Home Bound

{March 23, 2011}

We were all too happy to be heading home; the trip was about 2 days too long.  We could have easily gone home 2 days ago having already accomplished all of our goals and definitely ready to be home with the kids, but we couldn’t have anticipated how quickly we would have done so to have booked earlier flights accordingly.

Landing in Frankfurt at 5:00 AM was like waking up in a dream.  The airport lights sparkled and the air smelled clean. Advertisements displayed expensive watches, fancily dressed couples kissing outside a French café, an expansive waterfront hotel with a yacht parked outside.  Signs were clear, even if in German, but there were signs!  All was glittzy and clean, orderly, purposeful.  There was soap in the public bathroom.  Soap!  Yes!

We wondered if they had a Starbuck’s.  They did.  Yes!  We were back in the West.  Back in the 1^st World.  I wondered what Bizzy would think and all the friends we had made in Africa whom we have exchanged email addresses and Facebook friend requests with.  Yes, Facebook is big in Ethiopia!  They all seem to want to come to America.  When asked, that is their country of choice to travel to.  But I think they truly have no idea how different their world is from ours.  It is vastly different.  And for the most part, they don’t know it.

On one of our walks in Bahir Dar, passing beggars and infirmed, homeless, toothless, broken people, Eric and I were reflecting on this and our adoption of Kate - and how God has adopted us.  For those He has chosen from the beginning of time, He plucked us out of darkness and into His glorious light.  We didn’t know the squalor of sin and filth we lived in.  We couldn’t even see it.  It was normal.  It was just how things were, how you did things, how you thought, how you behaved.  It’s what everyone around you did.  Until we were brought into the light, we didn’t know it was there.  We couldn’t see it; it was unreachable, unattainable except for a Sponsor, a Benefactor, an Advocate, the Savior to come to us…and get us out of there.  And compared to heaven, the 1^st World is nothing! 

What a forever homecoming we have to look forward to, after this short 80-year life, for those of us who believe.  For now, I will enjoy being in this temporary Texas-based home, and be thankful for where God has placed us in time and space.  He has put us in a position to help, to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.  And with God’s help, we will.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

Pioneers

{March 22, 2011}

I want to especially thank our friends, Anton & Christie Bucher (she designed this blog, by the way), who pioneered the way for us into international adoption, and to Ethiopia specifically.  You allowed us to walk with you and discover the joys and pitfalls of your own journey to get Quint (and later your daughter from China, Keira Joy).  You gave us courage to do this wild thing.  Thank you for your advice, your love and your sweet friendship.

We head home today and have about 24 hours of travel ahead of us.   We can’t WAIT to see Keira, Carter and Connor and to hear their voices.  It’s been 10 long days.  We’re thankful to my parents who sacrificed most of their Spring Break to care for them and to my brother and his family (and mostly Kayla) who sacrificed all of their Spring Break to take care of them.  Thank you for your support so that we could do this for Kate.

Really, I can’t wait to show pictures and videos of our sweet girl to all of you since we are unable to post her images online for now.  Thanks for all your love and prayers and encouragement.  While I wrote this really as a history for Kate, we trust that the details of our journey will encourage, enlighten, or embolden each of you as you determine how your family will practice “pure and undefiled” religion, which is to “visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.”  James 1:27

Taxi Ride

{March 22, 2011}

The taxis in Bahir Dar were different than in Addis.  In Addis they are blue vans that get piled up with people.  An 8-passenger van could easily have 20 people in it.  When you get a taxi, it isn’t your private ride until you get to your destination like we are used to in the states.  The driver will pick up and drop off many others, taking lots of detours, before you get to your stop.

In Bahir Dar the taxis were three wheeled scooters with a canopy and  bench in the back.  Often when getting a cab, there would already be passengers inside so we would have to squeeze ourselves in.  Of course, we are like twice the size of most Ethiopians being the “fat Americans” that we are.  This would usually get a knowing laugh from locals when we admitted to this.  It was the elephant in the room, quite literally, and usually broke the ice.  The camera would help, too.  Eric would often take their picture and then show it to them which most people really enjoyed.

On one such trip, a taxi we hailed was pretty full.  I was squeezed in the back with two other adults and someone was up front sharing space with the driver…remember this is a scooter, not a car.  So there was no room left for Eric.  He literally had to hang out sideways, with his head and most of his body on the outside.  We’re sure he made the local papers as the scene was quite comical.  He, with a silly grin on his face, hair blowing in the wind, catching bugs in his teeth, with the scooter practically leaning on one wheel as we put-putted down the road.

The Rest of Her Story

{March 21, 2011}

We don’t know what happened in Kate’s specific case and won’t ever know.  But we gathered many bits to try to piece together the most likely scenario of her early beginnings:

Most likely an impoverished and young pregnant woman who lived in an outlying village and could remain anonymous walked a long way to get to the hospital in Bahir Dar.  Entrance to the hospital is anonymous, but it is not free.  Delivering a baby costs about 30Birr, which is no small price for the penniless ( = about $20.00 USD).  Mothers typically stay 3 days before they are checked out, which is why they deemed Kate to be 3 days old when she was found.  I never could gather if Kate was clothed or wrapped in a blanket, but I imagine she was bundled in hospital gear which gave them another clue on her age.

As with so many others just like her, this mother left the hospital, deposited her baby on the ground, yards from the entrance to the hospital and slipped away into anonymity, without looking back, but forever changed.  No paperwork is done and no records are kept at the hospital so it is impossible to match a mother to a found child.  Abandoning a baby is a serious crime in Ethiopia and carries a penalty of 10 years in prison.  Even if she could muster the courage, no mother would ever dare come forward.  Her rights to that baby are vanquished in that solitary action.

Mothers typically abandon out of desperation.  Impoverished or sick, they have no means to care for this child.  And with all the sacrificial love they can muster, they give their child to someone else, so that they might live.  It’s reminiscent of Jochebed sending her son, Moses, down the Nile in the hopes that he might escape the sure death he would face if he were to stay in their home.  Kate’s birth mother made a similar sacrifice of energy, potential outcast or prison, and of that precious Birr to see that Kate was delivered safely in a hospital and had the best chance of being found on that street corner, by the rock pile, outside the shop. 

It is not clear to us if she was found by someone who called the police, or if she was found by the police.  But either way, a policeman gathered her up from that roadside spot, assigned her name, determined her age of 3 days old and filled out his paperwork, taking her immediately to the SOS EE Orphanage on the next block.  She was taken in by Nebretu and his staff, cared for, tested for HIV and other diseases and catalogued with the Ministry of Women’s Affairs (this agency is similar to our CPS and oversees adoptions in Ethiopia).  After 2 months, she became eligible for adoption (legally they must make a 2-month cursory attempt to find any family member willing to take in an abandoned child) and was shortly thereafter transported to Addis.  When they make a transfer, they take several babies at a time, sometimes up to 10.  Nebretu rents a large van and does the driving.  Each baby has a nanny to hold them on their lap as they make the 10 hour drive to Addis Ababa (there is no such thing as car seats there).  Kate made this trek last September.  We were matched with her in November (we were actually matched when she arrived in Addis in September, but a paperwork glitch made this unknown to us until after Thanksgiving).  Our longing for her to be with us has grown each day, but exponentially so now that we’ve met her and held her and kissed her.

We hope that our return trip will be no later than June, but have no control over the dates.  It’s now in the hands of MOWA, our attorney on the ground in Addis, and the US State Department.  She’ll turn 1 on June 9^th and I’m hopeful that we’ll get to celebrate her first birthday with all of us together!

Apocalypse

{March 21, 2011}

We did visit the orphanage again on Monday morning and met Mrs. Nebretu who spoke almost no English.  Nebretu had left us a note saying he regretted not being there but had been called to a meeting and he hoped to see us later that night.  She showed us the newborn pictures of Kate, which we took pictures of as they couldn’t give up the originals.  I was sure it wasn’t her, but they insisted it was (we asked about 3 different times if they were sure).  After much examination, I do believe they are her pictures because those are her lips…she has sweetheart shaped lips which are quite unique!  And you know how those day-old baby pictures are…ugh.

After saying our final good-byes at the orphanage, we went out to that corner marketplace for more absorption.  Then we decided to brave the hospital.  People seemed to come in and out freely through this stone archway, so we gave it a shot and walked in, too. 

We were quiet and just walked.  This was quite a scene.  Eric described it later quite perfectly.  It was apocalyptic.  It was as if a nuclear bomb had gone off 30 years ago and these were the survivors emerging like rats from the cracks of nearby hills and caves, scrounging for food or help or medical care.  They were bloody, aching, broken, like a war zone.  People wandered everywhere.  People that had no business being at the hospital….as if it were the town square itself.  Long lines ran out of the pharmacy.  Patients who couldn’t walk were carried between two friends.  A man walked holding an IV bag, moaning.  Wounds were bandaged with dirty rags.  People limped with canes.  There were beggars everywhere. 

The compound was huge with at least 20 different 1-story building connected by messed up stony, concrete and gravel walkways.  They appeared to each have a specialty such as “eyes,” “surgery,” “emergency,” “pharmacy,” or “storage.”  Almost no signs were in English, but there were a few.  The buildings were rusted, filthy, with broken windows and peeling paint.  It was like an old, old, elementary school.  Long buildings with lots of doors to the outside, as if classrooms, but these were the rooms with patients.  Some buildings were abandoned, some looked abandoned but were actually storage or kitchen facilities.  It was all open air.  The natural landscape was overgrown and unkempt.

We never could find a main building, like admitting, where we might find an English speaker who could point us to the Maternity Ward.  I really just wanted to see where Kate was born.  See where her birth mother had walked.  

We asked anyone in a white lab coat if they spoke English.  Most did not, but we used sign language to try to get directions to maternity or “gyne” as we realized it was called.  We meandered through a maze of buildings just observing, searching.  With no guide and obviously not belonging there, with a camera rolling to boot, we were being risky now.  It felt risky.  We saw a police officer looking around.  We were out of our league, but kept going.  We walked through the open air emergency room, filled with patients in beds and I won’t describe what else we saw there.  Remember?  Apocalyptic.

In the back of the compound, we finally found it.  Maternity.  I could hear babies crying.  This was it. 

And it was so appalling what we saw.  Bare concrete floors and walls.  An open room had some random things stacked about, including a screen that had MATERNITY scrawled in blue pen as if one of the Charles Manson gang had written it.  Eerie. 


We had gone this far, I was going to keep going.  I walked through the opening in the wall and directly into the pre-term labor room which was connected to Labor and Delivery.  On the pre-term labor side were about 10 beds or gurneys covered in purple vinyl.  There were no bed linens.  The vinyl was ripped and worn.  Some of the beds were empty and had clear fluid on them.  Ugh. Everything was rusted, dirty, filthy.  It was scary. 

A woman writhed in pain, her body wriggling.  She was on her side, her belly swollen.  She was alone in a room filled with people.  I looked away.  Several others were at various stages of labor.  As with everywhere else, people just milled about, aimless.

To the left were two makeshift rooms separated by those screens.  A self-printed computer sign was posted that said “Labor & Delivery.”  Many people were milling about over there and we didn’t dare get any closer.  A suspicious doctor asked us what we were doing.  We explained our purpose there, but her understanding of English was very limited.  She told us we would never find the birth mother and they didn’t know who she was.  I tried again to explain that’s not why we were there but just to gain an understanding of the process a birth mother would go through while here at the hospital.  Was there someone we could speak with?  It wasn’t translating.  She didn’t ask us to leave, but brushed us off and went toward the Labor and Delivery side of the room.  We took that as our cue to leave, and quickly. 

Another doorway went to a long hallway.  Again this is all open air.  There are no doors closing off the outside, or if there is a door, it’s propped open as are many of the windows.  There were flies.  We breezed past, room after room filled with babies and parents, all suspicious at the farangos (foreigners) walking past.  It was time to go; we no longer should be there.

There was one sweet picture I’d like to carry in my mind as I remember those scenes.  In one room we passed was a young father, sitting attentively next to a new mother who rested in her bed.  She actually had a blanket.  Next to them was a rusty bassinet with a gauzy blanket over it holding their resting newborn.  He looked up as we passed and he smiled.  Someone was having a happy moment in this place.

We taxi’ed back home and spent the rest of the afternoon in seclusion, writing, editing photos and videos.  We needed more oasis.

Nebretu and his family joined us for dinner in the smoke filled, bug-free dining room.  They had never been to the hotel before and never to a restaurant as fancy. And I’m sure the kids had never seen a swimming pool before.  They were in awe of the whole place and we enjoyed playing aunt and uncle for the night with their two boys (9 and 2).  It was wonderful to be able to host them as a small thank you for all they had given us, and to Kate.  We had never imagined that our trip to Bahir Dar would unearth as much information and exposure as we were afforded.  They are to be honored for the work they do every day in that orphanage.

God's Guide

{March 20, 2011}

After two hours of this, we were ready to let Nebretu get back to his day and started to give signals that we would be leaving and thanked him and his staff for their care of orphans and their time with us.  Surely he had other plans to attend to.  He asked if we wanted help getting a taxi, but I wanted to walk back so Eric and I could “decompress” all we had just seen.   Unexpectedly, he walked with us, the whole way back!

Among other sights we are quite unaccustomed to such as grown men peeing in the street, we passed two dead dogs in the street on our return walk.  One of them had his throat slit and the other swarmed with flies.  Seeing them ahead of us, Nebritu motioned for us to cross to the other side and keep going.  I was queasy and getting sunburned but didn’t care.  I was walking in the place where Kate would have grown, perhaps as a street kid and beggar herself.  Just like all those we were passing now.  It’s hard to go there; it’s unthinkable because she’s now a Baesel – her life is already removed from this place.  Her room in Texas is ready.  Her own room delicately decorated in chocolate brown and pink, filled with toys and books and a rocking chair to be sung to and rocked, her own changing table and a closet full of clothes and shoes….and a life full of opportunities.

We were able to ask more questions, not just about Kate, but about orphans in general and the culture and politics.  Eric’s interviewing skills took over; we reveled in every moment, in every question and answer.  He took us to a neighboring hotel and had us sit down in their outside cafe.  We ordered sodas and he had hot tea.  We weren’t sure where this was going.  He seemed to be quite content being with us and hanging out so we were happy to have his time and just kept rolling with it.  After the drinks were done, we started wrapping up again.  It was about 11:00 AM.  He asked what we were going to see while we were in Bahir Dar.  We weren’t sure, maybe the monasteries, or the falls.  He said he knew a guy with a boat and wondered if we were interested in his help to make arrangements.  Sure!  He started snapping his fingers with the local staff and everything was coordinated in a matter of minutes, for half the price our hotel would charge for the same tour! Of course, the boat had about half the horsepower, but that’s part of the fun, right?!?  He asked if he could come along.  Well, sure!

We spent the next 4 or 5 hours together boating on Lake Tana and visiting a very ancient monastery, bargaining for trinkets and wild coffee beans from the island’s villagers.  I refused to pee in the bush as they suggested I do while on the island so they let me go in the not-yet- finished outhouse on the back of a new museum currently under construction.  I was grateful for the concrete hole in the ground (yes, literally) that was covered for my privacy and had a locked door (twisted piece of metal like a twisty tie to to keep the door closed).  God had provided the guide we desperately needed in this place, and such a guide as this who could open the window into Kate’s would-be universe.  So thankful.



Nebretu walked us back to the hotel and invited us to the orphanage again on Monday morning.  We could meet his wife who also works there and they would show us newborn pictures of Kate.  Ohmigosh – another rare, so rare, opportunity.  I was sunburned and tired, but so filled in my heart.

We saw more familiar faces at dinner.  A couple from our agency had also made the trip to Bahir Dar and we were able to join up for dinner and some shared experience camaraderie as well…and more anti-bug lung smoke.  Okay by me!

Her Story

{March 20, 2011}

As with her photo, I can’t publish Kate’s African name until after the adoption is approved, but her name means “Her Story.”  And that’s exactly why we were here in Bahir Dar...to roll the camera, to investigate and gather her story, as much as we could.  I never dreamed that we would discover as much as we did.

At 8 AM on Sunday morning, we nervously awaited Nebretu’s arrival in the hotel’s open air lobby.  We had no idea what to expect.  I was gearing up for a suspicious or at-arms-length official who would check our passports and tell us we already had all the information there was and to leave things alone.  I was ready for that, expecting that. I was geared up to get nothing, but hopeful to get something.

He arrived on foot.  We made small talk; it was awkward.  He asked where the child was thinking she would be there; he was clearly disappointed not to be able to see her.  Sweet and kind, but guarded – he’s had hundreds of these babies in his care over the past 4 years.  We showed him her picture.  He was interested and said she was beautiful and looked healthy.  Knowing we should never overstep our bounds, violate international law, have any appearance of fraud or bribery or ask for too much, we were very guarded, taking it one careful step at a time.  Even getting an appointment to speak with someone at the orphanage here was kind of unusual, special.  We asked a few general questions and then he asked us the unthinkable, “Do you want to come and see?”  I clapped my hands to my chest in spontaneous joy.  YES!  YES!  YES!  We were going to get something!  The door was opening; we would get a glimpse!  We assumed he would make an appointment for Monday morning, you know, during business hours, and that would be that.  Instead, he stood and said, “Let’s go!”  Gasp.  This was incredible!

He hailed us a taxi and we zoomed, er scooted, (see Taxi! Post) down the main thoroughfare about 1 mile and then turned right down a seemingly residential area for a few blocks.  The road dead ended at a hospital, the only hospital in the entire region, intersecting with a rocky, dirt road.  We got out of the taxi and Nebretu paid the driver 2 birr ( = .13 cents USD).  We were quiet, holding our breath, soaking it in.  We would return to this area several times over the next few days to allow our minds and hearts to really absorb it all.  Eric would give out Birr and candies, and print outs of pictures we had taken of their happy faces, true treasures for them.

This was a busy intersection.  It was the marketplace, the kind you imagine when reading your New Testament.  Other than brightly colored plastic items here and there, it might as well have been from that era.  I’m still pondering the scene, days later.   Smoke arose in the morning air from ancient coffee urns set on hot coals outside each shop.  Mangy dogs roamed.  Items of all kind hung randomly from the shop’s rafters.  Barefoot villagers and homeless draped in ancient clothes milled about with walking sticks mixing with locals wearing “modern” hand me downs and rubber shoes.  The lame and the blind were present, begging.  Many were hungry, putting their fingers to their lips, wanting food.  Street children approached; there are about 2,500 street children in Bahir Dar.  And by children, I mean little ones, too, like 2 and 3 and 4 years old:  abandoned, impoverished, living on the streets.  They were the least afraid, approaching with smiles and practicing their English with carefully formed and cheerful “hellos!”  One girl pointed to a nearby cat and proudly said, “CAT!”  Ladies sat on burlap sacks and cleaned lettuce leaves or dried chilies, spreading out their wares.  People traded, talked, communed.  And everyone stared.  We were a spectacle.  A white pickup truck rambled past.  As with Addis, this was another random mix of old and new.  But new isn’t our kind of new.  New here is old, ancient, modernly ancient.  A little boy stands next to a spigot which is dribbling water into a large red bowl.  It would be hours before it would be full.  He poses for a picture, but doesn’t smile.

We didn’t know where this was going, so we just followed Nebretu.  About 6 storefronts from the hospital, he stopped and pointed, “There.  She was found there.  

 This is a common place for babies to be found.”  It was the last shop in the row, the continuing dirt road to nowhere was beyond.  There was a pile of rocks out front and I imagine that was the spot where she was laid.  Woah, this was the spot.  It was far more primitive than I had ever imagined. 

We followed Nebretu past the hospital the other way, a mere 30 yards to the orphanage.  This is where the policeman brought Kate when she was found that morning; wrapped in a hospital blanket and laid in that spot.  By the rocks.  He invited us in, allowing us to take photos and video.  My heart was racing at how incredible this opportunity was.  I was going slowly, not wanting to miss anything.  We were getting to see it all and to capture it on film, for Kate, and the rest of us who need to see this, too.  I couldn’t believe it! 

The orphanage is behind a gate, like most of the “new” houses.  Over the cracked asphalt courtyard hang clotheslines with clean laundry drying in the sun.  The little house has 3 rooms.  The first room holds 10 cribs and 9 babies.  They have room for 1 more.  The oldest is 9 months old; he stands and rocks side to side, as if practicing a scrimmage.  We play with him, imitating his sideward sway; everyone laughs.  We visit each of the other babies, one by one, stroking a cheek, giving eye contact, whispering precious thoughts.  I wonder if anyone visited Kate when she was there and gave her the same fleeting hope.  Most of the babies are days or weeks old, all found yards away, just like Kate. Mosquito nets hover over each crib, used only at night.   A bottle is in each crib and each baby is wrapped warmly in a blanket.  Sheets are soiled with spit up; I can relate to that!  There is a set of twins, two boys, who were about a week old.  Another tiny baby was just 3 days old.  Some were wide awake and smiled; others slept.  Two nannies oversaw them all, providing a bottle for incremental sustenance whenever they awoke.   The bottle was given to them while they lay in their crib.

The next room was for “older” kids.  It was a room with 3 beds in it for 5 kids.  That’s it, just the beds.  A third room housed wooden lockers and a menagerie of stuffed animals and toys crowded in a corner.  There was also a tiny kitchen with a sink, a refrigerator and a machine for making injera, a staple food for Ethiopians.

In the back was another small building with the office, a room with a table and tiny chairs where the older kids ate, and another room with a  TV, getting very poor reception.  In here we met the older kids, who were watching a kid’s show.  They were about 4 or 5 years old…precious, precious.  And all HIV positive – unadoptable, unwanted.  They sang us a song and clapped, so happy to entertain us.  I rewarded them each with a piece of gum; it was all I had on me.  Each received the foil wrapped sweet with two cupped hands and a bow of the head.  We wanted to scoop them all up and take them home immediately.  We returned the next day with small candies for each of them.

Kate lived here for 3 months until she was moved to Addis, to the “lucky” orphanage where she is now.  Hundreds of babies pass away here, they don’t make it.  By God’s good grace, Kate escaped death and disease at this place.  We are so grateful to Nebretu and his staff for their loving care of her, and to God for carrying her through.

There’s much more, but that’s enough for now.

Oasis

{March 19, 2011}

We were homesick for our kids and weary of this foreign and hard place, ready to go home.  But we had afternoon flights for the second part of our trip.  That morning we visited as internet café as the internet had not been working at our hotel for 2 days by then.  We had enough time to visit Mercato, Africa’s largest market.  Pickpockets abound here, so we stripped ourselves of everything, passports, watches, etc. and gave Bizzy our spending cash to hold on to.  There was nothing on us to steal!  Mercato was quite a sight.  A confluence of people, cars, more donkeys.  But so crowded…I mean, so crowded.  It was sort of like a swap meet on steroids, with permanent buildings housing cramped rows and rows of stuff.  We bought some gum from a little girl selling it for pennies.  Strawberry was her favorite flavor she told us so we bought some along with some others for our kids and then gave the strawberry for her to enjoy.  Enterprising as she was, I’m sure she re-sold the gum.

Bahir Dar is the region of Ethiopia where Kate was born.  By all accounts, it is the “resort” area of the country, where the upper class go to vacation.  There is Lake Tana and the waterfalls created by the Blue Nile River are a local tourist attraction.  Additionally, dozens of centuries old monasteries are in the hills and islands on the lake, many available for touring.  This side trip was highly recommended and a chance for us to put any puzzle pieces we might find together for Kate…or at the very least take some pictures of where she’s from.

From Addis Ababa, this requires a 12 hour bus ride, over that newly paved road, or a 45 minute flight.  We had considered the bus ride in order to “experience” more of Ethiopia until the Buchers, all too familiar with the vast differences of this place and our own country from their own journey there 3 years prior to rescue their son, Quint, kindly advised us against this.  I’m now very glad, not just for the time saved, but all that we saw on our 2 hour drive into the country yesterday is the same thing we would have seen for another 10 hours.  The flight was well worth it and nicely priced at only $75 USD per person.

But what we arrived to was…shocking.  We weren’t prepared for this.  The airport was hardly there – what looked like abandoned construction spread out in both directions from a central construct, which was a makeshift airport, if I ever saw one.  We deplaned and walked a far way across the tarmac into this center building.  Huts and desks advertised for various hotels and tours.  People milled about waiting for arriving passengers.  We were immediately hit up by Amharic speaking drivers, porters, tour operators.  But no one spoke English.  The hotel had promised a ride from the airport, but their nicely decorated “grass hut” desk was unmanned and dark…no one was to be found from the Kuriftu Resort & Spa.  Uh oh.  This again.  There was no baggage claim area, just an exit door at the other side, which, incidentally is also the entrance.  Everyone from our flight seemed to be waiting there, so we waited, too.

We were so lost, so foreign, so….lost.  We both wondered what in the world we had done.  Any adventurous spirit we thought we had was gone and we were left with fear.  We had totally launched ourselves into this completely foreign place with no guide.  What were we thinking?  We should have asked Bizzy to come with us.  Help us, Lord.  At least we had some Birr in our pockets this time.  We tried to look nonchalant, doing our best not to look completely scared out of our minds and as lost as we felt.  A young man approached, “Eric?” he inquired.  Yes.  “Baesel?” he confirmed.  Yes!  He was our guide from the hotel and spoke English.  Thank you, Lord!  Rescue!

At that moment, the luggage truck pulled up and everyone jammed outside onto the tarmac again to pull their own bags right off the truck.  Had never seen anything quite like that!  Eric went into the fray pulling our bags off as best as he could.  Our guide swiftly grabbed some porters who grabbed our bags and took off out of the exit.  Woah!  Eric was still back there getting bags – by this time, we had amassed 2 suitcases just of souvenirs and gifts for loved ones back home.  I ran ahead with the bags hoping I would see my husband ever again.  Outside was a tunnel “hiding” the construction on both sides leading upward to a paved road, a parking lots of sorts.  The walkway was roughed up concrete mixed with stones and dirt.  It was a mess.  Eric caught up and started rolling tape; our adventurous spirit was starting to come back, a little bit.  It would come and go again over the next few days.  This was wild.  Random chaos abounded with local villagers just hanging out watching people exit and a cluster of taxis were double parked every which way.  We got into our taxi, ready to go and then the guide left.  He ran back into the airport!  So we sat and waited for about 10 minutes.  Apparently he was doing double duty in seeing guests off on their flights, while also welcoming us.  Finally, we headed down the 2 lane road, going somewhere, we hoped. 

It was about 4:00 in the afternoon on a Saturday.  All these villagers, barefooted and wrapped with ragged drapings and carrying things on their backs or their heads or their donkeys flanked both sides of the road, person after person, group after group as we drove.  The guide said these were all villagers who were heading home, out of the city into which we were headed, after market.  They carried all their wares with them, back and forth each day.  Can you imagine carrying everything in your cubicle to and from your office each day, for miles and miles, while barefooted?  He said they preferred to be barefoot because they could grip the ground better.  We weren’t in Kansas anymore.  I kept reminding myself we were here for Kate.  All of these experiences were important for us to gather, for her.  I wanted nothing more than to not be there, but to be headed home.  But we pressed on.

Addis is the capital and by far Ethiopia’s largest city.  Bahir Dar was a bustling city, but considerably smaller, even though one of their top 4 biggest cities.  It looked like a sleepy, backwards towns that you’d drive through on Route 66.  The hotel had looked very nice on the internet and come highly recommended, but now I was worried, based on the surroundings I was seeing. 

We turned into the resort and I was instantly relieved.  It turned out to be incredible, by Africa standards, of course, but we were so okay with that.  We practically fell out of the taxi and into the open air lobby gasping for normalcy.  I felt like we had arrived in paradise, a more modern, “western” shelter from what was outside.  There wasn’t anything in particular that was awful out there, it was just…..everything.  After a lengthy check-in process with bottled waters and tranquil music and flower petals under our feet allowing our spirits to calm, we followed the hotel greeter along crunchy gravel paths surrounded by perfectly manicured “nature” to our room.  I audibly gasped as we rounded a bend in the path and a clearing opened up to the main part of the hotel.  There as an infinity pool with Lake Tana behind.  And our room looked out over both.  This was truly an oasis.  One we desperately needed to regroup and get our head back in the game.

In a turn of events, we were launched into Kate investigation mode, quicker than we had expected.  Before dinner (included with the room, along with breakfast and a daily massage AND manicure/pedicure for $220 USD per night, including tax – did I mention oasis?!?), we visited the front desk to figure out tours for Sunday knowing we had an appointment at the orphanage on Monday morning and this would be our day to sightsee.  In a bold gesture, Eric asked the attorney we had met with last week if it would be possible for us to visit the orphanage during our trip up to Bahir Dar.  He immediately got on the phone and called his friend Nebretu setting up a Monday morning appointment for us.  Wow!  It pays to ask!  Nebretu runs the orphanage facility in Bahir Dar, which is part of the same “chain” of orphanages where Kate currently resides in Addis.  They call these regional facilities “intake centers” as babies are collected there in outlying cities throughout the country, then funneled “up” to Addis and adopted out, making more room for more new orphaned children and so on and so on.  This intake center is where Kate was originally taken by the policeman who found her and was of great interest to us.  The front desk offered to confirm our Monday appointment with the orphanage and called Nebretu for us.  He answered, on a Saturday night, and they handed the phone over to Eric.  To our surprise, Nebretu said he would come to us, tomorrow morning, Sunday, at 8 AM.  We were thrilled, but didn’t know if that would mean we wouldn’t get to visit the facility after all since he wanted to come to us.  We were grateful for any point of connection we could get, knowing it was a rare gift, and looked forward to the morning.

During the complimentary cocktail reception where I was swarmed with bugs and we ate weird appetizers and drank strange drinks, we saw Anne Hathaway with a small film crew out by the pool.  We were staring at the cameras because they were using the same equipment Eric uses at work.  Then we realized it was her and tried to stop staring!  It looked like someone was interviewing her, but we were never sure what that was about and never did see her again, other than a fleet of Pathfinders heading somewhere. 

In the dining room which overlooked the Lake, two fireplaces lit up the room nicely at dinnertime, but then they starting filling the room with smoke as well…funny smelling smoke that was making my eyes and nose water.  Annoying.  Smelled like massive incense.  Turns out it was.  The kind that keeps bugs away.  Every night and every morning the hotel would pump this smoke all throughout the hotel, in the dining room, along the walking paths, out by the pool, to keep the bugs away.  It worked!  In Addis, mosquitoes are a non-issue because of the very high altitude, but here by the lake, bugs and mosquitoes abounded.  I was grateful for the lung-filling smoke that made my eyes and nose water because it really worked at keeping the biters at bay.  We returned to our room which had been fogged, literally, while we were away.  It was smelly again, but I preferred that to any giant, “flapping” mosquitoes I imagined would swarm all over me while I slept….gross!  We quickly climbed into the canopy bed with mosquito nets draped all around.  I took my friend Lisa’s advice, who spent nearly a year in Kenya on her honeymoon with Ben, and is well acquainted with the malaria carrying pests.  I pretended I was a princess and willed myself off to sleep!