My Great-Grandfather (Part 1)

By Ayele Woubshet

A Little Backstory

The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Musty, pungent, and hard to ignore. 

Everything in that black and rusty briefcase had been sitting there for decades, quietly gathering dust. And who knows how long it's been since it was last opened.

I didn't know what to expect the first time I opened that old briefcase. The sheer amount of aged paper, faded journals, and stained government files was overwhelming to say the least. 

But I heard that it all belonged to my great-grandfather. So, naturally, I was curious.

The first thing I found was an old photo of him. Standing resolute and draped in medals, he was looking off to the side with a stern look on his face.

You see, my great-grandfather was a very accomplished man. And like most accomplished men, he cast a very large shadow in his family.  

Which is why this picture, this archetype of the poised and decorated elder, was one that I've seen many times in my life. 

I've seen it hung prominently in my parents' house. I've seen it showcased front and center at my grandparents' place. I've even seen it proudly displayed in the homes of many of my distant relatives. 

And over the years, this single picture would shape how many in my family saw my great-grandfather. So much so that they still, to this day, talk about him in a very idealized way.  

They speak of his titles with reverence, they routinely talk about his calm and dignified demeanor, and, as if invoking his name added luster to theirs, they would bring him up in other, less familial circles.  

But, in all honesty, I don't think many of us knew much about my great-grandfather’s work. At least I didn't. I only knew the basics.

I knew, for example, that he was a judge for most of his life. The kind that was known as one of the few incorruptible judges of his time. 

I also knew he was a government minister of some sort, though I couldn't be certain of his exact post. 

But I, like most of my family members, knew one thing for certain. We all knew that the name አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው ይታጠቁ carried a lot of weight in Ethiopia. Especially in legal circles.

And that old briefcase would show me why.

The Second Thing I Found

The second thing I found in that old briefcase was his eulogy—a modest and seemingly unremarkable booklet that tried to capture a remarkable የሕይወት ታሪክ.

Although small and easy to overlook, this four-page tribute would teach me a lot about my great-grandfather. 

I would learn that he was born in a small town called ሃያ በር  in 1892. I learnt that his education began, as was common at the time, in a religious seminary at the local ሚካኤል ቤተክርስቲያን. And I would come to find that his schooling took a very unusual turn, as he would move to Addis Ababa, learn French, and complete his studies at the prestigious ዳግማዊ ምኒሊክ ትምህርት ቤት. 

I also learnt that before all the titles, accolades, and awards that would define my great-grandfather’s career, he began his professional life in a very humble way: as a court secretary. And in a career that spanned 56 years, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው would learn his craft and steadily climb the professional ladder, becoming a judge in seemingly all levels of our country’s court system. 

Yet, not content with just being a judge at the ልዩ ፍርድ ቤት, ወንጀለኛ መቅጫ ፍርድ ቤት, ከፍተኛ ፍርድ ቤት, ጠቅላይ ፍርድ ቤት, and ዙፋን ችሎት, my great-grandfather would also hold senior leadership positions in these and other institutions of government. 

Whether it was his appointment as Division President of both the High Court and the Ministry of Justice in the 1930s, his service as Deputy Minister and later Acting Minister of Justice in 1950, his promotion to President (አፈ ንጉሥ) of the Imperial Supreme Court in 1955, his Presidency of both the ፍርድ ምርመራ and ፍርድ አጣሪዎች Divisions of the Crown Court in the 1960s, or his role as Chief Legal Advisor for the Ministry of Justice in 1963,  it's clear that አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው was a mainstay in Ethiopia’s legal system. 

Now I know that all of these accomplishments paint a rather impressive picture of my great-grandfather. But as much as his success made him well-known and well-respected, it also made him an intimidating figure. And as much as I would have liked to understand the man behind the legend, it felt like the more I read about his accomplishments, the more he became larger than life — someone who is distant and beyond reach for someone like me. 

But all this was about to change thanks to this one sentence from his የሕይወት ታሪክ:

“የኢትዮጵያን የመጀመሪያውን ዘመናዊ ሕግ ለማውጣትና ለማደራጀት በተሰየመው የፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን ውስጥ አባል ነበሩ።”

Although easy to miss among all the dates and titles, this detail would not only reveal something I never knew about አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው. It would also make him feel more approachable to me. 

For this single sentence, as insignificant as it may seem, was the key to understanding those aged papers, faded journals, and stained government files in that briefcase.

Some Much Needed Context

Now, before I tell you about the third thing I found, I think it's time to give you, my dear reader, some much needed context. 

Especially about this “ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን”.  

Established in 1946, this Commission was, for a long time, shrouded in mystery. Not much was known about its members and very little was written about its day-to-day affairs. As one legal scholar put it: 

“The appointments were never made public. In fact, the only public reference mentioning the codification work were the speeches delivered at the ceremonies officially inaugurating the Commission. No names were mentioned in any of the speeches. A picture also appeared in the same issue of the Herald (but) no faces can be distinguished in this photograph."

Norman J. Singer

However, thanks to the work done by legal historians like ዶ/ር አበራ ጀምበሬ, we now know a little more about the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን and its inner workings. 

We know, for example, the names of  those that served on the Commission. We know that they were tasked with drafting Ethiopia’s modern legal codes — namely, the Penal Code of 1949, the Civil Code of 1952, the Commercial Code of 1952, the Maritime Code of 1952, the Criminal Procedure Code of 1953, and the Civil Procedure Code of 1958. And we know that its Ethiopian members in particular, like my great-grandfather, were tasked with making sure that this Commission lived up to its name:  

“እኛ ያቋቋምነው የፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን ይህን የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ ሲያዘጋጅ በተከበረው እና በጥንቱ ፍትሐ ነገሥት መጽሐፍ እና ፍርድ በመዝገብ መጻፍ ከተጀመረ ወዲህ የተገለጹትን ጥንታዊ የሆኑትን የንጉሠ ነገሥት መንግሥታችንን ታላቅ የሕግ ልማዶች እና አቋሞች በመመልከት እና በተለይም ለንጉሠ ነገሥት መንግሥታችን እና ለተወደደው ሕዝባችን የሚያስፈልጉትን በማሰብ ነው።” 

ቀዳማዊ ንጉሠ ነገሥት አፄ ኃይለ ሥላሴ

Yet, as history would have it, the Commission’s work was not without controversy. And the question of whether they succeeded in making these new laws, especially the Civil Code, compatible with Ethiopia’s legal traditions has long been disputed.

In fact, some cultural critics like Dr. Yirga Gelaw Woldeyes have argued that the Commission, and its members, were not only insignificant in the codification of the Civil Code. But that they didn't take their country's cultural and intellectual legacy all that seriously. 

Especially when it came to drafting those laws that, as he put it, regulate large areas of life in the country. 

In making this point, Dr. Woldeyes cites several researchers in his 2017 book “Native Colonialism” and argues that the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን was heavily steeped in a particular kind of colonial belief. Namely, that modernization meant a "complete break" from the past, leading them to not only “utterly disregard” Ethiopian legal traditions but to also devalue their own legal expertise in favor of the presumed superiority of European experts.

This, Dr. Woldeyes claims, ultimately resulted in a Civil Code that wasn't based on long standing interpretations of foundational legal codes like the ፍትሐ ነገሥት, but instead resulted in a final document that dismissed traditional laws in favor of the wholesale and uncritical imitation of Western laws. 

He concludes by giving credence to the following quote about the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን and the submissiveness of its Ethiopian members: 

“The Commission was more or less insignificant as it had a role little more important than that of a translator. The (foreign) expert (René David) was given a special status; though a member of the Commission, he was considered superior and did not work with the other commissioners, as one would have expected.” 

Native Colonialism

This sentiment seems to also be shared by those who teach in Ethiopia's elite academic institutions. 

Take ዳዊት በዛብህ for example, a prolific writer and well-known judge who also teaches Ethiopian Legal Philosophy at the prestigious Addis Ababa University. 

Realizing that the School of Law didn't have a dedicated textbook for his module, he did what any committed educator would do: he wrote one himself.  

This textbook, which is called “ኢትዮጵያዊ ሥነ ሕግ፡ ሕግ ፤ ታሪክ እና ፍልስፍና”, has since gone to shape how many Ethiopians view their country’s long, rich, and complex legal tradition.  

Which is why his take on the codification process must be discussed. 

Now, unlike Dr. Woldeyes, ዳዊት takes a more direct route when criticizing how the Civil Code was drafted. 

Instead of discussing the contributions, limitations, and worldview of those in the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን, his textbook does something different. It tries to assess the worldview of the man behind this whole modernization effort: the King. 

By comparing ንጉሥ ኃይለ ሥላሴ with ንግስት ዘውዲቱ and ልጅ እያሱ, ዳዊት argues that the King had a particular affinity for Western traditions when compared to his predecessors. 

An affinity that was so absolute, so blinding, and so deeply rooted that it superseded any interest in preserving Ethiopia's traditional laws. This ultimately led to a codification process that he, like Dr. Woldeyes, describes as imitative of the West and contemptuous of the very traditions it claimed to modernize. 

Leaving us with an Ethiopian Legal Philosophy textbook that says this:   

“አልጋ ወራሹ ተፈሪ መኮንን ደግሞ አውሮፓዊነት የሚናፍቁ እንጂ የሰሜኑንም ሆነ የደቡቡን ባህል እና ወግ ለማስጠበቅ ምንም ደንታ ያላቸው አልነበሩም። በኋላ ላይ እንደተሳካላቸውም በ1950ዎቹ በንቅለ ተከላ መልክ ያስገቧቸው ዓበይት ሕግጋት በሙሉ አውሮፓዊ (ነበሩ)። ዋነኛው ዐቢይ ሕግም “የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ” በመሠረታዊነት የፈረንሳይ ሀገር ሕግ ነው። ቀዳማዊ ኃይለ ስላሴ ከልጅነታቸው ጀምሮ በፈረንሣይ መምህራን ተምረው ያደጉ በመሆናቸው በዚህ ተጽኖ ስር ወድቀው ሊሆን ይችላል።”

ኢትዮጵያዊ ሥነ ሕግ፡ ሕግ ፤ ታሪክ እና ፍልስፍና

And so, whether it's by condemning the King or by discrediting the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን, many Ethiopians have since come to the same conclusions as these writers. 

Namely, that we have laws in this country that have introduced foreign legal concepts at the expense of our long and rich legal tradition.  

All in the name of modernization. 

Which, in the end, left us with a Civil Code that completely dismisses culturally grounded legal thought in favor of the wholesale imitation of Western laws. 

Especially when it came to those laws that regulate large aspects of Ethiopian social life. 

This, the claim goes, is not only self-evident. It's no longer up for discussion. And any effort to suggest otherwise will likely end with you getting a response like this: 

“It will take a lot to convince us that our legal system is connected to our social norms.” 

Dr. Menberetsehai Tadesse

Former Deputy Chief Justice of the Federal Supreme Court of Ethiopia

Which is why the third thing I found in that old and rusty briefcase is, to put it mildly,  going to surprise you.

The Third Thing I Found

“ሥልጣኔ ነው በሚል ሰበብ ልማዳችንን መለወጥ ያስፈልጋልን?”

አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው

The third thing I found were my great-grandfather's journals: a set of dusty, faded, and timeworn ማስታወሻዎች that go as far back as 1943.

These journals were, as you can imagine, extremely compelling to me. 

They were nine in total. Their covers were brittle, their spines were fragile, and their pages were yellowed with age and very delicate to the touch. 

So I had to be careful. I had to fight the urge to rush through his entries and read everything at once. 

Eventually, with every slow and steady turn of a page, I began to get a better sense of  አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው. 

I got a better sense of his writing style: measured, reflective, and methodical, a result of many cross-outs, re-writes, and annotations.     

I got a better sense of his worldview: matters of culture, modernity, and the delicate balance between the two seemed to preoccupy my great-grandfather.     

But, most importantly, these nine ማስታወሻዎች gave me a rare peek into አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s state of mind. Especially when it came to his work. 

Take this entry for example, which gives you an idea of how he thought judges like himself should engage with their cultural heritage:  

“ማስታወሻ፡ (1) ፍርድ ቤቶቻችን ሁሉ በአገሩ ሕግ ብቻ መፍረድ የሚገባቸው መሆኑን እንዲያውቁት። (2) ለፍርድ ቤቶች ደንቦቻችን ወይም ለሌላው ሕጋችን ትርጉም ሲሰጥ የውጭ አገር ሕግ መጥቀስ የማይገባቸው መሆኑን። (3) ለዚህ የሚያስፈልገው ለዳኞች ሁሉ የሕግ ኮንፌራንስ ከዚህ ቀደም ተጀምሮ እንደነበረው እንዲደረግና ፈረንጆቹ ዳኞች በፕሮግራም በተራ እንዲያስተምሩ ፤ የኢትዮጵያን ፍትሐ ነገሥትና የልማደ ሀገር ሕግ የሚያስተምሩ አድርጎ እነሱ የሕግ ታሪክ በሚያስተምሩበት ጊዜ በ1 እና በ2 ቁጥር የተጻፈውን እንዲያውቁት ማድረግ።”

Or this entry, in which he lays bare the principle that should guide legal reformists of the time:

“የሕጉ ሊቅ አላፊነት የፊተኞቹ መፍትሔዎች ትክክል ሆነው በማይታዩበት ጊዜ ከሕብረተሰቡ ፍላጎትና ከልማዱ ጋር የሚስማሙ መፍትሔዎች መፍጠር ነው።” 

And if you are looking for something that's a little more direct, take a look at the following entry. 

A lamentation of sorts.  

One that is strikingly similar to the opinions held by Dr. Woldeyes, ዳዊት, and many other culturally conscious Ethiopians: 

“ባህልን መተው ከሥልጣኔ ተቆጠረ። ባህልን መጠበቅ ከድንቁርና የተቆጠረ መሰለ።”

As such, whether it was his vague musings, his detailed reflections, or the rhetorical questions he asked himself, each of these entries gave me a glimpse into how አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው saw two things. Namely, how he saw his role in Ethiopia's legal system. And how he thought they should go about modernizing it.

But, out of the many pages of entries that I found, none would be as compelling to me as this one: 

“ የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ የተሰናዳውም ባህላችንን እና ልማዳችንን ልቡናችን የሚፈርደውን ምንጭ በማድረግ ነው። ስለዚህም ምንጩ ልማዳዊ ሕጋችን ነው እንጅ እንግዳ ደራሽ ሕግ አይደለም። የዚህ መጽሐፍ ደራሲ የጎልማሳነቴንም የአርባኛነቴንም የሽማግሌንም ዘመን የኖርኩት በፍርድ ሥራ ላይ ነው። ከ1946 እስከ 1955 የኮዲፌካሲዮን ጉባኤ አባል- ም/ፕሬዚደን (ነበርኩ) ። ይህን ጣልቃ አግብቼ መጻፌ በፊቱንም በአሁንም የዳኝነት ሥራ ላይ ነበርኩ ለማለት ነው።”  

Now I must admit that this caught me completely by surprise. 

You see, I thought I was well-versed in how Ethiopia modernized her laws. 

I've read many of those well-respected and regularly cited papers on this topic. Especially those that were written by foreign legal experts.

I've also read and was very receptive to the arguments of Dr. Woldeyes, ዳዊት, and other like minded cultural commentators. Especially when it came to the Civil Code. 

And I've lived in Ethiopia long enough to know, and internalize, how this historical moment is discussed. Especially in legal circles. 

So, I was quick to dismiss this entry. In fact, I was quick to also dismiss the second, third, and fourth entires about the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን.

To be honest, I thought they were a little biased and a little self-serving. For who among us can truly be impartial about our life's work?

Wouldn't you, my dear reader, also try to defend something that took you years to achieve?  

But little did I know that my great-grandfather had yet another surprise for me. 

One that was very hard to dismiss. 

Because I found, tucked in between the pages of one of his journals, amidst his handwritten entries about the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን and some legal issue they were debating, something incredible. 

I found an official, 65-year-old, stained yet otherwise well-preserved minutes of a very important meeting.

A meeting that was not only held by the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን. But one that was also chaired by አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው himself.

The Fourth Thing I Found

Folded neatly in ማስታወሻ number 5,  this document, with its wafer thin, government issued stationery, and its heavy, monospaced typeset, was a remarkable find. 

For one, it was dated December 10, 1959. Meaning it was a record of a meeting that took place only a few months before the Civil Code was passed.

Secondly, these minutes were written with a particular audience in mind. Presumably the foreign expert that was drafting the Civil Code. 

For they were not written in Amharic. Nor were they written in English. Instead, the Commission chose to communicate its firm and unanimous decision in René David's mother tongue: French. 

But what was most striking of all was what this document recorded. Because, in one and a half pages, these minutes brought to light a deep concern that አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው and his peers had.  

Particularly when it came to a draft of the Civil Code.

And so, in this meeting, believing that René David’s draft had elements that needed further deliberation, the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን would table, debate, and ultimately reject his work. 

All because of one important reason:

“The meetings devoted by the Commission to the study of Title XXI are sufficient to show that the principles it contains are not unanimous. The discussion made it clear that certain solutions check the Ethiopian feeling of justice and…. call into question very deep Ethiopian traditions. This is, in summary, the position of the Ethiopian sub-committee and H.E. Blatta Kitaw invites the members present to give their opinion on this matter. A general debate began and it quickly appeared that the Commission was unanimous in sharing the views of the Ethiopian members.”

This decision: its tone, its choice of language, its unanimity made me pause for a moment.  

Surely a Commission that has, as Dr. Woldeyes put it, a colonial attitude towards tradition wouldn't be too concerned about Ethiopia’s legal traditions. Let alone be so insistent on preserving it. 

Right? 

So, was I wrong? 

Was I wrong to judge the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን as an obliging and subservient group that were no more than glorified translators?   

Was I wrong to dismiss አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው’s journal entries as biased and self serving? 

Or was this just a one off incident? 

Did this government document capture a rare moment of cultural fidelity in an otherwise brazen process of “ንቅለ ተከላ” ? 

Or was I missing something?

Clearly I had a lot of unanswered questions. So I did what any curious person would do. 

I set aside his journals and went back to that old and rusty briefcase. And I'm very glad I did. 

Because I found some more interesting documents.

Lots more. 

I found, for example, another typewritten minutes of the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን. 

I found letters between my great-grandfather and members of the Commission. 

I even found direct correspondence between አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው and René David himself.  

But what really caught my attention was a folder that was tucked away in the briefcase's side compartment. A folder that contained seven different documents. 

Although aged like the rest, this set of documents had their own distinct features.

They were typed. 

They were more structured: with each set of documents stapled and organized by title, heading, and page number. 

And they were more measured. They were neither reflective, like the journal entries, nor formulaic, like the minutes. 

Instead, these documents were analytical in tone. And the more I read them, the more I realized that they were finalized manuscripts, articles of sorts that were written by my great-grandfather and placed in that side compartment.

Though unpublished, each of these articles had something to say about our legal system, our legal traditions, and how they were modernized. 

Some, like “የዳኝነት ስራ የአካሄድ ታሪክ”, “የመንግሥቱ ፎርም”, and “ስለዙፋን ችሎት”, explore the inner workings of Ethiopia's legal institutions, presenting a methodical and descriptive account of both their strengths and shortcomings. 

Others, like “ካፒቱላሲዮን”, are more critical in tone. Based on his tenure at the ልዩ ፍርድ ቤት, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው would blend his own experiences during the 1910s and 1920s with both legal and historical analysis to make one simple point:

Ethiopia's legal traditions should not be overridden by foreign legal thought.

Which is why this article gave me a rare insight into how he resented and opposed the imposition of foreign laws in Ethiopia: 

“ካፒቱላሲዮን የፈረንጅ ቋንቋ ነው። መብተን መልቀቅ መብተን መስጠት ማለት ነው፡፡ ወዶ መብትን የሚሰጥ የለምና መብትን ማስለቀቅ ወይም የሌላውን መብት መውሰድ ብለን ለካፒቱላሲዮን ትርጉም ብንሰጠው ይሻላል። በኢትዮጵያ ውስጥ የሚፈረደው ፍርድ በኢትዮጵያ ሕግ ብቻ መሆኑ ቀርቶ በኢትዮጵያ ውስጥ በሚኖሩት በልዩ ልዩ የውጭ አገር ዜጎች ህግ ነበር። የዚህ መጽሐፍ ጸሀፊ በልዩ ፍርድ ቤት ብዙ ዘመን የፍርድ ጸሀፊዎች አለቃ ኋላም ዳኛ ሆኖ ሰርቷል፡፡  በካፒቱላሲዮን ውል ምክንያት በልዩ በቆመው ፍርድ ቤት የነበረውን ችግር ሁሉ ዝርዝር ውስጥ ገብቼ ለመጻፍ አልፈልግም፣ ከታሪክነት በቀር ሌላ ጥቅም ስለሌለው፡፡ ቢሆንም በካፒቱላሲዮን ምክንያት የነበረውን ጉዳይ በአጭር ጊዜ ውስጥ የተገላገልነው ቀላል ነገር አለመሆኑ የምንገነዘበው በሌላ አገር የነበረውን ካፒቱላሲዮን ታሪክ ስናውቀው ነው፡፡” 

But some of his other articles, particularly “ዘመናዊ ሕጎች በኢትዮጵያ”, “ፍትሐ ነገሥት” and others, would take his analysis to a whole other level.   

Especially when discussing the Civil Code and those parts of the Code that regulate our social lives. For they do not comment on it from an abstract or detached place. 

Instead, አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው used these manuscripts as an opportunity to recount his time in the ፍትሐ ነገሥት ኮሚሲዮን, presenting his work as one that tried to honor tradition, accommodate modernity, and maintain a careful balance between the two.

But it's how he did this that really interested me. 

For he didn't make his case by only writing about his own intentions and his own assessment of his work. Instead, he made it by also relying on the first hand accounts of others. 

Particularly those foreign experts that worked with him in the Commission.

Experts like René  David, who is quoted by አፈ ንጉሥ ቅጣው as saying this: 

“ይህቺን መጽሐፍ ለመጻፍ የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ ረቂቅ የጻፍሁበትን ጽሕፈቴን ስመለከት አራተኛውን አንቀጽ በጻፍሁበት ረቂቅ ላይ የፈረንሣይን፣ የግሪክን፣ የኢጣሊያንን፣ የፖርቱጋልን ሕጎች መበደሬን የሚያመለክት ማስታወሻ አንድም የለም። ስለሌሎችም አንቀጾች ግን በመሠረት ሕጉም ሆነ በሕጉ የአጻጻፍ (ፎርም) ሕግ ምንም ማሻሻልና ለውጥ ሳይደረግበት በኢትዮጵያ የፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ የገባ የውጭ አገር ሕግ እጅግ ጥቂት ቢሆንም የውጭ አገርን ሕግ የሚያመለክት ማስታወሻ ረቂቁን በጻፍሁበት ጽሑፌ ሕዳግ ላይ አግኝቼአለሁ። ለመነጋገሪያ ያቀረብሁትን የሕግ ረቂቅ የሕጉ አደራጅ ጉባኤ በመረመረበት ጊዜ መሠረታዊ የሆነ የመለወጥ የማሻሻል ነገር ከተደረገባቸው አንቀጾች፣ አርዕስቶች፣ መካከል የሥጋ ዝምድናና የጋብቻ አንቀጽ አለጥርጥር የመጀመሪያውን ስፍራ ይዟል።በፍትሐ ብሔር ሕግ የገባው ደንብ ልማድን የሚያሻሻል ቢሆንም ቅሉ የነሱ ያልሆነ የውጭ ልማድ በማግባትና ፍትሐ ነገሥት የሚለውንም ደንብ በመዘንጋት አይደለም።” ብለው ፕሮፌሰር ሬኔ ዴቪድ ጽፈዋል።”

And Jeane  Graven, who is also quoted in my great-grandfather's article as saying this: 

“ በኢትዮጵያ የሚሠራው ሕግ ሲወርድ ሲዋረድ ከመጣው ፍርዷ ጋራ የሚስማማ፣ ለኢትዮጵያ ሕይወት አስፈላጊውን ነገር የያዘ ፤ በሥራ ላይ ልታውለው የሚችል ፤ የኢትዮጵያ የራሷ (ኦሪጅናል) የሆነ በውነት የኢትዮጵያ ሕግ የሆነ መሆን አለበት። ሲወርድ ሲዋረድ የመጣው የኢትዮጵያ ፍትሕም የተገኘው ከጥንታዊው ፍትሐ ነገሥት ነው። የኢትዮጵያውያን ልማድ፣ ጠባይ፣ ፍላጎታቸውን ለማወቅ እንድንችል በሕግ አደራጅ ጉባዔ አባል ሆነው የሠሩት የፍትሐ ነገሥት ሕግ ሊቆች ያደረጉልን እርዳታ ወደር የሌለው ነው። ለምሳሌ በቤተሰብ ሕግ ውስጥ የጋብቻን፣ የፍቺን፣ የውርስን ደግሞ የመሬትን የኢትዮጵያ የተለየ የራሷ ከሃይማኖት መሠረታዊ ደንቦች ወይም ከልማድ የያዘችውን ትቶ ለኛ ለፈረንጆች ሁኔታ የተሠራ ሕግ እንዴት ሊለጠፍባቸው ይቻላል።” ብለው ጽፈዋል።”

Click Here For Part 2 of “My Great-Grandfather”