Greetings friends!
So, I am heading back to Ethiopia this morning. I will be there until the end of April, and to give my brother a break, I will be changing blogs.
(for whatever reason, blogspot is blocked in Ethiopia, and for the last 4 months John has been posting the blogs for me. What a good bro!)
So! Now you can journey with me at: http://flickalick.wordpress.com/
Ohh! And if you are interested in sending mail over yonder, I would love to give you the resources to assist your decision.
Jessica Russell
PO BOX 54617 (Piazza)
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, East Africa
It costs 90 cents to send a letter from the us-of-a and it usually takes 2 weeks.
Thank you for joining me!
jruss
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Saturday, January 12, 2008
homeland
Here is a really powerful story about an ethiopian girl who goes to visit her homeland. It is a very quick read and I think it provides a new and moving perspective on Addis Ababa.
Finding My Daughter's Roots
By Melissa Fay Greene
With thousands of foreign adoptions taking place in the U.S. each year, many parents want to give their children a connection to their pasts. Writer Melissa Fay Greene recently took her daughter Helen, 10, to visit her native Ethiopia.
It's been five years since my daughter left an orphanage in Addis Ababa and joined our family in Atlanta. Today Helen is a top soccer player, a flutist and the student president of her school. She has gained much, but much is in danger of being lost: her fluency in Amharic, her Ethiopian manners, her sense of her own history and culture.
As we pack for our 10-day trip to Ethiopia, I realize that I have no idea what my daughter is expecting to find there.
“I want to do lots of shopping!” Helen says.
“Addis Ababa is not exactly a shopping mecca,” I warn. “There’s no Target.” I want to ask if she remembers the orphanage or the beggars who line the streets. “I’m packing my iPod!” Helen calls.
Arriving at the airport in Ethiopia’s capital a few days later, we descend by creaky rental van into the city, where cars compete for right-of-way with herds of livestock. Unemployed, sick and handicapped people limp or lie on the sidewalks and median strips. Homeless children dash alongside the heavy traffic.
“This scares me,” Helen murmurs. “I don’t feel like I came from here.” Suddenly, a tall boy leans close to the window and moans in English, “Stomach zero.”
“Give! Mommy, give!” Helen cries.
She ransacks her backpack and finds a bag of bite-size Milky Ways. At the next stoplight, she serves a gold-wrapped candy to another barefoot boy who approaches. He examines it, smiles and requests another “for brother.” The van begins to accelerate. “He needs a candy for his brother!” Helen yells. “Please stop! Let me out!” But there is no stopping. My daughter falls against me, weeping.
UNICEF estimates that 4.6 million Ethiopian children have lost one or both parents, many to HIV/AIDS. Tens of thousands of street children forage in the capital; hundreds more live underground in sewers and tunnels. Some find shelter at orphanages like the one we visit on Helen’s first day back in Ethiopia.
When we arrive, the orphan girls surround Helen. They want to examine her watch and purse, peer through her camera and try her headphones. Then they all sit down for a chat despite Helen’s protests that she can’t really understand what the girls are saying. She does discern that they all need shoes: pink Crocs just like hers. With my permission, she leads an expedition beyond the orphanage gates to a kiosk, where she purchases 30 pairs of fake Crocs for 11 birr (about $1.50) each.
Over the course of our visit, Helen falls in love. Each morning, 3-year-old Binyam runs to her, squats and makes a fierce smile. She lifts and carries him for hours.
“We have to adopt him,” Helen whispers one day as he naps. “He needs me.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I say, “but we can’t. Maybe when you’re a grown-up, you’ll come back to Ethiopia to adopt.”
She shakes her head. Tears start to roll. “Binyam will be too old then.”
In happier moments, Helen soaks up Ethiopia. She understands more Amharic every day. She claps at dance performances and races up the field in soccer games at the orphanage. She sits at attention beside the van window, holding birr in one hand, candy in the other. If beggars don’t approach the car when we stop, Helen taps on the glass to catch their attention.
Before our trip, Helen’s dreams of adult life included Olympic competition, a modeling career and the practice of medicine. Now she says, “I’m coming back when I’m older to build a beautiful shelter for the beggars, with teachers and doctors and pretty bedrooms.”
Helen did enjoy shopping in Addis Ababa, but not for herself. When she looks to the future, it’s with thoughts of how she will make life better for others. And when she sobs inconsolably on our last day, it is for the orphanage girls and for Binyam—sweet children with histories like her own, but with futures that look far less promising.
the article is from http://www.parade.com/articles/editions/2008/edition_01-13-2008/Finding_My_Daughter
Finding My Daughter's Roots
By Melissa Fay Greene
With thousands of foreign adoptions taking place in the U.S. each year, many parents want to give their children a connection to their pasts. Writer Melissa Fay Greene recently took her daughter Helen, 10, to visit her native Ethiopia.
It's been five years since my daughter left an orphanage in Addis Ababa and joined our family in Atlanta. Today Helen is a top soccer player, a flutist and the student president of her school. She has gained much, but much is in danger of being lost: her fluency in Amharic, her Ethiopian manners, her sense of her own history and culture.
As we pack for our 10-day trip to Ethiopia, I realize that I have no idea what my daughter is expecting to find there.
“I want to do lots of shopping!” Helen says.
“Addis Ababa is not exactly a shopping mecca,” I warn. “There’s no Target.” I want to ask if she remembers the orphanage or the beggars who line the streets. “I’m packing my iPod!” Helen calls.
Arriving at the airport in Ethiopia’s capital a few days later, we descend by creaky rental van into the city, where cars compete for right-of-way with herds of livestock. Unemployed, sick and handicapped people limp or lie on the sidewalks and median strips. Homeless children dash alongside the heavy traffic.
“This scares me,” Helen murmurs. “I don’t feel like I came from here.” Suddenly, a tall boy leans close to the window and moans in English, “Stomach zero.”
“Give! Mommy, give!” Helen cries.
She ransacks her backpack and finds a bag of bite-size Milky Ways. At the next stoplight, she serves a gold-wrapped candy to another barefoot boy who approaches. He examines it, smiles and requests another “for brother.” The van begins to accelerate. “He needs a candy for his brother!” Helen yells. “Please stop! Let me out!” But there is no stopping. My daughter falls against me, weeping.
UNICEF estimates that 4.6 million Ethiopian children have lost one or both parents, many to HIV/AIDS. Tens of thousands of street children forage in the capital; hundreds more live underground in sewers and tunnels. Some find shelter at orphanages like the one we visit on Helen’s first day back in Ethiopia.
When we arrive, the orphan girls surround Helen. They want to examine her watch and purse, peer through her camera and try her headphones. Then they all sit down for a chat despite Helen’s protests that she can’t really understand what the girls are saying. She does discern that they all need shoes: pink Crocs just like hers. With my permission, she leads an expedition beyond the orphanage gates to a kiosk, where she purchases 30 pairs of fake Crocs for 11 birr (about $1.50) each.
Over the course of our visit, Helen falls in love. Each morning, 3-year-old Binyam runs to her, squats and makes a fierce smile. She lifts and carries him for hours.
“We have to adopt him,” Helen whispers one day as he naps. “He needs me.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I say, “but we can’t. Maybe when you’re a grown-up, you’ll come back to Ethiopia to adopt.”
She shakes her head. Tears start to roll. “Binyam will be too old then.”
In happier moments, Helen soaks up Ethiopia. She understands more Amharic every day. She claps at dance performances and races up the field in soccer games at the orphanage. She sits at attention beside the van window, holding birr in one hand, candy in the other. If beggars don’t approach the car when we stop, Helen taps on the glass to catch their attention.
Before our trip, Helen’s dreams of adult life included Olympic competition, a modeling career and the practice of medicine. Now she says, “I’m coming back when I’m older to build a beautiful shelter for the beggars, with teachers and doctors and pretty bedrooms.”
Helen did enjoy shopping in Addis Ababa, but not for herself. When she looks to the future, it’s with thoughts of how she will make life better for others. And when she sobs inconsolably on our last day, it is for the orphanage girls and for Binyam—sweet children with histories like her own, but with futures that look far less promising.
the article is from http://www.parade.com/articles/editions/2008/edition_01-13-2008/Finding_My_Daughter
Saturday, January 5, 2008
videos of bahir dar
I talked about this trip on my October 21, 2007 blog. Here are a few videos to go along with those written adventures.
First, here is the ROCKY gorge we traveled through while heading North.
We were VERY determined to see a hippo before we got off the boat. Here is a video (courtesy of Rob Shields) of the hippo who played hide and seek with us for a half hour. stare at the middle of the screen and watch the water...
While exploring the local monasteries by boat, we tried to spot hippos. Here, Amon is trying his best to call those hippos through his own special animal language.
And here is another of Amon pretending to BE a monkey.
MONKEY! this little guy was quite a disturbance to the staff at the hotel where he was playing.
Joy and I had our prayers answered. We had the privilege of eating dinner with these sweet new friends.
quick peak at the countryside of Ethiopia
a little more of the rocky road
First, here is the ROCKY gorge we traveled through while heading North.
We were VERY determined to see a hippo before we got off the boat. Here is a video (courtesy of Rob Shields) of the hippo who played hide and seek with us for a half hour. stare at the middle of the screen and watch the water...
While exploring the local monasteries by boat, we tried to spot hippos. Here, Amon is trying his best to call those hippos through his own special animal language.
And here is another of Amon pretending to BE a monkey.
MONKEY! this little guy was quite a disturbance to the staff at the hotel where he was playing.
Joy and I had our prayers answered. We had the privilege of eating dinner with these sweet new friends.
quick peak at the countryside of Ethiopia
a little more of the rocky road
dancing show
There was a conference for all the nuns in the Addis and surrounding area, so some of the kids at Asco put on a dance/acting show for all their visitors. They did a really great job.
Here are a few videos of the presentation.
Here are a few videos of the presentation.
fooseball
This is the fooseball table that Rob and Abraham finished for the kids at Asco. The two kids helped them through the whole process. and lets be clear, any GREAT IDEA is a long process. I talked about this on Sept 30 from the "Melcome Meskal."
SUPRISE
This was our surprise birthday celebration for Heather, one of the girls I live with at the cherokee house in Addis.
please note the incredibly large candle on her cake!
please note the incredibly large candle on her cake!
abc's
This is Warcu, Daniel and Sammy singing the alphabet. notice how intense Sammy is (boy on the far right). enjoy!
Thursday, January 3, 2008
montessori friends
Here are some more kids I hang out with at the orphanage. If you have been following the stories, youll be excited to see Nigistine at the beginning (she is the girl in the gray outfit). And then at the end, Alias makes a quick appearance. I have asked many friends to be in prayer for both of these sweet kids, and its such a beautiful piece of heaven crashing into earth as I get to see so much positive change in the lives of these kids lives through prayer and love.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
football winners
Here is classroom 3A the monday after they won the football tournament. Rob is presenting them their much deserved trophy.
dancing king
Wacu unabashedly rocks out to his own tune. check out these sweet dance moves. Yamsirach, the girl who dances second, reminds me of emurr. i love these kids!
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