Proud Mama

The first week in Ethiopia has really been all about Luke. This was planned. We intentionally arrived a week before our court date for our new addition. I wanted Luke to experience as much about his motherland as possible; just the two of us - before the confusion and excitement that being “the three of us” would inevitably bring.

The first week was spent in a very bare bones guesthouse; again intentional. A few short steps outside our door and you experience real Ethiopia. Although Addis Ababa is a big city (and you don’t see half dressed women walking miles with heavy bottles of water on their heads), it is still Africa. Yes, as the business center of the continent, there are people hustling and bustling around in suits talking on their cell phones. But mixed right in with them are beggars, cripples, blind people, lepers - people scooting on their bums because they have no lower limbs. Dirt, yes there is dirt. Pollution is rampant and the sky has a steady brownish glow.

Luke has made me particularly proud in the first week of this long journey. I have been impressed with the way he has handled himself in some unfamiliar and somewhat awkward situations. My little rock star has not once complained about: the incredibly long plane rides (and layovers), the very basic accommodation, the new food, the local people wanting to touch and kiss him, the chubby kid in the pool (with his goggles on upside down) who knocked him over multiple times, the people who speak Amharic to him (as they assume he is freshly adopted and can understand them) and the countless people who hold out their hands for money when we walk by. Does he know that they would not be holding out their hands if my skin was the same colour as his? I am not sure. A cruel reality.

On our daily long walks along Bole Road (the Douglas Street of Victoria) Luke doesn’t say much - just takes it all in. We have had a few conversations though. I encourage him to think about what is the “same” as home and what is “different” from home. He is beginning to understand. How do I know this? One morning he hopped in my bed, woke me up and said, “Mama, I am so glad that I am yours. I am so happy that I have food and a home with toys.” Or the day at the pool when a local girl asked him, “Where is your mother?” He pointed at me and replied, “Over there.” She pressed and said, “No your other mother?” Ok, so maybe it was my imagination, but I think at that very moment he stood taller in the water and said (as if he was reciting what I taught him to say), “The lady who grew me in her tummy could not take care of me. Her house was tiny and she could not buy food. So my Mom came to get me.” At moments like these, of course, my eyes begin to water and a lump forms in my throat. More importantly however, Luke makes me proud. He is articulate and confident - continuing to gain a deeper understanding of his history.