We were lucky enough to have Daniel's parents visit us just a few weeks ago. Daniel's mom wrote a blog after her visit in 2012, and so we thought we'd have his dad write a blog for us after this more recent visit.
Although Daniel and Danielle (aka “the Ds’) would be leaving Ethiopia soon, Ethiopia would never leave them. Therefore, I wanted to come and experience the sights, sounds and smells of Adwa. Debbie’s visit a year and a half ago increased my desire to see their Ethiopian home. I was not disappointed!
Lost and Found
We were at their home for perhaps 2 seconds before we realized my big blunder of the trip. My backpack containing cell phone, ipad, ipod, and all my malaria medication had been left on the bus that drove us the twenty-some kilometers from the Axum airport to Adwa. Amazingly within 4 hours the backpack was miraculously found. The fascinating part was the experience of seeking and receiving help from the Adwa bus station employees. I was so impressed by how quickly our problem became the bus station manager’s problem and how much the Ethiopians wanted to help. However, though I had no fear of physical harm, the utter confusion and bewilderment I experienced made it seem I was in a movie with a mixture of scenes from Captain Phillips, Argo and the bar scene in Star Wars. I was both completely baffled and fascinated by the intense Tygrinia flying around the small room joined in by the growing number of curious bystanders. It was awesome to stand back and watch Danielle and Daniel actually communicate and interact in what would have been for me, were I alone, an absolutely frightening and impossible dilemma. I was so proud!
On the Street Where You Live
Our pride and admiration of Daniel and Danielle’s wits, adaptability and kindness just grew by leaps and bounds while walking through their neighborhood. Strolling through Adi-Haki with them was simply a cool experience. Inside their house sitting at their table or chatting on the couch, we felt like we could have been in the Ds’ home in Waco, TX or Marion, IN. So comfortable and familiar and “D and D-ish” they had made their home. But once we stepped outside their compound, the extreme foreign-ness of it hit me like a ton of bricks. The staring faces reminded us of how different to all around us we must seem. The dusty street, lined with shacks and tiny shops and small cafes, the herd of goats, the frequent donkeys and occasional camel were fascinating and so unlike anything I had ever seen. The strangeness at first prompted anxieties but before long I came to love that quarter of a mile stretch. Every single time we left the compound we heard their names, “Danielle (for Daniel) and “Danayit” (for Danielle) called out by young children, by students and shopkeepers; and the cutest kids running up to shake the Ds’ hand in the traditional Ethiopian way (right hand extended with left hand on their right elbow) followed by a fist bump in the American style. The enthusiasm and joy these kids showed when they saw and greeted them was so heartwarming. All the more so because these greetings were shouted in such an exotic setting by people at once so different from, and yet, so bonded to Daniel and Danielle. (Question: How will you adjust back in the States when you are no longer treated like rock stars?)
Drinking Coffee Ceremonially
We had 5 coffee ceremonies in 6 days. These rituals, the hallmark of Ethiopian hospitality, lasted any where from 2 to 3 hours. While we had coffee ceremony in a variety of settings (the Ds’ backyard, a restaurant, and in the homes of both poor and well-to-do families) there were certain constants: the woman (always a woman) roasting, grinding, brewing and pouring the coffee and doing so with meticulous care and flair as if a well-done coffee ceremony is a touchstone or litmus test of womanhood. And no sign of hurry or shortcutting the process; taking the Appalachian offer to “come sit a spell” to a whole new level. It certainly is a custom that places a premium on conversation; on slowing down with friends and chatting as you work your way through the preparation and consumption of the 3 rounds of coffee (small cups thankfully) and always concluding with long and formal good-byes. (Question: How will coffee ceremony change how you host others in your American home?)
I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church…
We were awakened several early mornings by the prayers from one of the Ethiopian Orthodox churches piped across town by loudspeaker. That and the visits to two of Ethiopia’s most holy sites: Axum and Lallibela gave us a little insight into this mysterious and ancient Christian Church, a most non-western expression of African Christianity. We met devout and devoted Ethiopian Orthodox followers and experienced the pervasiveness of the icons and observances of the faith in Tigray.
However, our opportunity to worship with the Ds’at the English Mass at the Catholic Church near their home at the Italian Don Bosco Mission was something we shall never forget. The devotion and the kindness of the Sisters who greeted us after the service and their expressions of gratitude for Daniel and Danielle were heartwarming for us. Hearing and joining in on the liturgy spoken in English but with so many accents: Ethiopian, Colombian, Italian, Indian, Northeastern Ohioan, and Hoosier, profoundly communicated the breadth and scope of the Body of Christ.
“In this rock I will build my church”
A highlight was our trip to Lalibela. After being shown many of Daniel and Danielle’s favorite places it was fun to experience with them something they had longed to see: the stunning and unbelievable 900 year-old rock hewn churches. In trying to describe these rock-cut structures one understands frustration felt by the 16th century Portuguese priest who struggled with how to describe the churches only to put in his journal that he should stop writing because no one will believe his description of Lalibela.
What once was solid rock is now a chapel with high ceilings and windows, rooms and hallways, archways and doorways. There is a line from the Stephen Sondheim musical, Sunday in the Park with George, where the artist George Seurat comments on the artistic process saying, “Look - I made a hat where there never was a hat.” King Lallibela, served by as many as 40,000 people hewing churches out of rock (and aided, legend has it, by angels), could have said, “Look, we made a space (a sanctuary) where there was no space, only solid stone.” Ten days later Debbie and I would stare up from the base of a rock to see the abbey of Le Mont Saint Michel on the western coast of Normandy admiring the most famous church built on a rock. Other than the prepositional difference, the similarities between the two churches are striking: “constructed” at nearly the same time, both inspired by angels, both unimaginable today as to how they were made, for a thousand years a place of pilgrimage and still to this day a place of worship.
“We make our friends; we make our enemies; but God makes our next-door neighbor.” – G. K. Chesterton, Heretics
Readers of their blog will know that Daniel and Danielle have a close and abiding relationship with their neighbors: Girimkil, his wife Misilal, and children Sammy, Luam, Teddy, and little Meron. I am sure they would say the Girimkil family was heaven sent. I have no doubt Girimkil would say and has said that D and D were a gift from God to his family.
On Father’s Day Daniel and Danielle prepared doro watt, traditionally a meal for a feast, and invited the Girimkils to join us. It was our most amazing Ethiopian meal. Girimkil declared the fast season they were observing would be temporarily broken in celebration of our visit. The most unique Father’s Day dinner ever was a wonderful time for the Luttrulls and Girimkils. The Girimkils have next to nothing in the way of material possessions but they are rich in the love they have for each other.
Miscellaneous Memories
Watching World Cup games at crowded Adwa cafés; the crazy Bajaj (3 wheeled motorized rickshaw taxis) rides; hearing hyenas at night; D and D baking delicious red velvet cake and cherry pie without an oven; eating shekla tibs (yum!), special ful, cactus fruit and lots and lots of injera; a frightening and thrilling taxi ride through congested Addis Ababa streets, dodging buses, vans, motorcycles and bulls.
Although Daniel and Danielle (aka “the Ds’) would be leaving Ethiopia soon, Ethiopia would never leave them. Therefore, I wanted to come and experience the sights, sounds and smells of Adwa. Debbie’s visit a year and a half ago increased my desire to see their Ethiopian home. I was not disappointed!
Lost and Found
We were at their home for perhaps 2 seconds before we realized my big blunder of the trip. My backpack containing cell phone, ipad, ipod, and all my malaria medication had been left on the bus that drove us the twenty-some kilometers from the Axum airport to Adwa. Amazingly within 4 hours the backpack was miraculously found. The fascinating part was the experience of seeking and receiving help from the Adwa bus station employees. I was so impressed by how quickly our problem became the bus station manager’s problem and how much the Ethiopians wanted to help. However, though I had no fear of physical harm, the utter confusion and bewilderment I experienced made it seem I was in a movie with a mixture of scenes from Captain Phillips, Argo and the bar scene in Star Wars. I was both completely baffled and fascinated by the intense Tygrinia flying around the small room joined in by the growing number of curious bystanders. It was awesome to stand back and watch Danielle and Daniel actually communicate and interact in what would have been for me, were I alone, an absolutely frightening and impossible dilemma. I was so proud!
On the Street Where You Live
Our pride and admiration of Daniel and Danielle’s wits, adaptability and kindness just grew by leaps and bounds while walking through their neighborhood. Strolling through Adi-Haki with them was simply a cool experience. Inside their house sitting at their table or chatting on the couch, we felt like we could have been in the Ds’ home in Waco, TX or Marion, IN. So comfortable and familiar and “D and D-ish” they had made their home. But once we stepped outside their compound, the extreme foreign-ness of it hit me like a ton of bricks. The staring faces reminded us of how different to all around us we must seem. The dusty street, lined with shacks and tiny shops and small cafes, the herd of goats, the frequent donkeys and occasional camel were fascinating and so unlike anything I had ever seen. The strangeness at first prompted anxieties but before long I came to love that quarter of a mile stretch. Every single time we left the compound we heard their names, “Danielle (for Daniel) and “Danayit” (for Danielle) called out by young children, by students and shopkeepers; and the cutest kids running up to shake the Ds’ hand in the traditional Ethiopian way (right hand extended with left hand on their right elbow) followed by a fist bump in the American style. The enthusiasm and joy these kids showed when they saw and greeted them was so heartwarming. All the more so because these greetings were shouted in such an exotic setting by people at once so different from, and yet, so bonded to Daniel and Danielle. (Question: How will you adjust back in the States when you are no longer treated like rock stars?)
Drinking Coffee Ceremonially
We had 5 coffee ceremonies in 6 days. These rituals, the hallmark of Ethiopian hospitality, lasted any where from 2 to 3 hours. While we had coffee ceremony in a variety of settings (the Ds’ backyard, a restaurant, and in the homes of both poor and well-to-do families) there were certain constants: the woman (always a woman) roasting, grinding, brewing and pouring the coffee and doing so with meticulous care and flair as if a well-done coffee ceremony is a touchstone or litmus test of womanhood. And no sign of hurry or shortcutting the process; taking the Appalachian offer to “come sit a spell” to a whole new level. It certainly is a custom that places a premium on conversation; on slowing down with friends and chatting as you work your way through the preparation and consumption of the 3 rounds of coffee (small cups thankfully) and always concluding with long and formal good-byes. (Question: How will coffee ceremony change how you host others in your American home?)
I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church…
We were awakened several early mornings by the prayers from one of the Ethiopian Orthodox churches piped across town by loudspeaker. That and the visits to two of Ethiopia’s most holy sites: Axum and Lallibela gave us a little insight into this mysterious and ancient Christian Church, a most non-western expression of African Christianity. We met devout and devoted Ethiopian Orthodox followers and experienced the pervasiveness of the icons and observances of the faith in Tigray.
However, our opportunity to worship with the Ds’at the English Mass at the Catholic Church near their home at the Italian Don Bosco Mission was something we shall never forget. The devotion and the kindness of the Sisters who greeted us after the service and their expressions of gratitude for Daniel and Danielle were heartwarming for us. Hearing and joining in on the liturgy spoken in English but with so many accents: Ethiopian, Colombian, Italian, Indian, Northeastern Ohioan, and Hoosier, profoundly communicated the breadth and scope of the Body of Christ.
“In this rock I will build my church”
A highlight was our trip to Lalibela. After being shown many of Daniel and Danielle’s favorite places it was fun to experience with them something they had longed to see: the stunning and unbelievable 900 year-old rock hewn churches. In trying to describe these rock-cut structures one understands frustration felt by the 16th century Portuguese priest who struggled with how to describe the churches only to put in his journal that he should stop writing because no one will believe his description of Lalibela.
What once was solid rock is now a chapel with high ceilings and windows, rooms and hallways, archways and doorways. There is a line from the Stephen Sondheim musical, Sunday in the Park with George, where the artist George Seurat comments on the artistic process saying, “Look - I made a hat where there never was a hat.” King Lallibela, served by as many as 40,000 people hewing churches out of rock (and aided, legend has it, by angels), could have said, “Look, we made a space (a sanctuary) where there was no space, only solid stone.” Ten days later Debbie and I would stare up from the base of a rock to see the abbey of Le Mont Saint Michel on the western coast of Normandy admiring the most famous church built on a rock. Other than the prepositional difference, the similarities between the two churches are striking: “constructed” at nearly the same time, both inspired by angels, both unimaginable today as to how they were made, for a thousand years a place of pilgrimage and still to this day a place of worship.
“We make our friends; we make our enemies; but God makes our next-door neighbor.” – G. K. Chesterton, Heretics
Readers of their blog will know that Daniel and Danielle have a close and abiding relationship with their neighbors: Girimkil, his wife Misilal, and children Sammy, Luam, Teddy, and little Meron. I am sure they would say the Girimkil family was heaven sent. I have no doubt Girimkil would say and has said that D and D were a gift from God to his family.
On Father’s Day Daniel and Danielle prepared doro watt, traditionally a meal for a feast, and invited the Girimkils to join us. It was our most amazing Ethiopian meal. Girimkil declared the fast season they were observing would be temporarily broken in celebration of our visit. The most unique Father’s Day dinner ever was a wonderful time for the Luttrulls and Girimkils. The Girimkils have next to nothing in the way of material possessions but they are rich in the love they have for each other.
Miscellaneous Memories
Watching World Cup games at crowded Adwa cafés; the crazy Bajaj (3 wheeled motorized rickshaw taxis) rides; hearing hyenas at night; D and D baking delicious red velvet cake and cherry pie without an oven; eating shekla tibs (yum!), special ful, cactus fruit and lots and lots of injera; a frightening and thrilling taxi ride through congested Addis Ababa streets, dodging buses, vans, motorcycles and bulls.
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