Site-Seeing with Embakom

Addis Ababa is an incredible city, and our agency has arranged for Embakom and I to have a tour with their driver, Solomon. Embakom likes Soloman, and I am anxious to see more of this great city so we're all excited as we head out. We see a lot out of a moving vehicle, not ideal but pretty impressive none-the-less: the Africa Hall, the palaces and the Parliament building, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the first modern school (which Menelik the II built in the 1880s), the Trinity Orthodox cathedral, the National Museum, the Addis Ababa University and the Addis Ababa Institute of Technology (A'AIT ). Arat Kilo Avenue is marked by a statue built in commemoration of the Ethiopian V-day during the Second World War, while Sidest Kilo Avenue is marked by a statue commemorating 39,000 residents of Addis Ababa killed by Italian fascist troops.

We stop at an open market called Shiro Meda where craftsmen sell clothes, pottery, jewellery etc., and we find a traditional outfit for Embakom. That market place is at the foot of the Entoto Mountain, which we drive up to see the first churches of Addis Ababa (St. Mary and St. Raguel) and the many faithful who gather in the churchyards seeking aid or miracles. Walking on the mountain paths gives us a chance to see rural life, the city from above, and beautiful landscape intersected by farmlands and trails of farmers. It is from here that Menelik II and Queen Taitu conceived of the establishment Addis Ababa. The road is, like always, crowded with people (especially children), vehicles, donkeys, goats, horses...

We visit the merkato next, the largest outdoor market in the world, and you can get anything there, but really, there is nothing to buy that isn't kind of junky. It's huge and busy, sort of like Tijuana, the Medina at Fez, and the Istanbul Grand Bazaar all rolled into one. I suspect it's not very safe for Ferengi but I have a good guide in Solomon. He wants to help me haggle, too, but I refuse (Imbee!). Embakom has had enough, so we head back to the guesthouse, stopping for fresh buna (coffee) and bags of beans to take home at Tamoca on the way - I do love a souvenir whose smell and taste brings you back to a place, think I'll brew a cuppa right now!

Addis sits at about 10,500 ft above sea level. A lot of tourists complain about the altitude, but my Banff days have prepared me I guess, I don't seem to notice it. I do suffer from the pollution, and so many Ethiopian children arrive showing symptoms of respiratory ailments, but thankfully most are fine after a few months in Canada. Remember, they still offer a choice of regular or unleaded fuel in Ethiopia! I am constantly reminded on our tour of a level of poverty that I've never seen before in my travels, and of a political leadership that doesn't seem to have a will for change, but am trying to record in my memory mostly positive impressions of these warm and friendly people that Embakom will want to know about when he's older.

After a rest, we're off again to a "traditional Ethiopian Dinner" which I suspect is more touristy than traditional, but with folk musicians and dancers and lots of Ethiopian dishes to try, it's a terrific treat! What a spectacular way to end our last full day in Addis Ababa.

KVI Orphanage Addis

Monday morning Embakom is having a great time playing with all of the kids in the guesthouse. The hotel girls are watching them all, and the driver is available, so I decide to scoot off to the KVI orphanage in Addis. Once kids are matched from KVI orphanages in the country side, they are moved to this site to await court - so it's a busy place with lots of transition occurring daily. There are also a lot of kids there who haven't been matched yet. All will spend precious months so crucial to their development, waiting and wishing for someone's hugs, and someone's eyes watching them like only a parent can.



We stop at a mid-sized supermarket en route and again I buy every can of formula on the shelf, 5 big cartons full, and a few other staples that I'm told they'll use. I have one last duffel bag full of stuff from Canada too, shoes and medicine, vitamins, granola bars, some toys, and another big bag of balls I scooped from a vendor on the street by the guesthouse. When we get there a rush of kids greet us as we come through the gate.






I'm blindsided by my emotions as the kids clamber into our van, and greet me with hugs and smiles. Again, I get the thanks that all of my friends deserve for their generous gifts! Having spent a few days now with Embakom, I'm extra sympathetic to how much these little guys want a home and a family, and just how fun and sweet they are despite what they've been through. I really want to stuff a gang of them in the van and take 'em all home.


Instead, I get a tour of the facility. The baby-room was especially moving, and in fact I was so shaken I couldn't take pictures. There were 15 or 20 babies, 3 to a crib, and many on heaps of cloths on the floor. They were feeding themselves, those too small to hold a bottle had theirs propped in their mouths against a pile of rags. Most were wet - and though I offered to help change them I was told that it wasn't time yet. Picking them up and holding them was so very sweet, but putting them down unbearable so I didn't last long in that room.

The toddlers and older kids were happy to show me how they do their chores, where they sleep and where they play. They tried to keep me around as long as possible, playing in the van, holding my hand, and making a huge game of showing big sad faces when I made movements to go, but my own little one waiting at the guesthouse was on my mind, so I didn't last more than about an hour before heading back.

FOREVER DAY!

Friday Night - I arrive back in Addis too late to see Embakom. Saturday morning early I go to visit him, and before I know it they're reading us to drive back to the guest house together. I'm excited, but scared too. What if he doesn't want to go with me? He's already sitting in the van - there's no way he's letting me escape without him a second time. It's clear that the staff really care for him, but it's also clear that he knows all about flying to Canada and he can't wait to get started on this new life.

I leave a big sac with the staff there - the usual items, shoes, clothes, formula, medicine, toys. Embakom and I spend the day getting to know each other, just hanging out playing, eating, napping, having a bath, throwing balloons off of our balcony and running to the yard below to get them back. I'm amazed at how brave he is in the face of such a huge change in his little life!

I'm learning, too, about some pretty bizarre behaviours that are not uncommon to kids who've spent time in orphanages, about pain and loss and mistrust, and at the same time about a few great strategies to turn things around quickly with these little guys. There are lots of kids from different orphanages at the guesthouse, but many of the behaviors are exactly the same. Interesting, worrisome, sometimes just sad.

Sunday I was to visit another orphanage, but it's clear that I can't leave him behind, and I don't think that's a visit he can tolerate yet. Hmmm... we go to the Hilton in Addis instead to swim. He's never been to a pool before, it's a beautiful day, and Pina Coladas are served poolside made with fresh juice for $1.50. We have a great time, there are lots of kids there to play with and a terrific playground too. We return to the guesthouse very late, just in time for dinner and bedtime.

The Village

Soon, a Land Rover arrives to take me to Embakom's village. There is no road for much of the way, so the van that got me this far won't do for travel. 5 men pile in with me for the trip - to this day I don't know why, or who they all were, but we were all in good spirits despite my nervous fears of the meeting to come, and we had a rather hilarious drive. Apparently we were driving through grazing lands, and I was reminded more than once of the scene in Polar Express where caribou block the tracks and only the cries of the engineer move them along.

When we arrived at the small cluster of 5 or 6 huts, I was quickly swarmed by what seemed to be everyone who was in the village that day. I had brought along a soccer ball and immediately a noisy, fast-paced game broke out between all of the children and the 5 men (was this why they came along?). I gave Embakom's grandmother a photo album with copies of every photo we had of him, and some of our family and of Calgary. This item caused huge excitement among everyone there.

I was invited into the hut, and you can see in the pictures the black soot from cooking that covers the walls. The cattle sleep in the hut at night too, to protect them from lions and wild dogs I was told. I could barely catch my breath, the air was so hard on my throat and lungs. This was a hard reminder for me about how fortunate we are, and about the kind of narratives that prevail in the west wherein life in a hut is somehow easier, simple and good, an existence to be envied even. Nothing about the lives of these people seemed easy or simple, and the translator echoed this when he talked about the complete lack of health care and education available to these people, let-alone the lack of clean running water. He was very graphic in his description of daily life; I could feel his frustration, wanting to make sure that I got it, that I didn't romanticize a sort of discovery channel version of a happy rural Africa.

I'll never forget the conversation I had with Embakom's grandmother that day. One day I'll tell him all about her, and share with him what she said to me.

KVI orphanage at Sodo

Kingdom Vision International is a relatively new organization Ethiopia dedicated to social change for all Ethiopians, especially the very poorest, and especially children. You can learn more about their work at: http://kingdomvisioninternational.org/KVI/Home.html. This is the gate to their orphanage at Sodo. When Embakom was not yet 3, he passed through this gate.

I woke early Friday and went on a quest to replenish my donations to this orphanage, as I had given many things away on the road the day before. I was directed to a "supermarket" that turned out to be nothing more than a corner store. There really is nothing to buy in Ethiopia - I couldn't find soccer balls or children's shoes anywhere, at any price. I did find two big bags of plastic balls for about 40 cents per ball - I don't know what the man thought when I was trying to buy them. He kept checking his understanding of my request, not really convinced I wanted every ball he had, yet was not negotiating for them. Seriously, 40 cents each, a man who probably makes about $200 per year, and I'm going to barter? Then I bought a few staples (not much to choose from really), and every can of baby formula he had, so he threw one in free, frustrated I suppose with my Ferengi naivety. I arrived at the orphanage with the balls, groceries, formula, and toys, food, clothes, medicine and shoes from Canada. The staff were friendly in showing me around and introducing me to many of the children. As happy and excited to meet me as they seemed, they broke my heart because each was obviously so ready for a home. There is a dullness in the orphanages I visited, a kind of lack of stimulation, of spark. Kids thrive on attention, on stimulating opportunities, on time spent with interested adults, and without that they just don't sparkle like they should. Underfunded and understaffed, KVI is nevertheless an impressive place where love and genuine concern for children are evident in their work. The gifts I delivered were very much appreciated, and I was told many times that I would be blessed for this donation. I explained that the donations were from my many friends, but the director just kept pointing at the sky and agreeing, "yes, many friends".



These are the older kids "doing their schoolwork".

There were two babies in this crib, and several others just like this. They were so tiny and helpless I briefly considered sneaking some of them home under my coat.



These older boys were really funny, and amazing at dribbling a soccer ball. It was tough to imagine that because of their age they may never find adoptive homes.

From Embokom to Sodo

After leaving Calgary late Tuesday afternoon, I arrive in Addis at 9 PM Wed. I am greeted by the nicest young man, who takes me to the Ethiopian Guesthouse (I recommend it - not the Hilton but you will taste the local flavour and meet some great people there) for some much needed rest, but first I arrange with the Adoption Agency's driver to pick me up very early the next morning.

After a breakfast made notable by rich, dark buna (coffee) and superb conversation with several American adoptive parents and their kids, I'm off to meet Embakom. The drive is bizarre - so this is Addis Ababba. It was dark when I arrived, so I didn't see the mountains, the huge size of the city, the traffic, or the people. People everywhere! So very crowded, and people so busy, even those with clearly nothing to do - roaming, scavenging, begging, always moving among the ever-honking cars.

And suddenly, here I am in a little room, and there he is. He's looking at me like he knows me, and is happy to see me although shy at first. He's clutching his every worldly possession - a backpack that we sent with a friend a few months back, and it's meagre contents of hot wheels, a ball, a stuffed monkey. He's anxious to show me the photos that were in the pack, pointing at us and saying Mommy, Daddy, Nootie. Luckily I have my own pack, full of toys, treats, bubbles to blow and other neat things, so we begin to play. He laughs a lot, and loves to make me laugh if he can think of something funny, like pretending to fall over or scolding his monkey for breaking bubbles. There is a coffee ceremony to mark our meeting, and I talk with the nurse and teacher to ask about what supplies are needed. This is a transition House, not an orphanage, and it houses only kids who are already legally adopted by Canadians and are waiting for travel visas. Nevertheless, this house is run by an agency that struggled through a bankruptcy just a year ago, and the need for donations to help the staff care for these kids is evident. These little ones spend from 4 - 7 months here, sometimes more, and they need so much medical care, and are so nutritionally deprived, that the staff need all the help they can get.

Before I know it, I am being rushed away, to travel to Woylaita to meet Embakom's family and to see his village. I hope he understands that I'll be back for him soon; I try to get the nurse to explain but I'm not sure he isn't upset by my leaving. But this trip is something I really wanted to do for him, so we have some pieces of his past to share with him when he starts to ask about his life in Ethiopia.

I can't describe the 8 hour drive. I'll just fail to impress upon you how crazy the roadway is. It's a tiny, two-way road with no shoulders to speak of that serves as a major travel route for an entire region. There are a million cars, trucks, buses and vans, all spewing thick black smog and honking non-stop. There are cattle, donkeys, horses, goats, dogs, hens and other animals all along the road, and people. Hundreds of people walk along the road, and so very many are children. I saw dozens of children without accompanying adults who couldn't have been more than 4 or 5 walking alone or in pairs along this busiest of roadways, most barefoot, some driving livestock with a stick, many yelling with excitement as this Ferengi passed. I had brought a big bag of balls and tiny wind-up toys to give to the orphanage in Sodo, and a ton of granola bars, and I passed many of these out the window to these kids whenever we slowed enough. I'm attaching a video clip I shot out the window, but there are others on youtube (try road to Sodo) that do the travel better justice than mine.

We arrive at dusk, and I settle in to what my driver explains is the only "best first-class" hotel in town. At about $12.00 a night, it is clean. The power goes out right away and the town is pitch black by 8 PM, so I sleep.

The Amazing 400

On May 4th we received our referral for Embakom, faster than expected because we were open to an older child. On June 9th we passed court – Embakom became a legal member of our family. We settled for a wait of “between 12 and 20 weeks” for immigration papers, and on October 13th were told that they had arrived in Addis Abbaba . Our son was free to enter Canada on a permanent resident Visa. I prepared to travel to pick him up.

The earliest flight I could get without either hitting a 5-stop/48 hour travel time, taking out a second mortgage, and/or being away for Ruthie’s 5th birthday, was Nov. 2. I had 20 days to plan and pack, and wait to meet him – a lifetime it seemed. The wait gave me time to learn more about Embakom’s home, and the more I learned the more I thought about the changes he faced going from a third world country where he had nothing, to a place where we all have so very much. So I started shopping, at first just for the little friends he’d be leaving behind. I bought about 70 pairs of children’s shoes to take with me – and I have to give props to air Canada who allowed me an extra duffel bag free of the usual charges, for humanitarian reasons. Then, people started asking if there was anything they could do to help and I thought, “why yes, yes there is”.

So with only about 12 days to go before travel, I vowed to ask 400 people for $5.00 each, to buy things for the orphanages I’d heard about and planned to visit.

400 People is a lot more than you’d think. I asked 387 and was positively stuck – out of friends, family and acquaintances!! Luckily, one friend asked her church group to help, one asked the book club gals, one asked her co-workers, and one asked everyone on her daughters’ hockey team – so my request reached over 400 people after all!

Money came pouring in, from the most likely and unlikely places. My family was so generous, as were all of my close friends. But I also got cheques from people I hadn’t seen or heard from in 25 years, from little kids who opened their piggy-banks, even a teen who requested donations on her birthday in lieu of gifts. I got cards and chqs, from neighbours of friends, students of mine from years ago, even some from people I don’t know at all. And, being the kind of goof who tears up at long-distance ads, every donation and touching note sent me bleary-eyed to Mario’s arms to tell him about the awesome goodness of every single person I know. I couldn’t pack, couldn’t work – sending thank-yous, shopping for shoes, and praising everyone’s generosity became a full time job!

By the time I was ready to travel I had 2 money belts stuffed with US cash and 2 huge bags stuffed with children’s shoes, clothes , vitamins, and medicine. I had contacts to meet in 3 orphanages, and a little boy waiting for his mommy to come get him.

Six years plus six days - waiting for Embakom

Here’s a little history of how I ended up in Ethiopia in November 2010. It’s a winding, twisty tale and not an atypical timeline for international adoption for Canadians.

Mario and I began applications for adoption in 2004. Ruthie was born in 2005; a happy shiny pink presence that put the adoption on hold. We returned to the adoption process in 2006, and found a program working with orphanages in Zambia, moving our file from domestic to international adoption. A change in the Zambian government caused a freeze on international adoptions, and we were devastated - we'd waited almost a year in the Zambia program and lost another 6 months changing our file from Zambia to Ethiopia. There is more governmental paperwork involved in international adoption than anyone can imagine, and everyday waiting brings to mind the kids who are getting older and older as they wait in orphanages for a family of their own.

Just as we got on track again with an Ethiopia program, our agency was declared bankrupt. There were allegations of six-figure salaries, leased luxury vehicles and crazy huge expenses (horses, pools) charged by senior executives Susan and Rick Hayhow - a criminal investigation is on-going.

Finding another agency was not an option - the Ethiopian Gov would not licence a new agency in Canada, the only other Cdn agency working in Ethiopia wasn't taking new clients, so starting over would be impossible. Plus, we’d lost our fees, and we’re not getting any younger so we really thought that dream was over. Cue the happy, hero theme song. They say nothing is tougher than a mom when her kids (at home or expected from far away) are threatened. True dat!!!! Through sheer determination and chutzpah a group of prospective adoptive parents loosely joined by a yahoo chat board and shared grief pulled together and decided to fight the bankruptcy. Armed with little more than letters and emotions, our campaign to raise awareness, donations and governmental flexibility (seriously!!) was a raging success, and after six months of hard work the licence-suspension was undone, and we were operational with a new board. Amazing.

Each family was numbered, and we were #150. Not promising. Imagine our surprise on May the Fourth (be with you), 2010 when Embakom's little 3 1/2 year old face came whirring through our fax! Which brings this chapter to an end; all the waiting is forgotten as we fall in love with our new son and work to bring him home quickly!