Ethiopia: The Human Touch

I have often wondered what happens in the flicker of one split second, when eyes register something other than simply being viewed by another, and understanding between two people takes place. I study this as I work with my still camera….I see the “dead” images, where I don’t have much communication with the subject, and I compare these to the “alive” images, where the subject and I have come to an understanding of one another, exchanging a form of love without spoken words.

In Western developed culture, we rarely spend time feeling each other. Fleeting eye contact, minimal touching, hasty interactions, we don’t often permit enough time with each other. We seek what we need and want, and move quickly into our next desire, rarely lingering long enough to foster communication that goes deeper than what is easily defined by words.  Lovers might feel this type of encounter, but how often do we allow ourselves to feel this with someone who is not our most intimate partner?

Here in Ethiopia, there is a purity of spirit that reaches out and envelopes even the most calloused person, should they dare to shed the shackles of puritan posturing and let themselves truly feel the deep presence of another human being.

Mankind started here in Ethiopia; we all come from this place. In new age terms: we are one on this Earth. When Western lifestyle is shed and an openness to Ethiopian spirit is permitted, you can fall in love with those you meet here.

If I bring my camera into operation too soon, before I feel silent heart exchange, I cannot record the love that is expressed through the beautiful and powerful retina of our eyes. But if I engage with someone and I am open to this manner of human encounter, at times the camera looses its intrusive power and love can be viewed via the image.  I treasure these precious images, each and every one, and count on them to remind me how capable we are as human beings to express love to one another.

Back home in my daily routine and distractions, I look into the eyes of these people and know that an area of the world exists where love and tender care comes first, all else is secondary…or even deemed useless to many. Often, I have seen many Ethiopians tilt their heads in endearment toward me, their eyes expressing that they know how lonely I must feel at times in my culture based upon independence.

Inevitably during these exchanges, tears well up and flow out of me, from inner recesses I rarely pull from in my comfortable life. I turn away, as it is extremely upsetting if Ethiopians feel that they have disturbed another human being. But I feel each tear, letting it absorb back into my skin as a medicinal antidote for carrying me forward.

And I believe, with all of me, that this is how we were born to love each another.

 

 

Ethiopia: Luxury Abounds

Ethiopia has been in the news lately, with coverage depicting the suffering that is happening due to extreme drought and its effect on human lives. But these problems are isolated to a small area in comparison to the whole of Ethiopia. Many Ethiopians are extremely upset by the notion that their country is associated only with problems that exist here.

Tourists come here to see the rock hewn churches in Lalibela, the wildlife in the national parks, the beautiful spiritual ceremonies held throughout the year, and Lucy, our human predecessor.

But would you consider taking a luxury vacation to Ethiopia?

Luxury abounds in this country, and when coupled with the tender and caring Ethiopian spirit of love, I cannot think of a better place to come to relax and shed the restraints of our highly structured and demanding lives.

From lodges perched on the edge of mountain cliffs, to sumptuous dinners for less then $10, to high energy night life, Ethiopia has it all.  Addis Ababa is the cosmopolitan heartbeat of the country where any need can be met, but luxury extends well beyond its borders, out into various towns and villages in every direction.  Tour guides are readily available to take you into jungles, trekking in mountains, birdwatching, or to run with the zebras in high plains, all with heartfelt Ethiopian smiles.

Ethiopia is one of the very few African countries that was never colonized, which enables a highly gracious welcome to foreign visitors and an acceptance even in the most remote villages.  If you have always wanted to visit Africa, the birthplace of all humans, consider Ethiopia.

You will be amazed, delighted, and well pampered.

 

(Paradise Lodge, Arba Minch, Ethiopia)

 

(Paradise Lodge, Arba Minch, Ethiopia)

 

(Lake Tana, BahirDar, Ethiopia)

 

(Kiriftu Lodge, BahirDar, Ethiopia)

 

(Kiriftu Lodge, BahirDar, Ethiopia)

 

(Kiriftu Lodge, BahirDar, Ethiopia)

 

(Kiriftu Lodge, BahirDar, Ethiopia)

 

Ethiopia: Fetena Moves Me

Some of you have been interested in an update on the story of Fetena, a little boy who is deaf and can replicate every Michael Jackson’s dance move without hearing music. This weekend I brought the Michael Jackson movie “This Is It” to him and we set up a portable DVD player so he could watch it. As each new MJ move was introduced, Fetena swiftly replicated it there on the spot. Amazing!

I also brought him a Nike soccer ball sent from my Ethiopian friend Yonnas who lives in Portland.  At first, Fetena would not accept the gift. He could not believe he actually could take it home with him. He kept giving the ball back to me, gesturing gracefully as though he was giving me a gift. Back and forth we went, giving, giving, giving. Finally, someone had to get stern with him and wave him away with the ball. Only then was he stunned to realize the ball was really his.

In a country so passionate about football, it was surprising that he did not know what to do with it. Someone showed him how to kick it, and off he went with his friend, rapidly learning how to maneuver the ball with his feet.

May we all learn to overturn our own inadequacies in such a way.

 

Fetena and Yohanes, using “natural” sign language to communicate

 

Fetena studies Michael Jackson dancing from the “This Is It” movie

 

Fetena with his soccer ball (Check out the amazing homemade barbells made of cement next to him!)

 

Fetena plays football with a friend

 

Fetena with his momma

Ethiopia: Exposed

In a jet lag stupor, I sit on the edge of my bed staring at my camera equipment. Neatly arranged in their little Lowepro nests, the lenses and cameras stand ready for the job ahead.

And at this moment, I don’t want anything to do with them.

I have lived life behind a camera since I was eight years old, my way of participating yet remaining an observer, rarely fully integrating into the occasion. I can break down cultural barriers, communicate without language, and both equalize and shift power to my subjects with the best of them. Sure, I can set aside my camera and join in the fun, or crisis, or event at hand, but my mind is always, and I mean always, on how to frame the subject. I stand independent, often.

Today, my heart is restless. A few things happened here in Ethiopia within the first forty-eight hours that have been immobilizing. It is not worth detailing exactly what happened because it doesn’t really matter. The important thing is that I feel raw and exposed, and I have turned the lens upon myself. I see who I am, as a reflection in my Ethiopian friends’ eyes. I have never so fully appreciated how bonding into another culture can transform a person. It is one thing to go to a country to taste their food and enjoy the scenery; it is quite another to invest oneself so fully that a mirror erects itself and is present with your every move and gesture. While I rejoice in this new frame of mind, it is painful to stand on the fulcrum of now and then, and not be self-imposing if not downright critical of my past ways of relating.

Here in Ethiopia, I see how humans can relate to each other on an innate and intuitive level and I celebrate this relief from my guarded self, only to become saddened by the realization that I most likely will go back to old ways of relating upon returning home to our easy society. When I land on familiar soil after visiting Ethiopia, I increasingly isolate in my house for a period of time. I can’t bear to see how we relate (or more accurately, don’t relate) to each other. We can’t help it. We have been raised on a steady diet of adequate and swift fulfillment and we avoid obstacles at all costs. Here, obstacles are a way of life, and from an early age, people learn how to traverse them with gusto and lean upon their hearts for solace. In turn, love flows expressively from one person to another.

My friend Daniy told me that when he is really happy about something, he does not eat because he feels full in other ways. I think about how often we turn to food or entertainment for pleasure in the US. How often do we turn to each other to make us feel equally, or more, full? Who makes us feel so happy we can forgo the need for food?

Increasingly, we are relating to each other more via social media and other means of technology, with less face-to-face time. I am struck by how often people touch each other here, holding hands, stroking each other’s hair, kissing cheeks, removing a stray hair that crosses a loved one’s lips. I get in a bit of trouble when I come back home, because I start to touch people again, and it often startles others.

An Ethiopian friend who moved to Portland seven years ago told me how he now has to refrain from his culture’s practice of kissing a child or elder upon entering a room and greeting them, whether they know them or not, because he could be seen as a molester or manipulator. How amazing to be raised in a culture such as his.

I think of my relations back in the US, and I want to take this Ethiopian culture filter and overlay it upon my home life. As I sit here now, I realize that the cameras have been a way for me to build instant intimacy over the years. I long for more of the overt gestures of humanity in my life. I have walked through a door on this journey, and there is no turning back.

I leave my cameras behind, exit the hotel, jump into Daniy’s van with all of his friends and we make our way toward a place to go dancing. Night passes into morning hours, and I realize how much I have to learn by this culture. We form a circle and dance with arms around each other’s waists, one leg lifted up, feet intersecting in the middle to see who will outlast the rest, the instigation of shared physical exhaustion, set to a rhythm. It helps to stay in the game by focusing not on my weakened knees, but upon the faces of my friends. As we all feel pain and shortened breath, exhilaration takes over and we become high on this thing called life.

My self-reflection dissolves, and I no longer feel like a separate entity. I am less as one, and more as community.

Music Permissions for Video

I was interviewed for this ASMP Bulletin about the difficulties in securing permissions to use music for multi-media presentations. Thank you, David Schommer, for granting permission to use one of your groovy songs from Bole 2 Harlem for my Ethiopia: Feel The Love video. Bole 2 Harlem was playing everywhere I went in Addis last month!

 

Read interview here.

Betam Konjo!

Ethiopia: A Streetboy With Integrity

Day ends, and I am bone tired.  Dani took me to meet his aunt Welansa and I instantly fall into her and her very enaging friend who recently moved back to Ethiopia. They are a duo of fun, and I once again find myself wanting to stay here forever.

I feel like I fit here….my humor is understood, I dance every day, my visual senses are fed. I miss my family and friends at home, and I wish I could somehow bridge the two. Perhaps there is a way….

I find myself wanting to be silent – watch everything go down in front of me.  Mix mash of people, classes, tribes and various forms of transportation and languages. A sashay of Amharic and Oromic interplay, here, there, everywhere.  Music, click click of high heels on sidewalks, people running everywhere, fast. Rhythm. Everything has rhythm here.

Out of the chaos, a small boy tugs my sleeve.  I look down, and see Miki, hair church-ready slicked back and torn shirt haphazardly tucked into his frayed pants. I see a lot of street kids here, box of gum in hand, showing a persistency that any CEO would envy. But Miki seems different. There is something about him that makes me want to engage with him. Yet, experience warns my heart, and I pass by, finding a seat at the nearby coffee shop.

I see that Dani offers Miki one birr ($.05) for gum.  Miki’s face lights up and he asks Dani to choose what flavor he would like. Dani waves at him and says it is ok, he doesn’t need gum today, sell it to someone else. Miki instantly begins to cry, deflated that Dani was not taking his gum. He pleads with Dani, saying that it is not right to take money without giving Dani what he bought. With integrity front and center, he stands firm until Dani relents and takes a piece of gum.

Miki works the same corner, in front of Friendship Mall in Addis Ababa, every day. He was born on this busy street, and remains at the same spot, living with his mother and trying to make a few cents each day in the most fair manner.

Ethiopia, I am so honored to be here and learn from your people.

Ethiopia: Selflessness

Addiss talks with each woman, giving swift advice and health care diagnosis as she recognizes issues. One by one, the women come in to the makeshift clinic, exposing their vulnerabilities and asking many questions.

Every woman has the right to deliver a healthy baby.

The husbands wait nearby, eager to hear of any news, with their hands reaching out to their wives. Waiting, waiting.

I watch Addiss care for one patient, two patients,…..six patients. Their eyes tell me of their desperation to be seen by a knowledgeable health care worker. Addiss simply moves through her day, ego in check. After all, this is what she sought: to help all rural women in this area give birth to their children without devastating results.

I ask Addiss if she has time for herself, and this question is met with curiosity. She can’t even comprehend what I am asking. After searching my face for a sign of understanding, she simply relays: I am dedicated to the mothers of Ethiopia.

Copyright 2017 Joni Kabana. All rights reserved. Site by TD