Sunday, April 29, 2012
Morning Walk, before picking up Hambisa
Guess Who..
Celebrates Christmas in April? This guy!
Guess who fell asleep 2 minutes after getting in the car? This Guy!
Guess who slept in his mommy's arms for an hour after getting back to the Lodge? This guy!
Guess who is bonding with his Mommy already and won't let her out of his sight? This Guy!
Guess who is still having tummy troubles and pooped through two diapers and two sets of clothes today? This Guy!
Guess who just finished doing laundry in the sink, has clothes hanging all over the hotel room to dry, is eating a dinner of protein bars and coke at 10PM while Mommy and Hambisa sleep and couldn't be happier? This Guy!
Sadula Lodge
Got to sleep until 8:45AM today. Latest I think I've slept in 10 years. Granted I had some help from the time change and a little pill. Woke up feel refreshed, excited, scared, and generally just kind of smug about the reality of what we are doing here.
We went on a walk this morning, taking in the air, and stares of the capital city. We stopped by a supermarket and picked up a large amount of bottled water and some diapers for the frenzy that will hit this afternoon.
At 2PM we are scheduled to return to the orphanage and following a coffee ceremony, emerge with Hambisa from the large steel gates. Sure he lives behind razor wire and steel gates, but Hambisa is a very safe young man. He has had the pleasure of having kind and protective caregivers feed him and keep him healthy. Though we come with the best of intentions, this transition will be scary for him. He will emerge into an unknown world, with unknown people who don't look or smell like him. He will be scared and for that...we are a bit anxious.
I love this country, but it's very different this time. I just want to be home with all our babies. This trip isn't about getting to know our surroundings, the culture, the life. It's about us getting to know each other.
I can hardly wait just to hold him close. We talked this morning about how it would be less anxiety inducing to be watching someone's child for two days in a hotel that we knew nothing of their routine. Why is it scarier when he's ours? It's also funny to have a child that we cannot even begin to predict what it will be like. We know Macabe and Bennett's every waking move and can usually come pretty close to knowing what to expect for them. We can at least guess what things might be a real wild card for them.
It's all a part of the adventure right?! Here we go!!! Ahh!!??!!???!!!
We went on a walk this morning, taking in the air, and stares of the capital city. We stopped by a supermarket and picked up a large amount of bottled water and some diapers for the frenzy that will hit this afternoon.
At 2PM we are scheduled to return to the orphanage and following a coffee ceremony, emerge with Hambisa from the large steel gates. Sure he lives behind razor wire and steel gates, but Hambisa is a very safe young man. He has had the pleasure of having kind and protective caregivers feed him and keep him healthy. Though we come with the best of intentions, this transition will be scary for him. He will emerge into an unknown world, with unknown people who don't look or smell like him. He will be scared and for that...we are a bit anxious.
I love this country, but it's very different this time. I just want to be home with all our babies. This trip isn't about getting to know our surroundings, the culture, the life. It's about us getting to know each other.
I can hardly wait just to hold him close. We talked this morning about how it would be less anxiety inducing to be watching someone's child for two days in a hotel that we knew nothing of their routine. Why is it scarier when he's ours? It's also funny to have a child that we cannot even begin to predict what it will be like. We know Macabe and Bennett's every waking move and can usually come pretty close to knowing what to expect for them. We can at least guess what things might be a real wild card for them.
It's all a part of the adventure right?! Here we go!!! Ahh!!??!!???!!!
A Tale of Two Airplanes
It was the best of flights, it was the worst of flights....no, I've probably been on worse flights...
Two Airplanes converged (in Frankfurt), I preferred the one less traveled...I'll spare you the details, but anyone who has flown internationally, would probably agree that the soonest you can get off of a domestic US air carrier, the sooner you will likely start to observe comfort and service the way they all claim to provide in the commercials. In this case, Lufthansa gets a thumbs up from us. On our last trip, it was British Midland Airways.
Flights were good. We connected through Frankfurt, Germany and Khartoum, Sudan this time. We did not leave the plane in Sudan. This trip has definitely steared our attention towards Sudan through a series of unpredicted encounters. The first, is all the attention that the viral video Kony 2012 has generated, the second is an article in this weeks Newsweek magazine about Kony and the LRA. The third is a movie that happened to be showing on our flight from Chicago to Frankfurt, Germany titled "Machine Gun Preacher". It is a real life story, one continuing to this day that will likely leave you assessing where the line falls between moral right and wrong. It is a very mature movie, not intended for kids and I'd say the first 30 minutes is a little long, but be ready for some soul searching after that. I will likely be buying a few copies upon our return to Hudsonville to share with folks.
Now, before you start thinking this is a horrible place, I'd like to point out that this stuff happens in the good 'ole United States of America as well. It just takes a slightly different face and is a little more underground. Need an example, how about Saginaw, MI, as highlighted in Forbes magazine on 4/26/2012. The fact of the matter is, Ethiopia (and Sudan for that matter) is a beautiful place, with happy and hospitable people. There are simply a few not so nice people mixed in.
We were once again greeted by the driver for our lodge. Wth the excitement of a child he hugged us, grabbed our bags and said "Welcome Back!". This time I was ready and this little, old dude probably got one of the biggest american Bear hugs he's ever had. An observer might have even seen his feet leave the ground. We're glad to be back!
Two Airplanes converged (in Frankfurt), I preferred the one less traveled...I'll spare you the details, but anyone who has flown internationally, would probably agree that the soonest you can get off of a domestic US air carrier, the sooner you will likely start to observe comfort and service the way they all claim to provide in the commercials. In this case, Lufthansa gets a thumbs up from us. On our last trip, it was British Midland Airways.
Flights were good. We connected through Frankfurt, Germany and Khartoum, Sudan this time. We did not leave the plane in Sudan. This trip has definitely steared our attention towards Sudan through a series of unpredicted encounters. The first, is all the attention that the viral video Kony 2012 has generated, the second is an article in this weeks Newsweek magazine about Kony and the LRA. The third is a movie that happened to be showing on our flight from Chicago to Frankfurt, Germany titled "Machine Gun Preacher". It is a real life story, one continuing to this day that will likely leave you assessing where the line falls between moral right and wrong. It is a very mature movie, not intended for kids and I'd say the first 30 minutes is a little long, but be ready for some soul searching after that. I will likely be buying a few copies upon our return to Hudsonville to share with folks.
Now, before you start thinking this is a horrible place, I'd like to point out that this stuff happens in the good 'ole United States of America as well. It just takes a slightly different face and is a little more underground. Need an example, how about Saginaw, MI, as highlighted in Forbes magazine on 4/26/2012. The fact of the matter is, Ethiopia (and Sudan for that matter) is a beautiful place, with happy and hospitable people. There are simply a few not so nice people mixed in.
We were once again greeted by the driver for our lodge. Wth the excitement of a child he hugged us, grabbed our bags and said "Welcome Back!". This time I was ready and this little, old dude probably got one of the biggest american Bear hugs he's ever had. An observer might have even seen his feet leave the ground. We're glad to be back!
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
On April 19th, 2012, Hambisa's father had an appointment with the US Embassy to confirm his intent to give Hambisa for adoption. It was 1 month to the day from our court appointment in Ethiopia. We were fairly confident he would show up, despite the long arduous journey he was forced to take from his hometown, a mutliple day trip for him. We eagerly awaited the news from the Embassy, hearning nothing on the 19th. On the 20th we received an email at 4AM stating we were cleared to return to Ethiopia and bring Hambisa home!
Tickets are purchased, and bags are being packed. If all goes well, we will reunite with Hambisa on Sunday April 29 for good..forever.
Tickets are purchased, and bags are being packed. If all goes well, we will reunite with Hambisa on Sunday April 29 for good..forever.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Home...well sort of
It is an 9 hr plane trip from Addis to London and an 8 hour plane trip from London to Chicago. After driving the final 3 hrs from Chicago to Hudsonville, we made it home on Saturday night at 5 PM. We were greeted by Mac and Bennett in the driveway. They were happy, healthy, and full of energy. We were happy, healthy, and a bit tired. None-the-less, we had a wonderful dinner and caught up briefly with Mom and Dad Lepard. They too were happy, healthy, and a bit tired. After dinner we played outside for a bit. It was an early night, I fell asleep with Bennett in his bed and Whitney with Macabe. It's good to be home...well sort off. If home is where the heart is...then I suppose we have two homes...for now.
Now I sit here Sunday morning, awake after 10 hrs of sleep. A great 10 hrs of sleep! I'm compelled to think about how I prioritize. So quickly upon our return I was greeted by many of the things here that matter, that don't hardly exist in Ethiopia.
As an example, when I turned on my phone in Chicago, I was greeted by 3 straight minutes of audible chimes notifying me of text messages and emails that had come in from the prior week. I was disconnected from most electronic communication for the better part of the week. So much of my job depends on this. It will be a tough week, catching up...
As we pulled into the driveway, it was apparent that Michigan was the recipient of unseasonably warm weather and though we left in the winter, we have returned in the spring. The lawn is covered with clover and weeds. The planting beds are green with weeds. My first thought, "The lawn needs to be mowed, I need to do some seasonal maintenance on the lawnmower, I've missed the window to apply crabgrass preventer, it's going to take me hours to weed the planting beds, I have a lot of clover in my yard, I didn't get to trim the bushes and now they have budded, I was going to finish staining the deck before the grape vines leafed out and they have buds, I'm gone next weekend, when will all this get done?..." All of it...it's not that important...but it is...now my mental battles will begin.
But how will my neighbors view me? Am I "rich" or "poor"? Why do I care? Because I am American, living in the United States and this is our culture. A culture of excess that quickly displaces joy and gratitude. A culture coveted by many of those who do not have it. A culture I am proud of and now embarassed by.
For now...I will go see how much a goat costs. After all, I have plenty of water and greenery to feed and sustain.
Now I sit here Sunday morning, awake after 10 hrs of sleep. A great 10 hrs of sleep! I'm compelled to think about how I prioritize. So quickly upon our return I was greeted by many of the things here that matter, that don't hardly exist in Ethiopia.
As an example, when I turned on my phone in Chicago, I was greeted by 3 straight minutes of audible chimes notifying me of text messages and emails that had come in from the prior week. I was disconnected from most electronic communication for the better part of the week. So much of my job depends on this. It will be a tough week, catching up...
As we pulled into the driveway, it was apparent that Michigan was the recipient of unseasonably warm weather and though we left in the winter, we have returned in the spring. The lawn is covered with clover and weeds. The planting beds are green with weeds. My first thought, "The lawn needs to be mowed, I need to do some seasonal maintenance on the lawnmower, I've missed the window to apply crabgrass preventer, it's going to take me hours to weed the planting beds, I have a lot of clover in my yard, I didn't get to trim the bushes and now they have budded, I was going to finish staining the deck before the grape vines leafed out and they have buds, I'm gone next weekend, when will all this get done?..." All of it...it's not that important...but it is...now my mental battles will begin.
But how will my neighbors view me? Am I "rich" or "poor"? Why do I care? Because I am American, living in the United States and this is our culture. A culture of excess that quickly displaces joy and gratitude. A culture coveted by many of those who do not have it. A culture I am proud of and now embarassed by.
For now...I will go see how much a goat costs. After all, I have plenty of water and greenery to feed and sustain.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
The Road to Awasa:
We volunteered to take three days out of the city to learn more about the country, its people and its culture. It was a bit of a confusing decision when we have travelling all this way to meet our son. We have only been able to spend hours with him while here for a week. After three days I was feeling that desperate need to get back to my kiddos, those in the US and in Addis. (a sign of the difficulty to come in leaving.) But let me tell you a few of the invaluable stories/lessons I have learned about my world, myself and my newest son through my three day journey on the road to Awasa.
The country is different from the developing city. And when I say developing, note that use the present action tense of the word. It is not a city in the sense that us Westerners understand. The unemployment rate is 45%. Those that have jobs, such as those working tireless hours in the sun to build the next ‘tall’ 10 story building (without use of steel, mid you), they make 35 Birr a day. In US, that equates to $2 for a day’s wage.
Now, let’s return to the countryside, just 20 minutes out of the capital. The land becomes very dry, very quickly. Rainy season is not until july/Aug, and they tell me it becomes very green. For now, it is the desert. The streets are lined along the edges as far as we can see with children carrying yellow jugs, cattle parading slowly, donkeys hauling a wooden cart, women with baskets of something I cannot identify. The most striking part of this scene is that in any direction I look, I cannot see a home, not a mud hut or hay stack in sight. And because it is desert, I can see a long distance. How far have they come? Where are they going?
Everything they do has a purpose, nothing is without its goal. That purpose is survival. I see a boy, about age 7, who is walking alone with his cattle parade, giving the gentle reminders to the cows with his makeshift rope to keep moving, despite the heat. Because he has cattle, he is considered to be one of the wealthier families. This means that while others stay back to work the farm, the boy is responsible for watering their cattle. He walks them for four or five hours each day to the nearest riverbed for a drink. When they have had their share, they rest in the shade of a tree that itself looks like it has its own story to tell. Then the return trip home begins back along the dried up road. This daily journey is necessary to keep up their livelihood.
Others walk the same distance to the nearest well with drinkable water, carrying their sustenance on their donkeys or own backs. I wondered why people didn’t move closer to the wells. The answer I was given was that it was not possible. Families are not allowed to sell their land, only pass it along in their families. If you weren’t born near a well, you likely weren’t going to be living near a well anytime soon
.
Before I left home in the US, I took off my engagement ring, left behind jewelry, etc. I didn’t want to be flashy or inconsiderate in my excess. What I quickly learned is that it isn’t the diamond or the jewels that do that. It is my skin that wears the wealth. Even the poorest of the people in our own country have things or clothes or access to something, anything, that these poor farmers have never seen. There is something that the Ethiopians have that so many Americans to not have any longer. They have a smile that shines through their hardship, especially the children. I tried hard to look into the faces of many of the adults, to see if that spark was lost somewhere in their growing up. For the most part, it was still there.
After our arrival in Awasa (which was filled with countless stories and miniature journeys) our white minibus with two white Americans, and our two newest Ethiopian friends who were travelling with us stopped on the side of the road to visit a coffee farm. This afternoon was one of those times we will continually ask ourselves, “Did we really do that?” It was a random roadside stop where the women agreed to show us their coffee crop and false banana plants. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the National Geographic camera crew following us. Just as we were fascinated with them and their work life, they were fascinated by us and our personal camera. It made for a good exchange, but really only something that can be described with pictures and videos, though that doesn’t come close to fully encompassing all the experience. They were kind enough to invite us into their home. The cows, two women, six children and the unknown number of others who were out working in the field lived in a mud home the size of my living room. I was surprised to see a single bed I assumed they all shared. That it until I saw the baby come crawling in the dusty dirt floor from around the half wall where the cows were. He had been snuggling with his cattle friends, maybe even sneaking a luxury drink of milk.
What does all this mean? I haven’t quite digested it all yet, but I do know it means I have a better understanding of the life and family from where Hambisa came. We are told that his place of origin is more remote and dry than this blessed road to Awasa.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)