Trading Places?

Three brothers. Which one was adopted to America?

Recently I participated in a Facebook conversation with other adoptive parents about whether or not to send or bring presents to Ethiopian birth family. That issue is soooooo complicated (Read about what we gave our Ethiopian family when we visited and why here.)... and it got me thinking...

Would our Ethiopian family trade places with us?

hmmm...

Well, what do think? The answer appears to be obvious at first. Of course they would come live in America! We have running water! Electricity! Medicine! Free (good) Education! Open Democracy! (debatable, sometimes, but still) Social Safety Net! Facebook!

Certainly our rural Ethiopian family would certainly jump at the chance for food security and an indoor water source. They live a hard life, even by "Third World" standards. But.

But.

Would they give up the Ethiopian quiet sunsets, unmarred by billboards, bright lights and the lure of screens, beeping phones and endless email chimes?

Would they exchange the rainy season's annual road wash outs for snow shoveling and freezing temps?

Would they want to give up "13 Months of Sunshine?"  (Seriously, the weather in Ethiopia is gorgeous almost all year.)

Would they want to live in a country with institutionalized racism and police harassment?

Would they want to exchange their worries about safe drinking water for their child's safety from online predators?

Maybe, maybe not.  I often think our family in Ethiopia. I think of how different their life is from ours. And not all of the differences mean that our American life is better...

Daniel has asked several times whether his Ethiopian family can come and live with us. And I've told him, honestly, that although I know for sure they would want us all to be together, our family might not want to give up their little farm in Ethiopia.  They have their struggles, to be sure. But they have their land, and each other, and they are happy.

The longer that I live inside this complicated American-Ethiopian adopted community, the more my preconceptions about poverty and about opportunity have been changed. It's easy to think, "oh those poor Africans, they have it so hard." It is more honest and challenging to ponder: what about their life do I actually envy? And, what parts of my life would make them say, "Oh those poor Americans, they have it so hard."

Three things I'm glad we brought to visit our Ethiopian family...

and a couple of things I'm glad we didn't bring...

We visited our Ethiopian family in April, 3 years after Daniel and Lily came home to America. I say "our" Ethiopian family because "birth family", although accurate, makes it sound like the family gave birth to D and L, and that's it. End of story.  One of the many, amazing, eye-opening things I've learned through being an adoptive mother is that adoption is never, ever, the end of the story. Daniel and Lily were born to a family in rural Ethiopia, and raised by them for years (in Daniel's case), and now they are being raised by us in urban America. But they are still Daniel and Lily's family, and by extension, ours.  ("Forever Family" is another commonly used adoption phrase I have given up. Daniel knows, all too well, that "forever" is a myth. And their family of birth is still their family forever  just not the family currently making them eat peanut butter sandwiches or do homework.)

I like to think of our kids' birth family as a kind of "in-law" family relationship. Really, really, super complicated long distance in-law family relationship. We were very lucky and blessed that our visit in Ethiopia went so well.  We spent an intense, magical four hours filling ourselves up on our love for our collective children. We looked at each other, eyes shining with love, marveling at the miracle of being in the same room together.

But it was awkward... to say the least!

Here are three things we brought that helped make this visit a success. *

1. A instant print camera. (What used to be known as a Polaroid.)  We found a tiny Japanese camera that printed little photos. It was not crazy expensive or fragile.  We used it to take photos of us all together, and of our kids with their Ethiopian relatives, and then gave the photos for the family to keep. (We took photos with our regular camera at the same time.)  Watching the photos "develop" was lots of fun for both the kids and adults. And we were able to give our family a lasting keepsake of our time together.

2. An indestructible soccer ball. One World Futbol (http://www.oneworldfutbol.com) makes very tough, hard to destroy or wear out soccer balls. Each purchase donates a ball to an African community organization. We bought two, one for our home in NYC, and one to bring to Ethiopia. We met with our family at a local school, and as soon as we took out the ball all of us headed into the school's recess yard to play. Within minutes all the children and all the men (fathers, translators, drivers) were kicking a ball around. The language and social barriers dissolved and the initial tension of meeting our family evaporated.  Not surprisingly, all the Ethiopians have crazy good soccer skills. Even the tiny just-walking baby could pass the ball easily.

Lily and her sister T----- in their matching blue dresses. Lily still wears it, calling it her "T----'s dress".

3. Matching shirts and dresses for the children.  This is a tricky one, because bringing any type of gift can really create problems for your family and your family's community.** In this case, we relied on our (limited) understanding of Ethiopian culture, and my instincts. It was around Easter time, and a traditional gift for Ethiopian holidays is new clothing. There were many, many Ethiopian-Americans traveling to visit family, and all of them at the airport had huge, enormous suitcases- probably filled with presents for relatives. We were visiting our family, so we brought the children some new clothes.

Gift giving for visiting is also expected in American culture. Would you ever show up at your in-laws empty handed? No, you would not.

We brought matching t-shirts for all the boys, including Daniel. We brought matching dresses for the girls, including Lily.  When we took them out, all the children immediately put the new clothing on and everyone clapped and cheered. And here is where my mommy instincts were right on... Before the children put on their new clothes, we were an obviously poor family in almost rags, and an obviously wealthy-ish family in newish clothing. After the children changed we were one family, laughing. Look- we are all wearing the same clothes! Next time, I'm bringing silly matching t-shirts for everyone! (I'm thinking: I LOVE NY would be fun.)

The one thing I wished we'd brought, and will hopefully remember next time, is a simple illustrated book about where we live. Then we could have avoided the fruitless 20 minute explanation of snow that ensued after a relative's innocent question about the weather.... It does not snow in Ethiopia. Try explaining snow to someone who has no experience of freezing. And try to keep a North-Eastern American from complaining about the weather after the winter we'd just had!

Anyway, a simple children's book about New York will be coming with us next time...



* We are incredibly lucky to have a relatively uncomplicated birth family situation. Our Ethiopian family is extraordinarily lucky to be mostly healthy and whole right now. (God willing, they will remain so.) Sadly, not every "in-law" family has the kind of situation that allows for happy visits. This advice is meant for visits with intact, relatively healthy and secure family members.

** Two things I'm glad we didn't bring:

1. Any money, food or any other gifts for our Ethiopian family. Not that they don't need it; they do. They have a tough life. But if they brought back some cash or a big bag of rice to their village, and explained that it was from their relinquished children's new American family... how many more children will be relinquished, abandoned or worse- stolen or sold- in order to possibly ensure the health and safety of their families? Just the color photos and the brand new t-shirts is more than most in their village have or ever will have.  Adoption fraud and child trafficking happen in communities that are desperate. We are trying, perhaps ineptly, to stay connected with our family without adding to the incentives that already exist for exploitation and un-ethical adoption.

2. Our i-phones, jewelry, fancy bags or cameras.  In a small Ethiopian town we are conspicuously rich Americans, there is no escaping that. Even an Ethiopian who has never left the village of her birth knows that plane tickets are not cheap.  But, we tried not to show off. I wore only a simple wedding band. We wore plain, simple clothing. We brought only the basics with us: our identification, our camera, a bit of cash, a water bottle.  I carried it all in a simple canvass bag.

Families who have visited "back home"... what did you bring, and why?

Traveling Back to Ethiopia, Part 3

We have a new background photo on our home computer, and it makes me smile and laugh a little bit whenever I see it. It's a group photo... two tall, very pale white people on one side, a brown couple on the other side and in the front a bunch of brown kids of various ages. All of us are wearing big goofy grins, like we just won the lottery or something.

And we did. Because that is a photo of our Ethiopia family, whom we saw on the second day of our trip to Ethiopia.

It is very difficult to write about our visit with our birth family for two reasons.

One, I hesitate to share too much about them or the story that led to the adoption of our children. They don't have the Internet, and while I'm sure our family photo has been shared all over their village, sharing it here seems like a huge leap of privacy invasion.  The story that led to Daniel and Lily being relinquished for adoption is a sad one, and fairly typical of Ethiopian adoption stories. The only thing I will say is that our family has recovered from those tragedies, and they seem to be doing okay. Hopefully, our family is Ethiopia will remain intact, safe and healthy. Daniel and Lily are doing great, and there is no reason for us not to have contact with their first family.  We have not discovered any of the frauds or abuses that have led to American adoptions closing down in Ethiopia.*

Two, I know that it is hard for non-adoptive families, or families with challenging adoption histories or difficult relationships with birth families to believe that we flew all the way to Ethiopia to see our children's first family for a few hours, and that everyone had the most wonderful, joyful time and it was great. That seems like too good to be true.

But it is true.

Here is a photo of Daniel with two of his brothers. Three boys, two languages, heading to lunch. Laughing, playing games, making silly noises and smiling, smiling, smiling...

We flew all the way to Ethiopia. (Part 1. Part 2.) We enjoyed a day at the pool and a early room service dinner. The next morning we woke up early, met our guide/translator and drove into the countryside.

It was a beautiful four hour drive. We stopped at a nice little hotel on the way for a coffee break. Conveniently, this hotel has the only Western style toilets in the area. I'm big fan, especially after using some non-western style bathrooms later that day. (French style, you might say. Hole in the ground campground style.)

Along the road we saw gorgeous mountains, small farms, lots of chickens and goats, small mosques, Churches, marketplaces, little villages and small towns, and a few very crowded taxis**.

We met our family at a local school. We arrived first and sat down on one side of a big table. Then our family walked in and saw us.  Oh, the joy. We all could not stop smiling and laughing. They could not keep their eyes off Daniel and Lily. We gave them the small presents we'd brought: some t-shirts, some dresses, and a couple of toys. The children put the clothing on right away and clapped their happiness and thanks. Lily went to the other side of the table and sat with her big sister.  Daniel went and sat in between his brothers. They remained inseparable for the rest of the day.

We talked briefly. Talking was very difficult, as everything had to be translated twice. First into Amharic by our guide, and then into the local dialect our family speaks by their translator/guide.  We spent about 10 hilarious minutes trying to explain snow.  Then we decided to go outside and play. And that was much better.

Here is Daniel playing soccer with his family. (The children in red are students at the school.) This is one of our favorite pictures.

The girls, sitting tightly together.  I wish I could show you this sister's smile, she is so beautiful.

We ate a big lunch together at a local hotel. The kids devoured their Fanta and beef stew (beef tibs, a regional speciality).  Lily did her best imitation of an ill behaved American child at a restaurant. Prayers and thanks and happiness and photos were shared.

And then it was time to go.

Daniel climbed into the van and said, "I already know what was the best part of the trip. Seeing my family."

The kids sat and watched out the back window for while, and then slept most of the long, long drive back to the hotel.


Imagine that through challenging and sad circumstances you were separated from people you love. Imagine you thought you would never see them again. Imagine that you did, by great good luck, see your loved ones again, after all the dust had cleared and the circumstances had changed. Four hours with them would seem a miracle - a gift of grace. That is what our visit felt like. There was no crying, because we were too joyful for tears. There was no confusion, because everyone knew that they were loved immensely. There was no recrimination, because we were all too filled with gratitude. And there was not much sorrow in parting, because our hearts were filled to the brim.

We are very lucky. I only hope we can visit again soon.


* We did see several European adoptive families will newly adopted infants. And we did visit our children's former care center/orphanage. That story is a whole other post.

** We got a lot of stares as we drove down the road, not only because we were two white people traveling with two brown children but because there were only 5 of us in the whole big van. Vans in Ethiopia typically hold about 25 people!

Traveling Back to Ethiopia Part 2

I have no idea how many parts there will be to this story, just so you know. I'm just going to keep telling stories til I run out... So thanks for coming along for the ride!

Part 1 here.

The thing I love best about Africa is the way it smells. Ohmygoodness, it is so delicious and wonderful. Not delicious the way a bakery smells, or the top of a baby's head. But wonderful and exciting and decidedly African. I remember walking out of the airport in Addis Ababa for the first time one morning three years ago and just being overwhelmed with happiness. Here I was, about to meet my children for the first time, and the air was fragrant with joy.

When you walk out of the airport in New York you get walloped by the stench of jet fuel, stale coffee and cigarettes. In my favorite corners of the city the smell is lovely- a mixture of grass and spring flowers, hot dogs, warm pretzels and brick. It smells old and full of history.  But it will quickly become overpowered by a passing garbage truck or a dog being walked.

When you walk out of the airport in Addis the mountains are there before you in sunshine and it smells perfectly intensly African: dust and smoke and flowers.

We arrived this time early in the morning. It had just rained, so the air was clear and the flowers bright.  Everything was blooming. The capital of Ethiopia- Addis Ababa - means, "New Flower." I imagine the name was chosen in April, when all the flowers are in bloom and the mountains are green with possibility.

The perfect smell of Ethiopia is created by two things: the smoke of burning trash, and an abundance of flowering trees caused by the almost year round sunshine. Ethiopia is a study in contrasts. I find it beautiful and challenging. I can understand that some people find it challenging and distressing.

Here are the shacks made of corrugated tin, discarded building materials and mud.  Here are the satellite dishes on the roofs.

Here is the path, rutted and filled with waste. Here is the carefully and brightly painted gate to someone's home.

Here is the sky scraper, glinting in the sun. Here are the donkeys, loaded with wares for the market.

Here is the sunshine, the mountains, the running clouds. Here is the sky clogged with dust from construction projects, burning trash and car exhaust.

Here is the goat, tied to the roof of a taxi. He will be an Easter feast tonight. Here is the homeless man, wounded and desperate. Here is the young boy, selling small painted trays in the dirt. Here are the women in the marketplace carefully making small neat piles of onions and garlic to sell.  Here is the tiny unlit shack selling bread and stew. Here is the sink propped up on cement blocks  outside to wash your hands in. Here is the coffee, brewed over open coals, served in a tiny chipped cup. Here is the tea stall, set up under a broken tarp. The table is a plastic box. The chairs are stones.  Here is the hot cup of tea and the fragrant roll, fresh.

Everything, everything all mixed up together. Beauty and tragedy and history and future.

As you fly into the Addis Ababa airport you will see the rusted remains of older airplanes sitting in the overgrown grass in the center of the runway.  Ethiopian airways is one of the most highly regarded airlines in Africa. Addis is a hub for most of Northern and Eastern Africa. They just opened up direct routes to China.  They have beautiful, shiny new jets.  But why clear out the old rusted relics? They are there too.

I miss that smell.

Traveling back to Ethiopia. Part 1

Yes! We went to Ethiopia, and we returned, sun burnt and happy and exhausted, on Easter. And since then we have been battling jet lag and have returned to school/work/regular life and I've been struggling with matching my socks and keeping my eyes open past 7:30PM.  Jet lag is no joke. It really does me in.

But, I think I'm okay now. It's 8:05 PM and I don't have an overwhelming desire to close my eyes, so here we go...

One reason I haven't written about our trip is that I don't know where to begin.

So I'll begin, at the beginning....

The night before our trip Daniel was too excited to sleep. We had dressed the kids in their traveling clothes and explained that we'd be waking them up in the middle of the night to go to the airport.  We tucked them into to bed and anxiously re-checked and triple checked our luggage and our paperwork and the house.  (I live in terror of arriving home after a long trip and realizing I'd forgotten to turn off the toaster or take the garbage out.)  Lily fell right to sleep, but Daniel was tossing and turning and asking every few minutes if it was time to go yet.

I lay down next to him in his little bed. I said, "I'm too excited to sleep... are you okay?"

He said, "yeah, I'm just excited."

I can not imagine what must have been going through his mind... but he had neither the temperament nor the maturity to express it. He was about to get on a plane to return to the country he'd left 3 years before.  In just a few days he would see the Ethiopian family he hadn't seen in 4 years.  His life had changed so, so much in those 4 years...

Lots of folks have asked if I was nervous about taking the kids back, about them seeing their first family. I would say, I'd never been more sure of anything. I was as sure that our trip was going to be great for our kids and for our family as I was sure that adopting these two tiny people was a good idea. Really, really sure. *

But still, it took a long while for Daniel and I to fall asleep. And just like that, it was 2:30AM and we needed to get up and drive to the airport for our early morning flight.

I thought the kids would sleep in the car and have to be carried into the airport. But no, they were chipper as little birds, and gamely walked (pulling suitcases no less!) through the dark parking lot and into the terminal. The sun rose as we sat in those horrible uncomfortable chairs and waited for our little jumper flight to DC. We ate breakfast in a DC terminal and whiled away the hours before our Ethiopian flight by walking up and down the long terminal hallway and paying too much for stuff at the shops.  Then we and another hundred people filed into our teeny tiny little airplane seats and settled down for the looooooonnnng flight to Addis Ababa.

Since it was Easter week the plane was filled with Ethiopian families heading home to celebrate the holiday. It felt like a party bus. Babies crying, packs of little kids running up and down the aisles, people talking and laughing and getting refills of snacks and drinks.

12 hour flight. Nobody slept.

NOBODY SLEPT.

Lily watched Frozen about 4 times. Daniel watched some robot movie and played Minecraft til his eyes were red and blinky. I sat and had a long, mild panic attack about how nobody was sleeping. I kept tucking them in and putting blankets over them but it was no use. We were heading to Ethiopia, and we are all too excited to sleep.

Lily is wearing those cute yellow socks Ethiopia airlines gives out.

* PS: I was right. But that is another post.

Everything is Ishi

We went to Ethiopia!  We had an amazing time. We survived hours and hours in an airport and on a plane and the traffic in Addis and sunburn, and now we are jet lag zombies but it was all worth it.

Because these two beautiful girls got to see each other again and be sisters for a few hours.

And it was all so, so worth it.

Many more stories and photos to come... as soon as I stop waking up hungry at 4AM and collapsing before sunset.

Returning

Three years ago this month we boarded a plane clutching two big suitcases and two tiny photos of our children. Strangers. We spent 24 hours traveling to have two precious hours with our children. Or, as I described it to our social worker, to have the world's most expensive sonagram.*

And we fell in love with our children. And we fell in love in Ethiopia. And we had our hearts broken open in the way only adoption can break them. We realized that we were not just adopting children, we were adopting a new family, a country, a culture, a new life. We vowed to return. We promised to visit the family whose hearts had also been broken by this adoption. We promised to bring our Ethiopian children home to Africa.  As our plane took off just a few days after we had been granted full custody of our children, as I sat there with my arms empty but with two pieces of paper promising that we would someday soon be a family, together, I wept. I wept not only for my children, still living in a care center, but also for their country, for losing all these precious children to poverty and disease, and adoption. 

Soon we will be getting on a plane again. A family of four. Definitely not strangers. We are returning. Our hearts were broken open and oh so much life and love has grown in them. 

We are returning to fulfill a promise.

We are returning to try and heal the broken hearts and broken family that was left behind.

We are returning so that our children, such Americans now, can come to love Africa as she should be loved: Joyfully, unreservedly, with whole hearts. 

We will probably be offline for most of our trip, but I'm sure I'll have loads of photos to share and stories to tell when we return! 

* My homemade analogy between international adoption and pregnancy:

Waiting for a match= "trying"

Matched! = Pregnant!

First visit to child = 3D sonogram 

Traveling home = Childbirth (don't ever let anyone tell you adoptive travel is "easier". Ha! There are no epidurals for flight delays)