Day 7, Meeting Grandma

We went to the embassy this morning and they would not interview us today. They said Monday was the best they can do. We were scheduled to fly out Sunday night. Ryan is making calls to find us an exchange flight. I am quite upset. I am very homesick. I will probably have to fly home with Simon Derara and Ryan and the other kids will come after they get their visas. I have never flown alone before. This has always been a fear for me.
We traveled to Weliso to visit the kids family. Our first stop was the Emanuel orphanage. . Eyob is the director of this orphanage and he invited us to visit and partake in the coffee ceremony. The kids are quite anxious to see older brother, Biruk, but agree that we should go. On our way, driving down a dirty dust road we saw Biruk!!! What a surprise. He was in his rickshaw. He jumped out and gave hugs all around. He followed us on to the orphanage. Eyob had a quite intimidating appearance. He is tall, black as night, has heavy curly hair and big gummy smile. He looks like an African warlord, but is in fact a kind, gentle Christian man. The kids all ran out to see us and shake our hands, many yelling Faringie, Faringie. (The native word for foreigner.) He gave us a tour of the grounds, the boys room, the girls room, the baby room. The baby room was empty, we were told there was an outbreak of malaria and the babies were moved into the city until they could be safely at the orphanage. We were a little disappointed. Derara and I were wanting to have another baby party like we did at the CCI house. We were introduced to pastor of the orphanage. The area is conservative Muslim and this guy is opening his own church on the back of the property. The only thing that adorns the walls are scriptures. We are shown Eyobs office and the church. To say this place was a pitiful sight is an understatement. To look at the place, it looks uninhabitable. But it is very inhabited. 45+ children call this place home. I feel Jesus presence stronger in an orphanage than anywhere else in the world. Eyob leads us to the kitchen and there we are served coffee. They have the place fixed nice for us. Plastic table clothes, cans with flowers in them. I feel unworthy of being in this space in time. They have nothing and are still going all out for us.
Next we travel closer to grandmothers house. We stop along the way to visit the kids fathers brother, Birhanu. He lives in a oromia thatched roof hut with his wife and two children. They invited us in to look around their home. I had never been in a home that looked like this. It had dirt floors and dirt walls with newspapers on them. They treated us kindly and I wondered to myself “Is this how Derara lived as a small child.” I had been to his brothers shanty but not to his grandmothers house.
We traveled off the road onto a dirt road and stopped when it became impassable. We made the rest of the journey on foot. Then she saw us…hugs and tears around. This is the house Simon and Kaleab lived in as small children.
She tells us that Derara was very sick when he was little. She thought he might die. She gave him a nickname that means “God is with us”. She gave also Kaleab Mercy a nickname and though I cannot remember the name I remember that it meant “The cross of Christ.” I look at where my kids came from and I begin to cry. I have been at my emotional breaking point all day and this tender moment I had the privilege to witness was my undoing. “God is love. God is Holy. “ In this moment I am seeing his character.
She keeps her arms around Derara from the time she sees him. She tells us she is so happy. She keeps thanking us for all we have done for her family. I never feel like we have done anything. But this time I see it through her eyes. Her daughter died. She loved her and misses her still. She wasn’t able to care for the grandchildren. She is too poor…and on another continent a family puts her daughters children back together. They won’t be naked, they won’t be hungry and they will be together. I am so thankful to be the instrument of joy for this woman.
We walk back to the vehicle and say our goodbyes. I don’t know if this is the last time the kids will see their grandma or not, but I know we all will always remember this day.
We drive back out to Biruks shanty. It is a four room structure and 3 people each have their own room and one room, the room that my children lived in is empty. We go in and talk. While everyone is talking, I am handed a small tattered photo album. I go outside so I can clearly see it and I am stopped in my tracks. Their biological parents. My eyes are locked with the eyes of my kids Mom and Dad. She is small and looks like Selamawit. He is tall and muscular and looks like our own Sweet D. This is such a treasure. I begin taking pictures of the photo pages. There are a couple pictures of my kids when they were smaller. Kaleab Mercy as a baby. Selamawit as a baby. It looks like the family was doing well when Selamawit and Biruk were babies. That is when the most pictures were taken. There are few pictures after that time. I return the photo album and sit down for dinner. Their fathers sister is the cook in the area and she fixes us traditional Ethiopian food. It is quite good. She is happy with our compliments. We talk to Biruk about his future and how we can help him. We make some plans. It is getting late and dark and the kids are tired. They decide they’d like to spend the night in the room with Biruk. I look around and see a few stools, homemade border on the walls, one small pallet on the floor and an old suitcase in the corner. “Where will you sleep?” I asked Derara. He says he will sleep in the floor and wants to stay. We kiss them all goodnight and take off to our hotel room.
On the way to the room Iella, our cab driver tells us this is one his favorite days. “We made the old lady so happy.” It is one of my favorite days too and I am happy he was with us. We have drinks on the patio when we arrive at the hotel. I am a little leery of going in the room and want to stretch out the night. When my eyes become too heavy we walk to our sleeping quarters.
I have never been a more pitiful hotel room. It cost us 7 dollars!!! Can you imagine? I’m afraid my pictures of it don’t do it justice.

I am afraid to climb in the bed. The mosquito netting has holes in it. The bathroom stinks. I tried to talk Ryan into getting back in the car driving to the city but he will not. I am reminded of my earlier struggle with being a spoiled American and I let sleep have me. At least I am creating a memory right?