The day finally dawned when we had to pack our cases into Selemnah's taxi van at 4:30 a.m. and head off to the airport on our way home.
"Home" ...I thought about this as we wound our way through nearly empty streets and into the airport parking lot. I was heading home to Canada and taking Ayana and Moses away from the only home they had ever known. I felt so sad, heavy-hearted and down. I didn't want to leave Ethiopia and I knew that even though we had pledged to bring the children back to their homeland regularly, it would be a long time before we were back in Africa.
We said goodbye to Selemnah and I stopped myself from crying as we hugged and shook hands in the classic Ethiopian way. It was heartbreaking to see him hold onto the children and wish them good luck in their new country.
We went through security and it took a loooooong time...after all...that pack of unopened crackers looked very threatening.
As we stood at the counter to check in, we heard an unearthly screaming that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Suddenly, a woman came running through the airport terminal, screaming and shrieking. She had a traditional long white Ethiopian shawl wrapped around her and she was running back and forth wildly. As we watched in horrified fascination, a group of men came charging after her, caught her and dragged her away.
Not the best start to a couple of days hard travel!
After another loooong wait at the check in (yes, we were the only ones there at the counter, but something else went wrong), we slowly headed down to passport control, grabbing a drink on the way. All of a sudden, we heard the screaming again and the woman reappeared, only to be wrestled to the floor by security, wrapped up in her own shawl and unceremoniously bundled out of the airport. I wonder what her story was and what happened to her.
Finally we got through passport control and I breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know why, but I was scared of passports being wrong or documents incorrect, but all was in order. We were allowed to leave.
The departure lounge was full of so many interesting people. I love to people watch and imagine what each person's story is. There were groups of refugees, holding their UN refugee status bags closely..all they had in the world. I watched as they huddled together, off to start a new life in Europe or North America. There were many Aid/Relief workers and business people, but we were the only visible adoptive family.
As we got onto the plane and settled into our seats, I glanced out of the window and suddenly I couldn't stop the tears. I was so aware of the fact that we were taking these children away from their country with it's incredible history, culture, cuisine, languages, art and music. We were leaving the continent of their birth. It was a very emotional and hard time for me as we took off, leaving the patchwork of Ethiopia below.
I have to say that the trip home was horrific. Moses had two parasites (we discovered later) and he had unbelievable diarrhea almost every hour on the hour. To be buckled into tiny seats and have to grab all the change things and carry a wriggling, tired and fed up baby to be changed was a nightmare. However, the horror of all horrors was as we landed in London, UK.
Security was very intense as there had been the terrorist threats a couple of weeks earlier. We were late getting into Heathrow and could hear our flight being called as we were stood waiting in security. Of course, when I asked the security lady if we could be moved ahead because our flight was being called, we were made to wait even longer. The awful, rude woman got her supervisor to check and double check our bags, carefully checking BABY WIPES for drugs and making me suck on EMPTY bottles...just in case there was some poison in there.
When we were through, Dave asked BA to hold the plane for us, which they said they would do, but then they told us to RUN to the gate, which was a good 20 minute walk away.
So, there we were, running through Heathrow with our bags and our five children. We were frequently paged on the PA system and I ended up in tears.
To arrive on that plane out of breath, crying, heaving little children up the aisles and hear the Captain announce "Well, the family we were waiting for has finally arrived, sorry for the delay" was too much. I just sobbed....not helpful to anyone I know...but I was so overwhelmed.
I promptly sat down and spilled apple juice all over the dear lady sitting next to me, who proved to be an angel for the rest of the flight.
I have mentioned the diarrhea. I have not mentioned that as I frequently stood in the aisle, waiting for the tiny bathroom, with Moses squirming in my arms, other passengers were holding their hands over their faces to try and get away from the gross smell. I haven't mentioned that the flight attendants were walking behind me and baby Moses, spraying disinfectant and air freshener. I haven't mentioned that at one point, as people were literally moving away from me as I stood waiting , that I felt diarrhea dripping right through his sleeper, down my arm and splash onto the floor. It was a low point, a VERY low point!
I would stand in the enclosed bathroom, with the smell to end all smells (those of you who have dealt with this will be laughing right now...), desperately trying to scrub my hands and arms, to splash clean water onto Moses in that ridiculous tiny basin, to change his clothes...throwing most of them away by the way. I would wearily make my way back to our seats, only to repeat the whole thing about an hour later. I have to say, it was worse than a nightmare.
Ayana was fine, crying occasionally, sleeping occasionally, clinging onto these people who had suddenly whisked her away from everything familiar....we couldn't really communicate and it was so hard to be doing this journey without any kind of explanation to her as to why we were running, crying, hurrying, sitting for hours on a plane. When I wasn't changing Moses, I was holding Ayana, who refused to be out of our arms for long. It was hard.
Eventually all things have to come to an end and we arrived in Vancouver...stinky and exhausted...but we had made it! It was over! (We didn't know at that point that ALL our bags had been lost by BA, but that is for next time)
In my next story, I will also share about our incredible welcome party at the airport and then, maybe, I can move onto our life now that we are in Canada.
PS For those who are waiting to travel with their little ones...don't worry...it CAN'T be as bad as our experience and we survived to tell the tale!!!! lol
