Ethiopia Day at school

Last week we hosted an exciting event for Marins first grade class. We live in a very non-ethnic place; and even though Marin has been largely welcomed, she is still obviously foreign and not well understood. We talked to her teacher about hosting an Ethiopia culture day which came together like this.

First, for about a half hour, we talked about our experiences in Ethiopia, showed a few photos, and displayed some of the items we brought home from Ethiopia. The kids asked lots of kid questions about climate, language, animals, typical daily activities, etc. They asked about life in a village vs. life in an orphanage. This gave Marin an opportunity to tell her story in her words with the safety of teachers and parents around her.

For recess, we led the class in some of the kids games and dances that they do at HH. Marins friends really enjoyed these.

Then we arranged for the head of the African Culture Museum to come in and present. He is a tribal chief from Nigeria who brought a large collection of ceremonial masks and drums. He told stories about the masks, then let the kids try them on and pose for photos. Then he taught a few drum rhythms and invited students to take turns accompanying him on other drums. The kids were having a ball.

Finally, we wrapped it up with a catered Ethiopian lunch from Asmara Restaurant. FYI, the chicken legs and injera were a smash, but everything else became leftovers (which we are still eating).

Here's the best part, Marin came home from school that day with a big manila envelope full of thank you notes written by each of her classmates. At dinner Marin read every one of them to us. The most common comment was "Ethiopia is so awesome!" and three of the boys asked Marin to be their girlfriend. Then we had to explain to Marin what a girlfriend is. It's a girl you play soccer with or ride bikes with, right?

You tube videos

People who follow this blog know that we do not have a television, but sometimes as a special treat, we will let the kids watch a few you tube shows. Tonight Marin wanted to see videos posted by people who had traveled in Ethiopia.

While watching these, a serious and sad expression came over Marins' face. I was afraid it was bringing back too many memories. I asked her why she looked sad.

Marin " I just feel so bad for all these poor kids"

Me "Why?

Marin " All their Moms and Dads are dying."

Me "How do you know that?"

Marin "Because they are in Africa. The Moms and Dads always die all the time. That is what African Mommies and Daddies do."

things that scare us

Every now and then we still get some good nuggets from when the kids first arrived here. Turns out they were afraid of trees and white hair.

Their home area was barren. The only trees they knew were banana trees, which are not tall and do not have long branches. Then the kids saw our trees, so tall, with so many long branches - and when it was windy - the kids thought the branches were trying to reach out and grab them. Looking back, it makes sense why they were afraid to go outside for about three months after arriving here.

They had never seen white hair before. Nobody they knew grew old enough to have grayed. So when they saw white hair, they thought it was a ghost.

Giving Mom a stroke

A few nights ago Colleen walks into my office and Marin is on my computer. Colleen looks closer and Marin (age 6.5) is on Facebook.

Colleen (horrified): Marin, how did you do that?

Marin (non -plussed) : f-a-c-e-b-o-o-k dot com

I mean, what did Colleen expect Marin to say?

We're just mystified because we thought we had done such a good job of sheltering our kids from the worst America has to offer. For example, our TV has been unplugged and dark for about 30 months. Our kids have never been to a Mall or a movie theater. They don't even know to ask about DisneyWorld. No nintendo, wii, ipod, or cell phone.

And then - boom - facebook. Like who left the back door open?

Sister Tyrhas

Last week Marins' first grade teacher sent home a memo that she wanted all the students to dress like their role model on Friday 4/17. It would be a class project/ show and tell. We explained to Marin what a role model is and asked who she wanted to be (figuring she would say Hannah Montana or something).

Marin asked to see her scrapbook, turned some pages, and found Tryhas. Marin said "I want to be her. She was my doctor in Ethiopia. She gave me medicine and bandaids. Do you remember her name?"

So we dressed Marin up in a beautiful headscarf, put a little makeup and an ethiopian necklace on her. Then we had the photo of Tyrhas laminated with a brief description of who she is, tied it to a ribbon for Marin to wear around her neck, and sent Marin to school.

Marin was the belle of the ball. Everybody wanted to know who she was and wanted to look at the picture. The teacher even went to get the Principal so Marin could tell her story to him. It was a great day for Marin and the teachers did a wonderful job of reaffirming Marins' heritage for her.

The water hum

Ever since we met Marin, she always hums when there is moving water.
- washing dishes
- in the bathtub
- rinsing hands
- wetting the toothbrush
- a running hose

It doesn't matter, whenever there is moving water, Marin will hum. Just a soft pleasant monotone hummm.

I've asked her several times what that means or why she does it. She says something like "In Africa we sing when we carry the water."

I was recently reading a National Geographic that described "The Singing Wells of Southern Ethiopia". Apparently, in order to get water, the tribes dig wells deep into the earth, then lower ladders into them, then pass buckets up and down the ladders to get water. The work is very strenuous, so the men often sing in harmony to encourage each other and ward off fatigue.

I'll bet Marin was one of the little kids at the top of the well filling up jugs to take back to the village.

Hamdi

We found this little East African cafe in town last weekend. Trust me when I tell you this place is pure Africa. I felt transported in time.

The front room is this tiny space with a dirty floor, a couple of tables and a couple of chairs. It is full of men of all ages drinking soft drinks and tea, eating rice and flatbread off a communal plate, and watching English soccer on the TV.

Behind that is a little tiny kitchen in which 4 woman wrapped in layers of robes slaved over a tiny stove.

Behind that is a cleaner dining room where families with children sat. We sat there. It was 3 or 4 men with lots of children. All the men were yapping on their cells in some foreign language, and all the children were silent, staring bug eyed at us. I am the only white person in the place.

Finally, a boy about age 10 approaches Marin and asks her "Is that guy your friend?" nodding toward me. Marin said "No, that's my Dad." The boy scrunched up his face and said "That's weird. His skin is a different color." Whereupon Marin looked at me as if to ask "Now what do I say?"