Sunday, July 6: Ethiopian Taxis

Most of the population in Ethiopia is either Ethiopian Orthodox, or Muslim. However, this being the capital city, we knew that there would be Roman Catholic churches in the city as well. Before leaving, I had looked up the Archdiocese of Addis Ababa website, and saw that the cathedral was in the Piazza area, not far from our guest house. The day before, when Jeff and Sebastian had gone exploring, I had asked them to keep an eye out for the cathedral and try to find out what time they had Mass on Sundays. Unfortunately, due to being completely disoriented, not having a map, and not knowing the exact location or even the name of the cathedral, they were unable to find it (actually, they did find it, and someone outside actually asked them if they were priests, but at the time we still thought the church that they were standing in front of was an Ethiopian Orthodox church). Saturday night, Jeff did some research using a very slow internet connection to try to find more information, but all he could find was that the cathedral, (“Our Lady of something?”) was in the Piazza. We had also seen in and Addis Guide in our guest house that there was a Holy Savior Catholic Church, but it was across town, and there were no Mass times listed. We optimistically set out around 9am to try to find the cathedral. Coincidentally, the son of the owners of our guest house was heading out at the same time. We asked if he knew where the Catholic cathedral, Our Lady of something, was located. At first he didn’t seem to know what we were talking about, but eventually recalled that there was a school that was probably connected to the Cathedral. He showed us a shortcut to the Piazza, and proceeded to put us on a mini-bus, with instructions to get off at the next stop and then something that I can’t remember. The mini-buses in Addis Ababa are something I wish we could have figured out how to use a little better. They are basically 15-seater vans that take you between the major areas of town for only 2 birr (20 cents) per person. Trying to figure out which one to take though, is nearly impossible. At a mini-bus stop, you’ll see anywhere from about 20-50 minibuses, each with a guy standing outside yelling the destination over and over really fast until enough people get on that the mini-bus can go. We walked by several of these, and even though, thanks to the guidebook, I knew the names of the places where the mini-buses should be going, I still couldn’t understand a word that these guys were saying. Thus, this was to be our only mini-bus ride of the trip. We got off at the next stop, and started to walk around, looking for anything that could possibly be a cathedral. After several minutes, we tried to ask a cab driver if he knew where it was. Since we didn’t know the actual name of the cathedral, this didn’t work too well, so we finally gave up and asked him to take us to a church that we did know the name of: Holy Savior. It took the cab driver a little while, and a conversation with another guy standing close by, to figure out where it was that we wanted to go, but he figured it out, and we arrived there around 10am. The area outside the church was full of people standing around talking, indicating that a Mass had probably just ended. We walked up to the front, to see if there were any Mass times posted, and were relieved to find a sign indicating that there was an Italian Mass scheduled to begin at 10:30. We walked in, picked out a pew, and sat down to pray and wait for Mass to start. A few minutes later, the music team assembled at the front of the church and began to practice. As they began to play their first song, Sebastian and I looked at each other, and started to laugh: the Italian song they were practicing was one that our family used to sing in Spanish during our family prayer times when we were growing up! Juan Pablo was happy in the baby carrier as we waited for Mass to start and more and more people started to fill the church. As soon as Mass started, he fell right asleep, and didn’t wake up until we got back to the guest house. I was pretty impressed at how much our little boy can sleep through- the music in the church, the noise of the crowd outside, the jostling and touching of the beggars trying to get my attention while Sebastian negotiated a fee with the cab driver for the return trip, and the whole cab ride back. It wasn’t until we walked in to our quiet guest house suite that he woke up.

Juan Pablo's first Mass

That afternoon, while we played at the guest house, Juan Pablo discovered another favorite toy: a set of linking letters that come in their own little carrier bag. He loves to take them out of the bag, and then put them back in. The bag closes at the top with Velcro, and it didn’t take him long to figure out how to pull apart the Velcro so that he could get in and take letters out. Throughout the rest of the trip we would periodically gather all the letters we could find, since they would always end up scattered all over the suite and in the diaper bag, and count to make sure that all 26 were still there.

Sunday evening we decided to be a little more adventurous, and go to a restaurant that Sebastian had read about in a book, and that was recommended by our guidebook: Finfine. We packed up the linking letters in the diaper bag, got a bottle ready to go for Juan Pablo to have while we were eating, and set out to find a taxi. As luck would have it, there was a taxi just outside the guest house. We told the driver we wanted to go to Finfine. He repeated the name of the restaurant, and Sebastian began to negotiate a fee for the trip. Once this had been settled, we got into the cab, and our driver confidently took off. After a while of driving around, it became pretty clear to Sebastian, who had studied the map just before we left and had a general idea of where we were trying to go, that our driver was not going in the right direction. He tried to communicate this to our driver, who just sort of kept repeating, “Restaurant. Finfine.” Finally, he must have given up on the idea that somehow the cab would steer itself to the right location, and he pulled over, got out, and went to ask some people standing by the side of the road. He got back in the cab, and confidently took off again, and we thought this time he knew where he was going. A few minutes later, he pulled up in front of a gate with a small street leading into it. He pointed down the street and said, “Restaurant.” He then tried to convince Sebastian to pay him more for the cab ride than the previously negotiated fee, since apparently he had had to drive farther than anticipated. Once this had been settled, we started to walk down the street, and found ourselves standing in front of a busy looking building with a sign that read “Addis Ababa Restaurant”. Obviously, this was not Finfine. We also knew from the map, that this restaurant was only a few streets away from our guest house. The cab driver had just driven us around for a while, and then dropped us off minutes from where we had started. We still don't know what he was thinking, although we’re pretty sure that when he got out of the cab to ask for directions, he was probably just asking people where was the closest restaurant where it would be ok to drop off a bunch of Americans. Because Addis Ababa Restaurant had also been recommended by our guidebook, and we had talked about eating there sometime during the week anyway, we decided to stay and try to find Finfine another night.

Inside the restaurant, which apparently used to be some important diplomat’s house, it was crowded and extremely busy. We eventually found a place to sit down, coincidentally, right next to the only other crowd of white people in the restaurant. We ordered an assortment of Ethiopian dishes- I don't know what any of them were called, or exactly what some of them were, but they were all delicious. Once he finished his bottle, Juan Pablo sat on my lap eating injera for a while. In the meantime, the other white people left, and a group sitting to our right struck up a conversation. One of the guys in the group was excited that we were from the United States, claiming that he had a sister in Atlanta, and asked for our contact information, should he decide to plan a trip to the US soon. Sebastian, who is accustomed to situations like this, assured him that Ann Arbor is a long way from Atlanta, and gave him an old email address that he keeps to use for registering on websites to reduce spam in his real email account, and, since being in Africa, for situations like this. After this, the group went back to their business, and Jeff and Sebastian ordered tej, an Ethiopian honey wine. At this point, a man sitting behind us, who had been drinking tej since we got there, and from the look of his bloodshot eyes probably for a very long time before, became very interested in Juan Pablo. He asked his name and started talking to him. He then went on to start up a conversation with the rest of us, mentioning that he had a sister in the United States. We asked where, and after thinking for a minute, he smiled and responded, “Atlanta.” We laughed, and Sebastian pointed out what a coincidence it was the both he and the guy at the next table had sisters in Atlanta. At this, the man proceeded to tell us about all his other siblings, who happened to live in places like South Africa and Canada. Although the restaurant would have been a fun place to stay and hang out, the crowds and the noise were becoming a little too much for Juan Pablo, who, being the only baby in the restaurant, had been receiving constant attention from different people since the moment we walked in. As we walked out of the restaurant, an older gentleman sitting near the door stopped me, took my hand and said, “Thank you, Mama, for what you are doing. Thank you.” This would happen a couple more times on the trip, and each time, I was very touched to see how open people are to foreigners adopting Ethiopian children. I hope that they could tell that we’re doing this not because we think we’re superior, the super-Americans out to save the rest of the world, but that it’s out of love, because from the beginning God meant for this little boy to be our son, and because he already has been, and will continue to be, an incredible source of blessing in our lives.