I went in for a triple kiss and embrace. The more kisses, the more respect you were showing an elder, and I wanted to express my deepest regard to his parents.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.” I handed over the bottle of Chivas Regal and box of chocolates Saba had recommended I bring with me.

Negash held up the box and smiled. “This is very nice of you, Desta.” After saying my name, her expression changed, and suddenly she was beaming at me. “I could not believe when Eli told me his American friend had a Habesha name.”

She chuckled at my shy nod as we walked into the house. The living room was well lit, with a huge black leather sectional couch, where an older man in jeans and a starched button-down shirt was sitting and watching a soccer match. He looked like Elias, but seemed a lot older than his mom.

When he saw me, he stood up to shake my hand. “Welcome to our home. I am Fikru Bekele.”

I gripped his forearm and bumped his shoulders in greeting. “Thank you. I’m grateful for your invitation, Mr. Bekele.”

He waved off my formality, extending his hand to the couch, offering me a seat. “Just Fikru, please.”

In that moment, it struck me that in Ethiopia, a person’s surname was their father’s first name. The Western way was similar, but it seemed like a much more profound connection to share the name your father answers to on a daily basis.

Fikru glanced over at Elias, who was looking at us from the door. “My son never brings any friends home. We were surprised when he told us we’d have a visitor.” His father’s face turned rueful as he sat back down. “I embarrass my son sometimes when I talk too much.”

Elias pushed up from the door and gave his father a concerned look. “Aba.”

The man waved him off with a friendly gesture and went back to what was happening on the screen. I’d been to a few Ethiopian homes already and knew that the TV being on while there were visitors was pretty common, so I took a seat on the couch, and soon Elias brought out a tray with drinks. His mom came out after a moment too, and we all started to get to know each other.

“Desta, tell me about you parents. Eli said you lived here as a baby.”

I nodded. “Yes, we left around the time I turned three. My parents lived here the first year they got married, then returned right after I was born a couple of years later.”

Negash grinned, obviously delighted at my family’s connection to her country. “They must have liked it here.”