Blind Promises

Finding My Mother - Ethan "Esubalew" Johnston

2010-06-21T17:07:00.000-07:00

This is a post from Esubalew himself. Thanks for tuning in, and I hope you enjoy this post.

FINDING MY MOTHER…

Where do I begin? I can begin with the thank yous to everyone that has helped me along my path in life thus far, but I will instead, leave those to the end.

The biggest question that initially seems to pop up from everyone who hears my story is “how did you find your family?” Because that is such a huge piece of this puzzle and story, I will start there.

In 1997, when I left Ethiopia to come to the US to live with my adoptive family in Missouri, also traveling with me were several other children who had been living with me in the foster home, also arriving to the US to their families. 2 of those children were my friends, Wubit, who was close to my age, and Netsanet, who was much younger. Over the years, I had some phone contact with them and in the spring of 2008, I made a visit to their home in Oregon. It was a good time and so I returned in the summer to visit again. During my time there, I had many conversations with their mom, Karla, who asked me about “my story” due to the fact that she had only heard it from others. Afterwards, she asked me many questions relating to my birth mom, the location that I had lived, etc., as well as about my desire to reunite with them in the future.

Of course, I had always had a fantasy that in the future I would see my family again. However, due to the expense of traveling and not having any clear direction as to where to go, it was still a fantasy to me and one that seemed not to be possible to live until far into the future. Unknown to me, Karla had taken the bits and pieces of my story and used her connections in Ethiopia to set out on the task of locating my mother. It was her friend, Zewditu, that was put to work to see what she could discover. Zewditu initially made contact with the police department in Mota. Mota was Karla’s “key” as to where to start the digging, as I shared with Karla that once I was taken from my family in my village of Inesa, I recalled from my childish memory that Mota was the name of the first town that I arrived in with my captors to spend our first night. Once Zewditu made contact with police officials in Mota, they suggested that she contact the authorities in Mertola Mariam, the town further north and closest to the village of Inesa. The police inspector in Mertola Mariam, had the details of the “missing boy” and the knowledge of where the village of Inesa was. With the assistance of “Inspector Moges”, Zewditu traveled to meet my mother. “Networking” in Ethiopia is amazingly, although “old-fashioned”, more superior to that here and my mother quickly heard the good news that I was alive. Being confused with the communication about why she was needing to leave her village to travel to meet Zewditu and the police inspector, my mother somehow thought that I was coming as well, but even that disappointment did not overshadow her joy of knowing for certain that I was alive.

Karla sent Zewditu on a 2nd trip a couple of months later, primarily for the task of taking the photos that she would share with me. This time, Zewditu traveled with Inspector Moges all the way to my village of Inesa, having to walk several miles once the road could no longer be traveled… once again spending time in celebration with my mother.

While all of this was going on behind my back, without my knowledge, I was busily attending to my studies at the University of Colorado in Boulder. The following October, Karla shared that she was planning to travel with a friend to Denver and during her stay, she wanted to spend some time with me because she had a special gift to bring to me. Needless to say, my curiosity was unending and annoying but she remained tight lipped until her arrival. Once the time came that she was ready to present me with my gift, she seemed so incredibly nervous and her nervousness made me nervous as well. She told me that her gift was in the envelope that she handed me. When I opened it, she shared that they were pictures of my mother. Of course, I was assuming that she was speaking of my Missouri mother and therefore seemed perplexed as to why. As she went on, she said that they were photos of my birth mother. I can’t really say that I was speechless, but instead, full of questions and disbelief. “What do you mean?” “How can this be?” “Where did you get these?” “How did you do this?” “Is this really her?” … and so on. She quickly shared with me what she had been doing behind my back and that the photos are real and it really is my mother. I felt like I was floating in another world. With hesitation, she then shared with me that my sister had died. I know how sad she was for me because every story that I had ever shared about my life in my village of Inesa was about the close friendship that I had with my younger sister. I was so very sad to know that she was no longer living, having died from TB of the bone. According to the story from Zewditu, my mother said that she had lost a total of 7 children to death. As well, after my arrival, she gave birth to the only child she now has living, which would be my half-brother, Tomtim. His photo was included as well.

The next several days I continued to live in a state of shock and disbelief, as if I was in a dream.

Of course, knowing that my mother was still living was an enormous relief. I had always wondered, due to the fact that living in a world of such poverty is so difficult, that she could easily no longer be alive. So, my fantasy of seeing her in the future suddenly became closer.

Karla shared that she and her friend and non-profit business partner, Jacque would be traveling to Ethiopia the following summer and she insisted that I make it a plan to travel with them so that she could escort me to reunite with my mother. Of course, this seemed impossible due to the expense of doing so, but she assured me that it would happen. And so it did. Through some creative fundraising, speaking engagements and frugal saving of my own, I was an official travel partner on their journey to Ethiopia.

THE PLANNING…

Nervousness and excitement filled my days between October and our departure date in June. During the winter, I was approached by Zach, who was the son of my great friend Sharon. He asked me if I would be willing to have him travel along with us to Ethiopia to film my journey, with the eventual plan of creating a documentary that would tell my life story and reunion with my mother. Knowing that it is a story that so many were interested in, I humbly agreed. He traveled from LA to see meet me and he began filming right away through personal interviews and my day to day activities.

Through conversations with Zach, it was decided that if any funds were to be profited from his film, they would be put towards assisting the blind in Ethiopia. I had recently joined on as a volunteer with the non-profit organization Door of Hope Ethiopian Ministries (in Denver), which assists the blind through a boarding school in Debre Markos. As well, I worked to secure as many donations as I could that would assist their school, with a plan to donate them on my visit.

TAKING OFF…

I traveled to Portland, OR to meet up with my travel buddies, Karla and Jacque, along with Karla’s 2 daughters, Hana and Netsanet. Our bags were stuffed to the max, as both Karla and Jacque brought oodles and oodles of donations for their program in Gondar. I said goodbye to my dad who escorted me and we began our trip. Once we arrived in DC we met up with Zach who was just as excited as the 5 of us.

THE TRAVEL…

I was definitely feeling tense at this point. The reality hadn’t yet kicked in. I was thinking about the Lakers who were playing and at the same time I tried to focus on what I had in front of me, but it just did not seem quite real. The plane ride was uncomfortable and long with a small break in Rome. From there, the journey continued and I remained tense.

ARRIVAL…

Once we arrived in Addis Ababa (Ethiopia’s capital city), the reality of what life in Ethiopia is like came quickly. There was no power at the airport. The process for getting our visa entailed hours in a line while everything was done by hand. All in all, a reminder of the pace of life and the lack of conveniences that Ethiopia has. While in the visa line, I was reprimanded by an Ethiopian man who struggled with the fact that I could no longer speak my native language of Amharic… a topic that seems to constantly arise when I meet new Ethiopians… none of them understanding the difficulties of retaining a language when you leave your country and no longer have any contact with anyone who speaks it.

Zach, unfortunately had his camera confiscated at customs upon arrival, yet the rest of our belongings all seemed to arrive intact with us. I was happily greeted at the arrival gate by the unending kisses of Mantegbosh. Mantegbosh was the woman who was in charge of the foster home that I had lived in prior to leaving to the US. I remembered her like it was yesterday… coming to the home each day to bring us cake… and kisses. As well, Hana’s many family members were there to greet her after 4 years.

I AM HOME…

My travel companions shared with me all of the many sights from beyond their windows as we traveled the busy streets to eventually arrive at a house nearly a 1 hr drive away, a “suburb” of Addis, a newly constructed, small modest home owned by an uncle to Hana. But, beyond their verbal sharing, I could “see” Ethiopia. I could smell the many smells of food and garbage. I could hear the many sounds of honking horns, traffic, traffic and more traffic, people’s chatter in every direction… all bringing back to me what I remembered from when I was there so long ago. As well, I was often with frustration at my fellow passengers as their narration would cease and I would only hear their oohs and aahs, leaving me with wonder as to what I was missing.

Although everything around me reminded me of when I was there before, I tried so very hard to hold my emotions inside. Having heard the sounds of the people on the streets made the memories of me begging on the streets seem less far away… more vivid in my head, yet I continued to try to not let them feel real. At the house, Zach began filming while everyone interrogated Zewditu about her visit to see my mother. And, through her sharing, I eventually fell apart. Knowing that she had spent time with my mother and heard her voice and touched her hand simply made it all seem real. My memories of her flooded my mind and I could recall who she was like it was only yesterday. My emotions were tears of loss, tears of missing her, tears of anger, tears for my sister, tears of everything that we missed, tears of her pain, her suffering, her unknowns. I wasn’t one to cry and I always thought that my eyes no longer had tears, yet I was filled with emotions that had been stored for far too long… and they needed to escape. And, the reality that my mother was alive and I would soon see her overwhelmed me completely.

COMING BACK…

Day 2 in Addis focused on both retrieving Zach’s camera (a rigorous success!) and making a visit to the blind school in Addis. After my rescue from my captors in Addis, I was enrolled in the blind school where I was taught Braille. This blind school is a boarding school for a few hundred blind students. My arrival there was one of great surprise, as many people, all of which were blind, after just hearing my name, recalled my time there and greeted me with great excitement. We toured the facility and Zach did a lot of filming with those that remembered me. All in all, another opportunity for me to recall some of my life in Ethiopia. Although I didn’t learn the circumstances of how it all came about, the staff there shared with me that the men who had taken me from Inesa were eventually prosecuted for their crime, serving a jail sentence of 4 years.

PIT STOPS…

We traveled by plane to Gondar… Karla, Jacque, Zach, Mantegbosh and myself. Karla and Jacque’s non-profit office was our first pit stop while we finalized arrangements with a driver (Derege) and translator (Biniyam) who would accompany us to my village. I still question whether the upset stomach and vomiting I had throughout the day was something that I ate… or the nerves taking over my body. After Karla and Jacque spent a quick day with their staff we departed Gondar in the morning. Our day took us as far as Bahir Dar, where we had dinner with the Gondar mayor and spent a lavish night in a newly constructed “top of the world” resort, overlooking Lake Tana, compliments of the mayor’s friend. There was nothing more spectacular than walking out my door to the sunrise of Lake Tana on the horizon, wondering what lay on the horizon for the rest of my journey. Mantegbosh departed our group back to Addis that morning and we set on the road towards Inesa.

GRAVEL, HILLS, FARM LAND…

The sound of chatter and traffic soon disappeared once we left town and it was only the sound of hitting one pot hole after another that was heard. The road was gravel and with little to no other vehicles and my fellow travelers shared the view with me as we traveled into the rural countryside of Ethiopia. The rains had not yet come for the season, therefore it was dry. But nonetheless, the beauty shared created a vision of peace in my head… farmers walking behind their oxen and single row plow, women along the roadside carrying the day’s water, the child shepherds tending their goats and waving with excitement to the few cars that passed by.

As time and the road traveled on, my heart seemed to beat faster. It was as if I was in a dream and I was being chased by a Lion. I felt the anticipation of hearing the voice that I may recognize.

Eventually the road became a bit more treacherous and we were traveling on a one-way, constantly curving road, steeply uphill. From the sounds of things, the view was spectacular. Between sleeping and chatting, the hours passed by quickly. We arrived in the city of Mota with the sound of busy-ness all around us. After about 5 hours on the road, we were thankful for the quick pit stop for water and a potty break. Although we would have liked that it was a more leisurely rest stop, it was imperative to arrive in Inesa before sunset so that the light would be sufficient for filming. 2 more hours on the road, all peaceful countryside brought us to the small town of Mertule Mariam. Zewditu, who had traveled there by bus, and Inspector Moges were there to greet us and accompany us the remaining distance to Inesa. We quickly wandered the small town’s marketplace to purchase some additional gifts to bring to my family… coffee, sugar, fruit, blankets… and were then off again.

The road turned from gravel to dirt and thankfully dry dirt due to the delay in the rains. What was a dirt road then turned into just dirt as we traveled across farm field after farm field, all recently harvested.

The reality of getting closer came suddenly as our car stopped along our path for a woman carrying water who seemed interested in knowing who we were. She quickly discovered that it was me, shared with us that she was my relative from Inesa, and with screams and cries, she showered me with hugs and kisses, said she would see me tomorrow in the village and continued down the road. My first touch of “my people”. It felt good. It felt real.

Not much further, our car could no longer travel the road untraveled and we walked. Within a short time, we were surrounded by the village children who were all with smiles to escort us the remaining distance. It wasn’t until then that it became apparent, to my surprise, that the news of my “day of coming” had arrived to the village before me and they were all there to witness my homecoming with celebration. Up on the hillside, I could hear the cries of celebration… the chanting, the cries of joy, the horn blaring. All sounds of excitement, coming closer to eventually surround me on the path. I was greeted with hugs and kisses, first cousins, then others. I felt lost as if I was tumbling… like a football that was in a fumble and eventually recovered by the one who hits on it with the most force. It was my mother. Although she was small, she was strong. My cousin’s voice shouting “it’s your mother, it’s your mother!” confirmed my suspicion. She was crying and so was I. But, I know that she shared my emotions as being tears of joy. I could hear the many sobs, which I eventually know belong to my aunt whose excitement and surprise was uncontained. The horn continues to blare as the group surrounding me walks me along the path, a parade like no other, up the short hill, along the curving dirt path to “my home”.

I AM HOME…

The frustration of not speaking Amharic was huge. I had so much to say to those who loved me, to share with everyone what they meant to me and my longing for them. As part of the Ethiopian culture, I was showered with kisses. Endless kisses. One greeter after another, most of which were either a relative or a village friend to my mother, all beyond amazed to see that I was alive. My mother became the celebrity as everyone celebrated “her joy”. It truly became evident how much happiness everyone had for what had just happened for her… the miracle of all miracles... her lost son had came back.

WE CELEBRATE…

The celebration of dance and music (in Inesa… known as singing) began. The outside dirt yard of my aunt’s house sported a new canvas tent to shelter us from the unknown weather and it became our “home” for eating, drinking, dancing, new friendships, reunions, conversation and interrogations about my life with the numerous friends and family members that all wanted to celebrate my mother’s joy. The guests continued to come and come and I received the many kisses. Although I was on display for all to witness, the true “star” of the celebration was my mother. The excitement that everyone had for her was beyond apparent. The party spirit continued late into the night but eventually we found sleep. We brought along 2 small tents, one to sleep Zach and I and another that slept Karla, Jacque and Zewditu. Biniyam and Dereje were hosted to outdoor beds by my relatives. Thank goodness for the purchase of the blankets!

It became apparent that many of the villagers also spent the night when I crawled out of my tent during the night to go to the bathroom and the hard, dirt ground surrounding our tents appeared to be the beds to many bodies, all with their heads covered in cloths, like dead bodies… all stiff in the cold of the night. Once again, the delay in rain was convenient. The next few days seemed to revolve around one meal after another. One relative after another hosted my friends and I in their home to feast. I was asked to fund the purchase of a goat so that we could continue to feast for the remaining days. My cousin arrived with a fat goat later that day to slaughter for the crowd.

Some of the highlights of just being there with my family included playing soccer with the many village kids, visiting with my favorite cousin, Ingram – who was near my age and one of the only ones to speak any English and just enjoying the moment with “my people”.

With the translator and my friend, Karla there, Zach filmed an important conversation between myself and my mother. I felt it important to ask my mother if there was anything that I could help her with and asked her to “think big”, she replied that, more than anything she would love to have a house in the area closer to school for her son, Tomtim. In Inesa, the children are forced to live away from home and travel back on the weekends in order to attend the higher grades yet she wanted to be with him. With this knowledge, I shared with my mother that I would provide her with enough money to secure herself a house where she wanted to live. Needless to say, she was elated. I had given her a HUGE gift.

Although visiting Inesa was a time of celebration, it was difficult to hold in my feelings of the loss of my sister. I felt an enormous emptiness, as if something was missing… and it was her. Nobody else can truly feel the sadness that enveloped me when I was forced to imagine the suffering that she lived while she died. Nobody else can feel that the way that I did when I was the one with the vivid memories of our childhood in play, having fun in the village as well as my regret for being the big brother that often used my strength against her. My memories of her will never die as she did. They will always be the largest piece of what my childhood was.

Although it was nice to meet my mother’s son, he did, in no way, feel like a sibling to me. For now, we are still strangers and at this time, I am doubtful that I will ever have the attachment to him that I shared with my sister. I am happy for my mother… that she has Tomtim there in Inesa to care for, someone to live her life for and someone there who can care for her as she ages. My mother is blessed to have him as well as her other extended family in Inesa, all of which care for one another in need.

Karla and Jacque and Zewditu left after 3 days and the rest of us stayed on for a few more. The time was great. The celebrating continued. The relationships that I created were fabulous. When it was my time to leave, my mother and cousin Ingram traveled as far as Mota with us so that we could make the arrangements to deposit the money into an account for my mother. Long story short, due to the fact that she had to secure identification first, that process happened much later. There, I purchased my mother fabric for a dress and shoes. For my cousin, shoes and water jugs. Saying goodbye was beyond difficult. I felt forced to hold back my tears so that I did not upset them. I had to focus on saying a happy goodbye and save my tears for when I got into the car and they could no longer see me.

The remainder of my trip was fairly uneventful in comparison. Knowing what I know now, I could have made a plan to stay on longer, but part of that was due to the various travel plans of others and not knowing beforehand what to expect from my time in Inesa. Needless to say, I am looking forward to my next visit where I will stay much longer.

Prior to our next destination of Debre Markos, Zach got sick and we threw in a quick hospital visit into the itinerary. Eventually we arrived at the blind school in Debre Markos, toured the facilty and passed on to them the donations we brought along. We then traveled from there to Gondar to meet up with Karla and Jacque. From there, Jacque departed to home and Karla and I made a quick trip by plane to see the famed city of Lalibela then back to Addis for the remainder of our stay. I stayed in Addis at Mantegbosh’s foster home. Karla took off to visit some of her daughters relatives and I spent my days with the foster home staff who would become my great friends… Hana, Emebet, Alem, Alula. We spent endless hours listening to music and trying my best to learn from their Amharic teaching.

Addis is just a crowded, noisy, congested, spread out city. Nothing like the beauty of the countryside.

At the end, I was ready to leave but as soon as it became reality, of course, I missed being there. Being home was difficult because my focus was on my family in Ethiopia. My hours awake were completely centered and obsessed with what was going on back at home in Inesa. What was my mother doing? How was she? Did she have enough? Was she working too hard? I became depressed. The reality of what her life is like on a daily basis, with the need to work so hard just to get water, eat and survive made me think about myself and my life and how easy that I have it. I felt guilt. I felt sad. I missed her. I wanted to be with her to help her… to make her life easier. I shed many tears.

Leaving Ethiopia to arrive in the US, for the second time, I thought a lot about the huge difference this time was in comparison to the first time. The first time, I left behind a mystery as to what happened to my family. I left behind a culture, a language. I left behind my struggles there, only to have new ones while I adapted to a new life and family in the US. This time, although I left my family, I am blessed with the knowledge of their well-being. And more than anything, I have the ability to communicate with them. Through the assistance of Inspector Moges, I can call and check in with my mother and family. As my life continues, my thanks to him does as well, as he has graciously taken on the task of being my link to my mother’ from his assistance with phone calls, his trusting guidance to her with her funds, and the overall concern for her well-being on my behalf. Through his friendship, he has become a 2nd father to me and we will be forever connected. Through his help, I can live my days easier in knowing how everyone is. I can now feel like we are still a family.

My thanks for so many others who helped to make this all happen are huge. If it weren’t for Karla, I know that I would still be wondering and waiting for the answers to what happened to my family. I have thanks to Zewditu for doing the research, then the trips to Insesa as a favor to Karla. I thank Inspector Moges for his assistance, his friendship and his protection of us all on the journey (the man carries a big gun!) I thank Zach for getting on film the many moments that I never want to forget. As life continues, so does my unending thanks. I thank everyone who helped to fund this unforgettable journey.

And, long before my journey, while I struggled with my transition of life in America, my thanks to those who played a part in my fabulous life are nearly endless. My many friends, teachers, family members and such will never fully understand the value they were to me throughout my journey. From Boulder to Denver, Misourri to Oregon, and Addis to Inesa, so many people have played a part in my life story, from the beginning to now.

From here forward, life is good.

"ESUBALEW" ETHAN JOHNSTON

Esubalew Journeys Home Teaser Trailer

2009-11-18T07:16:00.001-08:00

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Complete Ethiopia Travel Log

2009-11-08T18:20:00.000-08:00

Speaking for myself, the experiences that follow rank among the most memorable and meaningful in my life.

June 15, 2009 (June 8, 2001 Ethiopia time)

I meet Esubalew and his entourage in concourse A of Dulles International Airport while standing in the Ethiopian Airlines line at 8:00 in the morning. His eyes, Karla looked exhausted, probably from a late night packing and making last minute preparations for the trip. Her friend and co-president of World of Good, Jacque (pronounced JACK-ee) looked in good spirits, as much as one can be at least after a five hour flight from Portland, OR. Also in tow were Karla's children, Hana and Netsanet, both of whom she adopted from Ethiopia, and who were going along to visit relatives and to work for the summer there. All five struggled as they lugged their carry-on luggage up the small ramp leading to the remote wing where Ethiopian Air is stationed. Ethiopian has strict baggage limits, and most of our bags were over the limit. We were grateful that the attendants checking people in were in a good mood, as they turned their faces away from the scales that read anywhere from 18-22 lbs, the limit being 15 lbs.

The flight left a little late, par for the course for Ethiopians, or so I'm told. Otherwise, the flight went without a hitch, stopping in Rome for a crew change and fuel up. In both Rome and Addis Ababa, our final destination, I've never experienced smoother landings than on Ethiopian Air.

June 16, 2009 (June 9, 2001 Ethiopian time)

We landed around 8:30 am, and didn't make it through the visa line until after 11 or 12. You can read about my visa and customs experience in the blog post prior to this one. After much frustration, we did made it out of the airport, where Karla and Jacque's friend Montegbosh was there to greet us. She threw her arms around each of us with an ear-to-ear smile, and gave each of us a flower. I was told that Montegbosh was a bundle of energy, and this was immediately apparent in the manner in which she welcomed us. This sprightly woman with just a few words and a smile took the edge off the frustration I felt coming out of airport. What she lacks in stature (she comes up to the height of my shoulder), she makes up for in energetic optimism.

Jacque later told me more about her. Montegbosh has long worked in behalf of children in Ethiopia. In order to be able to tend to their medical needs, she became a registered nurse. Due to the great number of orphaned children in Ethiopia, she wanted to be able to house them in the two foster homes she established, and so she become a registered social worker. As foreign adoption rose in popularity, she obtained a degree in adoption law so she could perform all of the legal functions pertaining to adoptions in Ethiopia. This highly educated woman not only tirelessly manages her two foster homes in Addis Ababa, but also administrates the Ethiopian office of World of Good based in Gonder, Ethiopia, flying there every other month to make sure things go smoothly there. As we traveled about with her, no matter where we went, it seemed she knew someone. Through the years of working to better the state of Ethiopia's children, she has built a strong network in all levels of government, social work, and in the medical field. Her warm and magnetic personality further draws people to her.

Montegbosh's connection to Esubalew dates back more than 12 years. After Esubalew was rescued by the Ethiopian National Federation of the Blind in Addis, Ababa, he was transferred to one foster home, where he got sick with tuberculosis. After he recovered, from the hospital he was taken to Montegbosh's foster home, which was considerably better than his prior home. It was partly through her efforts that Esubalew was adopted by the Johnston family in America. When we come out of the airport to Montegbosh's arms, Esubalew immediately chuckled as he recognized her voice and spunk.

From the airport, we got in two cars with our 18 bags (twelve 50-lbs bags, and six 20-lbs carry-on bags, that's 720 lbs of luggage!), and drove quite a while to Hana's uncle Bitili's house (Zewdito's brother), where we would stay for the next two nights while in Addis Ababa. It felt good to relax. Hana's aunt, Zewdito, wasted no time in preparing injera and tibs (spicy meat) for us, after which, she performed the time honored coffee ceremony for us. This is a real treat to experience in the country that brought us coffee. I'm not a coffee fan in the least, but this freshly slow roasted brew with lots of raw cane sugar is tres magnific.

Zewdito's role in this reunification story is pivotal. Karla got the ball rolling; Zewdito was that ball. Karla asked her to see what she could do to find Yitashu, Esubalew's mom. She then contacted the police station near Esubalew's village, where she learned that at some point, his mother filed a missing person's report. Enter Inspector Mogese Gebeye. He made a trek out to Inesa from where he lives in Mertule Maryam, to locate Yitashu. She was excited to learn that her son was still alive. She believed him to be dead for the 16 years they were separated. Zewdito then made the trek from Addis Ababa to Inesa, where she took pictures of Yitashu and Esubalew's half brother, Tomtum, as well as some of Esubalew's extended family. Esubalew's pilgrimage home would not have been possible without either Zewdito or Inspector Mogese's help.

After dinner, Esubalew asked Zewdito many questions about her previous trip out Inesa to visit his mother. Many things were revealed about this encounter that Esubalew didn't know before.

June 17, 2009 (June 10, 2001 Ethiopian time)

This day was spent with the Ministry of Magic trying to get my camera back, as outlined in a prior blog post, which took more than half of the day.

We enjoyed a wonderful lunch and coffee ceremony at one of Montegbosh's beautiful foster homes. We finished at Bitili's house with injera, tips, and of course, freshly roasted coffee.

We were blessed to have an actual porcelain toilet at Bitili's house. His toilet is not connected to running water, and so it is flushed using a bucket of water that is kept by the toilet at all times. When you've finished with your business, you pour the water in the bucket down the toilet, and fill the bucket up for the next wayfarer.
One thing I learned too late, however, is that you don't despoit toilet paper into the toilet, but rather, put it in a basket set off to the side. The bucket of water does not push the excrement through forcefully enough to be able to send it with toilet paper. With the paper, it clogs easily, and thus we were stuck with a nasty problem late at night when the electricity was off. I asked Besha, Bitili's brother who was hosting us at the house if he had a plunger so I could unplug it. "What's a plunger?" After Hana explained what a plunger is in Amharic to Besha, he told us they didn't have one, nor had he ever heard of such a thing before. This problem was obviously going to take some creativity to solve.

We attempted to flush it through several times with water to no avail. We had to find some way to push the excrement through, but with what? The night was black as a panther, so we relied upon our flashlights to search around the compound to find something, anything to shove that crap down the drain. I had a headlamp that I could strap to my head, freeing both hands to deal with the problem. We found a stick, and eventually a hose. I tried to clear it out myself, and even Jacque tried, but Besha, being the excellent host that he is, wouldn't allow us to fix it. Eventually relenting, I offered him my headlamp so he could more easily work. Besha toiled with the toilet for probably and hour until at last he came out victorious from the battlefield. He handled it admirably, and without complaint. We clapped and cheered for him for taking care of our foreign crap so dutifully.

I "accidentally" left my headlamp at Bitili's house. Perhaps they will be able to use it again in the future. Besha had taken of the 3 days/2nights from work to be able to host us. Knowing he wasn't getting paid for this service as host, we gave him the amount of money he would have made at his brother's factory during the days he was absent. Cheers to you Besha! Thank you Besha for being such a great host.

June 18, 2009 (June 11, 2001 Ethiopian time)

I got my camera back after a frustrating wild goose chase with the Ministry of Magic.

The second part of today was spent locating and visiting the Ethiopian National Association of the Blind in Addis Ababa. We entered the compound and the guard informed me that I had to turn off my camera. I wasn't too concerned as they would allow it as soon as they learned who we were. To my surprise, the first person we talked to was none other than the very person who rescued Esubalew from the streets! Many of the people we talked to remembered him after so many years. We talked to the school about what they needed as an organization. The students there were thrilled to have Esubalew there, and instantly befriended him. He wasn't quite used to how touchy feely they were however. After a brief visit, we had to leave to be able to make it to Hana's family's home.

Much of our time I'm Addis was spent driving. It's not easy to get around this town. There is lots of construction going on everywhere, both buildings and roads, which hampered driving progress, and there are many roads which are under great disrepair. They don't have the great freeway infrastructure that we're used to in the US, and so we were mostly constrained to city streets, which are not only congested with cars, but with people, cattle, goats, sheep, and horse-drawn carts. Furthermore, most intersections use round-a-bouts, presumably because electricity is so sporadic, that lights cannot be depended upon. There were many major intersections with neither a round-a-bout or traffic lights. It was both chaotic and scary as our driver navigated these.

We went to lunch at a hilltop restaurant that overlooks Addis Ababa. Or rather, we had snacks there, since they stopped serving lunch before we arrived. The snacks were not very good. Ethiopians are apparently not very good at making American food, but that's really all they served during snack time between lunch and dinner. The view was nice though, and the company nicer.

We stopped at Hana's family's house to visit, and have coffee. She would be staying with them, and we would be heading north in the morning. Her help as an interpreter was absolutely invaluable during the prior two days. Without her help, getting my camera back and just communicating in general would have been immensely more difficult.

We headed back to Montegbosh's foster home to spend one last night in Addis. It was a treat to shower with warm water.

June 19, 2009 (June 12, 2001 Ethiopian time)

We, Karla, Jacque, Esubalew, Montegbosh and myself, got up early to get on a plane headed northward to Gonder. In order to hopefully, keep-my-fingers-crossed, not get held up by the ministry of Magic by getting my camera questioned again, I broke the camera down as much as possible by taking the lens and audio attachment off. Make it look as small as possible. Surprisingly, it worked! The only hang up from the Ministry of Magic was they charged Karla $80 for extra baggage. They didn't post on their website that baggage limitations were different on domestic flights. A minor annoyance.

From the airport in Gonder, Montegbosh had arranged a driver, named Doruje, to pick us up and cart all of our belongings all over the countryside. I know each of us packed as lightly as we could, but I felt as if we were like Princess Vespa from Spaceballs because of the large number of bags we had. By the end of our trip, their weight would be significantly reduced since most of it was humanitarian aid supplies and gifts for Esubalew's family, WOG, and the Debre Markos Blind Center.

Our first stop was at Wogen, which is where Karla and Jacque's office is for their organization, World of Good. In addition to providing sponsorship to underprivileged children to be able to attend school, World of Good also has a co-op located at Wogen for single low-income mothers to be able to earn a livable income. Each woman working at the co-op is personally invested in the success of their business, where they make injera for local restaurants. All around the compound, were women unabashedly suckling babies, and small children playing amongst chickens and piles of wood. The room where the injera stoves are located was quite warm where the women work 24 hours/day in order to fill the daily total of approximately 2000 injera, completely mixed, poured, and cooked by hand on wood burning stoves.

Also in the compound were school aged boys making street median stanchions as a way of receiving training for construction work. The stanchions are part of a city gentrification/beautification initiative. The boys are not paid to make them, but consider it a valuable after-school activity to better their future work prospects. These boys were very friendly, and eager to show the fruits of their hard work. They also asked me to give them a soccer ball, and I promised I would bring them one when I returned, a promise I would later regret.

After dropping off most of our luggage to be distributed later amongst World of Good students, we headed to the mountain top restaurant that overlooks Gonder city for lunch. from this vantage point, we could see the whole city, including Wogen, the reservoir, and Fasil Castle. Montegbosh treated us to some traditional Ethiopian food (Of course! What else would we eat?), with injera made by none other than the Wogen co-op ladies! I can say first hand that it was top quality.

After lunch, we didn't want to waste any time in heading out to Esuablew's village. We packed up the car with our belongings, plus some things that Esubalew brought to give to his family and the blind school in Debre Markos. It was all piled high on top of our 80's era Land Cruiser, with a full passenger load.

Seven people comprised our Inesa-bound entourage: Doruje our fearless driver, Karla, Jacque, Esubalew, Montegbosh, myself, and our MVP interpreter, Binyam Eyob. Montegbosh would follow us until Bahir Dar, and then separate from us to head back to Addis.

We set out towards Bahir Dar from Gonder. I found it hard to keep my eyes closed, the scenery is so breathtaking: from lush valleys, rolling hills, small mountain passes, to such striking scenery as a natural monolith that puts the Washington Monument to shame.

And everywhere you go, no matter how rural the place is, people are walking, walking alongside the road. Walking with their sheep, goats, and with mules piled high with anything from water jugs to hay, or perhaps the mule is pulling a cart. On average, rural people in Ethiopia make just over $1 a day, or about 10-15 birr. Cars and gasoline are prohibitively expensive, so they walk. As a foreigner, figuring in the exchange rate, we paid about what we would pay for gas in the US, about 550 birr to fill 'er up, (about $45-50). Even for most city dwellers, this is large sum. And so they walk.

We arrived in Bahir Dar after dark. The electricity was out, so all was dark. Not even street lamps are lit when the electricity fails. Ethiopia gets it's electric power through hydroelectric plants dotting it's rivers. in the dry season, there just isn't enough electricity to go around. This particular year, rainfall has been far below average, and people eagerly await the monsoon season to begin, which is normally from June to mid-August. As for us, we were glad it wasn't too rainy; lots of water plus dirt aren't a land cruiser's best friend. I hear however after we left Ethiopia, the monsoon season came. Perfect timing!

In Bahir Dar, we met up and had dinner with the mayor of Gonder, Habtamu. He happened to be here for some regional meetings. He treated us to a delicious fish gouache with injera at a candlelit restaurant across from Lake Tana, Ethiopia's largest lake. Who needs electricity anyways? Bahir Dar is in the world's top 10 beautiful cities, and I would tend to agree. For ages it has been a popular destination because of it's proximity to the lake, and for it's ancient Christian monasteries. They even have some on the islands in the lake. Would that I had more time to explore this historical city.

One of Habtamu's friends who dined with us owned a resort hotel across the street. He very graciously offered to let us stay there for the night. And what a place it turned out to be! Beautifully set on the lake, in the luxury of a king (minus electricity). Our room was apparently a honeymoon suite, with drapes around the bed (to keep out mosquitoes), huge shower (I could imagine staying in there a while if there was hot water),stone walls and floors in monastic style, and there were even custom floor to ceiling paintings inlaid into the wall such that it integrated with the stonework.The landscape was also elegantly planted with vines growing up the walls, and flowers .The resort was doing some construction of a lakeside walkway in preparation for the upcoming tourist season (September-October) when everything is lush and green from the preceding monsoon. We were tickled at the honor of staying at this palatial resort.

Habtamu invited us out to traditional dancing at a local bar after we dropped our stuff off at the resort. Esubalew and Karla decided to rest. Jacque and I jumped at the opportunity to check out the native culture. Accompanied by drums and a traditional Ethiopia instrument called the masinqo, a one-stringed lyre that is played with a bow, a singer chants improvised lyrics using very florid scales, trills, and vocal shakes. Sometimes spectators will shout phrases, and the singer vocalizes them in return. They alternate slower ballads with dancing numbers. Their dancing is like nothing I've experienced. They bounce up and down while shaking their shoulders. Jacque and I flailed our shoulders and arms in an effort to mimic the incredibly florid way Ethiopians are able to shake their shoulders up and down. They had a good laugh at us "forenge" (foreigners) making fools of ourselves, but we had a blast. One guy even spit on a 5 birr note and stuck it to my forehead! I chuckled and felt flattered that they were so entertained. I gave the tip to the singer in return.

June 20, 2009 (June 13, 2001 Ethiopian time)

We got up, packed our stuff, and headed out. Montegbosh had already left early this morning, so we were one person less. From Bahir Dar, we traveled at least eight hours on dirt roads through increasingly rural cities and towns. When we needed to stop for lunch and gas, people would crowd around the car and stare at us, wondering what we were up to I suppose. It seems that many people loiter around with seemingly nothing to do much of the time. I guess life moves at a much slower pace than I'm used to in LA.

Eventually, we made it to Mertule Maryam, where Inspector Mogese Gebeye and Zewdito were waiting for us. We collected them, and went to the market to get some gifts to bring for Esubalew's family: sugar, unroasted coffee beans, Ethiopian oranges (yellow, their flavor reminded me of sour patch kids with their tart and sweet taste), and a couple blankets. Once again, we were not without our loving fans and paparazzi.

All eight of us piled into the car and left Mertule Maryam for Inesa. On our way, we saw many bridges being built, and roads being worked on. This project is being funded largely by the Chinese, and many Chinese people can be found in the area. Kids would yell and call us "China!" when they'd see us, and so "China" became Esubalew's nickname for me during the trip. it made me laugh every time someone would say it.

After a half hour driving over bumpy dirt roads, we ran into an obstacle: a steep hill that the car was not able to climb. Our fearless driver, Doruje, tried many times, but our Land Cruiser just wasn't equipped to handle the steep incline and rocks. We had to find another way. We ended up walking up a hill, and the car would go around and meet us at the top. Fortunately for us, Ethiopians are very friendly and helpful. A man bearing an AK-47 got in the car with Doruje to show him where to go. I continued to find this somewhat intimidating, but it's mostly a symbol for them: bullets are too expensive to shoot. A paparazzi entourage led us up the hill where we would meet Doruje. We got in the car with our personal gunman guide, making it nine people in the car meant to seat seven comfortably. Fortunately, we weren't far.

As we ambled down the road, we were stopped by a lady. She was obviously a relative of Esubalew's. She must have known that he would be coming at some point, because when she saw our car full of foreigners, she threw her arms in the air, ran over to the side of the car where Esubalew was sitting, and gave him a great big hug. We couldn't understand what she was saying, but her tone suggested joy. If this was a foreshadow of things to come, we were in for a real treat.

The road we were on was unimproved, but generally free of rocks. It ran through field after field of crops eagerly awaiting rain.Sometimes, we had to go through the fields as there were people walking or working in the road. Knowing that Esubalew would be uniting with his family soon and wanting to get as much footage of this unrepeatable momentous occasion as possibly, I gave Jacque my extra camera.

We wandered a little bit, but eventually we came to a clearing and got out. As we got out, of course there were lots of people curious about a careful of forenge, but among them was Esubalew's childhood best friend and cousin Yigram Tena, and Esubalew's half brother, Tomtum Fanta (he has a different last name because in Ethiopia, a child takes his father's first name as their second name, and Tomtum's father is Fanta).

Yigram led Esubalew up a path towards his house,and as we went, more and more people joined the entourage. I was amazed at the number of people. I would guess between 200-300 people! They whooped and hollered, blew horns, chanted and danced as we walked. Each new person greeted Esubalew with kisses on his cheeks, alternating back and forth, and asked him questions in Amharic, to which he simply replied back, "I only speak a little bit of Amharic." But the smile on his face spoke volumes about how happy he was to be home finally.

Eventually Esubalew's mom emerged in the throng of people. Yigram speaks a little English, and he announced to Esubalew, "This is your mother, Yitashu Brahan!" The two of them embraced each other and Yitashu threw her arms up in the air, all smiles, saying "asay, asay, asay!" (I'm happy, happy, happy!). She ran ahead joyfully up the path for reasons known to her.

We continued up the path to Yitashu's brother, Tena Brahan's house. They sat us down outside under a sheet that was set up to block the sun, where more people came to greet Esubalew. Jacque had been following Yitashu. She had gone back to her nephews house where she had been staying to get a goat ready to slaughter and to prepare a feast for Esubalew. Of course I got footage of that. It's not like anything I'd ever seen before.

Not before too long we were corralled into Tena's house where we were be fed.Houses in this rural village are nothing like what developed nations are used to. Their homes are made out of adobe dried on a wooden frame, with rippled aluminum sheets for roofs. Inside, they mold places to sit around the edges of the walls on top of dirt floors. They set some goat hides out for us to sit on to keep our clothes from getting dirty. There is no electricity, nor running water. Despite lacking the conveniences that we are used to as western city slickers, they made us feel right at home.

We snapped some pictures, and reveled in their company before they brought us some goat meat and injera. As usual, they performed the coffee ceremony, and we each had several rounds of the fresh brew, sweetened by cane sugar. Esubalew chatted with his family a bit, and we laughed and joked with our new friends before we had to get our tents set up that would be our home for the next few days. Children watched in wonder as two huts made of cloth were erected in minutes inside of Esubalew's cousin, Tensay Tena's compound. Tensay had been taking care of Yitashu off and on for a while, and she had been living at his house when we got there. She has a place of her own in another village, but since she anticipated her son's return, she was staying there.

After we got set up for bed, we went back to Tena's house, where a party was going on. Between 30-50 people gathered under the canopy that was set up, and were dancing to the rhythm of a drum, while various people sang. The star of the show on this night however was Yitashu. She stood in the center with her hands up in the air and called out unmistakeably gleeful chants as we bounced up and down, shaking our shoulders in quadruple rhythm. It still amazes me how fluid they moved. Some of my new friends, Demeke, Wandahlah, and Chalkool got me to dance. They kept saying "kahmoon," which I thought was the name of the dance, but later learned they were saying "come on," meaning "come on and get yo' dance on!" they really did speak English surprisingly well. I brought it, and even had a one-on-one dance off. I shook my shoulders fiercely, and Getachew, the person competing against me, conceded to me. The friendly gesture boosted my ego not a little bit, but I realize any one of them could whoop me really. Of course Jacque, Karla, and Esubalew danced too, though Esubalew was a little timid to really break it down in the fashion of his youth, a manifestation of his culture having been stripped of him.

We danced to Yitahsu's singing until late that night, enjoying the celebration with our new found friends of Inesa, Ethiopia. What a monumental day!

June 21, 2009 (June 14, 2001 Ethiopian time)

Still not over my jet lag, I woke up quite early. I decided to go on a hike out to the point not too far away. it was a beautifully clear morning, the air was fresh, and the point looked as though it promised a breathtaking view. There weren't too many people up as I left, but there were a few. I walked through the farm fields only recently planted, not yet budding, eagerly awaiting rainfall.

On the way to the point was their church. This village, as with most of Ethiopia is Ethiopian Orthodox christian, though a significant population of Ethiopia is either Muslim or Jewish. I asked if there were any major religious disputes between the religions, and was told that people respect each other for the most part and that there were no recent upheavals due to religious disputes. Recent wars were caused by political reasons.

About this time, a young gentleman named Dlnessa said hi to me, asked me where I was headed, and he started following me, speaking to me in English. I remember him telling me about how, about five years prior, some foreigners came to their village to hang glide from Ambo Point, my intended destination. How exciting! It must be pretty windy there I thought to myself.

It took us about 20 minutes to arrive. The land is quite rocky; even the farm fields are infested with many rocks, but the hike wasn't too difficult. Ambo Point juts out between two deep canyons, with a dry river on the eastern side, and a village on the western side. I was told this is the village where Yitashu lives. The view really was breathtaking. I regretted not bringing my camera to take pictures of the sunrise. I promised myself I would come back again before I left to shoot pictures and video. Dlnessa led me back to the village, and he asked me to give him some birr for showing me the way to Ambo. I chuckled to myself about his frankness in asking me, and obliged him 10 birr upon arriving back to my tent. I thanked him for his help, and he seemed pleased with the tip.

Everybody was up by this time. We went a little ways away to where Morugheta's family lives to have breakfast and coffee with them. After breakfast with the Morugheta's, we headed back over to where our tents were, which were near Yigram's house. It turns out that his cow had a baby over night, but that it was born sick. I tried to approach the poor little guy, but daddy steer was not gonna have it. Who knew that father oxen were so protective of their young? Obviously not a city slicker such as myself. I had to go to the bathroom, and the only way to get there was to pass by the steer across the yard. Yigram had to threaten him with a lashing to allow me to pass.

This would be my first experience defecating out in the village. The facilities consisted of a deep hole in the ground with a concrete slab to ground your feet on while you took care of business. For privacy, there was a neat little grass hut constructed. The door to the hut was only about three or four feet high, which meant that you had to crouch down in obeisance to enter. What about toilet paper? This was a bring-your-own-type gig. What did the villagers use to clean themselves? No idea. I do know that they use their left hands to clean themselves, however, as their right hands are reserved for eating.

After taking care of business, our entourage of kids that followed us nearly everywhere asked if we wanted to see their church. Lacking a better idea, we consented. It was a short five minute walk there.On the way there, Yigram wanted to race me.He was a formidable opponent, and I nearly lost to him.There were several village men gathered in the shade under the trees just outside the church compound. We chatted with them for a minute, and they offered us some tela to drink. We obliged their invitation, as well As the now obligatory group photo. Everyone in the village welcomed the opportunity to have their photo taken. There was a beautiful tree just outside of the church grounds where many children were gathered under while we chatted with the village men. I snapped a photo of it. I thought they were going to take us inside the church, but apparently I misunderstood. We were just going to walk around the church grounds. I guess because of its sacred nature, they only enter on the sabbath and other religious meetings. I contained my disappointment as we walked around the outside of the walls, and I snapped a few pictures as we walked around. There was a peculiar tree that had cactus branches but also had deciduous leaves. I had never seen anything like it.

We returned back to Tensay's house where Jacque was painting the children's nails. They gathered around he practically smothering her. Even the boys got in on the fun. All were tickled with delight by the simple act.

As we were getting our thoughts together about our day, Yigram mentioned that they needed financial assistance with the food. We certainly did not want to be a burden on our gracious hosts, who would willingly give all they have for us. We obliged them with $65 for beer, $60 for the small calf they slaughtered the day before, and then another $80 to purchase a large goat that would feed us for the next few days we planned to stay. He took the money we gave him and set out to buy the goat.

Before we came to Ethiopia, several people donated money to Esubalew to help pay for the trip as well as to give to people in need while he was there. He gave some to blind beggars he met, but the bulk of it he wanted to give to his family. His most pressing concern was his mother's welfare. He wanted to give her the money, but was concerned that she might use the money for something else other than what he wanted to give it to her for. It turns out that he had enough money with him that amounted to what a house would cost in Ethiopia. With the help of our trusty interpreter Binyam, Karla and Esubalew met with his mother under the shade of a tree just outside the village. We had to tell our paparazzi to stay away while we discussed the house. With the promise that Yitashu would use the money either to purchase a 99 year lease on a house or some land to farm, Esubalew presented her with the money to do so. For about what it would cost us to buy a clunky used car, he was able to give a princely gift to the woman who gave him life and carried him through his early years with little help from her husband or anyone else.

After making the announcement to Yitashu, we took a picture of the kids that were standing not far away but out if earshot to appease their curiosity, and we went back to Morugheta's house where they were slaughtering the goat they picked up. Watching the gruesome sight of them slaughtering the animal almost made me want to go vegetarian, but that's a different topic. The cleaned the animal by hanging it from a hook on the side of the house. The lack of sanitary means of handling food made me glad we came prepared for parasites.

After dinner, we danced and sang some more with our new friends for a while in the daylight under the shade of the tarpaulin set up in Tena's front yard, and Esubalew visited with his family. We passed away the time with them as the night creeped up to overtake the day. While chatting, some of the kids introduced me to a beautiful young girl, and they asked me if I wanted to marry her. I simply wasn't prepared, however, to leave Ethiopia with a new bride.

June 22, 2009 (June 15, 2001 Ethiopian Time)

This morning as Karla and Jacque prepared to leave Esubalew and I behind, Esubalew handed out more gifts that he brought for his family. For his mother, he brought some kitchen supplies and personal items: knives, hairpins, mirror, chocolate, soap, gum, potato peeler, antiseptic spray, first aid kit, clothes pins, scissors, dish scrubber, sewing buttons, whisk, strainer, and spiced apple cider and a battery-free flashlight, which everyone watched in amazement at how you could have a flashlight simply by turning the crank for a little while, all without batteries.

For his brother, Tomtum, he brought some everyday things as well as some fun things: bungee straps, rope, deodorant, soccer ball, soap, gloves, nice pen, a battery-free flashlight, which could come in handy in a place with no electricity, a backpack in which everything was kept, and the crowning jewel of his gifts: a soccer ball and a ball pump! Tomtum was really ticked by these last gifts it was something the whole village could enjoy. For kicks, Esubalew brought some PopRocks candy. If you've never tried this candy, it pops when it gets wet, creating little explosions in your mouth as it melts. Of course we didn't tell them what it did before we gave it to them. When it began exploding in their mouths, their eyes widened in shock. Some of them spit it out. It was absolutely hilarious watching the kids, and even adults in the village try this fun candy.

Karla and Jacque wanted to be on their way as soon as possible, and so they packed up the Land Cruiser with all of their belongings. We had to carry some of their stuff out to the spot where we would be meeting Doruje with the car. I guess the road was too difficult such that he didn't want passengers for the first part of the journey. Some of our paparazzi went along with us, of course, and Jacque came prepared to leave them with a bang! She had more candy for them. There wasn't enough for everyone to have their own packet, so we wondered how to distribute the candy fairly. Then Yigram said "open the packets and throw them into the air." I was worked about them eating the candy after they picked it up from the dirt, but he said not to worry. With a shrug, we opened up the packets and threw the contents into the air as the children sprang to catch and find some sweet morsel to shove into their mouths, laughing all the while. We hugged Karla and Jacque goodbye and they were on their way back to Gonder to attend to their business with World of Good. Now it was just Esubalew, Binyam, and myself.

By now, the village children and several adults were itching to try out their new soccer ball. After we pumped it up, we headed over to the field, the kids hopping and skipping all the way. That rocky field surrounded by freshly planted fields of life sustaining crops of various kinds entertained us for hours under the mid-day sun. And of course Esubalew was beaming the whole time, glad that he could bring his people a replacement for the makeshift objects they used to play soccer (deflated and punctured balls, paper balls, or whatever they have lying around that they could fashion into something reminiscent of a ball). Hopefully it lasts them a good long while and brings them years of diversion. Unfortunately, Tomtum wasn't there to play with us as he had to attend to his filial duties and run an errand for his mother. Esubalew played with the dexterity of David Beckham if he only had 15% vision in one eye. His encouragement and infectious sportsmanship ensured all who participated and spectated have fun.

Having spent our energy sweating in the hot sun, it was time to relax, have some coffee and chatter with the family. Every time we stopped to relax, we also ate more meat and injera. They certainly weren't going to let us starve!

Before the sun set, I wanted to go back to Ambo and get some shots from the point of the village as well as the canyon below the village. Esubalew, always up for a challenge, wanted to come too. So, he, Yigram, Binyam, and myself set out for the short hike, of course followed by our regular entourage. Yigram was Esubalew's faithful guide leading him through the rocky obstacle course. As we got closer to the point, the terrain became more difficult with steep drop offs on either side for a time. I had greater confidence in Esubalew's abilities, but Yigram didn't want him to continue, fearing he would get hurt, so the two of them went back to the village, while Binyam and I set out with our peeps. On our way, a few of the boys stopped to eat koolqual, a red (when it's ripe) fruit that grows on cacti everywhere you go. Esubalew told me about this on the flight over and how he would eat this delicious fruit as a child. I never actually tried it because they weren't ripe yet and didn't want to be disappointed by unripe fruit. They seemed to be enjoying them however, and I couldn't resist taking pictures of the boys, who kept climbing through the large cacti searching for a sweet treat. They moved so swiftly that I found them difficult subjects to photograph!

The view from the point was spectacular while we watched the sunset. I got shots the shots of the village and canyon that I wanted, and then we had to head back. Nights sets quickly here, and we were shrouded in darkness within the half our it took to make it back to the village.

The day ended with more visiting and eating.

June 23, 2009 (June 16, 2001 Ethiopian Time)

Today was another relaxed day of hanging out with the Inesa clan. Early in the morning while the air was still cool, some kids were climbing in a tree just outside Tensay's house. Not to be left out, Esubalew had to climb it as well. We laughed together as he maneuvered up the tree almost as deftly as a monkey. Yigram and I spotted him in case he fell, but he didn't fall and climbed up to the first branch, about head height.

After the customary breakfast of spiced injera, I interviewed Yitashu, Yigram, Tensay, and other family members about special memories of Esubalew as a child. I didn't have Binyam translate these simultaneously so that they could speak freely. I will have them translated for him as a special memento for him to remember times past and his trip here now.

After the interview, I was curious about the whip that Yigram was holding curled up in his hand. I wanted to hear the incredible crack that explodes from the tip of the leather whip as it swings around, breaking the sound barrier. Yigram is not a man of great stature, yet is quite strong and quick with it. He sauntered out into the field adjacent Tensay's house safely out of reach of us spectators, swung his right arm over his head, and with a mighty swing, the pop of his wrist, and ear-shattering CRACK! resounded through the air, the reverb tail taking a few seconds to sink below inaudibility. I was amazed at the tremendous loudness of the sound that he was able to make. Esubalew tried to replicate the sound, flailing his arms wildly in the air, nearly ripping his ear off with the whip, failing to make any noise sound off the tip of the whip. I tried as well with not so much as a soft click sound. There was a lot of noise coming from the peanut galley, however, laughing at our pathetic attempts to wield the whip. It would probably take both Esubalew and I a month of Sundays swinging the whip from sun up to sundown to be able to replicate the thunderous crack that Yigram produced so easily.

We were all enjoying ourselves. They asked me if I knew any games, and so I showed them a couple of wrestling games I learned from my camping trips as a youth. I asked if they had a pole or a stick that we could use. Tensay found one in his house. Sitting on the bare ground, two people put their feet together while facing each other and each grabs the pole. On the count of three, each person tries to pull the other person off the ground and over their head. I did pretty well at this one. I think the only person who beat me was Tensay.

We also did leg wrestling. Two people lie on their backs in opposite directions, both sticking the same leg (either right or left) up in the air and crossing it with the other person's leg so that the hamstrings are in contact with the others. On the count of three, each person tries to straighten their leg, squeezing their buttock muscles to try to fold and flip the other person over. Because I do a fair amount of bicycling, I did fairly well at this one too. Arm wrestling I'm not so good at. It was fun horsing around.

Over the next couple of days, we would distribute money to the various family members. Karla, Jacque, Esubalew, and myself budgeted to give them about what we would have expected to pay if we had had to stay at a decent hotel and pay for daily meals, about 480 birr/day, or about $43. This is paltry sum for us, but in a country where the average person makes just over $1/day, it is a considerable sum. In addition, prior to coming, one of my colleagues gave me $50 to give to someone in need in Ethiopia, and so I added that to the pool to divvy up between Esubalew's family. The pool came to 3000 birr. We deliberated for some time before Karla and Jacque left for Gonder about how divvy the funds between the family members, and with Binyam's help, we determined the best way. We decided to give Tensay more because of he aid he had been giving to Yitashu, letting her stay at his house, feeding her, and taking care of her needs. 1000 birr went to him. We gave 500 birr each to Tena Brahan and Lemlem Asafah, Nat Brahan and Morugheta Ashaguree, and Yigram Tena (Esubalew's cousin) because each had played a role in the festivities. The last 500 birr was split between Balko Morugheta (Esubalew's cousin) since he had had us over to eat a few times, and another lady who had supplied beer and the tarpaulin set up in Morugheta's front yard to shade everyone during the festivities I don't think any of them were expecting this gift, and all accepted it with deep gratitude.

Later in the afternoon, everyone played another long game of soccer. This game was less structured, and more of a free-for-all, but was plenty fun. Tomtum was able to play this time around. Towards the end, someone with a bicycle was riding on the field, and Esubalew tried to ride it as well. Everyone was thoroughly amused as he teeter tottered around on the bike, but once again, he proved quite deft on it, even in the rocky field. His USA brothers had taught him to ride when he was younger.

June 24, 2009 (June 17, 2001 Ethiopian Time)

Our last day in Inesa, but certainly not the least. Esubalew played a little bit of soccer with Tomtum in Tensay's yard in front of our tents. It was a beautiful morning as I recall. A slight chill in the air, but as the sun rose, it cast beautiful shadows, making the rural village quite picturesque. I took many pictures, including one of Tensay holding his prized AK-47, and some shots of Esu and Tomtum with his new soccer ball.

My friend Wandalah had requested a going away present the night before, and I decided to give him my favorite outdoors hat, my Quicksilver Wide brim hat, well worn from years of use. It was given to me by another friend many years back, but it seemed appropriate that it should go to someone here. I hope he enjoys it. I gave my shoes that I had brought with me to Tensay. I had planned to leave them in Ethiopia before returning home, and they fit Tensay's feet the best out of Esubalew's family. Esubalew gave his shoes to his brother Tomtum as a parting gift. Karla left her tent here when she left, instructing us to leave it with Yitashu and Tomtum. She also left them an inflatable camping mattress.

This being our last day in Inesa, we made the rounds to each house of Esubalew's relatives, first Tensay, then Tena, Balko, and Morugheta, having food and coffee at each house. We stayed the longest at Balko's. It was here that Esubalew told his family his complete story about what happened to him after those evil men took him from his mother. It is my understanding of Ethiopian culture that as a rule, neither men nor women show emotion by crying. Yet, as he told his troubling tale, there were many a wet eye in the mud house. With this in mind, it's not surprising that several times they asked Esubalew to stop telling his story, saying "it's too difficult to listen to, and "you're making your mother cry." Esu insisted on telling them the whole story, reassuring them "the worst part was over, and it gets better from here." I was touched as I watched his family grow closer together in understanding and love while listening to the hardships and successes of their blood relative. While very emotional, it made for a fitting climax to Esubalew's journey home to his mother's loving arms.

We snapped some more photos before we had to pack our bags and get ready to leave. We said our goodbyes and headed out. We had to walk over an hour to meet Doruje with the car, the road being too difficult for him to try to make the trip back. Many of the villagers walked out with us, helping to carry our bags. One of them even offered to carry my 50 lbs backpackers pack, but I politely refused. I was grateful however let someone carry my 25 lbs smaller bag though. The hike was rife rocks and canals and had plenty of ups and downs.

We made it to the car where Doruje was waiting patiently for us. At last we made it to, and we drove the rest of the way to Inspector Mogese's house. He insisted we come, have dinner and stay with him a night. We were happy to oblige his invitation. Without his efforts, none of this would have been possible. Piled in the car was Esubalew, Yitashu, Yigram, Jani (Esubalew's cousin), Getachew (cousin), Binyam, and myself. Getachew needed a ride back to Merto Lemariam where he goes to school. The rest came along to attend to the business of setting up bank accounts for Yitashu, as well as to be able to receive money that Esubalew or myself would send in the future.

At this stage of our journey, all of my camera batteries were nearly dead. I was very happy that I decided to invest in one more extended life battery before coming here as I used almost all of my battery power in Inesa. I asked Inspector Mogese if he had a place for me to plug in my my camera to charge it as it appeared as though they had electricity for the evening. For some reason, I couldn't charge it at Mogese's house, but they took me to a neighbor's house just a few houses down where I plugged in my camera charger. Phew! Crises averted! It's amazing how we take electricity for granted in the United States. While in Ethiopia, I had to take every opportunity to charge my batteries because I never knew when I'd have another opportunity to fill them up with juice.

The following day we planned to go north to Motta to open bank accounts for Esubalew's family, and in order to do that, they needed identification photos. I talked about this previously in another blog.

Inspector Mogese's wife made us the most delicious doro wot (chicken stewed in berbere (red pepper sauce) with hard boiled eggs) that I've ever had. OK, so I only had it a few times while in Ethiopia, but this was by far the best. The inspector was a very gracious host and insisted that we sleep in one of his two beds, the bed where his three children normally sleep. I felt bad displacing them, especially when I woke up in the morning to see the kids and everyone else in our party sleeping on the floor in the front room. I would have happily slept on my camping mat in my sleeping bag, but he wouldn't have it. At any rate, I was thankful for the restful sleep I obtained. They treated Esubalew and myself as honored guests, offering nothing but their best to us.

June 25th, 2009 (June 18th Ethiopian Time)

We arose bright and early. We needed to get an early start because we would be going north up to Motta before traveling south to Debre Markos. Getachew would be staying in Merto Lemariam to attend school, but Yigram, and Yitashu needed to set up a bank account so they would be able to receive money transfers from the US more easily, and Esubalew wanted to get some gifts for each of them.

We left around 8 in the morning, drove for several hours back up the bumpy dirt road to Motta. We got there around lunch time, so we got some tibs and injera.

Having filled our bellies, the shopping spree began. First stop: to get some fabric so Yitashu could make herself a new dress. She picked out a beautiful green striped pattern. Next, Yitashu, Yigram and Jani needed shoes. Yitashu found some to her liking right away, a pair of blue flats, but it some time for the other two. We went to three different shoe shops until they found something that they could use. They found some rugged looking work boots that had Adidas stenciled on one side, Nike on the back, and Rebok on the other. Gotta cover all your bases when it comes to fashion. Don't wanna be caught wearing the wrong brand would you? Then we searched two stores before we found some hair cream that Yitashu liked. Esubalew asked them if they needed anything else. Yigram and Jani looked around the market and pointed at some yellow jugs that they could use to store water, brew tela, or use for any number of purposes. They sifted through the various yellow jugs which were apparently used, bearing marks and scratches on them, but they were perfect for their needs. I'm not sure they could have gotten new ones even if they had wanted. We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Who knows whether those jugs carried water or some harmful chemical in them before we got them. All you could do was sniff the inside of them to find he best ones. They found two that were suitable and we were off again. We didn't take them all the way back to Merto Lemariam as that would have made out long drive ahead of us so long that it would have put us in Debre Markos too late. Doruje dropped them off at the bus depot in Mota, Esubalew said his reluctant farewell, gave them money to get home, and we pulled away down the road towards Debre Markos. I wish we could have stayed in Inesa longer. I was sad to leave my new friends. I hope I will get to see them all again one day.

We drove and drove southbound for several hours on dirt roads. At one point, we were nearly out of fuel, but when we found a place to buy fuel, there was no electricity. We had to pay black market prices, which were approximately $15/gallon, or about three times what it would normally cost. I was not happy with Doruje for letting the gas get like this, but we only bought a few gallons to last us until we got somewhere we could buy gas at normal prices.

We finally hit pavement around 5:30 in the evening (about 11:30 a.m. Ethiopian time). Lacking dividing lines marking separate lanes, needless to say it was a relief to be back on a smooth surface. Debre Markos was just a couple hours away.

Binyam and Doruje found a hotel for Esubalew and myself. It had a generator so I could charge the rest of my nearly dead camera batteries, since I was only able to charge one partially at Inspector Mogese's house. We unloaded our stuff into our room, took a well needed (cold) shower, and I did some laundry by hand with some of the laundry soap I brought.

We finished getting cleaned up, but Binyam didn't tell us where they would be, so Esubalew and I wandered the streets around the hotel looking for a place to eat. It was pretty apparent that we weren't going to get very far, not speaking Amharic in this unfamiliar place. Eventually giving up, we headed back to the hotel. Fortunately, Binyam and Doruje found us while driving back to the hotel. We went to a nearby restaurant and had some yummy Ethiopian food. It was raining when we arrived at the restaurant. Combine rain with the dirt sidewalks, and a janitor had a full time job keeping the tile floors of the restaurant clean. Despite that, the floors were immaculate. We had hardly sat down at our table and our mud tracks were gone. The food was delicious, but I have to admit that I was beginning to grow tired of the same food all the time. There is little variation in the Ethiopian diet that I observed.

Our bellies full and tired from a long day of travel, we called it quits for the day.

June 26th, 2009 (June 19th Ethiopian Time)

Our mission today: contact Dagne Zerue (Belaye Drese of Door of Hope Ministries' brother who lives in Ethiopia), find the Debre Markos school for the blind, take pictures of the place and people who live there, deliver the gifts to the people that Esubalew brought for them. It seemed easy enough, but in actuality, it turned into quite an affair.

Belaye gave us a number to contact Dagne, but it didn't work. Binyam really stepped up to the plate at this time. He started asking people if they knew where the blind school was located and if they knew Dagne Zerue. Miraculously, the first person we met not only knew the school as well as Dagne, but he worked there. This man hopped into the middle seat in the front of the car and guided us to the boarding house. Dagne was not there, and since he was our contact, our guide directed Doruje to Dagne's house. He wasn't home, but we found another person who knew where he was at the moment. Once again, Doruje proved his skill as a driver navigating the off-road ruggedness of the city streets, avoiding potholes with élan.

It was about his time that I started feeling morbidly sick. Montezuma's Revenge struck me, and hard! I took one of the Levaquin that my doctor in he US gave me in case of parasitical infection. Instead of making me feel better, I felt worse. Within 10 minutes of taking he pill, I had a skull shattering headache, my temperature noticeably rose, and I vomited. I told Binyam that we would need to find a doctor immediately. Thinking quick on his toes, he found me a great hospital where I was well taken care of by an English speaking doctor. My only complaint about the hospital was that when I had to suddenly defecate, they didn't have any toilet paper to clean myself with. The doctor prescribed me Cipro, the de facto drug for parasitical infection, told me to go and fill the prescription at a nearby pharmacy, and to come back after that to find out the results of lab tests run on my blood and stool. Having filled my prescription, I came back and thy told me my blood was fine and that there were just parasites in my stool. Thank goodness it wasn't malaria or yellow fever, or some other pesky disease. I think the severe reaction that I experienced earlier in the car was due to my body reacting against the Levaquin. Shame on my American doctors for prescribing me the wrong drug. I won't be going to see them again needless to say. All said and done, he doctor's visit cost me only $8, and our team only an hour. I highlight my experience at the hospital in a prior blog.

Crisis averted, we eventually found Dagne thanks to the kind gentleman who took time from his day to help us. For his kind services, we gave him 10 birr. He was with us the whole time through the hospital incident.

Dagne was happy to see us, though he thought we were coming two weeks earlier. He took us to back to the boarding house for the blind and gave us a tour of the facilities, which were nothing short of abysmal. The Ethiopian government gives the facility the equivalent of $10/month per person for each of the 97 students living there to cover food, clothing, bedding, and all other living expenses. It clearly showed. The bathrooms were highly unsanitary, and the beds were worn ragged. The people on the other hand were warm and friendly. They were happy to have us there, though we only stayed briefly. We asked hem what they were in need of most, and they said the number one need was food. Then they said, beds, housing repair/remodeling (particularly in the female house. They are using the bathroom to house three girls), Braille books, canes, clothes, new bathroom facilities. It breaks my heart that they didn't have enough food to eat. Next, they need clothing, mosquito nets and bedding.

When we were done, Dagne wanted us to meet his mother, and I offered to videotape a message from her to Belaye. She was a very cute lady. You could see the love in her eyes for her sons.

We took Dagne back to his house and Esubalew gave him he gifts he brought for the blind school, including some Braille tablets, a soccer ball with a bell in it, a pump, blind flash cards, Braille dominoes, and some Braille face cards. We thanked Dagne for escorting us into the living quarters of the blind school.

We got some lunch before heading out, and then I remembered that I forgot to take pictures of the students living at the boarding house! We would need to go back on our way out of town.

It was raining when we arrived again at the boarding house, but we gathered first the girls, then the boys in the protective covering over the entrance to their dorms. Esubalew sang some songs with each group in Amharic and the students seemed to enjoy having their picture taken. It is my hope that our efforts will generate some funding for these good people to take better care of their needs.

Later than projected, we started back for Bahir Dar. Thankfully the road is paved, though we couldn't really go much faster than 35 as the road twists and turns, and there are always people in the road walking to wherever, in addition to traffic in either direction.

Night had fallen by the time we made it to Bahir Dar. When we entered, we noticed there was electricity, so we took the opportunity to fill up the car. By the time we got to where hotels were, there was no electricity. Finding a hotel with a generator was difficult. On the fourth try we found on that was moderately expensive with a room, so we took it. We didn't have much choice but to pay the more expensive price. Esubalew and I had dinner at the hotel. The food wasn't very good. Funny how the more expensive hotels don't have good food, but it seemed the menu was tailored to foreign pallets, listing Ethiopian versions of American food, and Americanized Ethiopian food. At any rate I wasn't feeling it. The hotel did have generated electricity though, and on the TV was playing CNN. Michael had just died, and apparently that was the only newsworthy thing happening in the world, as that was literally the only thing they talked about. It's interesting to me that within the next few days I would be in Ethiopia and even through the first few days in the US, this would be the main newsworthy event.

I got to finish charging my camera batteries tonight.

June 27, 2009 (June 20, 2001 Ethiopian Time)

We drove back to Gonder to meet up with Karla and Jacque again. The mayor of Gonder, Habtamu, set up a private tour of Fasil Castle for us today at 3:00. It was wonderful to see this great historical site, and our guide was the top guy in charge of all historical sites in Gonder, but more particularly, Fasil Castle. He was very informative, and spoke english exquisitely.

It was after this we said goodbye to our trusty guides, Doruje and Binyam. Thank you for safely navigating us through your beautiful country!

In the evening, one of Habtamu's friends, the owner of Dashen brewery, invited the four of us to experience Dashen beer first hand. It was wonderful. With American club music playing, well dressed clientele, sitting outside in the lush landscaping, sipping on Gonder's finest brew was a very nice treat. This bar was swanky even for Hollywood standards, and here in Ethiopia, it was a real treat.

Following the brewery, Habtamu took us to a traditional Ethiopian night club where Karla, Jacque, Esubalew and myself, along with several of his friends. We danced and sang and made fools of ourselves.

Back at the hotel. Jacque packed her bags as she would be leaving Gonder in the morning. I interviewed her about the trip before she went to bed. I also was able to record some of Esubalew's thoughts on the trip. He talked about many things for quite a while.

June 28, 2009 (June 21, Ethiopian Time)

Today Karla, Jacque, Esubalew and myself did some souvenir shopping around town. It was Sunday, so there were many people walking around town in traditional Ethiopian clothing going to and from church. It was a warm day, and at one point we stopped and sat for a while in the park next to Fasil Castle. In the park is a magnificent ancient tree, whose branches spanned the entire park, with a radius of 30-50 feet. The branches were supported by beams.

One of my chores today was to find a soccer ball that I had promised to the kids of WOG when we left Gonder a week ago. I had a difficult finding one. I found a really nice ball, but the dealer wanted to charge me 200 birr for it, nearly $20 US. I didn't think it was worth that much, and he wouldn't barter with me. I found a lesser quality one for about 20 birr at a shop near our hotel. DEAL! I bought it, and Esubalew and I took it to the kids. The older kids quickly usurped the ball and were playing with it. The younger kids felt left out, and they convinced me to buy one for them. This time buying a ball was a major hassle. We looked at several places, the kids trailing me the whole way, which I think was a hindrance because the shop owners knew they could charge me more. The day before while walking around town, a kid who spoke English with exquisite fluidity introduced himself, and chatted with me while we walked for a while. Today he found me while I was looking for the ball. He found a ball for me at one of the shops where his friends worked. They wanted to charge me 100 birr for it, but by this time I just wanted to be done with the affair. The kid who found the ball for me wanted me to pay him for helping him find the ball. I told him to scram. Some other kids had joined in the parade, and after I bought the second ball, tried to get me to buy them one to. By this time, my generosity was drained and I forcefully told the kids "enough!" and stormed away, eager to be rid of them.

We went back to the hotel. Karla and I went on a walk, and I interviewed her about the trip in the middle of a residential side street that gazed upon a church. I thought it was a beautiful setting.

June 29-30, 2009 - (June 22-23, Ethiopian Time)

I flew back to Addis this morning, while Karla and Esubalew headed for Lalibela to see the famous rock hewn church there, often referred to as the Eighth Wonder of the World. I wish I could have joined them and done some sightseeing in this beautiful country. I hope to return one day to explore its offerings, and I hope to be able to see my new friends in Inesa again. I will remember you always.

Other than the incident that I wrote about previously, nothing of note happened in Addis before I came home. I did some souvenir shopping, and walked around, but I didn't really have anywhere to go, having spent all my money, given away my shoes, and not knowing a lick of Amharic.

I'm really grateful I got to witness the touching reunion of Esubalew with his once long lost relatives. It was a long and difficult road there, but well worth all inconveniences. I pray that their meeting will be a blessing to both Esubalew, as well as his family in Ethiopia.

My horrible Ethiopian medical story

2009-11-04T13:26:00.000-08:00

While in Ethiopia, I got sick. Nothing major, or out of the ordinary really, but it turned out to be a total nightmare.

It only turned out to be a simple case of traveler's diarrhea. Oh, I applied hand sanitizer liberally before every meal, didn't eat uncooked food, at least knowingly, but when you're in one of the most rural places on the planet without running water, or electricity, it's really bound to happen that you'll get it, so I wasn't shocked. When I was sliding into first, and I felt something burst, I took the Levaquin my American doctor gave me before coming to Ethiopia in preparation for just such an instance. I was covered...

Or so I thought. The prescription I was given cost me $125 for 10 pills of Levaquin. I took one, and immediately started having problems. My temperature rose, I started throwing up, and I felt like I was going to pass out and literally die. This wasn't supposed to happen! I came prepared like the true American brat that I am. I was supposed to take my expensive medicine and everything was supposed to be all right!

At the time, we were in Debre Markos looking for the blind school that we came to visit. As I felt no better than a piece of excrement just passed from the bowels of a bovine, I requested of our interpreter and driver to find a doctor. I felt bad inconveniencing everyone on our trip, but I really felt awful.

We found a doctor after driving around a bit, and asking a few people on the street where we might go to procure such a person for their skilled services. I was completely not expecting what happened next. I followed my trusty interpreter, Binyam in the door and I stumbled in. The receptionist made me fill out a form and had me pay 20 birr (the equivalent of less than $2). OK, I was expecting that, but what I was NOT expecting was that she didn't ask to see my insurance card. In my head, I was thinking "how much is this going to cost me when all is said and done?" I lurched at the thought. Then what does she have me do? Instead of telling me to quietly have a seat in that chair over there, where I would quietly sit for two hours waiting to die, she leads me out of the room and into an examination room. I thought, "is this how you treat people in your hospitals? Where is my two hour requisite emergency room wait?" I was slightly comforted when a voice told me to sit down in a chair in the examination room, wholly expecting to have to wait in there, when to my absolute shock and amazement, it was a doctor. He had followed me into the examination room? Really? What kind of shady operation is this anyway? This isn't how things happen in America! Why, in America, they make a patient wait in the examination room at LEAST 15 minutes before anyone comes into the room, where someone will take your temperature, scribble notes on a page, and then walk out, so I can quietly ponder about how plain the walls are before a doctor finally comes in 10-15 minutes after that. How absurd that I didn't get such world class treatment that we find in America!

Next the doctor begins asking me questions. Thank God some sense in this whole mess! Oh but wait... that's the thing. He actually made sense. He spoke perfect English to me. What the hell? AND THEN he had the nerve to prescribe me Cipro not 15 minutes after I got there! And furthermore, he had the audacity to prescribe me what my American doctor should have prescribed me in the first place. Who is this pretentious idiot?

Suddenly I had a primal urge to purge my bowel, and it was coming out whether I wanted it to or not. The doctor showed me the restroom, merely a hole in the ground. Wait, wait a minute... WTF?! No toilet paper? I guess this is one of those BYOTP parties. Breath... Count to ten... All right, I can deal with no TP. Fortunately I did bring some with me, and before I knew it, I was clean.

The doctor blabbered about going to get the prescription. Standard fare. But wait! What's this?! Come back after picking up the prescription? What for? To get my test results? That should take at least 24 hours to get back from the lab. Your lab is on site and the technician is on hand? How much is THIS going to cost me? What?! 20 birr! That's an outrage. Tests should at least cost $200 or some insane figure like that. All right, if you say so doctor.

The pharmacy was a few blocks away. They filled my two prescriptions and charged me 40 birr. By this time I was ready for this type of shock. Prescriptions really should cost more like they do in the US, but if they didn't want to charge me more, then I decided I was going to just go with it.

Back at the doctor's, the technician told me that I didn't have malaria or yellow fever, and ran a test on my stool, where he found the culprit: parasites. The doctor told me to just take the Cipro as directed and I should be fine in three days. And HOW MUCH did this whole charade cost me? 80 birr, or less than $8.

If I can get first rate medical care like this in one of the most economically disadvantaged countries on the world, why is it so difficult to get quality affordable care in the United States? You can't convince me that our health care system doesn't need reform. Needless to say, my all-knowing American doctors have lost a patient for prescribing the wrong medicine, just to get me to pay more for an over-priced drug.

Please write your representatives telling them to support health care reform and a public option.

Denver Post Follow Up Article

2009-10-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

Colorado-to-Ethiopia journey completes circle for former child beggar

Denver Post runs a great follow up article on Esubalew.

You must read this book: A Princess Found: An American Family, an African Chiefdom, and the Daughter Who Connected Them All

2009-09-03T00:25:00.000-07:00

Just finished reading A Princess Found: An American Family, an African Chiefdom, and the Daughter Who Connected Them All by Sarah Culberson.

I've been following Sarah for years now in her journey to reunite with her long lost father, and how she established a foundation to rebuild the school her father built that was destroyed in the Sierra Leone civil war that lasted until 2002. I particularly found this book interesting in light of my recent journey with Esubalew and the beautiful ladies of World of Good, Karla and Jacque, to Ethiopia. I could identify with so many of the struggles and joys that accompanied my journey. A portion of the sale of this book goes to benefit school children in Bumpe, Sierra Leone, so please lend your support, and read this inspirational tale of reunification and renewal.

Also, please stay tuned. I am still in the process of writing my travel log of our Ethiopia trip. It's taking so much longer than I anticipated, but I don't want to leave anything out.

Thanks for reading!

Trip Pictures

2009-07-21T10:22:00.000-07:00

I uploaded the pictures from my trip for you to view. Click on the picture, or click here. If you would like to order prints or other photo gifts, I also have them up on Shutterfly.

My run in with the Ethiopian Ministry of Magic, and Marshall Law

2009-07-15T12:37:00.000-07:00

There are two governments in Ethiopia that I experienced. The first I affectionately call "the Ministry of Magic." If you think the US government is filled with inefficient bureaucratic red tape, then you obviously haven't been to Ethiopia. Having said that, I should note that never have I dealt with people in government who work with so much friendliness and patience either, despite the excruciating inefficiency.

No sooner than we got off the plane did we land ourselves at the very end of a long line of people waiting to get visas into the country. What could be taking so long? We found out an and a half hour later. Two teams of two people each slogging through handwritten visas for a whole Boeing 767 planeful of people. Put a carbon sheet under this one, another under that one, fill out a form here, there, put a stamp there, and a sticker up here... wash, rinse, repeat... NEXT!

Just when I thought I was through, the real fun began. Customs. They confiscated my camera. Apparently HD cameras are not allowed into their country without prior authorization, even though most cameras sold nowadays in the States, both consumer and professional, are HD. Another American who was having something confiscated told me I'd be lucky to see the camera again. Oh great! Thanks for the consolation.

Before the trip began, Karla told me about registering with the Ethiopia Embassy since I would be taping there. I disregarded this, figuring since I wasn't taking professional equipment, it wouldn't be a problem, just my consumer Canon HF S100 camera. However, I think what tripped them up was that I had various attachments added onto it: lenses and an audio input device. Regardless, it was unfamiliar to them, and thus suspect.

All was not lost, thankfully. I had a backup plan. Stowed away in another bag was my second camera, so I could use that until I received my main camera back. All I needed to do was to get permission from the Ethiopian Ministry of Information, located downtown. Sounds easy enough, right?

Wrong! What ensued was a wild goose chase littered with bureaucratic red tape like I've NEVER seen in America, Canada, Europe, or even Korea before. We went to where they said the Ministry of Information was located, quickly renamed the Ministry of Magic, at the Ethiopian National Television Building. Nope, not there. If it weren't for a kind man and his son that we ran into who just happened to work there who showed us where to find it, our adventure would have been stymied right from the get go. When we got there, he even knew exactly who we needed to talk to. This was a good sign. We'd be out of here in no time now!

Not so fast. I look in the office, and I expected to find a computer at his desk, when what I found was a man hiding behind a desk with paperwork stacked on top. He told me, "type the answers to the questions listed on this form." Standard stuff: why are you here, what are you filming, where are you going, for how long, production company name, what's the budget of your production. Only, where are we gonna find a computer to type this stuff up on?

We left the Ministry of Magic in search of an internet cafe. None of this would have been possible without my trusty interpreter, Karla'a daughter Hanna, who was on board for the first part of our trip. She speaks perfect Amharic, on account of she was born in Ethiopia, and lived there a good part of her life before being adopted by Karla. After finding a computer a block away, we waited the requisite 10 minutes for their computer to boot up (thankfully this part of town had electricity today), quickly typed out the answers, making sure to only put $1000 as my budget for the film (cost of the camera), and waited another 15 minutes for them to take the file to another location to print it; no on site printer that worked apparently.

I took the form back to the Ministry of Magic. He crossed things out, reworded other things, told me to correct it and come back. This time, however, he led me down the hall to where a computer was located, and told me I could use it this time. Why couldn't I have used it the first time, too?

I took back the corrected form, and then he gave me another form to fill out by hand. It had the exact same questions to fill out that I filled out on the computer already, both times. I figured those were just practice for the real thing. I was in the big leagues now!

All through this, and man remained friendly, and explained to me he was only going to charge me the minimum fee, since I was independent and low budget. The fee was about 1500 birr, which amounts to about $140 US. I didn't enjoy paying it, but it could have been worse. He left, and returned 15 minutes later with my permission form stamped by his boss. I thought I was done, but then he told me I need to return with a photograph of me to include in "my file." Ugh!

Now to find a photographer. Luckily, there was one conveniently located two blocks away. They took me up to this professional studio to snap my photo. I looked like crap, but who cares. 25 minutes to process the photo, and I returned back to the Ministry of Magic to hand over my photo.

Armed with my permission slip, now it was finally time to go back to the airport to claim my camera. It went like this: pay them 3 birr to be able to enter the airport; enter, remove my shoes, belt, and any other "threatening" materiel, go through airport security. Enter customs. We had to show our passports; my interpreter didn't have hers, so I was on my own on this one. I went to the desk, showed them my form, thinking I was seconds away from the end of this ordeal. Nope. Go talk to somebody over there (that's all I understood). After finding him, he looked at the form, signed it. I went back to the desk. Go upstairs and make a copy. It took 15 mins to find the place and copy the sheet. Back to the desk. They slogged through pages and pages of handwritten data entries looking for my camera information, taking their time in the process. Eventually, they took my form (FINALLY!) and brought out my camera! Now I was getting somewhere! Oops... along with my camera the gave me ANOTHER form to take to someone over there. I took it over there. "Go upstairs and copy it, and leave your camera here until you get back." REALLY?! I stomped back upstairs, copied, paid, returned. FINALLY they gave me back my camera with all my forms, and I was free.

At each step of the way, I had to pay a little here, and a little there. I guess this is how they keep people employed in Ethiopia: give them a menial task, and wait until the next idiot comes along so you can charge them. When all was said and done, we had spent half of one day getting the permission forms, and then another couple hours the next day at the customs office at the airport.

This is only one example of many experiences with the Ethiopian government (Ministry of Magic) during my sojourn in their beautiful country...

Until we got into the countryside. Then it was a different ball game entirely. The Ethiopian countryside is almost like stepping back into the 1800's wild west where Marshall law ruled. There, the people who hold the guns hold the power. They won't shoot the guns unless they have to, as bullets are too expensive, but regardless, they give the bearer pull. As we neared Enessa, our guide was the Inspector General Morgus of the police force from Mertule Maryam. With his influence, doors were opened to us that would have been closed without. He was our passport through any and all obstacle out there. He took us to Esubalew's village, made sure everything went OK there, and he even invited us over to his house for the most delicious dorowat (chicken stew) that Ethiopia has to offer.

Before leaving Enessa, Esubalew wanted to set up a bank account for his mother because he wanted to give her money to purchase a house later. We needed photographs for her ID card, however, by the time we got to the photographer in Mertule Maryam, they had closed their doors for the night. Enter Inspector Morgus. He accompanied them back to the photographer, got them to take the photo, and we picked up the developed photo in the morning. Now that's what I'm talking about! The difference between how government worked in the country and the city could not be more extreme!

If only we had had Chief Inspector Morgus with us when dealing with customs...

Lesson learned

2009-07-09T22:27:00.001-07:00

My last night in Ethiopia, in the capital city of Addis Ababa, I stayed at a fairly expensive hotel, but I was guaranteed electricity, warm water, and the internet, all things that were far from guaranteed everywhere else I had been. It was nice to just relax for a bit.

After a nice long hot shower, I decided to try and find something interesting to do. I walked out of the hotel to find someplace to have dinner. Not far from the hotel, a guy started chatting with me. He told me he worked at the hotel in the laundry department, and that he was on his way to a party. It was a holiday that day aparently, and college had just let out, so some friends were getting together. I decided to be adventurous. We got in a cab and drove to a house not far from there.

Inside, there was already lots of people there. They were all women. Beautiful women. All of them. I thought it a little strange that there were no other men there beside my friend, and me, a foreigner. They offered me a drink. The women were very friendly, saying things like "I like you," and "you're cute." My new friend told me I could have any of them that I wanted. Hmm... so this was a prostitution house I finally realized.

No matter. I said, "I have a girlfriend, and I don't cheat."

He replied, "what happens in Ethiopia stays in Ethiopia."

"Sorry. I'm not interested," I replied.

One of the girls asked if I would buy them drinks. Before I even had a chance to say "no," they brought out some expensive wine and bourbon, and the girls were downing it like there was no tomorrow. They asked me again, and I more forcefully declined this time.

At some point, another Ethiopia guy come in with another foreigner in tow. Looks like I'm not the only gullible one. Once they realized I wasn't interested in their services, they brought out a bill to me. What kind of "house party" charges their guests? None that I've ever been to. I don't think were in Kansas anymore, Toto. I had to fumble for my eyes after they popped out of my head when I saw the total. Over 2600 birr, which amounts to about $245! And that just for drinks? How much would their other services cost? I quickly told them I could not pay that much, and refused to pay. They went to get
their "manager." Ok. Now I was getting scared.

He took me out to the front of the house to discuss payment. I explained "I only have about 200 birr," which is about $20, and even showed it to him. He suggested that my friend pay half. I repeated, "I can't pay even that."

He pointed to my passport wallet underneath my shit saying, "but you have money in there!"

To which I lied, "no, I do not. This is all I have," holding out the 200 birr again. He called one of the girls out to explain that I had agreed to buy them drinks, which accusation I flatly denied. Clearly, this was going nowhere but down at an increasing speed. I began to fear more and more for my safety. Thoughts of them tackling me, tying me up, beating me within an inch of my life raced through my head.

I decided to make a run for it. If they intended to harm me, I wanted the upper hand in attempting to flee first. I felt bad for that other foreigner, but I was not about to go back to warn him this was about personal survival at this point. I walked out of the gate, and my right flip-flop fell off. Just what I needed! I had given my shoes away earlier that week, and needless to say, flip-flops don't make good get away shoes! They were trying to pursue me, so I went back for the
wayward flip-flop. I put it on, and continued walking. My "friend" tried to get me to come back, and I shoved him away and continued walking. I didn't look back, and he didn't pursue me more.

I was still scared to death, but I pushed forward, found a taxi to take me to my hotel, and reported this scam to the hotel concierge. As soon as I told her, her head fell. This was obviously not the first time she'd heard this story. I told her I was scared, and she reasured me that I would be safe.

What's funny about all of this? I read about just such scams in the travel book I read before coming to Ethiopia. Why didn't I pick up on it? My desire to do something interesting obscured my perspective. I shouldn't have even gotten into a cab with someone I just met. Sometimes the only way to learn is through personal experience, no matter how much textual theory you may take in beforehand.

I just feel incredibly grateful that I made it through this experience without damage to either my pocketbook, or more importantly, my life.

They're coming to America

2009-07-04T08:04:00.000-07:00

Happy 4th of July!

I have several blogs to post in the upcoming weeks, but for now, I leave you with an experience that I had on the plane coming home from Ethiopia, and is particularly relevant to today's holiday.

I met a man sitting across the isle from me. He was going to be entering the US for the first time ever. It's very difficult to become a US citizen for people around the world. We only accept a few thousand people from Ethiopia every year, and it's determined by a lottery system; totally random. This particular gentleman put his papers in some 20 years ago to come here, and on this particular flight, this military air corpsman was going to enter the US as a citizen. I felt a little choked up thinking about Neil Diamond's famous song "America," which unfailingly plays every year during Independence Day celebrations across the nation, but it's words are no less true than they were when they were written years ago in 1980...

America -- Neil Diamond

Far
We've been traveling far
Without a home
But not without a star

Free
Only want to be free
We huddle close
Hang on to a dream

On the boats and on the planes
They're coming to America
Never looking back again
They're coming to America

Home, don't it seem so far away
Oh, we're traveling light today
In the eye of the storm
In the eye of the storm

Home, to a new and a shiny place
Make our bed, and we'll say our grace
Freedom's light burning warm
Freedom's light burning warm

Everywhere around the world
They're coming to America
Every time that flag's unfurled
They're coming to America

Got a dream to take them there
They're coming to America
Got a dream they've come to share
They're coming to America

They're coming to America
They're coming to America
They're coming to America
They're coming to America
Today, today, today, today, today

My country 'tis of thee
(Today)
Sweet land of liberty
(today)
Of thee I sing
(today)
Of thee I sing
(today)

(today)

(today)

(today)

Today we embark

2009-06-14T15:51:00.000-07:00

Esubalew, Karla, her two Ethiopian daughters and I leave today for Ethiopia. We'll arrive in Addis Abeba Tuesday at 8:30 in the morning, no doubt exhausted already by the flight. We each carry the maximum allowed luggage, 115 lbs of luggage per person, filled to the hilt with humanitarian aid supplies. We'll be buying more things when we get there, like walking canes for the blind, etc. I got my camera and batteries ready, a tent to pitch, sleeping bag, mat and everything else I'll need for a rugged backwoods experience. Ethiopia, BRING YOUR WORST!

The existence of the internet permitting, I'll keep you updated as we go along this incredible journey.

Thanks for tuning in!

'Slumdog' youth gets home - Los Angeles Times

2009-06-11T10:57:00.001-07:00

'Slumdog' youth gets home - Los Angeles Times

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I found this article in today's LA Times, and found it to be interesting and of interest to you, as the departure date for our "slumdog millionaire" to reunite with his mother approaches.

Two weeks away!

2009-06-01T22:56:00.000-07:00

Well, Esubalew (Ethan), Karla (Esubalew's friend and organizer of this trip) and I are less than two weeks away from Ethiopia, and we couldn't be more excited. I have some news regarding our itinerary to share. So far, it's like this:

View Ethiopia Trip - Blind Promises in a larger map

We leave for Ethiopia on June 14. After a LONG plane trip, we arrive June 16th in Addis Abeba. We'll stay here in the largest and capitol city. While here, we plan on visiting the couple that runs the school for the blind that played tug-o-war with Esubalew 13 or 14 years ago to rescue him from the clutches of his slave masters. The first of many reunions that we will experience on this trip, we'll meet the wonderful couple who had enough insight into Esubalew's situation to realize he was being taken advantage of, and created the first of many opportunities that blessed his life.

From Addis Abeba, we'll fly to the ancient capitol of Ethiopia, Gondar, the fifth largest city located in the northern part of the country. The purpose of our stop here is to drop off supplies at Karla's non-profit organization, World of Good Ethiopia, which seeks “to improve the health, education and quality of life of impoverished individuals around the world – most specifically, but not limited to children and seniors, as well as individuals with disabilities.” They establish sponsorships for poor children who would have no oportunity otherwise for healthy meals and an education. While we are here, we will meet some of the children whom Karla works to aid, one of which is a blind boy who doesn't yet know that Karla has found someone to sponsor him, but will find out!

After Gondar, we continue our journey, piling all the things we'll need for the road that lies ahead in a (hopefully reliable and stout off-road) vehicle. We will go from the heavily populated city of Gondar (~200,000 people) to increasingly more rural cities. We drive south along the coast of Ethiopia's largest lake, Lake Tana, down to the coastal city of Bahir Dar (pop. ~180,000). Further south we come to Mota (pop. ~25,000), the largest city near where Esubalew grew up. Mota is the intended location of the school for the blind that we hope to establish, in part trough proceeds from this documentary. After Mota, we embark for the small town of Mertule Maryam, supposedly comparable to an "town with one stop sign," and the last town before we head to Esubalew's mother's village that has navicable roads.

Leaving the comfort of our vehicle, we'll be heading out on foot towards Inesa, the small village near the beautiful Blue Nile River where Esubalew grew up, where he played games with his younger sister, Etagegnehu, and where he saw his mother, Yitashu, for the last time, 16 years ago. This part of our journey promises to be one of the most memorable events of our lives: the reunification of mother and son, in the midst friends and family who live in this grass hut village.

At this point, Karla plans to leave Esubalew and I at his mother's village. She will return to Gondar to attend business she has with World of Good, and we will stay in Inesa for a few days, with an interpreter, we hope. Esubalew no longer speaks Amharic, the native language of his home, so we will be quite lost without one.

After what we hope is an enjoyable time in Inesa, we will depart for Debra Markos, where we will visit another school for the blind, where 97 vision impaired students live and study. The Denver-based non-profit organization Door of Hope Eto Ministry for the Blind works to fund this school, supplying them with food, clothing, and educational materials for the students there. This is the same organization that Esubalew is working with to build a school for the blind in the town of Mota, the largest city nearest to Inesa where he grew up. We hope to deliver some needed supplies to the school, as well as visit with the faculty and students there.

Esubalew and I will conclude our journey together by traveling back north to Bahir Dar and then Gondar to meet back up with Karla. Perhaps we will do some sightseeing in these two historic cities. I would love to see the Simian National Park where some endemic species of animals exist. I will return alone to Addis Abeba with a day all to myself to explore, and then I come back home. Esubalew will stay in Ethiopia for a few more weeks to visit with his mother some more and enjoy the culture of his people.

Esubalew makes the FRONT PAGE of the Sunday Denver Post

2009-05-31T23:34:00.000-07:00

A news article done on Esubalew appeared on the FRONT PAGE of the Sunday Denver Post today. Give it a read. There is also an audio slide show available to view/listen to.

Up until this point...

2009-04-12T19:23:00.001-07:00

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I first learned of Ethan's story a couple years ago from my mother. She works for the Colorado Center for the Blind in Denver, CO, where she met Ethan, and then told me of his story.

At the time, I remember being so moved by his story, that it brought tears to my eyes, first because of the immense injustice that it is to poke out a six year old's eyes, but more so because of his lack of anger or guile towards his oppressors. I thought much about his story over the next few days, after which, I realized that this is a story that, quite simply, MUST be told. People in the "industrialized nations" must know about the still prevalent problem of child trafficking. They must know of the mind boggling numbers of orphans in the world, particularly in Africa. They must know what these young victims go through in their all too often shortened lives, because of the lack of resources and aid available to them. Also, they must know of the immense potential that these young people have to accomplish great things, and Ethan is a shining example of what their lives can be.

Not having ever filmed a documentary before, I realized that I had a LOT of learning to do. Where do I start? How do I fund this? I've heard of being able to get grants for humanitarian projects such as these. How does one get those grants? I eventually learned that in order to apply for grants, you must have a non-profit organization. "Ok. Now I'm getting somewhere. I'll just start a non-profit," I thought to myself. I learned that it's possible to establish one relatively easily by yourself, with proper guidance, and so I started to read up on how to do it.

In this process, as I was talking with a good friend, he told me about how his landlord, Michel Horvat, had filmed a documentary, and that I should discuss mine with him and ask him any questions I may have. I eventually spoke with him; he gave me a ton of useful advice and information. I now know that I don't have to establish a non-profit, but can apply for grants under the umbrella of a non-profit who is willing to fiscally sponsor me, and thereby apply for grants that way. This method will be supremely more easy to do. I'm now in the proposal writing stage of becoming fiscally sponsored.

Michel told me many things about the documentary film making process that were eye-opening. Will the places I shoot in Ethiopia have electricity? I will be going to a very remote village there, after all. I guess I'll need tons of batteries! How will the socio/political climate affect what and how I shoot? How much tape do I need to bring?

The conversation I had Michel was truly enlightening. the more I thought about it, the more it occurred to me how great it would be to have someone of his expertise on the project. As someone who has little experience with film projects, I know it would be very difficult to do this project by myself. I asked Michel about his interest in the project, and to my delight, he expressed interest in joining the project. And so, once funding is procured for the project, I'm happy to announce that the renowned, award nominated director/documentarian Michel Horvat will be joining Blind Promises!

Part of the process of writing a proposal for both fiscal sponsorship as well as for grant applications is to create a budget for the film. I am amazed at how quickly the cost of such a venture can balloon to monstrous proportions. Luckily there are resources aplenty out there for newcomers to this process, as it is most certainly daunting!

I'll conclude my blog today with a brief update on shooting. To date, I have shot several days with Esubalew. Late February of this year, I flew to Denver and had the opportunity to follow him around, as well as to shoot some interviews. As the NBA finals come up, I think it would be awesome to have him come out and enjoy one of his favorite teams play, the LA Lakers. I'm uncertain whether this will happen, but I'll keep you updated! Other than that, as previously mentioned, I'll be flying to Ethiopia in June to film Esbubalew's reunion with his mother.

Thanks for tuning in!

Introducing Esubalew Ethan Johnston

2009-04-10T23:30:00.000-07:00

Who is Ethan Esubalew (pronounced soo-BAH-loo)? To be sure, he's unmistakably a die-hard LA Lakers fan. He's not bad on the basketball court himself, either. College student? Yes, that fits the bill too. He's studying communications at the University of Colorado Boulder.

When you meet Ethan, the first thing you will most likely notice will be his smile. He has the ability to light up a room with it. It also becomes apparent that he is blind. What is not apparent, however, is how he became blind.

When he was about six years old, some vagabonds tricked his mother into letting them take her son, telling her they would take him to the city to be educated. What lay in store for this young boy would have horrified his unknowing mother if she only knew. Perhaps you might have seen the Academy Award winning movie Slumdog Millionaire. Ethan is a living example of the atrocities that so many young children in developing countries face at the hands of villainous child traffickers. They intentionally blinded him, forcing him to beg in the unknown streets of the capital of Ethiopia, Addis Abeba, a long ways from the shelter of his mother. What's worse, they refused to even feed him, taking any money he earned for themselves.

This painful fact from Ethan's past is not, however, obvious to the first time acquaintance. His native happy demeanor betrays the abuse he suffered as a young child. In fact, the most remarkable aspect of his story is his absolute refusal to let anger against those evil men dwell in his heart. He approaches each day with a spirit of gratitude for the opportunities he has, and looks for ways to share the bounties of his life with others.

By a sliver of luck, Ethan was adopted into America, where he learned to become completely independent, despite the challenges he faces as a blind man. Join him on this journey as Ethan endeavors to turn his personal tragedy into hope for others by establishing a school for the blind in his home country, Ethiopia.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

2009-04-10T18:26:00.000-07:00

Today I purchased my plane ticket to Ethiopia! This is part of a long journey I've embarked upon to film a documentary, entitled Blind Promises.

Blind Promises is about a victim of child trafficking Esubalew Ethan Johnston who was intentionally blinded as an eight or nine year old in Ethiopia. He was then forced to beg on the streets of Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. He didn't get to keep the money, and they didn't feed him in return. They whipped him with stinging nettle if he didn't bring home enough money. The film will tell his incredible and heart warming journey to the great land of opportunity, America, and document his journey to build a school for the blind back in his home country.

While in Ethiopia, I'll be filming what will hopefully be one of the most incredible experiences of the tale: the reunification of Esubalew with his mother after 16 years of separation. I'll also film some interviews and other necessary shots for the film.

I leave June 14th from LAX, and will be back in time for the 4th of July. I'm so excited!