A Journey Down Meory Lane, Alumni Reunion (original) (raw)
A Journey Down Meory Lane, Alumni Reunion
When a couple of old elementary school friends started chatting on WhatsApp, I was curious but unsure what they were planning. Soon, they created a group named after our elementary school and graduation year. It was clear they were organising a reunion for the class of 1990, the year before the regime we had known since birth was overthrown. Their ambition intrigued me, though I doubted their chances of success.
Initially, the group was small, with about six friends who had stayed in touch over the years. We struggled to remember the names of everyone in our graduating class of 48. One of the group’s founders suggested creating a roster, and we began listing names we could recall. Slowly, the list grew, but we were still about a dozen names short.
Then, a newly joined classmate shared an old group photo of us lined up before school. The image jogged our memories, helping us recall more faces and names. Photos are powerful triggers for memory. As the group expanded to about ten members, a friend from the UK joined, sparking excitement. Soon after, a few classmates from the US joined and brought even more energy, sharing contacts of others living abroad. Before we knew it, the group swelled to around 30 members.
Interestingly, the roster had grown beyond the original 48 names, reaching about 60. This was because many classmates had left before graduation for various reasons.
At this point, someone suggested sharing current photos to help us match faces with names. Gradually, photos trickled in, igniting waves of nostalgia. We greeted each other like we were meeting anew. Some struggled to recognise faces, partly because not everyone had been in the same class year. For example, those who joined later years had not shared time with those who left earlier. Others simply were not good with names or faces.
Joyful stories began to circulate in the group. Some recounted a Christmas drama performed during our final year, sharing laughs about comical incidents from rehearsals and the performance. One friend recalled the narration of books during idle moments, while another mentioned newspaper readings designed to encourage learning habits. Meanwhile, more classmates joined the group, and the collection of photos grew steadily.
That is when I had an idea. I remembered the Photo Mixer app I had downloaded from the Play Store. I often used it to surprise friends and family by creating commemorative images for holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, and other special occasions. With the growing cache of images shared in the group, I decided to use the app to create something special for the reunion.
When I shared the image file with the group, the response was overwhelmingly positive and filled with delight.
As new members joined and shared their photos, I updated the collage, incorporating their images and sharing the revised file. The process became an exciting experience, not because of any artistic skill, but because it reflected our shared love and passion for the memories we had built together.
As the chats continued, it became challenging to keep up individually, with participants joining from distant time zones, including Seattle. People hopped in and out of conversations during their preferred times, keeping the cherished memories alive. Some mentioned stopping their cars to respond, while others contributed during kitchen chores. Despite differences in location, lifestyle, and livelihoods, the enthusiasm and warmth only grew stronger with time.
Suggestions emerged for a Zoom meeting to connect virtually, while others proposed an in-person reunion, an idea complicated by the physical distances, as everyone was scattered across continents. Amid the excitement, some paused to commemorate beloved teachers and classmates who were no longer with us. One friend lost their life to a long battle with hypertension and stroke. Another was a casualty of the Ethio-Eritrean war, and yet another perished in a plane crash while working as an airline stewardess. For many in the group, these losses were news, even though they occurred decades ago, showing how detached we had been from one another over the past three and a half decades since graduation.
At the time of our separation, most of us were thirteen, unable to imagine our paths crossing again after so long. It was remarkable that, despite the years apart, an online social media platform could bring us together in just a few days. Without digital technology, such a reunion, connecting people in Addis Abeba and across the far corners of the world, would have been impossible.
The virtual reunion felt like a portal to an era of innocence, trust, friendship, and companionship. Almost immediately, it was clear that none of us had experienced the same pure love, care, and faith in others as we had during our time together before going our separate ways. Reconnecting with my childhood friends felt like rediscovering the best version of myself.
It is still early to predict what will come next, but one thing is certain: the outcome will be positive, thanks to the group’s shared experiences, collective goodwill, and common values. Even without any grand future plans, this reunion has been energising and fulfilling. Reconnecting with priceless old friends, once buried in the subconscious, has been a journey down memory lane like no other.
I found the reunion of old friends a perfect opportunity to reflect on and redefine life’s purpose and reset priorities.
PUBLISHED ON Jan 11,2025 [ VOL 25 , NO 1289]
Bereket Balcha works in the aviation industry and is passionate about fiction writing and can be reached at (bbalcha5@yahoo.com)
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