The Bridge Between Two Realities

Yesterday we made the 5 hour trip from Addis Ababa south to Awasa.  Awasa is the capital of the Sidama region of Ethiopia, the region where Ashagre grew up.  It seemed to take nearly an hour just to escape the traffic and choking clouds of exhaust characteristic of Addis.  Soon enough though we found ourselves in the Ethiopian country-side.  It's beautiful.  Yellow fields of teff (a wheat like plant used to make the national bread, injera) dotted by the occasional tree almost always shading a herd of goats or cows or donkeys or a gathering of people.  Traditional huts or simple earthen buildings hide behind living fences of cactus and thorny shrubs.  Camels, monkies, and ostriches began as rare sightings and quickly turned commonplace.  And the people.  Ethiopia is full of people.  Even in the remote stretches of highway people line the roadway, walking, riding behind donkey-driven carts, carrying water, selling papayas, and resting in patches of shade. 

We made a few stops along the way.  Once for a traditional lunch of beef and lamb tibbs (meat cooked in butter with peppers and onions) and the mandatory after-meal-machiato, and once to rest by the shores of Lake Lagano at an upscale resort.  Brent even took a short swim in the coffee and milk colored water - quite sure that any minute he would become a hippo snack.  When we arrived in Awasa, we were able to meet and dine with the brother of our driver in Addis.  His name is Henok and he is a lecturer at the local university.  He is very smart (he lectures on bio-medical science) and, like all Ethiopians, extremely gracious and warm.

During dinner with Henok we learned the meaning of Ashagre's name - the bridge, a transition, or the link between two places - eerily fitting as we familiarize ourselves with the reality of Ethiopia and prepare to bring him and his sister to America.  Speaking of Ashagre's name, for those of you that have been trying to keep track, we now know the real pronunciation: A-SHOG (rhymes with hog)-RAY (hence the 3rd spelling).  Elsa is still pronounced EL-SA, and apparently also does not have a significant meaning, but is fairly common in Ethiopia.

Ethiopia is definitely a different reality than what we expected it to be.  It is worlds away from our life in Ventura -this we expected, of course, but no amount of research could help us put a face to the orphans.  Only by being here can we know the smell of the streets, the warmth of a stranger's handshake, or the spice of a good batch of berbere.  We have a feeling that when we finally get to bring the kids home, a third, at-this-time uncomprehendable reality awaits us.  While traveling in Ethiopia is amazing, the anticipation of that new reality seems to overshadow our entire experience.  We count the days until we can bring them home.