The Shadow-gloom and Weight of the Sacred

We traveled to Ethiopia twice: the first time in October for an initial visit and the second time in December when we brought the Queen Bee home. Both times we flew from Vienna to Cairo to Addis Ababa. Both times, we had layovers in Cairo. Both times, we arrived in Addis at around 3:00 A.M. It wasn't a pleasant hour to land in an unfamiliar country but it was what we had.

In December, we made the trip with a bit more confidence as it was our second trip. We knew where the food kiosks were at in the Cairo airport. We had some idea of what Addis looked like, where we were going. When you know your destination, even just a little bit, it helps you feel more comfortable traveling. At least, that's the way it works for me.

As we sat during our layover waiting for our plane this crowd of young men were ushered past us by armed security. Most of the terminals had treadmills like the one pictured above. Seats lined the walls of the corridors. We sat on one side of the treadmill, the young men were being herded past on the other side. Many of them were wearing surgical masks. Coughing. It was obvious they had all been exposed to some kind of illness. I don't know what. I wondered what was going on and went back to listening to whatever was on my iPod.

A little while later, we walked down to our gate and, sitting in the waiting area for our plane, were all those men. There was a diplomatic official there taking care of some things with the airline. None of the men had passports. The diplomatic official traveling with them held some documentation on there behalf, a sheet of paper for each man with his picture and some information (I looked over his shoulder for a moment or two, trying to figure out what was going on). I don't think anyone was particularly thrilled to be on an airplane with these guys who'd obviously been sick with something. I'm not even sure what their nationality was. Perhaps they were trying to get into Europe and were being sent back to Ethiopia? Perhaps they were Somali refugees--Ethiopia has plenty of them. I never found out. These men were seated at the back of the airplane. It was hot in that plane. No one would open up their air conditioning vent for fear of whatever sickness they had. I didn't open my vent either.

We waited in line for customs upon arriving in Addis. We were standing in the middle of this tattered group of men. One of them would cough. In my mind, I would freak out. We'd been through so much during the adoption process, it was so long, and it was almost over. We were soon taking our little girl home. It made perfect sense that one of these guys would give me some disease and I'd die within three weeks. I kept thinking of that episode of Seinfeld when George goes to counseling and the counselor responds to his statement that "God would never let me be happy."

"But, George," the counselor says. "I thought you didn't believe in God."

"I do for the bad stuff!"

Some of the men were transferring money before they got into the customs line. I don't know what currency they had, but they were getting into line with around 10 Birr, which is something like 73 cents U.S. Things are cheaper in Addis, but no one is going to get very far on 10 Birr. Gretchen and I stood in the middle of these men as we waited in line to have our passports stamped for entry into Ethiopia. We noticed that the man standing in front was us had bugs crawling over him. We noticed, but he didn't notice. He was oblivious.

The security personnel working the passport line moved us, and others traveling with a passport, to the front of the line. I was glad because, as bad as I felt for those guys, I was really scared they were going to give me whatever illness from which they'd been afflicted. Then, of course, I felt bad for feeling bad. I think about those men from time to time.

I guess this is just one of those times when they've entered into my thoughts.