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!!
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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.