The First Day of My 29th Year

Yesterday was one of those days abroad that you know you’re going to have… but you wish you never would. One of those days where you would walk away from your job, your home, the people you’ve met… if only there was a plane within a 4 hour radius of you at that moment… you would get on it and fly home. Without going into the gory details, it was a conflagration of a number of small factors (government issues, staffing problems, flat tires, clinic emergencies, power outages, cultural misunderstandings, homesickness) that swelled until both Jeff and I had one of those embarrassing breakdowns at work… one of those breakdowns that you see other people having and you’re like “man, why can’t that girl get herself together.” Yep, that was me yesterday, hiding in my office on the floor with the door closed eating cookies and crying. It also happened to be the first day of my 29th year of life. Happy Birthday Erin!

By the end of our workday it appeared that nothing could pull either of us out of our incredibly pathetic funk. The only reasonable solution would be to drink heavily without eating so that we could pass out quickly in a drunken stupor and the day would finally be over. But unfortunately we had already made plans for that night—we were going down to the children’s home to teach our weekly Friday evening class to the orphan kids.

We haven’t talked a lot about the orphans yet in our blog, but they are seriously one of the best parts about being here. They are 12 kids between the ages of 4 and 12 who have no parents, and no family. Lalmba has taken on the responsibility of raising them (along with 18 other kids who have been placed in the community with caregivers). The 12 children live on the compound with us so we spend a lot of time with them… playing volleyball, drinking coffee (even the 5-year-old drinks it!), dancing, and just hanging out. We also meet with them every Friday to teach a class on English, science, art, or whatever else we come up with.

As much as I love those kids, I was not looking forward to that Friday evening class. But at 6:00 Jeff and I trudged down to the children’s home for our weekly ritual.

Then one of those amazing things happened… one of those times where god, or karma, or fate, or life (or whatever you believe in) shakes you and reminds you that life is wonderful and you are so gosh-darn lucky. You see, the children had prepared a surprise party for me. They had balloons and flowers and they sang happy birthday and we danced and played games. And then, as we were getting ready to leave, they sat me down and they handed me homemade cards and presents from the local market.

Now remember, these are orphans living in one of the poorest areas of one of the poorest countries in the poorest continent of the world. And they were giving me gifts?!? Earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and hair ties that they were so happy and proud to be able to give. The generosity, and drive, and heart, and hope of each one of these children is astounding. As I sat and looked at their smiling faces I was overwhelmed with an urge to scoop them all up, drive to Addis, adopt them, and pile on a plane to the United States where I know they would each be incredibly successful. But these children (and children everywhere) are the future and hope of Ethiopia. Their brilliance is the best chance that this country has of lifting itself out of poverty and hopelessness. And at that moment, as I looked into those shining eyes, I was amazed at how bright the future looked.