why having 2 kids is like killing a chicken

Fall, 1997. It's my junior year and I am spending it abroad. I choose to go to Zimbabwe - the program purports to teach you about working with grassroots organizations in rural Africa. This is a lie. The program is a fly-by-night operation set up to milk money from dumb rich American college kids. The janitor is our teacher, the "head" of the program a Mugabe lackey, there is a wart hog who runs through our dorm every afternoon between 4 and 4:30. In short, nothing is as promised.

The wart hog. Vicious little sucker.

Halfway through the semester we are supposed to spend some time in a rural area doing a home stay. I am dropped at the public bus stop in Bulawayo, told to watch my pockets and get on a bus to Niaje where there will be a family waiting for me. This sort of happens, if by happens you mean it takes 7 buses and 3 days, there is no family, and I see someone walking off with my backpack which I thought was tied to the top of the bus (rookie mistake, I know I know).

I do end up staying with a family for a few nights, although language was a problem (did I mention that I studied Ndebele, the dominate language in Southern Zimbabwe, but Niaje is in Northern Zim and everyone there speaks Shona?) The family was kind and I learned a lot.

My last night with the family they had a special dinner for me. Many people from the village came. Everyone was gesturing to me and to the door. I went outside. More gesturing. Towards the chicken coop. ....OK, yes, chickens (cool word in Ndebele, has 2 clicks in the middle, no idea what it is in Shona) and everyone is pointing at me because... Slowly it becomes clear. I am to catch the chicken.

At which point ensues an absolutely ridiculous scene wherein I am chasing three chickens around a very large pen. Don't know which one I am supposed to catch, doesn't much matter because there is no way I will catch any of them. Finally, a neighbor takes pity on me, saunters over to the chicken, grabs it by its feet, and hands it to me.

..Thanks. I am now standing with a chicken. More gesturing. I am handed a large cooking bowl. I am baffled - tin bowl in one hand, chicken in the other. So cut to the chase, I am to kill the chicken. It is a role for the honored guest (or they just wanted to have a good laugh). The bowl was to place on top of the chicken. You turn it upside down with the chicken underneath and then reach under and grab the head and bring it out. You step on the bowl with your foot (I can still hear the noise and feel the body flapping in the bowl under my foot), pull the head so the neck is taut, and begin to saw. Note I did not say hack - this would imply that (1) it was a quick process and (2) you had a sharp knife.

And this is like having two kids because:

1. You are always chasing someone you are never going to catch,

2. Whenever you're out in public you feel like people are watching you, judging you, or trying to tell you what to do and how to do it,

3. It can involve bodily fluids (hopefully the kids are less bloody than the chicken),

4. It leaves you stinky and feeling like you've lost a little piece of yourself you will never get back,

5. You can't be anywhere but where you are. This last one is the one I really like. It's why I used to love to travel - it's why I secretly loved the experience of killing the chicken.

With just Hayden, I always felt like I had to be doing something - like looking after one kid, especially as he got older, wasn't enough. Now that there are 2, I've given up. A few days a week we have our cooperative preschool, and that's it. In the morning, my goal is to get everyone dressed and fed. In the afternoon, my goal is to make sure we go outside. That's it. I feel present. I feel like I am enjoying my family. It's nice. It's also fleeting - as we get our routine down I can already feel myself starting mental lists, making too many playdates, trying to run too many errands. Those moments in life, when you are truly present, are as rare as they are addicting.

Ethiopia Trip 3 - Guest Houses and Travel Restrictions

Travel Restrictions

When we went to pick Zeni up we were told that we could take her with us since we were staying in a guest house, but that if we did we could not take her out in public except to the Embassy, and that our agency could provide a babysitter if we wanted to go out. We decided to leave her at the Foster center for the first 5 nights so that we could get some sleep and see some of the city. I didn't like the idea of bringing her to a new place with new people and then having yet another new person to babysit her, and I also didn't like the idea of not getting to see any of the city. Also, she is only 5 months old so I wasn't too terribly worried about the attachment thing right them.

Zeni with her primary caregiver, Siem.

We visited Zeni at the foster care center every day and while I am so glad we got to see as much as we did of Addis, the whole visiting this kid that is legally yours and then leaving every day was weird. Not because I was sad to leave - alarmingly the opposite, actually - I didn't mind leaving at all. Spending a few hours a day playing with her did not at all make me feel attached to her. It made me feel like I was babysitting. It was a horrible feeling. I was worried I would never bond with her, had made a huge mistake - I actually told Jeremy at one point that if someone told me I could get on a plane home and erase this whole experience, I would. It wasn't until she was with us (and we were trapped) at the guest house that I started to feel like I was getting to know her, and started to feel affection for her. If I had it to do over again I don't know that I would do it differently, but I do know I was really, really an emotional wreck for the first half of our trip.

Guest Houses

(disclaimer - I have nothing to do with the Ethiopia Guest Home except that I stayed there, liked it, and am sharing my experience). (Why the hell do I need a disclaimer for my own blog?)

There are a zillion places to stay in Addis and I heard nothing bad about anywhere except the Hotel Ghion where apparently there was no hot water. With the new travel restrictions I assume more and more people are looking for guest houses to stay at and, I must say, ours pretty much rocked.

We stayed at the Ethiopia Guest House. I'll get the negative out of the way first - it is pretty much on the opposite side of town from the Gladney Foster Houses. I think the fastest we ever made it was 35 minutes, usually it was closer to 50. That is something to consider if you are a Gladney family but the place was great and even knowing how much of a schlep it was, I would still stay there. I believe it is quite close to the AAI houses, and I'm not sure about any other agencies or orphanages.

Now to the positives. Very clean, spacious rooms, (relatively) quiet, smog free location which really felt like a retreat at the end of the day. Each room has a balcony which is great for watching the world go by. Breakfast (everything from waffles and pancakes to eggs and cereal, always with fruit smoothies) is included and lunch and dinner (pasta, Ethiopian food, fresh baked bread, pizza, all delicious) is available for something like $5 or $10 per meal. The staff is incredibly kind - I was hesitant to stay at a guest house because I wanted to feel like we had some privacy, and I was happy to find that we had privacy when we needed and company when we wanted. If you are adopting older kids the staff were always helping with translation, playing with the kids, etc. I did hear one family say that at times it was too much help - things like holding the crying toddlers, they felt that it was interfering with bonding.

In case you're not sold yet, you get a complementary one hour massage. And it's a good one. Additional massages are $20/hour. There is Internet at the guest house but it is slow and unreliable. Fortunately there is an internet cafe right across the street which is incredibly cheap and a bit more reliable. There are also small groceries within walking distance, and a pharmacy.

As far as prices, our room was $85 night with a shared bathroom which we never had to wait for. Halfway through our stay they asked if we would mind moving to the larger room which had a spa shower. Uh, no? It was sweet- nice big space and crazy shower/bath with jets and nozzles that sprayed you from all directions. Plenty of hot water. That room is a little more, and you can also rent out the entire top floor which has 2 or 3 bedrooms and a bathroom. We ate there almost every day for 10 days and our bill for "extras" - meals, laundry, extra massages (that would be my extra massages..)etc. came out to just under $200. You could definitely find cheaper but I doubt you could find anything nearly as nice. After a chaotic, emotionally draining day it was a nice place to return to.

mothers

So there we sat. Me, Jeremy, baby Zeni and her birth mom, Zeni. I had pages of questions. Things like "what did you and the father do while you were dating?" "What was your labour like?" "What kinds of songs did you sing to her?". She looked even younger then she was - 19 she thinks.

On the way to meet her, holding Zeni in my lap, my mind was racing. Was this a huge mistake? Would it be so painful that I would never be able to put it out of my mind? Or what if I really didn't like my daughters birth mom or felt like she had ulterior motives - would I lie to Zeni about it when she got older? What if she said she wanted the baby back? This baby in my lap, to whom she gave life and nursed for two months, was now legally ours and yet I still felt like I was babysitting someone elses kid - waiting, at times wanting, to hand her back to whomever was responsible for her and get back to my real life.

She walked in and I handed Zeni to her. She held her with the familiar ease mothers have, looked into myher daughters eyes, held her close, and rocked her. We told her about our home, our son, the life we would do our best to give her daughter - our daughter. We gave her a cross on a necklace and asked her what she would like us to make sure Zeni learned ("where she comes from" - no problem, and "Jesus" - hummm... problem...) and then I asked why she had decided to make an adoption plan for her daughter.

"Because I could not afford to feed her"

And there it was. The crux of all the uneasiness that had been swirling around in my mind since our plane touched down in Addis. She could not afford to feed her. How much does it cost to sustain the life of a mother and child in Ethiopia? Not much. Definitely less than we paid for the adoption. If we could have given her the thousands of dollars we had paid to take her child, she never would have had to give her up.

And yes, I know the concerns about corruption. And yes, I know that money doesn't solve everything. But when you have none - when you have so little you cannot afford to hold on to the thing you love the most in the world, then money goes a long way. And yes we give money to MSF and Oxfam. And yes, it isn't a sustainable model of development to just go handing out tens of thousands of dollars to poor mothers. And yes, if international adoption did not exist we would not have our daughter. But her mother would.

Why am I railing against international adoption as my Ethiopian daughter naps upstairs? I'm not sure. I'm not against it, but I am against a world where it has to exist. A useless, ideological not actionable sentence, I realize. But hugging Zeni's mom, watching her hold her baby one last time, it did strengthen my resolve that the work that I do in this lifetime will hopefully make the tiniest dent in the suffering and poverty that goes on everywhere around the world - maybe if I can someday work to help one mother keep her child it will somehow balance out the cosmic (and karmic?) dent I left when I took my daughter home that afternoon.

Ethiopia Trip 2 - Embassy Appointment

Our embassy appointment was on a Wednesday. All we were supposed to bring was our passports - our agency (Gladney) took care of bringing everything else. We had already filled out the zillion government forms and submitted them to our agency representative.

You aren't actually allowed to stop a car in front of the Embassy entrance (if you are unsure as to why, google "Islamabad Marriott") so our driver pulled up a few blocks past the entrance and we walked back down the hill. Once there, you enter a small anteroom with a metal detector, the purpose of which was a little unclear since it beeped as we both went through but no one seemed to notice. We showed our passports and were ushered into a second security room where we had to turn in all our cameras, recording devices, and go through a second metal detector which the security people seemed to take a little more seriously. You get a tag to reclaim you cameras when you exit, and then go down the hall and out into a courtyard. From the courtyard you follow the path around, go up a ramp and into the waiting room for the visa processing division.

When we arrived the room was packed. Ethiopians, Americans, and lots of kids. It was loud and stuffy and, if you're me, a little claustrophobic. They do have a little gated off play area which would be nice if you kid was a toddler. There is a loudspeaker which announces whose turn it is. When you hear your name you go up the stairs and up to the counter. We waited about 2 hours. Some people were in and out within 30 minutes.

Once you get upstairs you show your passports, sign some documents and answer a few questions ("is this the child you were referred?" "Where is the birth mother?" "Where is the birth father", etc.). Our agency told us these questions are mostly perfunctory and advised us that if we weren't sure we should just say we didn't know. The whole interview took about 3 minutes. Papers are stamped and you are handed a pack of papers which include your child's Ethiopian passport and US Visa, their Ethiopian birth certificate, and the court decision. Don't loose those.

Go back out the way you came in, collect your camera, do not do what we did and try and take a celebratory family photo before you get out of the embassy or a very scary security person with a big gun will demand to review all of your pictures and give you dirty looks, and carry on your way.

Ethiopia Trip 1 - arrival, visa and airport

If it is your first time out of the country, or to a poor country, or too Africa, the prospect of going to Addis to pick up your child(ren) can be daunting. We were there picking up Zeni from August 30 to September 10 2001, and I am planning on doing some posts which describe some of the elements of the trip which are more or less universal to all traveling ET adoptive parents.



Obviously, this is just my experience and everyone will have different perspectives, plans, hopes and interpretations but hopefully this will give you a bit of an idea of what you're in for!

Arriving at the airport

We flew Ethiopian Air from Dulles to Addis. Had I to do it over again, I would take a different airline for two reasons - one, Ethiopian is not exactly luxurious. The tv was broken most of the time, the seats were even more cramped than most flights. Two, it is TOO long in a small space without being able to get out. I would opt for a stopover somewhere in Europe, even if it meant having to stay a few extra days in Addis for a transit visa. If you have the money and are flying Ethiopian, upgrading to 1st class is $700 one way - something we seriously considered (although didn't do) for at least one of us.

As you get close to landing, the airline crew will give you a landing card to fill out. It has questions about your passport information, where and for how long you are staying in Ethiopia, and what the purpose of your trip is. Try and fill them out before you land (it is nice to have a pen on hand for this) so you don't have to try and write while standing in line. If you don't know the address and phone number of where you're staying, don't sweat it - just write the name of the hotel or guest house.

Put your landing card with your passport and your $20 (the fee for the visa, have a new $20 bill if possible) somewhere you will be able to easily access it once you're off the plane. If there is more than one person traveling make sure each person has a landing card filled out, their passport and a $20 bill.

The international terminal the Addis airport is the nicest airport I've been to in Africa, barring perhaps Johannesburg. It is modern and relatively easy to navigate. You will deplane and follow your fellow travelers down a flight of stairs or down the escalator. When you get downstairs you will be in the Arrivals Hall. There is a large open area with customs booths at the end. This is where people who already have visas should queue. If you are getting your visa upon arrival (as we did), you go a little to the left, into a line that leads to door marked "visa". The line leads in to a room where there are 4 or 5 desks, each with a person sitting there processing visas.

When it's your turn (and we didn't wait in line more than 20 minutes) you just hand them your passport, arrival card and money and they fill out some papers, take your money and hand you (1) your passport with your visa and (2) a receipt for your $20. Put the receipt in your passport, go out the door (the only way you can go) and get in line in the large, open arrivals hall. There are many lines each leading to an individual booth, you can get in any one of them except the one marked "diplomat" (unless you are a diplomat, in which case cool!)

Wait again (shocking, I know) and when it's your turn approach the customs booth. Give them your passport, answer any questions they have (they didn't ask us anything), and they will stamp your passport and send you on your way.

Once you exit customs you will be in the baggage claim area. On the wall in baggage claim closest to the customs area is a bank. (The bank actually has a window in the arrivals hall too, we chose to go ahead and get in line and wait to change money until we were done with all the lines.) Our agency told us only to change $100 the airport because the exchange rate was not as good there, but I wish we had changed more. The difference seems to be less than a penny to the dollar, and it was a pain to have to do it later.

To change money, just give the person at the bank your passport and the amount of money you want to change. They will write you a receipt, have you sign it, and then give you your bieer. Also in the baggage claim area are luggage carts. They are free and, if you brought as much crap as we did, wonderfully useful. We got one, brought it over to the conveyor belt, and waited a long time for our bags. It was a bit of a mob scene- lots of people pushing to get their things, so just take a deep breath and if it's really stressing you out maybe step back a little until the crowd has cleared. It also helps if your bag has some kind of easy to stop mark – my dad makes big "x"s with duct take on each side of the bag. Not so pretty but gets the job done. There are men who work at the airport who wear brown coveralls. If you want you can give them your luggage check tags and they will get your bags for you. I saw a lot of Ethiopians doing this, but don't know how much they paid them for the help, although not much, would be my guess.

So, you have your visa, passport, bieer, and luggage. You are ready to go. If you have nothing to declare (and you would know if you did), you will head for the exit.

Before you leave stop for a moment. If you are with someone, take their hand. You're about to see Ethiopia! Try and let all the stress wash away for a moment, and appreciate where you are and what you are about to see and do.

Then it's out into the madness. As you walk to wards the glass sliding doors to exit you will see a sea of faces. People waiting for people, people who want to give you a ride, recommend their hotel, help you with your luggage, etc. Don't stress. Just walk like you know what you're doing (fake it till you make it if need be) and say a polite but firm "no" to anyone whose help you don't want. Find whoever is picking you up (or, more likely, they will find you) and they'll take care of you, and you're off!

Sick.

We're back. The trip was incredible, Zeni is a great baby who coos and blows spit bubbles, there are so many things I am planning on writing about, but for now all I have to say is SICK.

I've seen worms coming out of all but one orifice of the human body. I've been puked on, peed on (and not by my kids), eaten live beetles and drank (drinken? drunk?) snake bile, all with more interest than detest. But there are two things I truly cannot stand - boat rides (due to unfortunate sinking experience somewhere between Phnom Phen and Siem Reap) and lice.

This morning I'm getting Zeni out of the baby bucket (the infant car thing) and notice she has this weird bug on her back. I show Jeremy. We both say gross. I would like to interject here that "gross" is, in my mind, a perfectly normal response for a lay person to give to a little crawly bug. "Gross", however, is not an acceptable response for a TRAINED PHYSICIAN. Where is the differential? The diagnostics? The STAT and the shocker paddles?? Thanks, honey.

Later this afternoon, while no one is napping, I have just rescued Zeni from Hayden, who is chucking tea cups at her head. I am making a bottle when I see another of these bugs in her hair. My heart drops. I know. I put the little fucker in a zip lock and waited until Jeremy (who, I would like to add, took the opportunity to go for a run while I tried to wrangle two over tired no napping children..) returned and showed it to him.

he - Gross

i - look again dude! It's gross AND it was in her hair! Is it lice?

he - oh, yeah, I think so.

thanks, doc.

AWH MAH GAWD.

So we have taken the following steps -

1. all household members have been scrubbed with bleach and something called "nix".

2. everything that can be washed in HOT water has been.

3. everything that can't be washed in the washing machine (like household pets) has been put in trash bags and sealed for two weeks.

I still feel like there are things crawling all over me. How do I fit the couch in a trash bag? Can I get one of those things like they had in ET when a huge zip lock bag goes over the whole house? Or what about one of those bio hazard scrub down stations where they take off the top layer of your skin?

Sick Sick Sick.

Sick.

but cute kids, eh?