heading back home

There are 4 very large, probably not weight compliant suitcases sitting by our front door. Alarms are set for the ungodly hour of 3AM. Flight leaves at 6. By Sunday morning, we will be landing in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia!

flying, 4 years ago.

It's been 4 years since we last visited our children's homeland. 4 years ago seems like a different world. Lily had just turned 4. (And I mean just. We basically blew out the candles on her cake, then headed to the airport.) Daniel was about 1/2 the (enormous!) size he is now. Many things have happened in our family and in the world in those years. It seems like past time that we went back home.

The weeks leading up to tonight have been anxious ones. We are watching and waiting to see how the latest political upheaval in Ethiopia's government will be resolved.  So far, a restive peace seems to be holding steady.

When I was in my 20's, it seemed to be that I was always throwing a bunch of stuff in a suitcase and jetting off. Maybe I'm mis-remembering, but it seems that now that I'm in my 40's travel preparations cause me much more anxiety than in my care free (and kid free) days. I make lists weeks (months!) in advance, and over prepare and triple check and wake up worrying. This morning I drove frantically to our medical office to get a travel booster shot, the whole while thinking 'What am I DOING? I never used to worry about shots and getting sick while traveling and now I'm practically bringing an entire medicine cabinet in my suitcase!'

Sigh. Worrying, always useless and never easy to stop doing.

However, now the bags are packed and (miraculously) zipped up and the kids are sleeping or pretending to sleep and the fridge is empty, the plants watered, the coffee pot and toaster unplugged and there is simply nothing else to do on my to do list.

So here are my hopes- whispered aloud through the dark to the universe.

Let there be peace in our country as well as the one we travel to.
Let we all be healthy
Let this trip help us re-connect to each other and to our far away African family.
Let there be a moment of laughter that surprises all of us, together.
Let no one get sick from eating or drinking anything.
Let all the flights leave and arrive on time.
Let us get delightfully lost and discover some beautiful place together.

Wishing all of you safe travels, wherever you may be going tomorrow.

lost in translation...

My husband and I just came home from seeing Black Panther. (Wakanda Forever!) This film is amazing, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, you've all seen it. Wow, the magic that can happen when we give voice to non only white, straight, male film-makers! There is, literally,  A WHOLE WORLD of movies waiting to be made. I'm here for ALL of it. Also, I'm down with any kind of Wakanda themed park experience adventure... whatever. Bring it.

But this isn't really a post about a movie. There are plenty of smart folks writing about this movie. Like this twitter thread about all the African influences on the costumes and body art.

It's just that it got me thinking about something I hadn't pondered in a while- about how much gets lost in translation, especially in international adoption. I'm also reading "The Grammar of God" which is about what is lost (and changed) in the translations of scripture from Hebrew to English. Fascinating!

Back to Black Panther for a moment: There is a scene in which Killmonger takes off his shirt to reveal his killing scars... which is an cultural image actually borrowed from the ritual scarification of the Surma tribe of Ethiopia as well as other African tribes.

My Ethiopian children have scars on their bodies... not quite like the raised bumps of Killmonger, but clearly ritual scars, not the kind that occur with typical childhood injuries. Each time I've asked an Ethiopian about them, I've gotten a slightly different, vague answer. Most answers start with, it was done to help their eyes (or stomach)... and then the answers trail away as they realize that in English, they are making not any sense.

It's like it's untranslatable.

Here in America the thought that you would choose to injure or scar your child's skin for a health or cultural or religious reason is... well, it's unthinkable. * But, in other parts of the world, people see through different eyes. And in rural African communities in which there are no doctors or clinics or medicines, rituals and traditional healing are often a worried parent's only options.

My children's scars do not hurt or embarrass them. They are mildly curious about them, when they think about it. Which isn't very often. But I would like them to have some words about them, even inadequate ones, to use when they are grown and questions arise.

We have our own African adventure coming up in just a couple of weeks. We'll be returning to Ethiopia around Easter to see our family and travel a bit. Perhaps we'll find some more answers about the ritual scars on D and L, and why and how and when they were done. Perhaps not. Perhaps, like certain Hebrew phrases, there is no translation into American. We'll see...

Ethiopia
ኢትዮጵያ

*Even male circumcision is now under a lot of scrutiny and pressure.