It was April 2007 when our daughter Rebecca, her husband Vernon, granddaughter Larissa and I journeyed to Addis Ababa Ethiopia to "bring home" two deaf, orphaned children.
The boy, Yonatan, was six. His mother, Woinshet, in a selfless, sacrificial act, signed the papers that would make it possible for him to go to a new, better life where he could get the education and health care she, an unemployed widow with three young sons, could not provide.
Information about the families of Yonatan and the girl Fetlework was not available to the adoptive parents but, since the children were "older" it seemed important, in spite of cautions by others, to locate the families and allow the children to connect.
At first Yonatan had almost no ability to communicate. He had not been taught sign language. As he gained communication skills he wanted to know: Were his brothers well? What about his mom? And the quest began.
Initial reports were dismal and not factual. The father of the boy was Muslim. It could cause an international incident if the uncle, in whose care he had supposedly been left, were to learn the whereabouts of the boy.
A year and a half later I returned to Ethiopia and hand-delivered the post placement papers to the school where the child had intermittently attended. First I thanked the principal and vice principal for their care until we could come to get the boy. Next I inquired about the family. The vice principal, a man, agreed to help. During the next year we corresponded by email...........some.
The following year I again visited with a follow up post placement report which included many photos. When I arrived for the appointment the uncle, mother, and both brothers, were there!
After an emotional greeting and much discussion we agreed to meet again since I did not have the gifts for the boys with me.
At the appointed time the taxi delivered me to the house. When I entered there were computer generated signs on the wall: "Welcome to Ethiopia!" All around the perimeter of the large room sat members of the extended family. On the coffee table in front of a sofa was a round, paper enclosed object. I was instructed to remove the wrapping which uncovered a large loaf of Ethiopian bread. The custom, as I learned, was for the honored guest to begin slicing the bread which was then distributed throughout the room.
Introductions were made, more people arrived. While chickens pecked away on the front porch we had coffee ceremony, made photographs, talked, the boys and mother opened and displayed their gifts and the "connection" between families was made.
The color on the faces is different, we share no common language yet we are indeed, family.
Ain't God good?
Video "Family" Visit
