from a distinct exile perspective, that makes it possible to relate to Eritrea in new ways:

...we have noticed that the connection to our Eritrean culture of origin is not either there or not, but exists on different levels and is continually a-changing … But although our relationship with Eritrea is characterised by alienation, it still exists. Eritrea is part of our life – only in a different way.(Beles 1998: 36, translation B.C.)

Oulook: a transnational second generation?

57I have so far described the encounters between young local Eritreans and diaspora-Eritreans and their consequences mainly from the latter’s perspective. But the contact between both groups also impacts the lives and identities of the local youth, especially so in Asmara. In spite of the negative feelings vis-à-vis the beles, contact with them clearly changes and shapes the locals’ perception of self and their ideas about the world outside. Similar observations have been made my Glick-Schiller and Fouron (2001: 175-177) who conclude that we need an extended concept of a transnational second generation that includes both young people in the diaspora and their cohort in the homeland.

59While only few of the students manage to leave the country legally or even equipped with scholarships, the majority of those willing to emigrate will turn to their often financially strained exile relatives for help. This is but one reason why these recent emigrants are often confronted with the hostility in the diaspora. Also, their migration seems like a slap in face of the die-hard EPLF supporters who refuse to acknowledge that today’s Eritreans have in fact any reason to flee or immigrate. Regarded as deserters or even traitors, the newcomers are not easily integrated. Rather, the conflict between a “culture of war” and a “culture of exile” emerges again, only in a different setting and an opposite constellation. But of course, these new refugees have again started to change the diaspora-homeland relationship.