We got up, showered, ironed clothes, etc. Daddy shaved. I put on makeup. We went down to breakfast with our "comfy" clothes on so as not to spill something on the one nice outfit we had. Everyone else came down for breakfast at about the same time and looked very, very nice in their "court clothes." They must have thought we were slobs!
After breakfast (I have no idea what was served - I probably just ate another banana.), Daddy and I ran upstairs to change and gather all of the stuff we had to take with us (four 13-gallon plastic bags full of care center donations - thank you! - the stuff we were going to give Ty's birth mom, if she made it, our small file folder that had all of our important paperwork in it, money for shopping afterward, our shopping list, water, etc.).
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| Coffee ceremony in lobby of Jemimah |
We all met up in the lobby of the guesthouse and waited for our driver to pick us up and take us to the Holt office for orientation. One of the beautiful women at the guesthouse had set up a coffee ceremony in the lobby for us before we left - incredibly sweet. Unfortunately, the smell of the incense, the smell of the coffee beans roasting, the warmth of the room, and the nerves were more than I could take and I had to sit outside on the front step. I think the guard thought I was nuts, sitting out there, on the ground, in my nice clothes with my head between my knees. The air was fresh and cool and exactly what I needed. I made a few more attempts to go back inside, but always ended up back outside. We quizzed each other a bit on the questions that we thought the judge would ask us, and some of us circled up outside to pray together.
The driver was late. Really late. We had heard about this happening on more than one occasion and not to worry because we were on "Ethiopia" time, but we couldn't help it. We had the manager of the hotel call to find out what was going on. Apparently, our driver was stuck in traffic and would be there soon. He ended up being one hour late - as if we needed anything more to add to our nerves.
We got to the Holt office fairly quickly and nervously went inside - not sure what to expect. It was a large, nice building, but the inside was very plain. There was a large room on the ground floor with some chairs lined up in rows and a slide projector. There was an adjoining room where we took our donations. It was a HUGE room with a desk (or two) and shelves on one wall that were full of donations. Not sure if/when those donations were going to be distributed. There was so much stuff and so little manpower or time.
The Holt staff member that traveled to Durame and back was waiting for us and told us that the orientation was going to have to be brief due to our late arrival. Great. The Holt attorney explained a few things to us - what to expect, what questions may be asked of us, etc. Did we have any questions? Uh...yeah...I think? "Is there a wrong answer to any of these questions? Is there something we shouldn't say? Should we shake the judge's hand when we leave?" I asked. No. No. And, no. Alrighty then. We were then handed our son's file. Wow. It was a good three to four inches thick and included EVERY paper we had ever signed and turned in, every document that was necessary to relinquish, and many, many more documents. Some of it was in English, some of it was in Amharic, some of it was originally in English but had been translated to Amharic. It was incredible. All of those papers that we worked so hard on - our complete Dossier - was in this file.
There was also something else in this file that we NEVER imagined we would have - a newborn picture of Ty. He had to have only been days old, wrapped in a blanket. It looked like a hospital picture. It was maybe two inches by two inches, black and white. We both saw it at the same time and just looked at each other. Wordless. Do you have any idea how precious this is? "How do I get this picture?" I asked, anxiously. "I need this picture." Unfortunately, it was the only one and we could not have it. However, we could take a picture of it, and we did. Priceless. Incredible. A true gift. Thank you, God.
We continued to thumb through the file and came across a photo of Ty's birth mom. At this point, we didn't know if we were going to be able to meet her, so we took a photo of this photo as well, thinking it may be the only picture we EVER have of Ty's birth mother. Another incredible gift.
Time to go.
We drove a short distance, parked on the side of the road, and got out. Our driver spoke very little English. There was a lot of motioning about what we were supposed to do and where we were supposed to go. We walked up the sidewalk (I use that term loosely) a bit, all the while being approached by children selling Chiclets and tissue, wanting to shine our shoes, and a woman, carrying a baby on her hip, with the baby holding the woman's bare breast in his/her hands, snacking when desirous. My head was spinning, and with many "no thank yous" along the way, we finally made it to the court house, which you would probably never recognize as a court house. Was there even a sign? I felt like we just ducked into a doorway. Did everyone else feel that way? We walked up at least six flights of stairs, but at 8,000 feet it felt more like 80 flights, and then into a short hallway, and then into a room.
A waiting room.
There were so many people in this room. Were they all here for the same thing? There were Americans. Maybe some Europeans. Some Ethiopians. Some were very nicely dressed. Some were wearing their best. Some didn't have shoes on. Some were smiling. Some were not. Some were holding briefcases under their arms. Some were clutching a purse that seemed to be empty.
The floor was probably something like peel-and-stick tiles, very worn. The walls were painted a very neutral color, but could definitely use a new coat. There were chairs along the wall on the left and the wall on the right - every three or four connected underneath - sit at your own risk. Opposite the door were HUGE windows that looked out on the city. In front of the window was a wooden platform of sorts, about six inches high, and people were sitting around the edges of that as well. There were not enough seats for everyone though - many people were standing in the middle of the room. If we've learned anything about the buildings and their interior in Ethiopia, it is that even the nicest places look like they are from the 1980s - the colors, the textiles, the furniture, etc.
We were told by other adoptive families that we would likely be sitting in the same waiting room as birth family members - possibly OUR birth family members. I reminded Daddy about this, and informed a few of the couples in our travel group who had not heard already that this would be the case. How could we help but look around to see if we could recognize Ty's birth mother? Does she look like him? Does she have his huge eyes? All we had was that two inch by two inch picture of her. There was a group of young women sitting together. Could she be in this group? Is that her with the pink shirt and red wrap on her head? Daddy was sure of it. This was heart wrenching. This was surreal. If I knew who she was, I would go to her, hold her hand, tell her everything was going to be okay. I would cry with her. Here we are, happy that we are finally to this point, relieved that this is the next to the last step. And here they were, giving one final statement before relinquishing their child forever. Absolute torture. There was some nervous laughter. Some quiet whispers from one adoptive mother to another. The room full of people was reminded more than once by a staff member of the pieces of printer paper taped on the wall - SILENT.
We waited for a long time. Maybe it just seemed like a long time. No. It was definitely a long time. Maybe an hour? A door on the side would open occasionally and a young woman (the judge's assistant?) would poke her head out and call a name and then that person would go into the adjoining room. This time it opened, she poked her head out, and the first thing we heard her say was our son's last name. Our eyes got wide. She rattled off a list of probably eight names and a group of people stood up and walked toward the room with a Holt social worker and our attorney. Our birth mother was in that group. They were in there for a very long time. Maybe it just seemed like a long time. Daddy paced and stared out the window so that no one could see the fear in his eyes. What if she changed her mind? What if she just couldn't do it? Could we blame her? What was going on in there? Compared to other people that came in and out, they were in there for a really long time. I sat next to another adoptive momma on the edge of the wooden platform and told her that she may have to grab me and pull me back down when the group came out. Every fiber of my being wanted to run after them to find out who Ty's Enat was. To hold her and thank her and grieve with her.
The door opened, and they left the waiting room, and at the same time the young woman/assistant called our name and the social worker and attorney beckoned us and two other families forward. This was unusual. Never before had we heard about multiple families going in at the same time, and we still have no idea why it was done this way. The room was long and narrow. We entered and were sat to the right, facing the judge, who was on the opposite end of the incredibly long and narrow room, sitting behind a desk (possibly a banquet table?). Buffalo sat next to us, and the third couple, Kansas City, was on the adjacent wall. The assistant took our passports and handed them to the judge. The scene was unreal. This was the Federal Court of Ethiopia. There was no grand, cherry wood desk on a raised platform, no being sworn in, no gavel, no robe (I don't think), no bailiff. "Do you have other children?" Your Honor asked. We all answered at the same time. "Do they know about the adoption?" We all answered at the same time. "Have you met the child?" We all answered at the same time. "Do you still want to adopt him/her?" Yes. "Do you have plans to teach them about the country they are from?" Yes. "All is complete, but we are waiting for the letter from the Ministry." Or something along those lines. She was so soft spoken and so far away and had a decent accent and my heart was beating in my ears. I could barely understand a thing she said, and I basically just said whatever Daddy did. What I did know is that she did not say "Then, he is yours." I knew that that was what I didn't hear. We exited - no shaking hands - and went back into the waiting room. The other three families went in. Same routine. None of us heard what we were longing to hear.
We were all so confused. How could NONE of us have that letter in place??? We have heard of a family or two not having it, but ALL of us?
The attorney said something about having another appointment, and he took off. Our driver and the social worker descended the stairs with us and showed us back to the van, past the kids, past the nursing momma, past the shoe shiners. We were all stunned and couldn't wait to get back to the Holt office to get some clarification.
We drove for a short while and then the driver pulled over, told me (since I was sitting in the front seat) that it was time for lunch, and said he would be back in two hours. Wait. What? It took us a few minutes to realize that we had just been dropped off somewhere, God only knows where, that there was no one to translate for us, and that we had a couple hours before the driver would return...hopefully.
He had left us at Yod Abyssinia. A beautiful, traditional Ethiopian restaurant. There were guards at the gate, so it must have been nice. There was a building to the right and a building to the left. After standing around for a few minutes trying to figure out what had just happened, we made a unanimous decision to go to the right, but after a few steps the people inside let us know that we were going the wrong way. Left it is. The BEAUTIFUL waitresses gathered stools and tables together for the 12 of us and brought menus. We did our best to order something that we thought we would like, and something I could handle taking a few bites of. We decided on some grilled beef and Daddy's favorite - greens, although we had a difficult time figuring out what it was called. The waitress obviously had no idea what collard greens were - they call it cabbage, apparently, but to explain how they were prepared was a different story. She spoke little, if any, English. She was, however, BEAUTIFUL. All of the waitresses wore long, peach-colored dresses, and were BEAUTIFUL. We ordered Cokes, Sprites, and St. George's, and slowly started to talk about the morning's events. We were all so bewildered and confused, we couldn't believe that they just dropped us off here, and we were all anxious about the birth family meetings after lunch. It is amazing that we ate anything at all.
The restaurant was HUGE and there was a very large stage. Some musicians and dancers were making their arrival, but we unfortunately were too early for the show. Apparently, it is one of the nicest, most well-known restaurants in Addis.
A young man came around to wash our hands, and then big trays of injera were brought out and the various dishes that were ordered by the group were spooned into piles onto the injera loosely based on who you were sitting by. It was an experience. The food was good. Very good. Our greens didn't turn out exactly as we had hoped - gonna have to work on that one. We all shared a bit and tried a few different things. Coffee was served to those who wanted it, and then the young man came around to wash our hands again. All in all, it was a very good, relaxed lunch and our driver came back to get us!! Just like he said he would!
As we walked to the car, one of the guards saw me pull a pack of gum out of my bag. "Oh, gum!" he said. "Yes! Would you like a piece?" I motioned. "Yes! Thank you!" I love it. Ethiopians are great.
Wow! How stressful, exciting, unnerving, etc., etc.....I can't believe you can remember in such detail..I'm sure I will just black it all out. I'm a TERRIBLE traveler!!!;)
ReplyDeleteLoving your journey though!:)