Surprised by Ethiopia

If you've ever used the phrase, "It's Africa-hot out here," you're likely an ignorant American like myself, assuming one of the planet's largest landmasses has a nearly homogeneous climate. Knowing I was heading for Africa, which in my mind consisted entirely of deserts and jungles, both of which are hot, I only packed one sweater and one long-sleeve shirt for this trip. Ethiopia, to my surprise, is a highly mountainous region and actually quite cool. Additionally, we were there during the rainy season, their winter equivalent, so the daily temperature regularly topped out in the mid-70s. I wore that one sweater every night. I think it is the many surprises like this one, surprises that chipped away at the cliche images American media put in my head (think Sally Struthers and starving children) and made me proud of the birthplace of my daughter.

I knew I was going to experience an under-developed nation and likely be left wanting for many American niceties. I was not wrong. But I was surprised to discover an extremely industrious people, literally turning tin shanties into internet cafes along the rural roads to Durame. Construction was going on everywhere throughout Addis Ababa. Ethiopia, after years of falling apart under a Communist regime, really seems to be a nation under development.

I was conditioned to expect poverty on a scale I couldn't even imagine. And I was not wrong. The beggars sitting outside the Church gate in Durame only briefly opened for me a window on the vacuous poverty of such places. However, I also discovered a culture so rich in heritage and tradition as to dwarf my own. Ethiopia is the seat of the African Union and the only African nation never to be colonized. Ethiopia is likely the worlds oldest culture, but also home to Emperor Hallie Salise, one of the foundational figures of 20th century politics.

I had learned before traveling that Ethiopia was a majority Orthodox Christian nation, the oldest in the world, but I could never have predicted the ways this would affect the culture - the most popular beer in town is named St. George (not St. Pauli Girl), the airline offered fasting meals (labeled fasting, not vegetarian or vegan), Christian prayers (not Muslim as in much of the Middle East and Africa) were broadcast into the streets starting at 4:30 AM as the priests at the local churches began preparing for their daily services.

A week is never enough to truly get to know a culture, but it is often just enough to fall in love. I am honored to have met such a glorious culture and cannot wait to return.

Here are a couple more picture I snapped of Durame in the morning before we began our journey back to Addis Ababa.

We made a brief but meaningful stop at this medical clinic near Durame. This clinic averages two births a day and is remarkably rough by American standards. However, the young doctor here and his team have had a profound impact on the surrounding community. Holt, the agency through which we arranged our adoption, in keeping with their commitment to keep birth families intact, is currently raising funds to add a surgery center to this clinic. Any money you donate will be money well spent.

A van-full of Americans driving by was apparently reason enough to abandon studies at this school.

Thomas took a moment to explore the Ethiopian countryside.

Thomas snapped this picture of the cows.

Here a couple close-ups of the huts that dotted the landscape between Addis Ababa and Durame.

Children quite literally came out of the woods in the most seemingly remote locations to ask treats of the American tourists.

Yes, they grow corn in Ethiopia. It was just like being back in Iowa.

Thomas took yet another picture of a cow.

I photographed these cows. These are the types of obstacles our driver expertly maneuvered around on our way to and from Durame.

And then, upon our return to Addis Ababa, we finally took custody of baby Ethiopia. Here she is opening a gift Thomas had brought along.

This last picture is particularly precious when you realize Thomas has been calling Lucia his twin and then compare it with this photo taken the first night Russell and Elliot slept with us. He may be onto something.

Sojourn in Durame

"I have scars on my hands from touching certain people...Certain heads, certain colours and textures... leave permanent marks on me."

J.D. Salinger, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction

It had been a fitful night of sleep as my body still desperately attempted to come to terms with an eight hour time difference and my mind raced with thoughts of the unknown day ahead. Besides meeting my daughter for the first time, the day now approaching was guaranteed to be one of those unforgettable moments of my life, pregnant with a significance so profound that I perhaps will never fully grasp it. Our travel group was scheduled to leave Addis at 6:30 AM, crowding into two vans like members of a church youth group journeying to a weekend retreat, for a six hour trip to southern Ethiopia, the region in which all of our children had been born. Not only would we visit the Care Center in Durame, where our sons and daughters had lived prior to their home in Addis, but most importantly, we would be meeting with members of their birth family. Soundly my husband and son appeared to rest while I struggled to coax myself back into unconsciousness. Surrounded by the heavy, forsaken darkness of a day not yet occupied with light, I began to hear the prayers being offered by Orthodox clergy broadcasted by a loudspeaker on a nearby church and reasoned that it was around 4:00 AM. Feeling alone, I was comforted by the haunting chants of words I did not understand knowing that Christ was in the midst of my solitude.

We were welcomed into a room not much larger than your average office space and took our places in chairs lined up in rows and around the walls. Each family was handed a list which divided us up into three groups and indicated the order of the birth family meetings. Jared and I were listed last. Robotically our lips formed words casual and light, void of any true meaning. Nervously we laughed and pretended to be occupied with drinking the coffee and eating the popcorn we were graciously served. All the while, we were really seeking to lessen the weightiness of our imminent experience by engaging in pedestrian activities. Collectively our lives were on pause while in a building adjacent to ours another group of individuals with lists in their hands likewise anxiously awaited to be summoned.  

Durame. Just typing the name elicits within me contrasting images of beauty and ugliness, as well as  feelings of hope and despair. Perhaps we all were wounded during that twenty-four hour period in ways we could not have imagined. Wounded as we viewed the Ethiopian countryside lush and beautiful with its seeming simplicity, but often harsh with poverty; wounded as we encountered multitudes of children whose lack of basic necessities like proper fitting shoes and clothing or clean water, made us want to hide our American faces in shame; wounded because what we gained—our precious children—came at a grievous, irrevocable price for those men and women with whom we shared twenty minutes of our lives; wounded as we silently yielded to their abrupt departure, watching them being shuffled back into vans and returned to places that will probably remain forever unknown to us.

Day Three: The Drive to Durame

There were frequent stops along the way for animals in the road. In this particular instance you can see three donkeys, a goat, and a dog.

We also has to stop for these baboons.

I think these are peacocks, but I may be wrong.

These huts were the regular form of habitation found in the rural areas between Addis Ababa and Durame.

Show this to your child the next time he doesn't want to carry his dishes to the sink.

As we drove the six hours, we witnessed countless people collecting and carrying water from less than pristine sources. We never tire of plugging one of our favorite charities—Charty: Water—who is working to solve this issue.

Thomas made some new friends at the Durame Care Center.

This lovely quartet sat perched over our hotel. In the middle of the night, as I sprayed myself with Off and thanked God for malaria meds, I swear I heard strains of a barber shop quartet singing the song from Disney's Jungle Book, "We're your friends. We're your friends. We're your friends to the bitter end."

Loving Ethiopia

This morning I opened our most recent newsletter from IOCC, the charitable arm of the Orthodox Church. Besides numerous stories of lives transformed from the aid provided by this agency, there were two in particular which caught my attention. One story was from Addis Ababa and one from Wolayta, the town in which my daughter was born and where her birth family continues to live; both from the land where less than a week ago my feet were grounded. For others, these will just be inspiring stories, but for me, they are everything. And so the ache and the tears begin anew.

When you adopt a child internationally something mysterious transpires between you and land from whose womb your child was born. A sacred covenant is formed as the mother land sacrificially offers up one of her children to be raised in a place and culture not her own. As a mother, you will swear your allegiance to this country, pledging to identify with her in such a way that your children will revere the place of their birth, knowing all the while your efforts will likely be inadequate. Despite the magnitude of this bond, it is usually forged quite unexpectedly as a pang sears your heart and from that pain love begins to grow. From this gift of love, you will receive deep joy but also tremendous sorrow as you mourn the loss and hunger to return.

Day Two: Around Addis

I thought at one point I would write a post entitled, "The Sounds Outside My Room." Perhaps I still will. This picture was taken from our bathroom window. Each day I would listen to sounds of the children in the Holt Care Center intermixed with roosters crowing, and the general hubbub of a city beginning a new day. 

Doing two of the things we love best: reading and drinking coffee.

Our second day was packed full of activities. First was the tour of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies by a young, vibrant man wearing jeans embossed with Bob Marley and Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie.

A painting of St George slaying the dragon in the museum's entrance. Of course we loved that. St. George is especially revered in Ethiopia. On St. George's Day in 1896 the Ethiopian Army, carrying an alter containing the relics of St. George before them, defeated the invading Italians and consequently remain the only African country never to be colonized.

Lunch outside the National Museum which houses the oldest known human skeleton affectionately named Lucy (after the Beatles tune Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds which was popular at the time of her discovery.) We unfortunately did not get to visit the museum. 

Lots of soda drinking for Thomas while in Ethiopia.

The traditional coffee ceremony. Lovely every time.

Coffee served with sweetened popcorn.

Next back to the Care center to visit Little Lu. 

And finally a trip to the Crown Hotel for an evening of traditional Ethiopian food and dancing. Prior to eating, a woman went around with a basin, soap, and water for us to wash our hands. I love ceremony. 

Yummy, yummy food. 

We were so blessed that Simon and Mandy, who were also adopting a little girl, brought their three children too. Thomas with his new friends. 

Not really sure what that face is all about. Perhaps time to go "home" for the night.