A rose by any other name...

We've all been wondering about the derivation of Tommy's name.  We're not supposed to share it here; at least not until after ET court.  But, we took note of the fact that his surname was different from both his mother's and his father's.  So we hunted around for Ethiopian naming conventions.  Here's what we found:

When an Ethiopian is born, the child receives a given name from his/her parents or grandparents. The child’s second name is her/his father’s name and a third name—the child’s paternal grandfather’s given name – is tacked on to the end.

There are no ―last names‖ or ―surname‖ as is the practice in many cultures throughout the world. Most Ethiopians use just their given name and father’s name for everyday use but will use all three names when more formality is appropriate.

When a woman marries she does not change her ―last‖ name to that of her husband but rather keeps her fathers name.

People are universally addressed by first name rather than by last name. In formal address, the name is always preceded by title. For a man, the common title (comparable to ―Mister) is ―Ato. For a woman the common title is ―Woizero (Mrs.) if married and ―Woizerit (Miss) if single.

I'm just sayin'.....

Got our fingerprints done this morning for the Citizenship and Immigrations Service (what used to be called Customs or INS, and by the way, a tip for my friends in Washington DC: just changing the name of a monolithic, bureaucratic, bohemoth government agency does not make it either 1) more efficient or 2) more appealing).

Our I600 application (to classify Tommy as an immediate relative) was mailed six weeks ago.  I sent it by FedEx on 9/17 (a Friday).  FedEx says they got it on 9/20 (Monday).  In the 9/24 mail, we got (a very official looking I-797C) written notice they were processing our paperwork and we should expect written instructions regarding what to do next.  We got two copies by the way; one for Jenny and one for me.

About a week later, we got another one...no, actually two more I-797Cs.  These told us to go get fingerprinted on 10/26, almost exactly one month later.  Thinking it was an awfully long time to wait for fingerprints, I wondered whether we could move it up.  So, I looked for a phone number on the notice.  There wasn't one.  I looked for a phone number on the website; again nothing.  A bunch of research and digging later indicated the only option for changing your appointment was to mail the form back and wait for another I-797C with a new date (bet $1,000 it wouldn't have been an earlier date either).

So being good instruction-followers, we waited the month.  Now, I'm going to completely skip over the silliness (and expense) of taking six weeks and mailing 4 letters to schedule us for fingerprinting....at least for now.  What I'm completely bothered by is how we waited calmly for our delayed-six-weeks appointment only to arrive this morning to a huge, empty facility with several (very nice) employees patiently waiting for something to do.  The whole "we're so busy we couldn't possibly get this done sooner than 6 weeks" facade of their circa-1943 scheduling and communications system was a complete sham!  The ladies there told us we could have come sooner--just shown up any day--and they would have taken us....AAAAAAAAHHH!

Healthcare by the federal government anyone?

It's called waiting...

...as if that's all we're doing.  There's been no down time since we started this journey back in February.  Sure, it was pretty slow at the beginning, as we learned about the process and contemplated involvement.  But since the day we said yes, it's been a whirling dervish, so saying we're waiting is sort of a misnomer.

We're actually running, as fast as we can toward our son.  It's just that the road we're sprinting on is a long and winding one.  He's 7,500 miles away, and there's two long plane rides, a judge and two country's worth of immigration rules, and about $14,000 keeping us apart.

Although the waiting permeates our world, it's not like we're just standing around.  We’re filling out, and filing, papers with just about everyone; immigrations, State Dept., adoption-related foundations.  Thankfully, it feels like we’re writing fewer checks now.  There was a period of time where it felt like we're just going from place to place, getting in some long line, meeting someone new, and writing them a check.  It was almost likes you didn't really want to know exactly what it was for, just that it was done so you could move on to the next one.  But, we're all done with that now.

Now, we’re gathering resources, trying to get smarter on the medical side, and doing research on the education side.  We’re trying to figure out what our priorities should be, for him, and for all of us, once he gets here.  We’re trying to decide which language, and how much of it, we should learn to best communicate with Tommy; both when we meet him in Ethiopia, and when he comes home to us in America.  We're trying to figure out which "experts" we should listen to, about his medical condition, about his emotional condition, about his psychological condition.  We're trying to figure out priorities, because there's just soooooooo much to do.

.....oh, and we're waiting.

How could we not???

Over the weekend, the question was raised, "...but there are plenty of kids who need help in America; why go to Ethiopia?"  Well, here's one reason:

this is poverty in America

and this 

and finally, this...

Whereas 

THIS is poverty in Ethiopia

and this...

and this 

and this...

and finally, when we learned what happens when

people who can help (like us) don't

"aged out" is the term used to explain what happens if no one adopts a child before they reach 12 or 14 years old; they are turned out of the orphanage

to live (or die) on their own.

So, when people ask why we're adopting from Ethiopia,

I simply share with them what we (and now you) know about

how poverty affects kids in Ethiopia and then ask them...

HOW COULD WE NOT?

one step forward and......

We got updated photos of Tommy on Wednesday. The photos were AWESOME, and we were elated! You can tell from his gorgeous smile that he has such an amazing spirit. Still, it's sad to watch how quickly he's changing, and know that we're still months from bringing him home.

More than a dozen people received referrals this week, and one that we know of was for a waiting child. We thank God each time "meet" another family that's stepped up for one of His children. But, there are just not enough. In fact, we heard Holt accepted 16 more children from Ethiopia this week, 3 of whom are in the Waiting Child program. It's clear, in this mission, progress comes one child--and one family--at a time.

DTE!!!!!

Today comes word that our dossier is in Ethiopia (DTE as they say).  To the uninitiated, that is absolutely HUGE news!  That means, essentially, the number of steps between us and a face to face meeting with our new son now number just a handful:

1. translate our dossier (like 180 pages) into Amharic
2. Submit dossier to Ministry of Women's Affairs (MOWA)
3. Have court date schedule

Of course, there's just a few speed bumps along the way:

1. Conversion from Julian to Gregorian calendar is sometimes problematic.  Ethiopia has “13 months of sunshine” and just celebrated their calendar year 2002.
2. Electrical power and internet and telephone service suffers from frequent outages.
3. Because the country of Ethiopia relies on hydroelectric power, drought conditions throughout the country affect the availability of power. (see #2 above)
4. Family court dates are scheduled at the discretion of the High Court, not necessarily in the order in which documents are received.
5. it is common for adoption cases in Ethiopia to be re-scheduled one or more times.
6. The courts were closed in August and September.  It is not uncommon for cases to be rescheduled following the re-opening of the courts.
7. At court, MOWA must have provided a letter of support in favor of our adoption. If the letters are delayed, it could result in re-schedule.
8. Agency staff must procure a new birth certificate and passport for Tommy

See...piece of cake.  We'll be there in no time!

Geography lesson

In our efforts to become more culturally aware, we've been studying the demographics, geography and landscape of Ethiopia.  Since it's a pretty big country, we're focusing primarily on things that relate to Tommy.  Of course it's all a guess of sorts.  It's very difficult to get real details from the orphanage, and Tommy doesn't talk, so we've pieced together what we can based on some Sherlock Holmes-ian conjecture.

http://www.ethiodemographyandhealth.org/SNNPR.html

Tommy comes from the Semien Omo Zone in the Ethiopian Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples Region (SNNPR). Named after the Omo River, it was established in 1987, by The Derg, Communist rulers who came to power by ousting Haile Selassie, Emperor of Ethiopia from 1930 to 1974.  A 2005 census indicated a population of 3.8 million, 50/50 men and women.  The largest ethnic group in this zone is Welayta (44%), who have their own language, and most of whom are Christian (39% Ethiopian Orthodox, 36% Protestant, 3% Catholic), and 18% of whom practice "traditional" African religions.

The political and administrative subdivisions of each zone are called woredas (or weredas).  Woredas are composed of a number of Kebele, or neighborhood associations, the smallest unit of local government in Ethiopia. Part of the Semien Omo Zone, Boloso Sore is one of the 77 woredas in the SNNPR.

Based on the 2005 census, there are 359,000 people in Beloso Sore; just over half are men.  Less than 10% are considered urban dwellers.  Its population density is more than 4 times the average for the zone.  The largest ethnic group reported in Boloso Sore was the Welayta (98%), and Welayta was the dominant first language. 60% practice Ethiopian Orthodox Christianity, while 33.2% were Protestants, and 4.91% were Roman Catholic.  It has about 36 miles of all-weather road and 46 miles of dry-weather roads.

It's administrative center is at Areka.  We believe this is where Tommy's family is from.  It's about 4 hours drive from Addis, where he is now.  It is our deep hope that we'll have the opportunity to meet members of his family when we go to Ethiopia.  We would love to visit Areka, experience and take pictures of the area, and perhaps even take photos of his Ethiopian family members, so later we can share them with him.  We're sure he'll have questions about where he came from, and it'll be great to show him.  We're sooooo looking forward to our visit, not just to be able to share it with Tommy, but to experience it ourselves, so that we'll be able to understand him, and his world, just a little bit better.

Tough lessons are hard to learn

Work is hard today.  News this morning a former employee, someone I would not describe as a close friend, but a friend nonetheless, died in a motorcycle accident last night.  Miles was a good guy.  He and I were polar opposites politically, philosophically, and socially.  Still, I enjoyed his company, and I was sad when it turned out he didn't fit at our company.  That was a couple months ago, and although I tried hard to connect him where I could and help him find people or things that would land him a new job, he continued to struggle; even through yesterday when I talked to him last.

Miles had an ex-wife, and a son, Gunnar, who was 11 or 12.  I only met him once or twice, but Miles was clearly very fond of being a dad, and relished their relationship.  They were snowboard, soccer (although, as a brit, he called it football) and ice hockey buddies.  Although it seemed Miles didn't lament the failure of his marriage (at least not outwardly), he definitely worried about its impact on his son, and he worked hard to mitigate it in as many ways as he could.

I find myself reflecting on what this means; to us as a company, to me as a friend, and most importantly, to me as a father and husband. The simple things are: make sure life insurance is paid up; review will & trust with planned guardians; make sure Jenny knows what to do and when.  The harder parts are making sure each of the kids, and especially Jen, know just how much they mean to me, each and every time we part company.  The precariousness of our time here, not knowing how much longer we've got, or what lies around the next curve, makes each moment we're together more important than the last. I try hard to remember that always.  But incidents like this remind me to stop, and purposely focus on it more often.  I will.  I promise.