“I can’t wait to get home!”

“I can’t wait to get home!”  I have heard that many, many times over the years—from our three boys—at the end of a vacation or a long weekend at soccer matches or on the way home from the required attendance at a function where they were sure they would die if they couldn’t leave soon.  “Going home” meant they were free to play in the side yard with the neighbor children, read or ride bikes or do whatever else they couldn’t do while they were away.  They were going home to a place where they were loved, a place of familiarity and a place that was not for just anyone, but was certainly a place for each of them.

Last Saturday night, Daniel and Danielle met me at the Addis Ababa airport.  We spent one night in Addis, and on Sunday morning flew to Axum, where we spent the day seeing the sites of this ancient place, including the resting place of the Ark of the Covenant, the tomb of King Balthazar, the haunts of the Queen of Sheba, and numerous monstrous obelisks, not unlike the standing stones in Scotland and England.

Now I must preface this next comment with these words:  It was not Daniel and Danielle’s fault that we spent our night in Axum in mosquito-infested rooms.  So dirty!  They asked another PC volunteer who lives in Axum to make our reservations.  And obviously, that friend’s standards are different from ours.  Mid-way through the night Danielle called out, “I want to die!”  I was reminded of a book that I had to read for one of my sociology classes in college entitled, None of These Diseases.  I decided I could write the sequel, which I would entitle, All of These Diseases.  Because I was pretty sure in the middle of the night, with the music blaring in the streets and the mosquitoes buzzing around my head, that All of These Diseases was happening to me.  We did wake up the next morning, and we got on a “bus” and headed for the village of Adwa, Daniel and Danielle’s home for the next two years.  This bus was a twelve passenger rusted van, crammed with 19 people and our luggage, strapped on top.  The kids had been gone from their Adwa home for more than two weeks.  As we got outside of Axum, the driver weaving around goats, donkeys, other absolutely crazy drivers, and lots of children walking to school, we could begin to see the splendid mountains that encompass Adwa.  I was sitting beside Daniel.  He and Danielle were happy to see their beautiful countryside once again and happy that they were going back to Adwa.  That’s when I heard Daniel say those words.  He said them under his breath, but with the same excitement and longing that he had as a twelve-year-boy.  “I can’t wait to get home!”  Not surprisingly, this mom’s eyes filled with tears as I heard those words once again, so grateful that our kids have found a place, a home, eight thousand miles from their most familiar one.  And what a lovely home they have made for themselves here in Adwa, Ethiopia!  God has certainly been gracious and abundantly kind, giving them loving neighbors, and colleagues at their respective schools who have welcomed them so warmly.

Adwa—40,000 people, living side-by-side-by-side, down dirt roads which would be great if they were simply dirt roads.  But these roads are riddled with sharp rocks—some big and some small—that poke at your feet.  (Makes me think of another sequel: No Country for Old Women.)  A souk is a small store that sells foods and soaps and other necessities.  And if they don’t have yeast today, they may not have eggs tomorrow.  If the owner of the souk is your neighbor, then his home, which is also his store, is right next to yours.  Most likely, he and his family sleep behind the store shelves.  Danielle has her favorite souks, and can usually find all they need by going first to one and then to the next.  These are one-room houses with mud floors, no running water or windows or electricity.  Reading the account of the annunciation and the travels of Mary and Joseph, the shepherds and wise men, makes sense here.  Looks like it all could have unfolded yesterday, in this little town of Adwa.

On Wednesday, I went with Danielle to one of her elementary schools, where we observed a preschool class of 42 children, taught by a young and energetic teacher named Helen.  These five-year-olds were learning English.  And they were happy to show us all they were learning.  Then Thursday, we went to another of Danielle’s schools, a boarding school for blind children.  This time it was second grade and another English class.  The students ranged in age from five to nineteen.  Their classroom was a tiny one—no door, a dirt floor, corrugated metal walls, the students sitting with their Braille tablets, and me, crying in the corner.  When we arrived, one of the teachers explained that there is a lot of shame that accompanies blindness here.  What beautiful work is done at this school.  These attentive and patient teachers are giving these young people many gifts, including the dignity that accompanies learning.  Each of these young people knows more English words than I know Tigrigna.

The Grimkils—the family that lives next to the Luttrulls.  Grimkil is the name of the father of the family, and serves as the guard of Daniel and Danielle’s home and large yard, just as his father and his father before him, have done.  Grimkil’s oldest son, Samuel, helps his father with his guard duties.  About seven months ago, Grimkil went blind.  So sad, but such a loving and lovely family!  So gentle and kind-hearted, you couldn’t ask for better neighbors!  Their home is about the size of my kitchen.  Dirt floor, no window and home to Grimkil, his wife Missalal, Samuel (15), Luam (13), Teddy (11), Meron (4) and a hen in the corner, laying and hatching eggs.  Because of the size of their home and the size of their growing family, Grimkil, Samuel and Teddy sleep in a room in the D’s yard, just outside the D’s window.  The family was overjoyed to see Daniel and Danielle return home from their two weeks away.  Missalal hosted a coffee ceremony for us.  It was so touching to see her work so hard to honor us with coffee.  I brought glow sticks and bubbles for the Grimkil kids.  It was fun to watch them in the darkness throw the glow sticks high in the air and then hear their joy as the sticks rained down like fireworks.

We had an early Friday morning.  Got up at 4:45 to catch a 5:30am bus leaving the college for Axum and the Hidar Tsion celebrations there. What an experience these buses are! Probably left Adwa around 6:20.  Halfway to Axum, a man standing in the middle of the roadway motioned for our bus to pull over to the side.  Then a very serious border police came aboard and asked everyone on the bus (but not the white people) for their ID.  Checking for aliens from Eritrea.  Hidar Tsion is a yearly holy day, celebrating Mary, to whom the historic church in Axum is dedicated.  Some say 200,000 pilgrims descend upon Axum, a town of 50,000.  Seas and seas of people, all dressed in white. We got to Axum and followed the crowds, all of them heading for St Mary's.  We walked around the church and past all the pilgrims coming and going and begging and eating and resting.  We decided to exit the churchyard through an open gate leading to the obelisks, because we could tell that there was something happening out there.  Throngs and throngs of people were trying to get through the eight-foot-wide gate.  Some coming in and some going out.  So much pushing and shoving!  Daniel got spun totally around, 360 degrees. I think some of my friends would have had a panic attack.  We really couldn't control our movement, we just went as the crowd pushed.  I felt like we were traveling down the birth canal, and was sure that Kate was in labor and we were all channeling her experience—there was this remarkable pressure from the front and the sides, and then this big push from the back and finally, after a few of those, we were through the gate.

Some shepherds brought their camels and parked them in front of the obelisks.  For ten birr (60 cents) you could sit on a camel and get your picture—so we all did. Gracious, it was ridiculous.  First of all, you get on the camel and then the beast stands up, but not without some movement back to front, and front to back.  Think of a rocking chair that almost tips over backwards, and then nearly throws you on your nose going forwards. Do that a couple of times and the camel is standing up.  Now imagine the shrieks from me and the camel answering me with this strange growl of sorts and craning his long neck back to look my way. I tried to pat him as if to say "there, their, they're," and he scolded me with an angry growl, showing his large yellow teeth.  A few more shrieks and now all the Ethiopians are looking at me on this camel, and I'm laughing, and they are all laughing at me, and they are all taking my picture.  Then repeat the entire process as the camel folds his legs back up and lays on the ground.  A m a z i n g !

After all the excitement, we walked around Axum and got in on a couple of processions with the priests and crosses and lots of chanting until about 12:30, when we returned the same way we came, nearly rear-ending another bus that had come to a total stop on the roadway.

Oh, and by the way, Daniel and Danielle would want me to relate that I was interviewed for a segment on Ethiopian TV (or ETV, as we like to call it over here.)  The correspondent wanted me to talk about my impressions of the festivities and how I would suggest that they could increase tourism to Axum. He got my credentials, Debra Luttrull from Indianapolis, Indiana USA.

Saturday night on the way to church, we met the obituary bicycle man.  And we met lots of children who most likely watch Daniel and Danielle each week as they walk through town to church.  Many of them called out to Daniel, “Sister, sister!”  They must think Daniel is a monk from Don Bosco Catholic Church, but they are confused in more ways than one.  What a lovely service, led by a visiting priest from Italy.  So the mass that is typically led by an Ethopian in English, for Italian congregants who speak English with a thick accent, was tonight a mass in Italian, with the singing led by an Italian nun, in English.  A friend of Daniel and Danielle’s, Brother Fabio, sat behind us.  This congregation has welcomed Daniel and Danielle.  Don Bosco’s Catholic Church is now their church, proving true the words to this great hymn:  “In Christ there is no East or West, in Him no South or North, but one great fellowship of love, throughout the whole wide earth!”  Thanks be to God!  It was dark and the air was cool as we walked home from church.  But the sky was filled with thousands of bright stars.  Growing up in Kansas where the stars shine brightly, still I had never seen such a nighttime sky!

When we arrived back home, we got the news from Andrew, that Kate had delivered a precious baby boy.  They gave him the beautiful name Samuel James.  Everyday this week, the Grimkils had been asking us if the baby had come yet.  They were so happy when we hurried to their home and told them the news and that the baby was given the same name as their oldest son.  There was lots of excitement in a language that I couldn’t understand, but somehow I knew every word of what they said.

Sunday we went to our second coffee ceremony, hosted by another sweet neighbor.  Near the end of our two-hour coffee, she wanted me to know that her brother lives in Sydney, Australia.  She then fetched a large envelope that was addressed to her brother, but she let me know that she didn’t seal the envelope, just in case the authorities at the airport wanted to see the contents.  I was following her reasoning, saying things like “uh-huh” and “I see.”  And then she said that she had already told her brother that I will be traveling to Sydney this week. “Oh!” I said.  “You would like me to deliver this to your brother.”  “Yes!” she said. “He knows you are coming, and will be expecting a call from you.  See, I have written his telephone number on the envelope.”  I looked at Daniel and Danielle and said something about feeling like Bilbo Baggins, and we were laughing, and I was hoping our hostess couldn’t understand our conversation, and that she just thought that I was happy to do her bidding.

So in the morning I will leave this wonderful place, with a grateful heart.  I am so thankful to have been able to visit Daniel and Danielle and see the good work that they are doing here.  I leave with the words of the Grimkils in my ears as we said our goodbyes.  “Peaceful road.  Beautiful road."

 Samuel here I come!