I brought my computer along on our trip, thinking it would be better to blog while there than when I arrived home, only to discover that blogging in-country was too hard. Photos do not upload quickly, and more importantly while so close to the source, my heart was too tender, too overwhelmed to even begin to express my thoughts. So, in the end, I carted my computer to Ethiopia and back without ever opening it.
Today, I have been home for 36 hours. Jet lag is feeling like a heavy haze. My body feels as though it is buried in sand and my brain feels foggy. I am both totally relieved to be home and totally grieving our departure.
Loving two lands is difficult. As Sierra said, "I was homesick in Africa, and now I am homesick in America."
Homesick or not, I am ready to begin unpacking our journey.
Our flights there could not have gone better. We had four different flights. All were on time.
I loved stopping in Germany, rather than taking a direct flight. Deplaning and walking around for a while, grabbing a cup of coffee, and breathing some not-so-stale air was a blessing.
As with all travel we have a few funny stories to share. Our final flight stopped in Saudi Arabia to refuel. (Yes. I know. Saudi Arabia.) That flight was full of men who were traveling in little more than a bed sheet. Think high school toga party. Rumor has it they were on a spiritual pilgrimage - all I know for sure was that when they reached into an overhead bin to get their luggage and I got a view of hairy chest and upper thigh, it was a little uncomfortable. We laughed all week about it.
Upon arrival at the guest house, Tsige (the owner of the guest house) quickly fed my girls their first made-by-Ethiopian, Ethiopian food. They were quick to tell Tsige that my shiro was terrible in comparison to hers!
It did not take long before we were all snuggled in for the night.
We were very spoiled this trip. We had a large room with a private bathroom. The power, and thus the WiFi, worked the vast majority of our trip.
To be honest, Sierra and I slept very little that first night. (I am not sure how, but Brenna slept well the entire trip. Whether on a plane, in an airport, or in our room she slept like a boss.) We listened to all the night noises of Ethiopia - people talking in the street at all hours, dogs barking, chickens squawking, donkeys braying, cars honking, and near morning the quiet far off chanting at the Orthodox church. Those are the noises that keep you up while in-country, but that you long for after you leave. Those are the noises of our other home.
At last dawn arrived.
The Providence Guest House is located on a busy street. We had a balcony which overlooked it. Sierra spent many hours on that balcony journaling and watching the activity.
Our favorite thing to watch was the children. They are so sweet and open and curious. They point to us and giggle. They wave hello and yell everything from "Ferenji!" (white person) to "I love you."
One of my favorites was watching them board their school bus. On every street corner children wait. They are all dressed in uniform. Each school has its own colors. Just like at my house, some are early and some are late. Some stroll along kicking stones, others are dragged by their mothers. The morning rush felt familiar. No matter the country, getting children on the bus on time is an adventure!
In many ways, I wish this had been my first trip to Ethiopia. On this trip, we did a lot of exploring and experiencing "normal" life in Ethiopia. We shopped, both at fancy tourist stores, and at local suks (small shops run by average Ethiopian people). I learned more than on any other trip, though I perhaps "accomplished" less.
On our first day in country we shopped at many "projects." I call them projects because each of them was producing high-quality, authentic Ethiopian products with the specific goal of creating jobs for impoverished people. They were made by Ethiopian men and women who had hard stories. These men and women were being sustained by these hand-made manufacturing jobs, now, rather than by begging or wood-carrying or other means of day-to-day survival. The owners of the business were working hard to provide desirable, fair paying jobs to these people. They were also trying hard to produce beautiful things that Westerners would love and use.
At each there were similarities. They all were located in compounds - a gated area with several buildings in which the work took place. There would be several buildings for working, one for a lunch space, and then an area for the products to be displayed. The display areas were all beautiful and boutique-like. They would have fit into any trendy boutique in America.
Though photos were not allowed, at many places, they gave us tours of the work spaces. It was interesting to see how the products were made. Even more special was the pride and concentration I saw in the faces of the workers.
Some of the places we went to include - Muya, Entonto Beth, and Sabahar.
The only downside to shopping/touring these places is that they were far from each other. One thing that always amazes me about Ethiopia is the chaos. It is so much more orderly and Western than it was on my first trip six years ago, but it still is so incredibly "disorganized." A beautiful new office building sits right next to a tiny suk. A nicely paved road turns onto a tiny bumpy trail which leads to a rickety gate - and then inside the gate is a beautiful compound which houses a store that sends products all over the world. It is crazy and beautiful and always surprising.
After shopping a for a few hours, we stopped for burgers and fries (for real) at a metropolitan feeling restaurant called Sishu. It boasted high exposed ceilings and a wide open setting just as is the trend in the States. The burgers were excellent, though we skipped the lettuce, tomato and onion, just to be safe.
After burgers we crossed the parking lot and tried Ethiopian ice cream. On our last trip on of our guides, Helena, had bragged about Ethiopia having the best ice cream. Sierra and I were very excited to try it for ourselves. In the end, we were not impressed. It was chalky. The texture and flavor were not what we were accustomed to, but it was still a great adventure!
At that point in the day I was beyond exhausted. I begged for a nap! So we headed back to the guest house and I crashed for about an hour. I was awakened by the voices of giggling children. It was precious. Sierra was standing on the balcony in our room watching the children step off their bus. They saw her and waved. She waved back and a conversation ensued. They were calling back and forth, "Hello! What is your name?" She would answer and ask the same. They would answer, giggle, and then one of their friends would yell up. "Hello! What is your name?" Their precious giggles along with Sierra's precious giggles filled my heart.
I dragged myself out of bed, intent on shopping for food gifts for the families of the children we sponsor. I asked Tsige if she would help me purchase them. She was thrilled to help. She suggested we buy teff and oil. Teff is the grain used to make injera which is THE staple food of Ethiopia. I can not even explain how much Ethiopians love injera. No matter your social class or income level, injera is your staple food item. In restaurants there is always a section of traditional Ethiopian food. Always. And at the center of each dish is injera.
I had assumed we would need to travel some distance to purchase these food items, just as we had traveled all over town to do our other shopping. I had thought wrong!
Tsige gathered us all up like her little chicks and marched us up the lane to a metal building that was right behind the guest house.
This metal building was directly behind the guest house. The transition was stark - think fancy house facing the street and "dumpy" shacks for as far as my eye could see behind it.
Inside this building was sacks and sacks of dry goods.
There was teff of many colors. Lentils, split peas, shiro, oats, and several other grains that I did not recognize. Tsige walked from open bag to open bag deciding which color of teff looked the best.
After a few minutes she walked over with her hands full of a creamy colored grain. This was not the lightest teff or the darkest - but it was her recommendation. (I was told during the week that the darkest teff had the most iron, but that this mid-tone teff has a more desirable flavor. I am not a fan of injera, so to me it all tastes a bit questionable.) I told her that I trusted her judgement, and I asked how much I should buy. She started talking kilos. I started feeling more ignorant by the moment! I had no idea how much teff would be needed to make even one batch of injera. I had no idea how big or small one kilo was. She quickly saw my ignorance and recommended that we buy 25 kilos. She said that 25 kilos should feed each family for a month. She told me that is the gift I should purchase. So I did.
When I saw just how much 25 kilos was, I was a little shocked. On previous trips we had not purchased nearly this much to bring to families - but I was not going to tell Tsige no at that point. I worried all night that it was too much. How would we transport these huge bags to the families? Would they think I was trying to show off? Was it truly appropriate?
(One of the hardest parts of being in Ethiopia is the culture and language gap. Not knowing what people are saying exhausts me. Not knowing what is socially appropriate and acceptable, when I so want to be appropriate and acceptable drains me. It also excites me and challenges me. I so want to learn.)
Tsige negotiated the deal. There was a price per Kilo of teff, another price for each bag, and a third price for sifting the teff. The total cost for enough teff to feed six families for a month was around $150 American. The current exchange rate is 22.18 Ethiopian birr to each US dollar. Everything feels very expensive because you hand over several hundred birr for most everything - but in reality 100 birr is less than $5.
If you look closely at the grain in Tsige's hand you will see it is filled with chaff. This man had the job of sifting all that chaff out so that the grain would be clean and ready for use. Can you imagine sifting 150 Kilos of teff by hand? He worked late into the night - but when we woke up the next morning all 6 bags of teff had been delivered to the guest house.
After leaving the "dry goods store" we walked up the alley about half a block and came upon two suks. Tsige ignored the one and walked directly to the other. She quickly negotiated our price, asked me to hand over the bills, and we were back at the guest house after purchasing all of these food items in less than half an hour.
I guess some shopping in Ethiopia is simple.
After the non-dramatic teff and oil shopping extravaganza, we decided on yet another adventure. When we were in Ethiopia in 2014, Sierra and Grant had been enamored with the funny three-wheeled motorized carts called bajaj. They begged to ride in one, and we were all too uncertain to make it happen. Fast forward three years and Grant has not only visited Ethiopia, he has also lived there. He was very comfortable and very excited to take us on a bajaj adventure.
SO - we walked a few blocks to the bajaj depot.
Riding in the bajaj was fun! It is noisy and windy. They weave in and out of traffic with bravado. Yet they lack power, sounding like used-up motorcycles. They are very cheap to take. The average cost is 2 birr per person. Grant volunteered to negotiate our price. He handed the driver 50 birr and asked if that was OK. The driver grinned, told us "beka beka!" (enough! enough!) and sped away. Tsige teased Grant all week about overpaying the bajaj driver. But as he said, "It was only $2.50!"
Riding in the bajaj was fun! It is noisy and windy. They weave in and out of traffic with bravado. Yet they lack power, sounding like used-up motorcycles. They are very cheap to take. The average cost is 2 birr per person. Grant volunteered to negotiate our price. He handed the driver 50 birr and asked if that was OK. The driver grinned, told us "beka beka!" (enough! enough!) and sped away. Tsige teased Grant all week about overpaying the bajaj driver. But as he said, "It was only $2.50!"
In all reality, I had never even walked the streets of Addis. For the most part I have simply filed into and out of a hired bus or car. (During our first trip there - which was to bring Joshua home - there was an election going on. The staff at the care center had asked me not to go out and about with Joshua, so I spent the entire trip inside the guest house. My second trip was dedicated to Jemo. We were on a tight schedule and only left the guest house under the supervision of CHC staff. Exploring was ALL new.) I both loved and hated the experience. Feeling free was incredible. Wondering just what the people around us were saying was not. While most people are curious and happy to see us, there were more than a few inappropriate comments directed toward us. When a man much too old is verbally admiring your sixteen year old daughter, it feels just a bit questionable! Thankfully Tsige was quite good at dealing with them. Sometimes we asked her to translate conversations. She would shake her head and say, "He say he want to marry you, Sierra." Other times she would say, "I not tell you what he say." and shake her finger in disgust in the speakers direction. Sierra is naturally friendly. She says hello and makes eye contact with everyone she meets. Being in Ethiopia, one of the hardest things for her is to keep her eyes down. She learned that when she did not make eye contact men were much less aggressive. We laughed and laughed at how hard it was for her to not make eye contact. She would literally say out loud, "no eye contact. . . no eye contact" sometimes. (Now, lest I make this sound totally dangerous, it was not. A tall, blonde American girl brings interest. It often felt as though we were walking around a construction site full of guys whistling and making jokes - but it did not feel like she would be grabbed and molested. OK - that was blunt. Jet lag talking?)
Walking behind these two on the streets of Addis was truly a dream come true for us all.
We took the bajaj to Kaldi's, which is Africa's version of Starbucks. Let me tell you, if Kaldi's came to America, Starbucks would go out of business. They served by far the best coffee I have ever had. The girls agreed.
Are they precious or what?!?
Walking back to the bajaj was perhaps the most difficult part of our trip.
As we were walking back, a small pack of street children quietly joined us. These children were dirty and skinny and dressed in rags. The smallest was about the same size as Mataya. They had their hands out and were begging for money. They did not talk to us, but they tried to hold our hands. One precious girl followed us across the street. (FYI crossing the street in Addis is terrifying. The traffic is nuts. There are few cross walks. Crossing the street is like taking your life into your own hands. It scared me to death to have this little one crossing by herself.) One thing you are always told is to ignore beggars. Many feel that if you give them money (unless they are handicapped) it only rewards the problem. But what of children? Where do these babies sleep? What do they eat? How are they clothed? My mind raced and my heart broke. Finally, as we were getting into the bajaj Tsige told us to feel free to give them some birr. We quickly and quietly placed coins into the hands of these small ones that had been walking with us. As soon as they were given coins, many more children appeared from who knows where with their hands out and their eyes pleading. We climbed into the bajaj, and left. Those children could not.
It is moments like that, that forever break you. They sear your heart and cause you to wonder about everything you hold dear and true. Sierra and I both cried that night. What can we do? How can we walk away? And yet there is no place to send them. . . It feels as though there is no way to truly help.
Feeling that helplessness is the worst.
Feeling it is all I have. I have no answers. Only helplessness. And prayers.
When we returned from our coffee adventure, Tsige invited Brenna and Grant into her kitchen to help prepare supper.
(Yes, this is still our first full day in-country!)
Brenna loves to cook. She totally enjoyed her time in Tsige's kitchen. Their menu that night was pizza and chips and salsa. Each and every item was homemade. There are no canned goods in Tsige's pantry. Her chips are made in her kitchen. Her pizza crust, pizza sauce, salsa, etc. . . are all made from ingredients bought fresh at a local stand.
Brenna and Grant were entrusted with making the chips. They were absolutely delicious, by the way.
As was Tsige's pizza. It was baked on the injera oven. It was covered with yummy sauce and just a touch of cheese. It tasted little like Dominos, but it was delicious just the same.
After dinner, our day was complete.
I confess to crying into my pillow that night. My heart was crushed by helplessness and gratitude all at once.
