I want to be Habasha

If you ever come to visit Ethiopia, one thing you will very quickly learn is the word “farengie” (pronounced fuh-ren-jee). It simply means “foreigner.” Walking along the street, in taxis, in stores, wherever you go in Ethiopia, “farengie” will be yelled at anyone with a light skin color, in our case, that’s us! At times, it’s funny and I like to yell the corresponding word back at them, “Habasha!” which means “native or local (person).” Other times, it isn’t so funny, but still, it can’t be taken as personally offensive (although it isn’t meant to be a compliment). Over time, it can, and does get to us. On more than one occasion, I’ve thought to myself, “I want to be habasha” so that I can fit in here. The sad reality is that no matter how long we live here, no matter how well we know the language, no matter how much we adapt, we will always be farengies.

This is a hard reality for us as we face living in Ethiopia for years to come. The societal line between Habesha and Farengie is not at all perforated, meaning that we will never truly belong in the society around us. One way in which this is most clearly seen is in prices. Since farengie’s are all assumed to be wealthy, prices for us are unashamedly higher. We saw this very clearly on the days that a habasha friend joined us for part of our trip. At Lalibela’s stone hewn churches, habashas got in for free whereas farengies paid a very steep 300 birr. At the Gondar castle ruins, our habasha friend was charged 5 birr for entrance whereas we paid 50 birr a piece. Granted, that’s the tourism industry, which makes sense to me. If they charged the same for everyone, either the habashas could not afford to see their own historical sites, or the site would not be able to make any money (it’s not like tourists are pouring into Ethiopia each year and 5 birr is less than 50 US cents). But even outside of the direct tourism world, the hotel business overtly charges what we have sarcastically called “skin tax” (you pay more because you are white). At one hotel our friend paid 45 birr whereas the same room cost us 90 birr. The same story at another hotel, off the tourist routes: 40 birr for habesha, 80 for farengie. Now, don’t get me wrong, the 80 birr farengie rate is about $7.50, which is still dirt cheap compared to even the cheapest American hotels. Even the TOP NOTCH government-run hotels in the biggest tourist spots will not charge more than $50-$60 US dollars for a night’s stay. So, I’m not complaining about the prices being too high. Rather, it’s the psychological “we are not one of them, nor will we ever be,” that has gotten to us at times.

One thing I am seeing first hand is something that I knew all along. Although I can never truly become habasha, language is the key to coming as close as possible. When we were walking around these touristy spots in northern Ethiopia, the people on the street were very quick to greet us in English, as they would with any normal tourist. However, probably most motivated by our pride in not being tourists, I and my traveling companions were quick to respond to them in Amharic. Why? It was because we didn’t want to be perceived as a tourist, or a total outsider to this culture. Using the heart language that is unique to Ethiopia is the best way to say “hey, I may have white skin and too much money in my pocket, but I’m a HUGE step closer to you than you may have perceived.” So, although our skin color will still raise prices and set us apart in the eyes of the local people, our use of Amharic (and later Gmz) will enable us to wiggle our way into the society and into the hearts of those with whom we work. That’s the beauty and power of heart language.

In Giving We Receive

It’s a pretty common principle that we’ve seen in our lives many times before. It seems that when we GIVE of ourselves to a particular ministry or to bless another person, we end up being blessed in return. That is definitely how we felt as we hosted Trent and Kristi last week. Trent and Kristi are friends of ours from our undergraduate time at Moody Bible Institute. When we found out last Spring that they were adopting two children from Ethiopia, we were elated with the possibility of hosting them. Well, the time was approaching and right away we found ourselves GIVING. At first, it was GIVING answers to their questions in preparation for coming. What fun it was to help them get a picture of what they would see and to know best how to prepare for their week here.

Finally, their arrival date came and we ended up GIVING again, this time we had to give up sleep in order to pick them up at the airport at 3:15am. The only available room in our guesthouse only had a full size bed and was too small to hold a crib as well, so we made the logical choice of moving ourselves in there in order to GIVE our room to Trent and Kristi for the week. Over the course of the week, we GAVE a lot of our time to spend with them, we GAVE some of our food in the meals that we prepared; we GAVE of our knowledge of Ethiopia and we GAVE of our limited ability to communicate in Amharic when necessary.

In comparison to all that we GAVE to Trent and Kristi during their stay, we can confidently say that we RECEIVED far more. We RECEIVED the fulfillment of our requests for a solar calculator, sunscreen Tupperware and the safe delivery of the silk sleeping bags purchased by my aunt and uncle (oh and did I mention RECEIVING one Tupperware filled with Reece’s Peanut Butter Cups – they’re priceless!). Apart from the things they brought, we RECEIVED the treat of being taken out to some of the nicest restaurants in Addis Ababa. Not to mention the promise that we will RECEIVE a DVD with all the pictures and videos that they took during their visit (this also is invaluable to us since we are not nearly as diligent in taking pictures as we should be). Far above these earlier mentioned things, we RECEIVED two things whose descriptions are beyond the adequacy of words. First of all, we RECEIVED the fellowship and encouragement of home friends coming to experience a slice of our life here in Ethiopia. The hours ticked by too fast as we really enjoyed Trent and Kristi’s company. Although hosting guests requires a lot of GIVING on our part, we are at the same time RECEIVING valuable fellowship with those whose heart’s resonate with what we are doing here.

Lastly, and more significantly, we RECEIVED the privilege of being a part of the adoption of Madalyn Yabsera Hunter. We got to visit her several times in the last few months and then we got to be there when she met her parents for the first time. We shared the tears of joy in a new father’s opportunity to hold his 9 month-old girl for the first time. We RECEIVED the privilege of meeting with her biological mother and observing all the dynamics of parenthood present there. We RECEIVED the privilege of watching this little girl grow in her attachment to her new parents. We RECEIVED a visual reminder of our own adoption into the family of God. Being participants in the consummation of the adoption process was a profound privilege that we would not trade for anything. In this alone, we RECEIVED far more than we GAVE. Isn’t that often the way God seems to work?

A Tragic Reality

As we’ve alluded to earlier, not every story from the trip is a happy, feel good story. Some of our experiences in travelling were more a shock of reality. Such is this brief story. Ethiopia is known for several things. Some people know it for its unique orthodox church whose stories tie into the Old and New Testament narratives in rather interesting ways. Others know it for its political uniqueness in that it is the only African country to not be colonized (and they’re quite proud of that). There is one area where Ethiopia tops the charts which is not something they are proud of – that being, it is the country with the most traffic fatalities. A simple drive whether in downtown Addis Ababa or through the countryside will be sure to raise your heart rate enough to give you a cardiovascular workout. There’s the dangerous drivers, the absent minded pedestrians and the endless streams of livestock walking along the side (or down the middle) of the road. And as new asphalt roads are constructed, transportation is improved which creates much needed infrastructure in the country. However, improved roads mean that vehicle speeds increase and reaction times decrease when an animal or child jumps out into the road.

There were several times on the trip when we intentionally decreased our MPH after passing the site of a tragic accident. One in particular will always be burned in my memory. After coming around a corner, we saw a large group of people about a half of a mile ahead. Right away we knew something was wrong. As we approached, I noticed a detail that I didn’t want to see – the women were wearing their scarves over the heads with the pattern encircling their face. Scarves are only worn like this in a funeral ceremony. Sure enough, as we passed by the center of the group of people, I caught a split second glimpse. There, still lying in the lane of the oncoming traffic, was a body completely covered by a white sheet. It took a few seconds to hit me, someone was just killed there, and there is no guilty vehicle in sight, and most depressing was the realization that the body under the sheet was quite small. Glad that I was not driving at that time, I mentally pulled myself to the side of the road in order to let my mind process the magnitude of the responsibility I take whenever I slide in behind the wheel. I pray that I/we will never take that responsibility lightly and we ask for your prayers in God’s protection and deliverance from any such tragic incidents.

He is Lord

One of the disappointments of the trip was the little amount that we were able to practice our Amharic, despite being in a heavy Amharic-speaking part of the country. The reason for our lack of practice was because we were traveling with more experienced people, two extroverts in particular, who already seemed to be competing for the available conversations. Andrea and I are both more on the quiet side and it still takes us way too long to produce a simple sentence that the others would lose patience. So, we had to make our own opportunities.

One day, in the tourist capital of Ethiopia, after having spent the afternoon touring the massive rock-hewn churches, our group finally retired to our plush hotel (a whopping $32 a night). Feeling the need to get out on our own, we went for a walk down the main street (we were also looking for a notebook to give to our little dishwashing friend from the previous blog). Right away, a young boy started to walk along with us. He had rough English and we had rough Amharic so we got along great. Getano, probably around 11-12 years old, walked with a cane because he was born with a club foot. Although I didn’t tell him this, I identified with his club foot since I too was born with this same condition. However, I grew up in a world of modern technology and financial resources which can fix such problems (although God played a major role in fixing my feet, but that’s another story ?).

After slowing to his pace, Getano walked with us the whole length of the road and back again, never once begging for money (which was refreshing to say the least). As we approached our hotel again, he invited us to his house for a coffee ceremony (a very common Ethiopian tradition). Unfortunately, we were unable to go with him because we were already late for our dinner. We politely excused ourselves with a simple, “maybe tomorrow, we don’t know what our schedule will be.”

Sure enough, on my way to an internet café the next morning, there was Getano right outside our hotel gate. On the way back from the only open café (yet without internet), he asked if he could shine my shoes (after all, shoe shining is Getano’s job). As expected, he did a great job and so I overpaid him as a way of saying thank you not just for the clean shoes, but also for his friendship to us. We exchanged email addresses and right before I left, he offered me a typed letter. It was a letter requesting a sponsor to help him in his education. I had learned about the idea of a sponsor at the graduation two days before.

The graduate we went to celebrate with once had a severe club foot and about five years ago, the “B family” felt compassion upon him to pay for the corrective surgery. Now, of course, this teenage boy appreciated the gift very much; but in Ethiopian culture, such an act of kindness is not viewed as a one-time-deal. Instead, the B family had unknowingly welcomed this orphaned teen as a part of their family. I don’t know all the details on how much the B family’s sponsorship had involved over the last five years but it was obvious this graduation day would never have come to him without it. Later in the trip, we would be visiting with another sponsored “son” of the B family. More than a decade ago, this young man was sent home from a hospital with aspirin to “treat” appendicitis. The B family, having compassion on him, took him for a second opinion which resulted in emergency surgery which literally saved his life. Here again, The B family, by helping this boy, automatically became sponsors of this young man’s life from that point on. It’s an interesting concept that random acts of kindness cannot be done without lifelong strings attached.

So with all this swirling in my head, I read Getano’s letter. Is God asking us to sponsor this teen so that he too can have the opportunity to study at university and advance in society? Is there that potential in Getano? Absolutely, but there is also great potential in the other ten shoe shine boys that had now gathered around us. Plus, we can see the potential in hundreds of shoe shine boys (most of whom are orphans) which wait on street corners of Addis Ababa. I gave Getano his paper back and said that we would be communicating through e-mail and that I would pray that something would come up to help him and all his friends.

As I said my goodbyes and walked back into the hotel courtyard, I thought about the name Getano. You see, almost all Ethiopian names are either taken from the Bible, or they are common words or phrases in Amharic. The name “Getano” simply means “He is Lord.” When I feel inadequate to meet the gazillion needs of the poverty stricken people around me, I must remember He is Lord and that no problem is too great, no situation too hopeless, no life too insignificant for his loving care, provision and protection. I don’t say that to excuse myself from doing my part as commanded in Scripture. Not at all, rather, Getano’s name is a reminder to me of the real source of eternal hope that we can offer those hurting around us. It is my prayer, first and foremost, that Getano’s life will be transformed by the very phrase that his parents chose for him. No matter where life takes him…He is still Lord.

Can I Have a Notebook?

Kids are great and sometimes they understand what’s really important in life long before us adults catch on. I (Andrea) was reminded of this by a little girl who helped us while we were camping (as described in the previous blog).

As foreigners setting up camp alongside the road, we attracted quite a crowd of spectators. After finishing our evening meal, we asked a little girl and a little boy to help wash the dishes in the river, paying each of them 5 birr for their services (that’s about 40 cents in US currency but it goes a lot further here). The little girl proved herself to be a particularly hard worker so when the next morning’s breakfast had finished we sought her out among the crowd. She and I went down to the river talking briefly in Amharic. (This little girl is in the picture posted with the previous blog: she is closest to the camera wearing the pink dress.)

As I was trying to think of things I could say in Amharic she started talking to me. One of the things I could understand was that she was a student on summer break and she was asking me for a notebook. She was less interested in money than in obtaining a notebook for school. I immediately knew what was going on. From what we understand, government run schools are free for children to attend; however, they must provide their own notebook and pens. On our trip to the schools in the Gmz region last May, we saw so many kids with old, tattered notebooks and some of the smallest or saddest pens we’ve ever seen. It was not uncommon to see kids writing with just the inside “refill” portion of your standard Bic pen. With it being August, school would be starting again soon and this little girl was wanting a new notebook to start off well.

With the help of a better Amharic speaker, we promised that we would buy her a notebook in the city we were traveling to and drop it off the next day on our way back through that area. So with no immediate payment for her services, she watched us pack our vehicle and drive off.

Thankfully, we were able to find a store in the city of Lalibela at which we bought the best notebook we could find (a whole 8 birr worth, less than 70 cents). We also bought a new pen for her, the better of the two types of pens this store sold (another 2 birr). It touched us to see this bright little girl requesting a direct investment in her education and consequently her future. We consider it a privilege to express our gratitude with this new notebook and pen.

Weren't You Afraid

Following the graduation ceremony, we spent some time with the particular graduate who had invited us (more on him later) and then continued our journey north. The next stop was the most famous tourist spot in all of Ethiopia – the rock hewn churches of Lalibela (Google/Wikipedia it if you want to check them out).

In general, the roads thus far in the trip had been very nice, that is, recently paved and not too many potholes yet. However, given that the “leader” of the trip optimistically underestimated the travel time, it became apparent that we were not going to make it to our destination before sundown (it is much more dangerous to drive in the countryside after dark because you can’t see the people, animals, obstacles or road conditions very well). So, while driving through the mountains, we began looking for a random place to camp.

After finding a perfect place near the road, a crowd of curious Ethiopians quickly gathered. We hired one teenager to be our guard for the night (with the promise of payment in the morning). He was very helpful to us, such as bringing us a couple burning sticks from his village’s fire so that we could cook our dinner. Word spread of the strange foreigners who set up these brightly colored houses in so-and-so’s land. The place was beautiful, looking down into the valley, right next to a stream with the sound of a very nice waterfall to lull us to sleep.

We all slept well, occasionally waking up to the sound of the rain that passed in the middle of the night. All in all, it was a pretty uneventful camping experience, though that may be attributed to God’s grace. For in the morning, our friend Nate crawled out of his tent first to find a crowd having already gathered as spectators. The very first question he was asked was “Weren’t you afraid of the hyenas that live down by the stream?” Hmmmm…now is a fine time to make us aware of the fact that we set up our camp right next to the local hyena home! I really would like to see a live hyena (we saw one that was road kill), but I would rather not have them poking their hungry teeth through my nylon tent. Nevertheless, God protected us from the hyena family, maybe they were on vacation too…hopefully far away.

A Celebration to Remember

From the moment my eyes adjusted to the large room, I knew that we were in for a “cultural experience.” There was definitely similarities to graduation ceremonies in the States - caps and gowns on the graduates, family members carrying flowers and gifts, and plenty of colorful decoration. But, at the same time, it was definitely still Ethiopia. One side of the stage was occupied with several women performing the traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony as elsewhere musicians were playing and singing very traditional Ethiopian music (with the sound system turn up to the MAX!).

The ushers quickly escorted us to our assigned seats – in the “guest of honor” cushy chairs that made up only the first three rows. Apparently, skin color alone earned us such a prestigious place since only one of our group was known by only one quite average graduate. Soon, the other cushy seats were filled in with the procession of respected faculty. It’s one of those times when you wish you could just sit in the back row and take it all in, instead of being front and center. Oh well, not today.

The ceremony itself was very nice - lots of singing (which got the graduates to their feet with hands raised). It also included some northern Ethiopian traditional dances which mainly consisted of shoulder and upper body convulsions. It looked as if the ladies might need a whiplash treatment following the dance. I (Travis) have been practicing it so I’ll have to show you my moves when we get back in the States. After some speeches (of which we understood 5-10%), awards were handed out to the top students. Rolled pieces of paper, medals, wrapped boxes, and the grand prize student received a brand new suit. The young man that won this suit was so noticeably happy that it brought smiles to all of our faces.

By far the funniest part of the whole event was the cameramen. Apparently, it is very normal at special events (like weddings!) to have multiple cameramen completely surround the action. Seriously, at times, within three feet of the speaker’s face were the lenses of three different video cameras with their operators blocking the sightlines of 90% of the audience (the picture here is a bit more conservative). Occasionally, they would turn around to the audience and shine amazing bright halogen lights in our faces as they filmed us. Our role as “honored guests” also earned us specific attention. Several minutes of video tape was spent on these white strangers who decided to show up, with shots close enough that they could count our nose hairs. Our ten-year-old traveling companion, Eli, was not amused and refused to smile when the camera was leveled right in front of his nose. I’d love to see the 30-45 seconds of footage of his aggravated face filling the frame in such a celebratory event. Apparently, capturing the action of the ceremony for future viewing is more important than actually enjoying the event itself.

Home Sweet Home

Ah yes, we are back on familiar turf after having used the first week of our two week language school break to travel through much of northern Ethiopia. The trip as a whole went well. No car problems, no MAJOR injuries or sicknesses, no days ruined by rain and no mental breakdowns having to drive 30-40 hours in a jam packed SUV with a 10-year-old and 12-year-old MKs sitting shoulder to shoulder in the back seat and some very differing personalities represented among the five adults (with the most random thinker being in charge).

In the end though, we look back on all that we saw and experienced and we are thankful. We went to a university graduation ceremony where our skin color alone made us “honored guests.” We camped on the side of the road, much to the entertainment of some locals. We went to a place called Lalibela, where 800 years ago a king/priest carved huge churches out of stone (with the help of angles of course!). Our presence caused quite a stir in an Amhara village where white people were obviously not a common occurrence. We visited a 400 year old castle in Gondar and spent a night in the beautiful Semien mountains (the home of thousands of “bleeding heart baboons”). We went to a famous Ethiopian waterfall on the Blue Nile River and we once again came close to Gmz territory which pulled at our hearts for our future work. We look forward to sharing the stories of our trip in the next week or two.

Tomorrow morning, at 3:15am, we pick up our first visitors to Ethiopia. Trent and Kristi who are coming to pick up one of their adopted children (the other is sadly delayed in court). With only 10 hours to unpack, clean, catch up on emails, write this blog and get some sleep, we pray for strength to be good hosts as we have looked forward to this visit for many weeks/months!