It is Christmas in Ethiopia today. Merry Christmas,
Melkam Gena,
Feliz Natal to all of those whom we love in Ethiopia and to all of those who love Ethiopia in the US. A few days ago, we were invited along with other Ethiopian adoptive families, to celebrate Gena at the only Ethiopian restaurant in our area (two hours away). The owner of the restaurant does this every year as a way to teach Ethiopian adoptees about their beautiful heritage. This was the first year we participated. There were Ethiopian dancers and musicians. There was free and delicious Ethiopian food. There was celebration. There were cute kiddos everywhere.
Scootle-doot was mesmerized. This was the first time (as far as we know) that he saw professional Ethiopian dancers. This was the first time since Ethiopia that he did not stand out by wearing his traditional Ethiopian shirt. Where a few weeks ago at school, he was the kid wearing the different shirt, here he was one of MANY little boys his age dressed alike. He and the boy-pack bonded almost instantly. They formed a little mosh-pit in front of the tiny stage. They danced and laughed. Most of these boys were complete strangers, but for a few hours, they were brothers. They had more in common than any group of boys Scootle has met since being in the US.
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| Checking each other out. |
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| First there are three ... |
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| Scootle-doot in awe. | | |
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| Getting their groove on. |
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| Now there are more ... |
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| Boo takes a break from running around to see what the fuss is about. |
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The music was loud. Good loud. It was impossible to stay still - the rhythm was infectious. If it weren't such a small place and if it weren't the kids' day to shine, I would have been right in that mosh pit. The dancers were powerful. It was a multi-sensory experience. Then it happened.
Something happened that made me lose it altogether. I was already on the verge of joy-sorrow-gratitude tears when SHE got up and danced. Do you see the tall girl in the picture? I am glad I did not get a picture of her face because it would have been unfair. She was in her moment. I barely met her family. All I know about her is that she is about 12-14 and she had been in the US for only 2-4 months. All of the little kiddos were dancing and having fun, but they didn't really KNOW what they were doing. They didn't remember or didn't REALLY know how to dance the Ethiopian way. She walked in between them after a few numbers and started to DANCE. Her shoulders and head snapped perfectly. She held her dress. She did not look at anyone. She did not smile. She looked up the entire time. She was not doing this for us. She was doing it for herself. The catharsis was palpable. Her face almost shone with the enormity of the moment. It was as if she was transporting herself to a time less confusing, a time she knew, a time she danced with those she loved, a time where she was at home. At one point, since no one could take their eyes off of her, the three Ethiopian female dancers stopped dancing and held their arms out to acknowledge her. She was not stealing the spotlight. She was the light. I am about to cry right here in this coffee shop as I write this because this was one of those moments. A
kairos moment, for sure.
I don't know a thing about that girl other than what I already wrote. I don't really know at all what was going on in her head. But I know know what it is like to be a 12-14 year old girl and I am learning enough about transracial and intercountry adoption to know her life is not easy right now. I have a feeling, though, that if she is as strong as her dance, that she will be something else.
As for my little two. They ARE something else! I am so thankful that they were able to experience this day. They belonged like nowhere else.
