Ethiopia

I realize that I haven't spoken much about my experiences in Ethiopia and my feelings about our trip. That's partially because many of those feelings are buried within my own personal journals, and also partially because I don't quite know how to put into words the tangled mess of emotions I feel when I think of the country that gave me my children.

The day before we left Ethiopia, we attended a goodbye ceremony for our children. The staff at the care center dressed our children in traditional Ethiopian attire, and we all shared our gratitude for the respective roles we had and will continue to play in our children's lives. Finally, each child's handprint was added to a large mural of the Ethiopian flag, as a reminder of all of the children who had passed through the care center and found new families.

After the ceremony, we filed quietly out of the care center for the last time, and climbed into the van that would take us back to the guesthouse for dinner. As we waited to depart, the gravity of what we were doing hit me like a mack truck, and I began to sob uncontrollably.

Yes, in taking our children away from the only country and culture that they had known, we would be affording them opportunities that they may never have dreamed of otherwise. But at what cost?

People who've only seen or read about Ethiopia in the media tend to have a very simplistic and skewed vision of what life there is like. Even some people who have spent time there managed to miss what I believe to be critical aspects of a heartbreakingly beautiful culture.

As with most developing nations, the public works cannot be counted on for their consistency. The internet is not always available. Poverty is very real and in your face (though I would argue that it's just as real in America... It's just a lot easier to look away or make excuses for why we shouldn't care here...). Life is hard. Elderly women carry gigantic, heavy piles of sticks on hunched backs with no shoes. Children in tattered clothing walk for miles to pump water for the day at the "local" well which may be as far as 15+ kilometers away. Starving mothers with malnourished babies at their breast plead with tourists for a few birr. Life is hard...

But if you are able to look beyond that, there is also an incredible beauty that surfaces in the landscapes and faces of Ethiopia. In spite of destitution, there is joy. In spite of the hardened lives so many lead, there is genuine kindness, warmth, and acceptance. In spite of constantly being let down, faith remains strong.

And there is a culture that invites strangers into homes and offers the best that they have, even if they have nothing at all. There is a culture with historical roots that we can trace back the very beginnings of humanity. There are dances that use the human body in ways I could never have dreamed. There are songs that tell stories of times long past. There are traditions that children learn from their parents and grandparents many generations before.

Of course, as with any culture, there are dark sides. Women and girls are often treated poorly. Girls do not have access to the same opportunities for education and employment as boys. In some parts of the country, female circumcision and genital mutilation are common practices.

As parents, we are the stewards of culture for our children. As adoptive parents, this task becomes even more difficult because we do not have the firsthand knowledge of culture necessary to fully pass it down to our children. And just as there are aspects of American culture that I hope my children aren't exposed to, there are aspects of Ethiopian culture that I would not necessarily want my children to take on. In the end, I believe it is a parent's job to sift through the tons of information in the world and teach our children what we believe to be true and just and ethical and right. Ultimately they will have to make their own judgments, but if we have equipped them well, they should be just fine.

The terrain of Ethiopia is a metaphor for life there. Treacherous, but breathtaking in its understated magnificence. When we first decided that we wanted to adopt our children from Ethiopia, we had no way of knowing just how that decision would impact our lives. I have no words to express the gratitude I feel at being allowed to welcome Ethiopian culture into my life and my home. I truly hope that my children will always feel the same sense of pride I feel when thinking of Ethiopia.