Millenium Celebration!

A child’s smile. As I was thinking of writing this journal entry on the road from Harar I wondered if anyone has ever tried to describe what it is like to experience the smile of a child? Perhaps their laughter? I couldn’t come up with one example. I believe it is the impossibility of adequately describing such an experience not my lack of literary knowledge as to why I have never read of the experience in text. Many books refer to the “sound of a child’s laughter” or “the widest smile I’ve ever seen from my daughter,” but never have I read of the description of feelings and emotions they bring.

“Inay addis libs?” (Are these my new clothes?)
“Ow! Anche addis libs inay conjo!” (Yes, they’re your new clothes my beautiful girl)

“Inay, addis libs?” (Are these my new clothes?)
“Ow! Ante addis libs!” (Yes, they’re your new clothes!) to a boy

The Millennium Party at Kechene was set to begin at 6:00 pm, but the fun and laughter began hours earlier as I brought all the items needed for the night’s events – goats to slaughter, oranges for treats, donations from a bakery, toys from co-workers… all came through the gates causing the children to line up at the gate most of the day awaiting yet another arrival.

At about 4:30 pm I asked Tsegay (the head caretaker) if I could have the package I had delivered days earlier. As with every step I take I had 2 toddlers clinging to my pants, one in my arms, and 3 or 4 others fighting for sole access to one of my hands to hold. I escorted the youngest of the toddlers to their room so I could devote all my attention to those who would receive perhaps one of the most special gifts in their recent memory. New clothes. But not just any new clothes, traditional ceremonial Ethiopian dresses and suits. Clothes that while walking with the children on the streets of Addis they admire on others, not on themselves. That they’ve asked me if they could have but until now I couldn’t give them. They didn’t know what they would receive when Tsegay handed me a bundle, but they knew, as is always the case with any package I bring to Kechene that they would receive something.

Beamluk and Tsegarida were the first allowed into the room that we used as a changing room. They had showered and oiled their hair especially for the occasion – their only shower of the week. As I brought out the first outfit their eyes widened, glowed, sparkled, and soon they were bouncing up and down with the movement of their legs jumping with joy. Shortly after, Beamluk stood still and asked, “Inay addis libs?” I replied, “Ow, Anche addis libs inay conjo.” The jumping was repeated and their clothes began to fly everywhere as they tried to undress as fast as they could. Tsegarida soon piled onto the bundle of clothes and started searching for hers as Bamlie was delicately placing her new dress over her head.

By the time they were fully dressed they were running around in circles dancing and begging to be let out of the room to show everyone in the compound their new dresses. As they ran out the door, their first destination was to the others their age who they were told were going to get new clothes as well because no moment is special unless they all get to share it together. After telling the children to find me they ran off to show their caretakers and the older children.

Trying to describe what transpired seems so artificial. I wish I had had a professional photographer present to capture the moment for you – their faces, their eyes, their smiles, their reactions, everything. Unfortunately for you, my pathetic attempt will have to suffice 

Perhaps the most precious of all was Dawit. I’ve written of him in the past as he was the one separated from his mother recently who is serving a life sentence for killing her abusive husband. He was sleeping during the chaos of the wardrobe change but the children aged 3-5 couldn’t wait to help him try out his new treads. So, we decided to disturb him and he awoke happily as he always does when I offer him my arms. The children surrounded him, described what awaited him and we were off to the changing room.

Like only Dawit can, he smiled with his entire heart when he saw the new shirt and matching pants. His little mouth that is always opened wide for bananas was now widened with happiness. He stared. He looked back at me, “Bettina-ay (my dear Bettina) are they for me?” “Yes, Dawit. For you. Absolutely.” He sprung out of my arms and to the floor, jumping and clapping while trying to pull his too small shirt over his big head.

To see the joy these children experienced even for just one day was an unforgettably, beautiful thing. They had so much fun showing themselves to the staff who then uncontrollably kissed and hugged them, to the older children who did the same; dancing their hearts into the ground; gobbling deserts and guzzling soda until their appetites were satisfied.

For children who I have to regularly deny milk, an extra orange or banana because their isn’t enough for seconds – they got to be special for an entire evening – experiencing every “extravagance” I could bring to them in the short time allowed for planning (5 days).

These children in the picture above mean the world to me – they are my heart and though someday they will make it to their forever families in a faraway land I hope that they will remember their Millennium if only for the love that was shared on that night. They had a blast and I am truly grateful to those of you who took the time and effort to donate or information others of the event.

The children told me to forward this message,
“Betam amusaygenallo, ewedeshallo, inxavier-yestalin”
(“Thank you very much. We love you. And God bless.”