Feeding a giraffe with my dear friend

Today I turn 27. Today, 27 years ago, my mom was 27 years and 27 days old. I always thought when I was 27, I would have my first child, and why not? It is a good age to have a kid, and many of my friends are at that stage in life. I always thought that at the magic age of 27 I would catch the baby bug and want a family of my own. Instead, I have the travel bug and I might as well be 27 years away from having my first child.

Today instead of embracing motherhood, I embrace another adventure. The last 13 months have been a wonderful whirlwind of travel and exploration. I lived and studied in Costa Rica with some of the most beautiful people on earth, and saw some of the most beautiful tropical environments known to man. I traveled Central America, learning more about my American neighbors and enjoying their company. I spent 2 months in Ethiopia, traveling and hearing both heartbreaking and inspiring stories about one of life’s most essential elements: water. And now I get to fulfill a childhood dream and go to Kenya.

When I was 7 my teacher assigned us a project where we had to research a country of our choice. Now Lion King had just been released and I was of the age where I was learning about my African-American ancestors and slavery. My dad always believed we came from Kenya, and this made me love the Lion King even more (I am also part Native American and had a great love for Pocahontas too. In my mom’s defense, Disney movies were not the only way I learned about these cultures- at the age of 7 these were just the most enjoyable). Needless to say, I chose Kenya for my country of choice and presented my well-researched tri-fold board on my new favorite place. Ever since that time 20 years ago, I have wanted to go to Kenya. I lived in South Africa and that was close, but it was too expensive to visit. When I found out I was going to Ethiopia for this fellowship and just how close I would be, I knew I had to finally go to Kenya and fulfill a dream many years in the making.

Baby elephants!

Visited Upeace University friends in Nairobi

Life is a funny adventure that takes you many places throughout your journey. I love the journey and find it constantly changing my beliefs about what I thought was true before. This life-journey teaches me that the more I see, the less I know.  It is a challenging but beautiful lesson that feels like standing in a star-filled sky looking up and realizing just how small you are, but also realizing the beauty and majesty that is this world.

Every year there is a meteor shower around my birthday. My mom and I used to sit outside on our front yard and watch the stars fall down around us in the big Texas sky. I always loved these nights and feeling small, yet beautiful, and immensely lucky to take part in it all. 27 years of life lived, and it has not been what I expected, but I am looking forward to the journey.

We are traveling for about 5 days, not as storytellers but as tourists. It is said that if you go one place during your time in Ethiopia, it should be Lalibelia. Lalibelia is a town with a collection of 12th and 13th century churches that are carved out of rock, and still used today. We flew here with a friend we met on the road, and the 3 of us have been looking forward to our time around the churches, mostly due the hype built up by our tour guide books (locally called foreigners’ bibles). We went to see the first and most impressive batch of churches yesterday afternoon as soon as we arrived. Now I have to be honest, I was impressed with their beauty, but not blown away like the good-book Lonely Planet had said. Maybe we can just chalk it up to the food poisoning I am still suffering from 2 days later, or the long travel day. Whatever it was, it was not until we entered the largest of the churches the next morning for Sunday worship that the real beauty of this place really hit me. The worshipers were all dressed in white scarves and cloaks that they tie and fashion a hundred different ways. This clean and ancient looking attire, with the backdrop of the ancient earthy red buildings make you feel you have gone back in time about 1,000 years. Not much has changed with the religion or practice since the churches were first created, and it was a small girl who is turning 11 tomorrow who made me realize just how magical it was to be there.

Once we entered the church, I thought we would be gawked at and given the familiar finger shake I have grown accustomed to as I take photos around the country. Instead, I met this girl as I waited in a mass of people to get a glimpse of a 7kg gold cross that only comes out on Sundays. This little girl very sweetly asked where I was from and what my name was. I told her and asked her the same. She told me how konjono I am (compliments always accepted) and I repaid her the compliment and knew we would be friends. She asked if I liked the service and I told her of course I did. She took me to the different stations around the church and encouraged me to really look at them. There was a finely dressed priest offering the Lalibela cross (the seal of this region) to be kissed for a blessing. In the corners old women and children sat surrounded by their white scarves as they sat quietly and reflectively.   Wandering around was another priest offering to place white ash on the foreheads of all who desired it. In the center, a half circle of priests and deacons chanted the Bible in the ancient language of Ge’ez, singing historical hymns and playing the traditional drums.

My new friend took me by the hand and we bounced from station to station. She was so excited to show me these things and to share this special place and  culture with me. At one point she disappeared, and I made new young friends who were also eager to welcome me into their spiritual home and make sure I was comfortable. A few minutes later my first friend came back and she pulled my hand so I would bend down. She reached up to my forehead and placed the white ash on my head, smiling all along. Growing up, I went to Ash Wednesday services and had black ash placed on my head by pastors. It was always a nice evening that I enjoyed as a kid, but being blessed by a child stranger was quite konjono.

My grandma at the big farm with her brother, his wife, my grandpa and my mom

This time last year I was on my family’s corn and soy farm in Central Illinois. It was a great experience: I got to ride tractors, see a newborn calf, go to the annual ice cream social at the church my grandparents were married in, and learn about my family’s history. My grandma grew up on this farm with her 7 brothers and sisters, and her father grew up on the same farm before her. I love the history of this place and the idea of farming for a living; to feed ones family and others.

My grandma grew up with parents who were sustenance farmers. Her parents and brothers grew what they needed to feed their family, and the rest of what they grew, raised or made would go to support other needs and to invest in more land. On the other side of my family, my grandpa was a pastor’s son, but his family raised rabbits  to sell for meat. When my grandparents were growing up, the US was around 18% agricultural. Farms are still important in the US now, but with Monsanto, Tyson and other huge industries, food and farming isn’t the family trade it use to be.

A piece of the farm

Kids by some of the farm land we walked through

Here in Ethiopia, the society is highly agricultural. 80% of the country’s economy and population is agricultural, and this week we have been out in the thick of it. We are in Harar, Ethiopia, in the central part of the country, about 12 hours (via bus) east of Addis Ababa. The drive was really beautiful, although I slept through most of it. The road is lined with small sustenance farms. Here in Harar we visited a village where many of the community members are farmers growing grain, potatoes and chat. This village, and I can imagine many of the villages we passed, has no irrigation and relies on the rain. The rain here is essential, and as of right now the rain is late. The farmers are worried every day and are ready for the rainy seasons to begin.

Growing up, my grandma would always keep me informed on how her brothers were doing on the farm and what the rain and weather were doing  to their crops. They have huge irrigation systems, yet are still highly reliant on the weather. I can’t imagine how stressful it must be for these farmers in the Harar region who are farming without irrigation or a water catchment systems. The weather is becoming drier in this region and the rains are less and less reliable with climate change.

I love to grow things, to start something from a seed and watch it grow. I use to have urban gardens and it was always so nice to eat the things I grew and share them with friends. As a highschooler I dreamed of going to some far off place kind of like Harar, Ethiopia, and becoming a sustenance farmer. I longed for a simple life where I could spend time outside, build great relationships and not worry about much else. I know now that farming is not as easy as I once thought, and when food doesn’t grow then there is no food for the table. Yet, I still have such a respect for the farming profession. Farmers give food, and like water, food is life.

The village farm at sunset

Phoenix and I spent a long, but good morning interviewing different community leaders in Jimma, one of the towns we were visiting. We listened and learned, and when it was time to go we politely excused ourselves. Instead of walking back to our hotel alone, one of the community leaders offered to walk us back because his house was on the way. We agreed thankfully and the 3 of us went on our way. The walk allowed us to talk about many things. In fact our conversations were quite philosophical and included our life ambitions, politics, religion and just what life is like in the town we were walking. As we neared the hotel I commented on the good quality of the road. I had read that it was new and it still looked it, yet there were large pot holes in some areas (the road was built on a swamp and I guess with that comes quick deterioration). Our new friend confirmed that the road was new and was put in 2 or  3 years before. As we passed over a small bridge our walking guide stretched out his arm and pointed to the road that went out in front of us. He asked if we saw the bend in the otherwise straight road. Looking down the horizon just a bit, we could indeed see how the road turned. As we looked on, we wondered at the importance of such a seemingly small fact. Our friend went on as he told us to not believe anyone who claims that Ethiopia does not have corruption. He said that because of local corruption, even the roads are crooked.

As he said this he paused, giving me time to wonder if this was a metaphor or if there was more to this story. As we walked towards the bend, I had to ask for him to go on- a good storyteller always likes to be cheered on. He continued by saying that the road was supposed to go in a straight line through Jimma. As construction plans were made, the buildings and homes in the way of this significant paved road- the only in the town and the most important- were slated to be torn down and their inhabitants moved. Yet on this road, just past the river we were crossing, was a rich man who had a home lying in the path of the construction and the soon-to-be road. The rich man saw no need to relocate and paid the contractors to divert the road around the house. The contractors were corrupt and happily agreed to the bribe. They diverted the road around the man’s house, creating the crook we saw before us. Our narrator laughed and shook his head at the symbolism embedded in this imagery, as we turned with the road and on to our hotel.

The other day I was looking at film I have of our 2^nd interview, and I thought to myself: ‘Wow I am really in Ethiopia… this is crazy’. The film and the interview take place in a a northern neighborhood of Addis. In this area of the city there is no running water. There hasn’t been for around 2 years. Instead, the government has a water tank that they fill 2x a day. For the interview we went to see the lines that cue at the tank. The residents here (mostly children and women, as well as young men who make this their business) fill these 20 lb – 40 lb jerry cans again, and again throughout the day so they have enough to wash with, clean with, cook with and sometimes drink. 20 jerry cans are needed to do laundry for a family, to give you an idea of just how often they come to the tank. Each jerry can is 20 cent bir and they hold 20 liters. Please look for our upcoming final project to listen to the interviews and learn more about this area.

I say all this in part to tell you that sometimes I am just shocked that I am here in Ethiopia. It is a beautiful place and I love it, but it is still an adjustment. Today we went on our 4^th interview. We have left Addis for the first time and have traveled southwest to a city called Jimma. We have a contact here who is pretty much amazing. He invited us to a graduation today, and Phoenix and I were very much looking forward to it. At first we thought it was his graduation (his 2^nd BA), but we missed that by one day and instead went to the secondary school where he teaches environment, sustainability and chemistry. Today happened to be the 9^th grade graduation (about 500 students in a school well over 1,000 for 9^th and 10^th grade – with only 14 teachers). We were shown the school grounds and then ushered into meetings with the school leaders. We learned about the good work the school is doing despite limited resources, and they bragged about the quality of teachers they have at their school (I am a big fan of schools that love their teachers since my husband is a teacher). After we learned about water issues in the school and in Jimma at large, we were asked to sit under a tree to join the celebration. We were given a seat of honor next to the principal and other leaders. It was again one of those surreal moments where I just couldn’t believe where I was. Colorfully dressed women and girls, and dapper men and boys squeezed into the school benches they brought out from the classroom. This meeting under a tree included traditional songs and music, drama and long-winded speeches from many people. Awards were given to the top students and the crowd looked on with pride as these star pupils were given dictionaries wrapped in shiny Christmas paper.  

As I look at Ethiopia all around me, I am continuously in awe that I get to be apart of it, even for a short time. I am learning so much and it has already been a great adventure.