The Late Early Night

So here we were hoping to have an early end to our day. We had packed our bags full of granola bars and energy bars and wanted to put them in needy hands before we fed ourselves. We crossed the bridge from day one... still looking for the mom and her babies. They were not there. We followed the curve in the sidewalk past a large and open restaurant decorated with blue triangular flags. Up the street further, we found person after person sitting in destitute. We would look them in the eye, trying to validate their importance in any way we could. We would reach into our bags and pull out some food. The children on the street would tell their friends and within minutes all of our food would be gone. We had so many bars, and it literally took a matter of minutes to have none left. It made the work we were trying to do feel so insignificant. We were not able to converse with the people we fed because of a language barrier. They would nod in thanks and appreciation, we would smile place our hand on their shoulder... was that all we were supposed to do?

We walked further. We passed a man that failed to catch our attention. And from behind we hear "You are american". We turn and Kim steps toward him. He introduces himself as a man now living in Dallas, TX, originally from Ethiopia. He was back in town visiting his mother and sister for a month. I am leary at first. I don't talk to strange men in America. That is not safe and most anyone that would stop you when walking where I am from- they want something. They want you to visit a time share or they want a hand out. They may want a ride or even to hurt you. No, I just don't talk to men I don't know from where I am from. Kim was warm with him immediately. I moved closer to him as Kim did. And then a peace came over me. In Ethiopia, people are just nice. That is right. I will say it again. They are just PLAIN NICE. No agenda. And that became obvious.

He was sitting on a stool that the shoe cleaning boys use for their clients. The boy stood behind him. This man had his shoes cleaned and was just sitting and taking in the street before we had walked by. We wanted to hear more about the boy.

The boy was 11 years old. He used to live in the country. Like stories were heard so many times by the end of our trip, this boys mother and father died from starvation, malnutrition, and disease. He had no one to care for him so he came to the city and found his aunt. He lives on the floor of his aunt's place. I can not call it a house for you would get the wrong impression of the places these people call home. It just a place. He works cleaning shoes for 1 bur which is 10 cents US money a shoe. He does this for 10 hours a day amongst many other boys hoping that people will chose him to do the work. At the end of his work day, he uses his money to pay for his schooling and his exercise book (which is what they call their work books). He pays for his clothes, food, and schooling. Sleeps on a mat on a dirt floor at night. He does not smile as he stands there knowing that this man we met is telling his story.

Our hearts sink. He is trying to make an honest living. He is not begging like so many of the boys we have seen. He has every right to beg. His situation is no less bleak. And yet he is working... cleaning piss and mud off of people's shoes. His joy has been stolen. All those boys' joy has been stolen. I reach into my bag and hand him one of our last bars. The first and only smile we see the whole time we are there. He had seen us hand the food out to children right in front of him and had asked for none. You could see validation come acrossed his face with that smile.

The man from Dallas introduces himself by name. Dess. He runs a limo driving service in Dallas and has someone covering for him. One of his sisters also lives in the states, and one lives here with his mother in a house that Dess had built for them. He has a girlfriend that he intends to marry in Ethiopia one day, etc., etc. Dess invites us to dine in a restaurant he knows well. It is a traditional restaurant and at first our American side was reluctant to go anywhere with this man. But in a crowded place, Kim and I look at each other to see if we are in agreement, and then we begin walking to get a bite to eat. Dess explains that he is Orthodox and that they can not eat meat on Wed and Fridays due to fasting. He will only have wine and bread, no meat. We walk. We walk some more. Thinking it has got to be close, we walk more. Nettie will not walk. She will only be carried. I can tell that the 40 lb love was turning into a 50 and 60 lb love as the walk was journeying forward.

We come to a door along the shops on the street. It is a busy area. But if you asked me what kind of business was behind the door, I wouldn't have even had an educated guess. It was all in Amharic and looked nothing like a restaurant in the states. There were no windows, no menu. We walk in and it looked more like a scene from an Asian movie. Minus the chopsticks. People were seated at very low tables. Either sitting on a pillow on the ground or in a low and small stool, people were eating food with their fingers. No forks. No plates. Just reaching into the center of the table and eating. He tells us to keep moving forward that there is a better room in the back.

It is dark. I can not take it all in. The people, the food, the music, the paintings, the SMELLS... We walk into a small hall and up a step. There is another dining area here. Dess escorts us to a table. I look up. The ceiling is made of twigs. It is circular and the tigs line up to make a cone. There are native weavings, paintings, writings, instruments, etc all around the room. They are colorful and realistic in depiction.

Kim and I move to the back where there is a low bench style seat. Dess sits opposite on a stool. He orders a honey wine for him and Kim and I opt for a bottled Fanta. (I drank a lot of Fanta there! No caffeine or alcohol for my bad kidney.) Dess orders in Amharic after an instruction from me that anything we eat must be well cooked.

Music is playing and we are sharing with Dess our lives, our experience thus far, and of course, Nettie. Nettie has a bottle of water in her hand, lid on. As the music plays she shakes the water front to back with her hands clasped around it. Her head nods. Dess points it out. What we thought was just cute, actually clued us into her heritage. She understood the music and was doing a cultural dance to it. Nettie's native language we knew was not Amharic, but until then, we did not know what it was. Gonjagay (am I saying or spelling this right?) was her native language. Dess called over a server that spoke in Gonjagay and though Nettie got shy, the waiter felt like she did understand what was being said to her. God brought us Dess to help teach us about Nettie! How cool is that!

Anyway, a little fire pit with a serving bowl on top was brought out. It had WELL DONE lamb in it. A few seasonings, no sauce... You are to eat it like this. You tear of a piece of injera (sp?) which is like a mix between a pancake and tortilla in nature but quite sour. You use this piece of "bread" to pinch up some meat. Then you put the whole thing into your mouth. Of course, before we can do any of this, we must all get up and go wash our hands! The flavor of the meet was ok. The injera I wasn't too fond of. My fanta was great! And the company was great. Someone, pinch me! Am I really here? In Ethiopia, with a stranger and my friend- her NEW daughter, eating out of a community dish with my hands??

We spend over an hour there. The meat was small in portion. I left hungry but didn't care. I had been concerned before I left on the trip about how I would be able to eat while people outside were starving. It was definately at this point that I realized that was not a valid concern. I hadn't had a decent meal yet, really. And all the portions were much smaller than in america. I guess that was just more answered prayers, huh?!

The check came and Dess paid. Yes. A complete stranger that was fasting paid for our meal. He was really sweet. We gave him our number and told him to call us the following day. We had an appointment with some people from Kim's adoption agency to meet for a dinner date and knew that he would enjoy the time. It would be our turn to pick up the tab and he could eat meat!

We thanked him and began the long walk back. Nettie still refused to walk! She was scared. The sun had set. It was dark. The streets lights were off and I pulled out my flashlight. We were so tourists. the locals don't use flashlights! We traded Nettie back and forth. Then we came to the tall and dark stair well. Kim had the flashlight and was ahead. Problem was that SHE WAS AHEAD! I could not see where I was going. I would squeal as I stepped in puddles. It was the first time I was a bit scared. People were sparce. And they were quiet and earie. I was stepping in mud and puddles otherwise known as feces and pee. And I was carrying a 40 lb love bug, too! We reached the top and Kim and I looked at eachother with pure amazement. We had done that! Thin air, no light, smells, mud and all. We were finally half a block from home.

The early night we anticipated actually had us up and talking about the crazy events of the day. We had lost all track of time... saying that we had done things a couple days ago only to realize that we had really only been there 2 days. We were both blown away. We were in love with Ethiopia. In love with the people. And yet sick to our core over the poverty. Over how so many children worked for a living and didn't even know how to play. How could such a beautiful culture be so caught in despair. What could we do? How could we help? We wanted to pray for people and with people. We didn't know how to...