An effort at a travel log

The following is a travel log I kept during our trip, and here is our new family just one week after returning home during a visit with my parents. It looks like we're in heaven--I think we are.

Monday, August 2
Morning
Aside from the one luggage issue, we had a pleasant trip from Champaign to Indianapolis to Washington DC through Rome to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Rolled into The Ethiopian Guest House at 10:30 last night. We slept a few hours, but with thinking about meeting and getting little Aaron later this morning, sleep was difficult to honor. A quick shower this morning and a lean out the window to take in the neighborhood—what a fresh day. A little boy in winter jacket (about 60 degree F) saw us from our window, “Candy? Ball?” No, we reply—he didn’t believe us. We’re getting ready to head downstairs for breakfast and we run into “Be Bold Jen” and her little guy—they’re waiting for an Embassy Date (could be weeks, still). What a day we have ahead of us: Breakfast, Thomas Center, Meet Fikre: Insta-family, go to the US Embassy, and at some point find a market to purchase the things that are in our bags somewhere between Indianapolis and Addis Ababa. It’s gonna be a great day.

Night
It is now 6:15 pm here in Addis Ababa and 10:15 am back in Illinois. We went to the Thomas Center today to meet and pick up Fikre (Aaron to us). What an experience! We pulled up to gates opening and about 20 children smiling and waving. Jenny, sitting behind me, saw one of the three she was adopting. Melissa and I scanned the crowd thinking we might have already forgotten what Fikre looked like. We got out of the van and were nearly mobbed, still scanning. A moment later, a peering through the door was followed by our sweet boy. Abdissa Benti, picked up Fikre and handed him to Melissa—we think he will be an honorable fellow as he was shy and reluctant. We saw his house, his play-yard, his room; we met his nannies and saw our picture above his bed. We left the room, and he cried.

We spent the afternoon at the CHI office completing the necessary paperwork to bring Aaron home. While I completed the documents, Melissa and our new boy bonded—playing and eating and eating, and…eating. He loves his food: cookies, nuts, injera, cabbage, carrots, and a hot chicken sauce. We are now back at the guest house napping, bathing, eating, and playing. Jet lag is beginning to set in, and we are looking for a relatively uneventful evening. We hope for sleep and possibly a call from the airport that they have our luggage—not so sure these clothes should take day four.

Tuesday, August 3
Morning
Wow—Fikre slept well! He and Mel slept in one bed and I in another. They were right about the dogs—barked all night, but for some reason it didn’t really bother us. Waffles for breakfast and good coffee. We’ve got some free time this morning, so while Melissa and Aaron get to know each other a little better, I am going to the airport. Another plane came in last night and yet another this morning—hoping our bags are on one of them. If not, I’m going to stop by a store to buy 2 shirts and some underwear. I’m already amazed at how quickly Fikre has adopted Melissa as his very own.

Mid day
No luggage. Hanuk, our guide, was kind enough to take me shopping. The vendors here are so cool. Picture streets lined with small one-room shops completely packed from floor to ceiling with goods. The first store I went to had men’s shirts, jeans, and jackets—I quickly found a blue and white “gingham” shirt (really!?) and a tan jacket just in case it rains like it’s supposed to in the rainy season (no rain yet). We walked down a few stores to pick out a shirt for Mel which was easier than I feared (and she liked it). Both vendors were kind and generous just like all the Ethiopians I’ve met so far. We are now heading to the CHI offices for lunch—I’m sure it’ll be to die for. And then we are off to the U.S. Embassy, the whole reason for our trip. The plan is to present the proper paperwork to get Aaron’s visa and permission to take him out of the country. I’m sure it’ll be fine.

Evening
Mission accomplished. But first, I must droll on a bit about lunch. Injera, chicken, pastries, beef, vegatables, bread, and some other things that just tasted damn good. I’m convinced that I would happily gain 60 lbs if I could eat Ethiopian cuisine all the time. Mel liked the bread and pastries. Abdissa and his staff are so kind—their generosity is a witness of the love in their hearts and certainly an encouragement to be a better person. After lunch 70 minutes of food with friends, we headed toward the embassy. We of course with Fikre, Jenny and Barb with Jenny’s 3 new children, and 4 other couples with their new little ones. We had to park a block from the Embassy and walk because of security. Checkpoint one was a two man security screen and walking through a metal detector that felt more like walking through a garden shack. What? Only one checkpoint? We waited for only about 15 minutes and then were asked to come to the window teller. We swore an oath, asked a few questions about Fikre and his history, and were approved. As we turned around, the rest of our crowd clapped for us—despite the DMV feel of the place, we were thrilled. As we drove through a new-to-us part of Addis Ababa on the way back to our Guest House, we relaxed and took in the wonder of the city and the people—a city older than most and a people rife with a struggle to survive with determination and creativity in such a challenging environment. As I think about this latest journey, I’m beginning to see the pattern of things that just a day ago looked so random. There must be such a small middle class, for most of what I see are small shops or vendors on the streets with their wares on blankets, or the shoe shine boys with their home-made stools and water in recovered oil jugs or the temporary workers doing a day’s job of filling holes or breaking ground or cleaning sewers or boys driving donkey’s laden with huge bags of teff or men herding goats and sheep through the city streets and just when you expect it the lame or the blind asking for birr for bread and through it all I’ve not yet felt a hateful spirit. To turn John Mellencamp’s words around, That Ain’t America.

Wednesday, August 4
Morning
I’ve given up on the luggage since I’ve already passed four days in these jeans, but I’m washing my socks and wearing the sandals they left for me in the room. All three of us slept well last night, and the “wushas” weren’t too loud. Each morning though we are woken by the call to prayer and the sound of birds. By the time we are dressed we hear some American music over someone’s loud speaker—yesterday it was “Dinah Won’t You Blow"There is a school across from our window, the South-West Academy. Children file in the court yard and sing in English before going in to school—all the teachers wear white lab coats. This morning we go shopping. We hope to pick up something for ourselves, the grandparents, and for the kids, but most of all, we want to be out and about to get a better feel for the city and the people. We go at ten.

Mid-day
We had a great time shopping and were looking forward to seeing the doctor and the Thomas Center to review Fikremariam’s file, but it was cancelled and moved to Thursday. Our shopping was a blast—our guide took us to a market by the post office and recommended a couple particular shops. We loaded in and began investigating the art of traditional garb and decoration. When finished, we waited in the van for the others. We were of course noticed by the beggars and the mobile vendors of gum and belts and maps, but we also had the company of some guards hired to keep the market “safe” for tourists.
At one point a gentleman got a little too pushy and the guard chased him away threatening to beat him with her swinging stick—He respected her though and walked away. Shopping finished, we head back to the guest house to relax until tonight’s celebration: The Thomas Centre has a special way of sending the children off and honoring the new parents, and after that we will eat a traditional meal at an upscale restaurant with live music and dance. Should be fun.

Evening (actually late night)
The celebration at The Thomas Center was heartwarming and beautiful. Abdissa’s address to the adopting families was gracious and thankful. He spoke about God’s being our strength, stamina, security, stability, and sustenance. We sat, certainly feeling nearly overwhelmed at the process we’ve been through, the experience of the week, and the road that lay ahead, and drank Abdissa’s spirit through his words feeling refreshed, revitalized, and honored. After we “killed the bread” and ate and drank, we all piled into the vans and headed to one of the fancier restaurants in ET. A live traditional band was playing, and as we ordered our traditional Ethiopian meal, dancers, men and women, filled the room and entertained. We ordered and I ate the injera, beef tips, spinach, beans, corn, and vegetarian chili—if it were up to me I’d still be there enjoying it—I really love Ethiopian cuisine. Aaron spent the evening asleep in Melissa’s arms, and we began feeling sad from what we had to take Aaron Fikre. For sure, his chances in life are better now since he has a home, a family, and a future, but the Ethiopian culture is so rich. We finish eating and begin that descent into lethargy after a too-big meal. We thank our hosts and head for the vans. It’s sprinkling outside as we skate through the city realizing that we’ve really lucked out during the rainy season. What a great night full of love and life.

Thursday, August 05
We have nothing scheduled this morning other than time to relax and be together. Fikre is now Melissa’s newest appendage. Any separation throws him into the most pitiful fit one has ever seen: his chin collapses, he wrinkles his face, his lips curl, and he thrusts his head back all at the same time. In fact, Mel isn’t just mom, she is HIS MOM! Even so, I won’t complain. He has a special place for me in his life—I’m the one he gets to tease just a little bit. I’m sure in time we’ll form our own unique and loving bond. Since we are going home tonight, we try to guess how many diapers he’ll need—we have 8 left. I decide to take a walk to a market, and it’s a beautiful day. As I walk down the dirt road to the nearest pavement, skirting the cow pies and donkey droppings and the ever-mud puddle filled with rocks so the cars can keep traction, I see a horse pass by. Just behind another horse with an boy, about nine years old, riding bareback down the main road. He passes by a cow resting in the median and a Toyota Land Cruiser barrels by, horn honking. Certainly not a sight one would see on West Springfield Avenue in Champaign. When I return from market, I see Melissa and Aaron from over the barbed-wired ten foot wall as they lean out their window exploring what is and might be. I often forget that he has rarely seen beyond the walls of his orphanage. I walk in and spend the morning taking pictures of all the kids playing in the yard and keeping a not to distant watch on Fikre so Melissa can get a few minutes off duty.

Haaa! Guess what! The airport has one of my bags! Hmmm, might as well just pick it up at the airport tonight when we leave. I wonder if it’s mine or Mel’s—hopefully hers as it contains the Ergo which will save Melissa’s arms and back (this boy gets heavier by the second).

At noon we head back to the Thomas Center to meet with the Dr. While we are waiting, we visit Fikre’s old room only to find the other kids eating. Fikre weasels his way into “The Eating Chair” next to his old bed and cons the nannies into feeding him one last time. I fully expect him to gain 20 lbs by Christmas with how much he’s been eating this week. We see the Dr. who is a very nice man. He reviews the charts and completes a quick exam to determine the Fikre is doing quite well.

We spend the afternoon resting and packing for our trip back home. Aaron, Charlie, Sisay, Getinet, and Masresha play in the Guest House yard, and we adults sit, rest, and talk. We spend sometime with Chris and Julie, teachers from Kansas, who have just completed their court date to adopt their little guy—they’ll be back this fall for the embassy date and to bring him home. Henock and/or Abdissa picks us up at 6:00 to go to the Bole Airport, but before that we enjoy one last meal and a coffee ceremony prepared by the guest house. Unfortunately, we are hurried as we’ve heard the flight might be overbooked and we want to be sure to check in with plenty of time to spare. Nevertheless, the coffee ceremony is cool. She lay down a decorative mat and roasts coffee beans by fanning a flame in a small coal furnace. She grinds the beans and saturates them in a clay pot before pouring the absolute best cup of coffee I’ve ever had. We rush away, however, toward the airport where we check in, I double back to see if our luggage is really in. It’s quite an ordeal, but it turns out that my luggage has arrived and Melissa’s is still…somewhere. Oh well, We head toward the plan and begin our journey home: 16 hours from Addis to Washington D.C., 4 hour layover, 75 minute plane to Indy, and a 2 hour drive to Champaign.

From here on out, there are just a few snippets worth sharing since we hope we can actually forget most of the journey home. Suffice to say it was a long trip with a 2 year old. He did well considering, but it was just looooooonnnnngggg.

1. Mel is a trooper—she did it all and I assisted.

2. Aaron slept a lot and played a lot—we didn’t.

3. Mel thought the pilot said 14 minutes until landing (he said 40), and it was killing her.

4. In the immigration line (long) in D.C., Aaron repeatedly screamed something. The Ethiopian family behind us was laughing. We asked what he was saying… “PUT ME DOWN, NOW!” Unfortunately we couldn’t, and that gained us the favor of about 40 people in front of us who allowed us to pass to the front of the line.

5. Aaron saved all the 2-year old activity for the plane from D.C. to Indy—Mel and I were both on game and covered it well.

6. Mom, Dad, and Grandma Bea met us in Indy which was really nice.

7. He cried for his first 20 minutes in a car seat then fell asleep. Mel, feeling it all so keenly (the difference between ET and USA, the new opportunities for Aaron, the countless children who yet have little chance, the loss of Aaron’s home country and culture, embarking on the real work of adopting, and more) cried.

8. We arrived at our home with a houseful of family and friends to meet our new son. It is so good to see them.

We are so grateful and humbled.