Meeting Kaleb

 

We just returned from 2.5 weeks in Ethiopia. People ask how our trip was and I honestly have no idea how to answer. There is no word or phrase or even five minute conversation that can sum up the vast amount we saw and the range of emotions we felt.  In the Omo Valleyin the south of the country, we visited about a half dozen tribes. Some decorated their bodies with paint while another tribe’s tradition was stretching out the lower lip and inserting enormous discs into the stretched out space. The Hammer tribe women must cover their bodies in an orange clay which is to seep into their skin and shaved heads over a four month period. Only then can they get married. We visited one woman in the middle of this process. The hut in which she was“parked” was hot. Really hot. Yet, there was a blazing fire where the hostess of the house was roasting coffee for us. She served it in huge cups which were like hollowed out pumpkins while her naked toddler wandered over to her and helped himself to some milk from her breast. Conveniently, all the women are topless.

Our travels in the Omo Valley were by Land Cruiser.  No other vehicle could possibly have maneuvered the rocky dirt roads.  Asphalt is a rare luxury in Ethiopia.  We had a driver and a tour guide which sounds frivolous but it’s not.  It’s really the only way to travel in Ethiopia.  Between tribe visits, we stopped at markets where natives traded livestock like cattle and chickens as well as teff flour, coffee beans, hops, and locally produced woven blankets, tapestries and scarves.  We were often the only “forenges” (foreigners) as they called us and they were mesmerized by us.  Children stroked our arms as if our white skin might feel different from theirs.  They wanted me to take my sunglasses off to see my eyes and they ran their hands over our hair.  As we tried to make our way through the markets, they held our hands as if we were BFF’s.  We felt like celebrities. 

We hardly noticed the long drives that often ate up entire afternoons.  There was so much beautiful scenery – mountains and wildlife and PEOPLE.  In cities and villages, they were everywhere, walking the streets, always burdened by a back full of sticks or plastic jugs to transport water.  No one really owns cars so they walked from their village for miles in the hot, dry heat, many of the women sporting long dresses and scarves to cover their heads, to procure supplies.  There was no look of discontent, no complaining.  This was – is – their life.  As we got further from the towns, people would be more sparse, but there would always be a few, here and there.  What surprised us most were the young children, miles from any town, by themselves, just kind of hanging out.  There were two year olds, entirely nude, waiting for us “forenges” to drive by and as we approached, they would do little dances and shout, “hello, hello, hello,” in hopes we would stop and throw a granola bar or something out the window.  But visitors are not encouraged to do this, as tempting as it is.  Our tour guide assured us these children had homes and, like cats, would wander back when they got bored or hungry. 

In the North part of the country, we visited Lalibella – the rock churches and monestaries dating back to the ninth century.  We also spent a couple of unexpected nights at a resort in Deibre Zeyet, an hour and a half outside the capital, and a much needed reprieve from all our travels. Throughout our journeys, we feasted on local cuisine, drank the local wines and beers, and took great pleasure in eating with our hands as is customary.  We saw baboons, camels, mini deer-like creatures called dik diks, crocodiles, hippos, and all kinds of exotic birds.  And of course herds and herds of cows, goats and donkeys, sometimes outnumbering the huge volume of people in the streets.

As time permits over the next weeks (okay, months), I plan to post our day by day adventures.  Because there were many.  But despite the vacation of a lifetime, the highlight, of course, was meeting our son.  On Sunday, March 24th, our itinerary with our adoption agency began.  We flew from the south to Addis Ababa and stayed the night at Lucyland, a guesthouse most families adopting through our agency stay at.  By Ethiopian standards, it has all the bells and whistles including a driver who was happy to take us wherever we wanted and a chef who fed us well.

The next morning, we boarded a van along with another adoptive couple and drove to the agency offices where we were given an overview of Ethiopian culture and what to expect at the care center as well as a massive file with all our paperwork including Kaleb's birth certificate with an infant picture we had never seen. 

Then we drove three hours along the typical Ethiopian bumpy roads to Hossana, stopping along the way for a really great authentic Ethiopian lunch.  We arrived to Hossana early so checked into the hotel - $12/night! - and were told to meet in the lobby in an hour.  We decided to explore the town our son was from since we did not anticipate much more free time during our short stay in the area.  We found a driver who took us in a tuk tuk (three wheel taxi) all over.  He spoke no English, but pointed out different areas of the town and was so proud and gracious that we wanted to see his hometown, that we were several minutes late to leave for the care center - not something we really meant to be late for!!

We cannot yet post full pictures of Kaleb

The drive to the center was short, but felt like an eternity.  My heart was racing.  In just a few minutes, the moment we had been envisioning for the last 2.5 years would come to fruition.  I was prepared for stranger anxiety - tears, fear, possibly not being able to hold him as I so wanted to do.  We entered through a gate and found ourselves in a courtyard outlined with mattresses covered in blankets on which infants and toddlers could play.  There was a group of three children to our left - two boys and a girl.  The girl belonged to the other couple we were with and the care taker presented her to them and after she burst into tears, explained that stranger anxiety is normal and helped them transition and settle down with her.  We hung back taking it all in.  "There he is," James said, pointing toward the two boys.  "Which one?" I asked.  I couldn't seem to match a face to the pictures we had - plus, I wasn't really thinking straight.  Then one of the nannies picked up our son and brought him over to me.  I had trained for this for months - Jill, do not snatch him up and waltz him around the courtyard and expect him to giggle and hug you and never want to let you go.  So instead, I bent down to eye level and said a simple hi.  The nanny offered him to me and he didn't resist.  And that was that.  No crying.  So I hugged him close and again, he didn't resist.  I could have stayed like that for hours, but I decided it was only fair to let James have a chance and once again, when Kaleb was handed off to him, no tears.  Just a chilled out little man with curiosity written all over his face.  We played with him on the mattress and he liked these little plastic links we brought.  Twice, he whimpered, but it seemed to be more of a contagious cry as a result of some other kids melting down.  Once we picked him up and cuddled him, he stopped immediately. 

After more playing and cuddling and walking around the courtyard, the nannies offered coffee (which in Ethiopia you just don't refuse), so we gathered around a table where they placed a basket of popcorn to nibble on.  James, a huge popcorn fan, asked if Kaleb could have some.  They said sure,  but he didn't seem to know what to do with it, so James popped a piece in my mouth to demonstrate that it is food.  Right away, he took a piece and popped it in my mouth.  Then he decided feeding me was fun and he meticulously broke off teeny tiny crumbs of popcorn and continued the game.  When his sippy cup of rice cereal came out, though, that was the end of that.  He grabbed his cup and sucked it down in record time.  He saved a little at the end though, and offered it to me.

When we left that evening, we couldn't stop smiling.  We couldn't have imagined a smoother introduction to our son or a child more perfectly suited for us.  Kaleb is laid back, trusting, and kind and best of all, he loves his food.  He is, indeed, a Meyer.

That evening we ate dinner at the hotel restaurant and once again, our feelings about the virtuous people of Ethiopia were confirmed.  The owner of the restaurant helped us pick some local dishes and took great care in making sure we enjoyed our meal. 

The following morning, we visited with Kaleb again.  We prepared ourselves for a meltdown.  Maybe yesterday was a fluke.  He could very well be in a totally different mood today.  But he was the same mellow little guy we remembered.  He was so mellow, in fact, that he fell asleep on me.  Again, I could have sat like that for hours.  But we had to leave and say our goodbyes.  It was hard to leave, but seeing the wonderful care and love our son was receiving made the departure a little more bearable.

 On Friday, March 29th, we appeared at the court in Addis Ababa where we were escorted into a small room where a judge would make the final ruling on our adoption.  She asked a few questions about our motivation to adopt, our family life, and our plans for maintaining the Ethiopian culture in our son's future.  I guess we answered favorably, because after explaining that the court's decision is irrevocable and confirming that we did, indeed, want to adopt this child (um, yes!!!!), she declared, "Congratulations.  Agegnew (his given name) is all yours."  I cried tears of joy.  We officially have a son.