“Inerja … right?”
January 13, 2008 by Sara
Yesterday we took a mini-road trip to “Little Ethiopia” in D.C. for an organized convergence of the Ethiopian community and the adoptive parents who were “in process” or had already adopted from Ethiopia in our region. We had no idea what to expect but, in all honesty, needed a “light” afternoon to just relax and have fun.
It was a potluck — which isn’t necessarily safe even with the closest of friends, but in this scenario when half the attendees are from a culture other than yours … well, you find yourself trying to figure out if the dishes you’re selecting from are odd-looking because they’re exotic/fun/interesting or simply because someone figured this was the best time to parade grandma’s marshmallow-jello concoction.
All food aside, the afternoon was really cool and I’m so grateful to the people who organized it!
The burgeoning organization is appropriately named “Bridge to Ethiopia” and yesterday afternoon was their kick-off event. There were about 30 adoptive families there and about 30 others who lived in DC and had some sort of affiliation with the Ethiopian Community Center. There were maybe a dozen other brave souls like us who hadn’t yet adopted but wanted in on the action. I could spot them by the wide-eyed curiosity with which they watched the Ethiopian children prancing in and between their parents’ legs. Most of the parents there, unlike us, seemed to have other biological children. (One guy we chatted with had five biological children and they were now adopting from Ethiopia!)
You almost wished you had a few hours with these people, more than just a few minutes in-between-bites of injera.
(Which, by the way, this dyslexic called “inerja” (in-er-ja) when trying to display her cultural savvy to the director of the Ethiopian Community Center. I later understood the polite-but-confused smile she offered me when I asked her “Where can I buy inerja around here?” when Nate whispered to me and said “it’s injera not inerja.“).
I know that behind every adoptive parent there is a story of struggle/waiting/anticipation and maybe even pain … but also redemption. We all chatted as if it were a Super Bowl party, of course, ’cause it’s just not quite fitting to pour out your heart in this type of setting (although many of us have done so to total strangers on our blogs), but I knew that in this room there was depth and God was near.
The afternoon ended with a skit, dancing and a song done by children from the Ethiopian Community center — many of whom we learned had just moved to the states in the past few years. Several of the adopted children just stared — with “have I known you from somewhere else?” furrowed brows — at their native brothers and sisters who spoke a language they once knew and danced in ways I’m sure they had seen before. In a way it was sad, as this new life for them came only after a death of sorts. I stared with them … looking at each of the little girls wondering if our daughters would look like them — sizing up some of the older girls wondering what it would feel like to be their mom.
The whole thing is pretty strange, I guess. But for one afternoon, surrounded by all these strangers who had chosen to jump of the same cliff we’re jumping off of and who actually didn’t look that different from us, it seemed a lot more normal.
So, we ended the evening with a quick stop at The Nile market/cafe where we bought two grocery bags full of supplies to make our first Ethiopian dinner. (And this offered me a chance to redeem my sense of cultural awareness as I asked the man at the counter when we walked in where we could find injera, ‘cuz the word just rolls off my tongue in my sleep, you know.)
Here’s some pics from the afternoon:
Ethiopian Children Doing a Skit in Ethiopian Garb
Solo (although the song was a Beyonce song.
I guess it’s the merging of cultures :))
Ethiopian Girls Getting Ready for the “Fashion Show” of Traditional Ethiopian Dress
and a sophomore at a public high school in DC
