The girl who brings me flowers

17 June 2013

Every morning I receive a visitor, a small head of braids with big brown eyes peeps through my front window “B!” she sends out her greeting and we run through all of her short English phrases within a minute:

“Good morning Loomii. How are you?”

“Good morning. I am fine.”

“Would you like a banana?”

“A yellow banana? Yes!”

I invite her inside my small home, a place that offers refuge for her, where she can be unseen and not called to work, but instead spend her time coloring, enjoying books, movies and dance the afternoon away. She steps out of her broken plastic sandals and embraces me. When I first met Loomii she didn’t know how to receive a hug. She would run to greet me, her arms spread wide and as we met and I wrapped myself around her she would stand there, arms limp against her stiff body, enjoying the affection but unsure of how to return it. Now she’s a master of hugs which are a fantastic compliment to her beautiful smile and I get plenty of both each day.

When I moved into my house I noticed Loomii immediately because she was always fetching water from the spout outside my door. Where did she live? Who did she live with? Eventually I learned that she lived on my compound in a small shack out back, but I saw no family that cared for her as made evident by her perpetually filthy clothes and independence. After inquiring to the people who share my compound I learned that Loomii moved to Adaba 3-4 years ago, when she was around 6 or 7 years old. Her parents and siblings reside in Kokoso, a small village about a 4 hour drive away. She moved to Adaba to help her old petulant uncle with house chores as he never married and has no immediately family. For Loomii’s parents, giving her away was financially a smart decision as they could not afford to send her to school and provide for her other essential needs. At 6 years old, Loomii moved out of her family’s home and into a world adult hood.

In Adaba she began going to Catholic school, which offers free tuition for many students. After school Loomii would come home to help wash, cook, run errands and clean for people on the compound. An Ethiopian version of Cinderella. She quickly learned her second language, Amharic, as her mother tongue Oromiifa, was not spoken by many people she interacted with. She adapted, matured and made the most of life without her family.

Loomii always intrigued me because she is sweet and respectful, unlike 95% of rural Ethiopian children. She never begged or expected much. She never cried or carried herself with anything other than a smile and patience, yet it seemed that she had every excuse to do otherwise. For these reasons and more it didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Loomii.

We started sharing meals together, as it was evident that she needed the nutrition and calories. She taught me some Amharic and Oromiifa and I helped her with English. We colored together and I read books to her. Before much time had passed Loomii was taking warm water baths in my home, I was washing her clothes and helping her study.  In return she would indulge me with short stemmed flowers she picked on her walk home from school. Through these small expressions of love Loomii and I have bonded immensely.

It may sound crazy, but I have considered adopting Loomii. She deserves so much more and I worry that she won’t meet her potential. I worry that no one in her life will advocate for her and that she may get pulled out of school early. I worry that she won’t get enough affection, nutrition and emotional support. I worry that she may never realize how amazing she is and how bright her future could be. However, compared to many children in Ethiopia, especially in Adaba, Loomii’s situation is good and I have spent much of my 2 years here trying to help her succeed. I am convinced that pulling her out of her country, culture,  and further away from her hodge-podge “family” would be more harmful to her spirit.

Loomii with her cousin Rama (left) and another kid who briefly lived on our compound.

My recipe for loving Loomii is affection, good food, attention and compliments. I believe that these things will help Loomii grow up healthy and happy. Her height is measured monthly against the dingy paint on my door and quarter inch marks reveal her rapid maturity. We stroll around town, hand in hand as children approach

wishing to join our parade and Loomii corrects them by saying in Amharic “Her name is not ‘ferengi’ or ‘china’ don’t be rude” and we smugly walk away. She stands up for me, and once after I witnessed her uncle physically attacked her, I had the opportunity to stick up for her too. We are each others’ alibis.

I transferred Loomii to the best primary school in Adaba. A private school with small class sizes, the only one where kids attend full day instead of half, and the teachers stay late to help with extracurricular activities. Loomii loves her new school and has made a lot of great friends. For an annual enrollment fee of 100 birr ($6) and a uniform for 250 birr ($15) Loomii’s education has had a dramatic upgrade. At 9 years old she has just finished kindergarten; her graduation program is at the end of the June. From grade 1-8 I will set up a fully funded scholarship so that she can stay in school and no one will have an excuse to remove her. I’m hoping after 8^th grade, at 17 years old, she will be confident enough to stand up for herself. To insist that her education is important, that she is important, and she wants to continue to high school.

Loomii and her best friend Mituu at school.

When I leave I don’t know how to keep in contact with Loomii. She’s too young and our communication is too poor for me to tell her that I will leave, forever, that I want to be in contact with her, but until she gets a phone or e-mail or understands the post system this will not be possible. I don’t want her to forget me or to think that I could ever forget her. I want to make her a photo album of our 2 years together and write a message for her in the back. Maybe when she’s older and can read English fluently she will know that that ferengi called “B” was more than just a food vendor. That crazy white girl adores you and hopes that your life is fulfilling, full of people who love and respect you, full of mystery that is welcoming and not daunting, and unlike the hundreds of other people who have asked me, that YOU, Loomii, do have a sponsor in America if you wish to immigrate or join University across the Atlantic. Maybe 12 years from now I will get a long distance phone call in America from a woman named Loomii When I say “hello” she will greet me brightly, “B!”. 

The motherland of coffee

5 June 2013

Traditional Ethiopian clay coffee pot.

After oil, coffee is the second most exchanged commodity in the world. It’s the fuel that keeps many societies working; the reason why so many of can even begin to consider rolling out of bed each morning. If you’re a coffee drinker, you might be interested to learn that Ethiopia is the motherland of coffee.

Cafe arabica originates from Western Ethiopia in the Kafa zone. The local legend says that many years ago a peasant was herding his livestock and began to notice them expressing strange, erratic behavior. Upon closer observation he noticed that they had been eating leaves from an unfamiliar tree. He picked the tree leaves and cooked them for himself, experiencing a more energetic feeling after consumption of the brew. Ethiopian today use the leaves, fruit hulls and fruit seeds as a stimulant which is prepared by first drying, roasting, crushing and boiled with water. The seeds are most commonly used in other countries, but many parts of the plant contain caffeine and a taste great.

Green coffee beans and their dried exterior hulls.
Both of which make a delicious beverage.

Recently a UNESCO Biosphere Reserve was established in the Kafa zone of Ethiopia to protect around 200,000 ha of natural forest where the wild coffee grows (kafa-biosphere.com). This area is intended to be left under conservation so that the coffee may grow naturally without any human interference thus the genetic integrity and evolution of coffee is maintained. If cultivation and domestication of coffee ever goes awry with disease or pest problems (as seen with other popular crops including bananas) the Kafa Biosphere will be the saving grace. If left to grow and evolve naturally, plants such as coffee will have enough genetic diversity in their wild stock to have resilience against many pests and diseases. This biosphere in Ethiopia is a gift to the world, because without it if there ever was a disastrous coffee epidemic we could find ourselves caffeine fiends without our beloved morning buzz.

The majority of US adults are coffee drinkers. (Duh!) Many people never make their own coffee but purchase it instead. Many people are satisfied with instant coffee, some buy it pre-ground, and others do that “work” themselves each morning. But how many of you have roasted coffee yourself? In Ethiopia, coffee preparation starts from green beans every time. Here’s a step by step of the coffee roasting process.

1) Wash the beans at least 3 times and pick out all the ugly ones.

2) Roast them over medium heat until they crack, swell, become oily, smoke and smell delicious

3) Boil water in “jebinah” (local coffee pot), add ground coffee and boil again. After steam is visible let the jebinah sit at an angle until all the coffee grinds have settled. Pour coffee slowly into “seenies” (teenie-tiny cups).

My friend Tarikwa preparing a coffee ceremony at her home. 

If Ethiopians were into poly deism, coffee would be up there with Jesus Christ himself because Ethiopians worship coffee. Typically a “bunna mafla” (full coffee ceremony) takes 1 hour from start to finish and happens about 2-3 times a day in any given Ethiopian household. I wake up and go to sleep each day hearing the pounding of the beans being ground and smelling the coffee boil from my neighbor’s home. Watching an Ethiopian celebrate coffee each time they gently wash it, patiently roast it and slowly drink it (2 ounces at a time) makes me a little sad for my American culture. We consume more coffee than most countries in the world but do we really appreciate it? We have the opportunity to give more economic power and benefit to the farmers and countries that produce this substance we are so overwhelmingly addicted to, but we don’t. We buy it in bulk, we drink it like water but many do not know what a coffee tree looks like, where it originates from or how to make coffee from the start of a green bean to the delectable finish. But now YOU do!

I encourage you reassess and better appreciate your early morning friend, and give a big Halleluiah to Ethiopia, the motherland of coffee (Is it a coincidence that Ethiopia is also considered “the cradle of humanity?”)

P.S. Buy some Ethiopian coffee and let me know what you think!

Rainy season commences

3 June 2013

The big rainy season, known as “Krimpt,” is my favorite time of year in Ethiopia! Here are a few reasons why:

• ·         Kids caught in the rain pull up their shirt collars over their head to protect themselves from getting wet. All I see is a bunch of mini Bevis and Buttheads running around. Fan-tastic!
  ·         It’s the only time I don’t feel bad for women wearing burkas.
  ·         When the rain falls Adaba doesn’t smell like S@#%.
  ·         I don’t have to worry about my school gardens or tree nurseries that always need watering.
  ·         The streets vacate as everyone escapes the rain. The rare and beloved silence is relaxing.
  ·         There is no guilt when I spend all afternoon writing letters and reading.
  ·         I love Ramadan and the rain means it’s almost here!