Fifteen words I think I know.

Language in Ethiopia is a curious thing. The country is made up of over eighty ethnic groups, which, you guessed it, means there are also over eighty languages used in country. Amharic, or Amarinya, is the official language, and Ethiopians who speak different languages will generally use it to converse with each other. The exception is with those from Tigray, the northern region that includes Mekele, who speak mainly Tigrinya and don't learn Amharic in schools. Amharic and Tigrinya both use the Ge'ez alphabet, which, to the uneducated eye, looks a little like a mix between Arabic and Hebrew, mainly because they're all Semitic languages. As far as I know, all the other languages use  the same alphabet that you're reading now.

Having spent my first couple of weeks in Mekele with a cousin who has worked hard at the language in his three months here, I've picked up a tiny bit of Tigrinya, and there are some overlaps between it and Amharic. So, without further ado, I present a very limited and quite possibly flawed list of fifteen vocabulary words for your polyglotinous delight.  

Abe- Where? As in “Abe ferenji?” for a sassy response to the hourly reminder that I am clearly not Ethiopian. When they understand what I'm saying, it's usually repeated and chuckled at.
Ai- No.
Amesetganalo- Thank you in Amharic. I start out strong and usually mumble by the third syllable. It's the thought that counts, right?
Bajaj- Also known as tuktuks or rickshaws in other countries. Covered tricycles with engines that run on diesel fuel and the prayers of the terrified ferenji passengers. Should you happen to travel to Israel, the word is apparently a vulgar term for breasts, which my Israeli friend was glad to inform me of after I'd told him we were going to grab one. 
Buna- Coffee. A huge part of Ethiopian culture. If you're lucky and stop at a place with fixed prices, or that doesn't do foreigner pricing, you can get a cup for 5 birr, or about twenty-five cents. Comes in tiny cups, but is apparently stronger than American coffee, not that I would know. I'll probably write a post at some point about it.hn
Ferenji- Foreigner. If you visit, expect to have this shouted at you, mostly by children or young adult males, many, many, many times a day, especially in tourist towns.
Habesha- Ethiopian, or the yin to ferenji yang.
Hambesha- Local bread. Chewy, circular, about three inches tall, and absolutely delicious. Add a couple of muz in and you have the breakfast of champions. ...or lazy volunteers who don't want to stop (or pay) for anything else.
Injera- Spongey, slightly bitter crepe-like food, present at a large percentage of meals, serves as plate and utensil. The other parts of the meal are piled on top and you rip off pieces of injera to pick up and transport nutrients to your mouth. I have probably eaten my weight in injera by this point.
Ishi- Okay. The most used/useful word in my vocabulary. Don't know what to say? Just mutter a short “Ishi.” and almost everything will turn out ishi.
Kunde- How much? Tigrinya. On the rare occasion that I understand the answer, more often than not my response is an appalled face, accompanied by “Ai!” because they've quoted the incredibly inflated “We-think-you're-dumb-enough-to-pay-this-ferenji-price.” Example: The bus ride from Axum to Shire officially costs 24 birr, and someone thought they'd see if we would pay 400.
Mai- Water. Another good one to know for future Israeli travel, as it means the same thing in both languages.
Muz- Banana. You can get a kilo for twelve birr, or about 1 birr per banana at basically any store you pass. Smaller and generally sweeter than the imported Costa Rican bananas we usually see on the mainland, but a little bigger and softer than the apple bananas of  Hawaii.
Owa- Yes. The word can also be replaced with a sharp intake of breath that in the US would be taken as a largely involuntary expression of surprise.
Shai- Tea. Not to be confused with chai, which I have yet to encounter.
Yakanele- Thank you in Tigrinya.