Coming home?

When I set off on the first three week trip to Ethiopia I was very comforted by the fact that I would be traveling with Eric (our wonderful Glimmer Director of Development who has a heart bigger than himself). Considering the fact that I knew nobody in Ethiopia, it was reassuring to know that I would at least be traveling with a colleague and good friend and mentor. Unfortunately, a bad mixup with our flight from Houston to Dubai changed that. Somehow our flight to Dubai was overbooked and Eric and I were both dropped from it. That left us stranded in Houston (note: While it was incredibly annoying that Emirates overbooked and then dropped us, the Emirates representatives in Houston went above and beyond to get Eric and I both rescheduled and to Addis as quickly as possible). During the crazy scramble to get on the next possible flight, it was determined that Eric would leave on a Qatar flight later Wednesday night, which would get him into Addis on Friday afternoon as scheduled. I would leave Houston the next day, arrive in Dubai Friday night, and get to Addis on Saturday around noon.

The overnight layover in Dubai gave me a few hours to explore the city.

Now this wasn't that big of a deal, I've traveled across the globe by myself before. However, it did mean that I would be arriving in Addis by myself and would have to meet Muhammed, the Glimmer of Hope Finance Manager, at the airport and then ride with him down to Awassa to meet the rest of our travel group. Gulp. Arriving in a foreign country, looking for a stranger, traveling 5 hours with said stranger and not entirely sure we would be able to communicate easily. I was definitely hit with a sudden wave of nerves just before the plane landed. I was preparing myself for a little bit of awkwardness and an uncomfortable 5 hour ride to Awassa. I had been anticipating having my friend Eric as a crutch to lean on, at least during those first couple of days when everything was new. All of a sudden that crutch was gone.

My new home sweet home. This is in the streets of Addis on my first day.

Little did I know that landing in Addis wouldn't require a crutch....it would be like coming home. At least, that's the kind of greeting that I received. After landing, clearing customs and picking up my baggage I emerged into the International Arrivals hall. I wasn't sure who I was looking for and didn't understand what the hotel and taxi solicitors were asking me. I was definitely out of my comfort zone. Just when I was starting to get a little anxious I turned around and saw a friendly looking man striding across the room. As he got closer, he called out "Mary?" I nodded and thought "Oh, this must be Muhammed" Then, much to my surprise, he broke out in a huge grin and gave me the biggest hug ever. Seriously, you would have thought that I was the prodigal child returning home or something. "We are so glad to have you, Mary! I am so sorry that I am late but I had a little bit of trouble getting here." (he wasn't late at all! but was just concerned that I might've had to wait for a couple of minutes when I arrived) From that moment on I felt like I was among family. It was my first encounter with the kind of overwhelming hospitality that I soon realized characterizes the people and the culture of Ethiopia. I think I have a lot to learn from Ethiopians, but perhaps the biggest lesson is one in love and generosity and hospitality. It is a lesson in treating all those around you as if they were family. I kept seeing it time and time again, but it all began in those first couple of minutes...

A beautiful lake resort where Ethiopian families go for vacations.

Muhammed stopped here on the way to Awassa. I think he wanted to show me that there is much more to the country than the poverty that we were seeing along the road. I have so much to learn from my colleagues and friends in Ethiopia and happily, they are eager to teach me!

I had been so wrong thinking that it would be awkward riding 5 hours with a stranger to Awassa. First of all, Muhammed did not feel like a stranger at all. He treated me like a mix between his daughter, his colleague, and his friend. It was wonderful. He explained things to me for the entire drive. Pointing out people and sites along the road, telling me the history of the country, cracking funny jokes. The language divide that I had imagined didn't really exist (except for a few funny mispronunciations that had us both in stitches!) and we had a great drive down South.

From those very first hours I could tell that this was going to be a place where I would be comfortable, a place where I could be home. Maybe that's why we missed the flight. Maybe I was supposed to get separated from Eric, supposed to be yanked out of my comfort zone....perhaps it was all to show me right off the bat that "Hey, you really can do this. You're gonna be ok. You don't need a crutch at all. These people will help you and they will teach you and they will open their world to you as long as you approach these new situations with an open heart and an open spirit." That's definitely how I felt anyway. Like I needed to arrive in Ethiopia by myself to see that I would be ok living there by myself and to see that I would never really be alone. That feeling of being right where I was supposed to be never left for an instant of the trip. Even when things were hard and the days were long I knew that this is what I was/am supposed to be doing. God works in funny ways...I'm pretty sure he was showing me something that day. It's not a coincidence that I was welcomed to Ethiopia, a wonderful country full of kind and loving and gentle people, by one of the most kind, loving, and gentle men I have ever met. I don't know if Muhammed even realizes just how much he helped me on that first day, just how much he opened my eyes and helped me to open my spirit as I took my first steps on this new journey....

My first morning in Ethiopia. Truly Awesome!

Rejecting the Single Story One Chapter at a Time

So now that you've heard Chimamanda Adichie talk about the single story I want to talk about why it's relevant. Why does the single story matter?

When I left to go to Ethiopia I thought I knew where I was going. No, I had never been to the developing world. No, I had never been to Africa. No, I didn't actually know anybody from Ethiopia. But I was well educated. I had attended conferences at Notre Dame with keynote speakers from Africa. I had listened to lectures by Africans discussing the problems in the various countries of the continent. Heck, I had spent this past semester in two courses specifically about African politics in addition to the other courses on Africa that I had taken in the past. I had been reading books, and watching documentaries, and absorbing everything I could to prepare myself to move to Ethiopia. Of course I knew where I was going; of course I knew what I was getting into. I had spent three summers in the Glimmer offices. I had listened to my colleagues' stories as they came back from trips to Ethiopia. I had read news articles on our organization. I had seen the pictures and even made some of the videos for the Glimmer website. Yes, I was ready. Ethiopia may be a country I'd never been to on a continent that I had never visited, but I was armed with a wealth of knowledge that prepared me for where I was going....right?

Wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! Within hours of landing in Addis I learned that I actually knew nothing. I had a single story about Ethiopia. I thought that I had acquired a breadth of knowledge about the country to which I was moving and in fact, I had a picture of Ethiopia that was as shallow as a puddle. (And not those puddles on the Notre Dame sidewalks where ducks can be seen diving for food) In fact, I realized very quickly that I had a single story of Ethiopia that was not even country specific. I had made lots of generalizations about the African continent as a whole and when I didn't know something about Ethiopia, I just applied these generalizations. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! It didn't take more than a day for me, like Ms. Adichie on her trip to Guadalajara, to feel a deep sense of shame. My stereotypes about the people, the culture, the government, development, every aspect of Ethiopia just were not correct. My single story was just a tiny and incomplete piece of a much larger picture.

So I want to begin to dissect the ways in which I was wrong. Building on the whole metaphor of the story, I'm going to give the next few posts as "chapters"...they are chapters in a story that is still being written, and which I am continually reading. I'm sure that I've only brushed the surface of things that I have to learn and in discovering things that I had wrong, so hopefully I can share them with you as I figure them out...

The Danger of the Single Story...and a little HOPE too!

Where to start? Where to start?

I've been asking myself that a lot over the past week and a half and I've found that I just have so much to process that I don't even know where to begin. So I really haven't. It's probably time though...

I think I found a good starting point this afternoon. I was getting ready to go for a run and as is often the case (I'm about to reveal the depth of my nerdiness...brace yourself) I uploaded a couple of TEDtalk lectures to listen to while I worked out. Yes, I do workout to educational lectures...but that's completely beside the point so keep your teasing to a minimum. Anyway, I came across one that I heard in a class earlier this semester. The course was Democracy, Development, and Conflict in Africa and the lecture was about "The Danger of the Single Story". When I saw the lecture title today, I thought back to that class and to the first time that I saw this clip. I couldn't remember the details of Ms. Adichie's talk, but I did remember that I had really loved the clip. So I decided I'd download it to listen to today. If the lecture had made an impact last semester as part of a class about Africa it could only make an even bigger impact now that I've actually traveled there, right? Right. From the very beginning of her talk, I was once again captivated. And this time, much more than last, I could completely relate to what she was saying. And I think that it will be a great way to begin to relate some of what I thought and felt during my recent trip to Ethiopia.

I'm including the link below. My next couple of posts are going to reflect upon this video, so if you don't watch it - don't blame me for any references that you don't understand. I know that this is a 20 minute lecture, but I promise it is well worth your time. The talk delivers a great point, but more than that: it's very entertaining! When Chimamanda Adichie opens with "I am a storyteller", she really means it!

On another note, it occurred to me in a brilliant moment of revelation (cue eyeroll) that my blog headline is not in English and might not be widely known.

Dum Spiro Spero is Latin and it means "While I breath, I hope."

Fitting, huh? Not just because I'm working for A Glimmer of Hope Foundation, but because hope seems to be pervasive across all of Ethiopia. Even in the depths of suffering and pain, there really are glimmers of hope everywhere. It is overwhelming and inspiring to witness.

HOPEfully that cleared up any questions about the strange language at the top of the page. :)

Back to the Blogosphere

Yes, it's true. I'm back at it in the world of blogging. Two years ago I left Austin to study abroad in Dublin and had fantastic visions of regular blogging in my head. I was convinced that I would update all of my friends and family with detailed accounts of all of my adventures. In the week before I left, I spent hours creating a beautiful new website from scratch (alright, more time was spent watching the Olympics, but I did make an effort at a website while plopped in front of the TV for marathon sessions of Phelps-fever). Armed with this great new site and a genuine desire to share my stories, I arrived in Dublin after weeks of travel and was very conscientious about uploading photographs and recording the day-to-day happenings of my life....at least for a couple of weeks. By the end of September, my blog had fallen by the wayside and I can't say I missed it. I quickly decided that I didn't have time to be clever and write interesting stories and the only people who were probably reading the blog were my parents. Sorry mom and dad, but I just could not motivate myself to continue to write when you were the only ones reading it. So that was it. I think that site might still exist somewhere - If you ever run across it, I apologize for it's fairly pathetic content. In terms of a good, consistent blog....it was a total failure.

Why do you care about my past blogging experience? You probably don't. However, I thought that I would lay it all out there up front: I am a bad blogger.

Alright, I said it. Now that it's out there, let me please say that I would love to change this.

Ergo, attempt number 2 at blogging...

This time I'm going on a much bigger adventure: a 2 year move to Ethiopia.

I have a much bigger reason to blog: share the experience I have while helping to serve the people of Ethiopia.

I'm blogging for others as well: to help be a voice for those I encounter who don't have a means to share their story

And I also have (and this may be incredibly wishful thinking) an audience a little bigger than just my mom and dad...granted, I'm putting a lot of emphasis on the LITTLE part of that assertion

So here we go, check in every now and then and see what I'm up to...