Kampala, Uganda

Africa my Africa
Africa my motherland
Mother or Fatherland
Childless you went almost
But he that intervened
The God of all nations

Africa my Africa
Mother of nations great
Nigeria in the west
Ethiopia in the east remains
With labor pangs
You brought them forth

Africa my Africa
Father of Egypt
To the north, be so planted
And Zimbabwe, the south remains
And for Africa that mothered them all

Africa my Africa
Your discovery had brought you pains
Children and grandchildren
To the great sea you lost
Continents with them were fed

Africa my Africa
In Vain labor no more
Loose a child, but to no one
Your great nations do protect
For he shall intervene
When you cry for help
-Toris Okotie


After departing the cloudy skies of Addis Ababa, Kampala exploded with brightness. From the deep, green richness of the grass to the bright, red earth that lined the roads. The exotic yellow bananas that dotted the trees and the fresh mangoes and pineapple sold along the streets to the dark blue waters of Lake Victoria, the source of the Nile River. Dark brown faces walk the roadways, many wearing bright, African print dresses with baskets resting atop their heads. The ride to our compound is mostly smooth till we arrive in Kabowa, the name of our district within the capital of Kampala. I find myself starring at everything i see, out the left-passenger seat that is, for Uganda is a former British colony.

We arrive at the AFAA house, (a foster home caring for 18 Ugandan orphans) my new residence for the next seven weeks.

In the military, we spent months reading multiple six inch regulation and airway law books, working in simulators and countless lectures training to be Air Traffic Controllers, but it wasn't till I actually talked to a live Pilot, after graduating, that I ever really learned anything. So far, it has been two weeks in Uganda and I am learning that book knowledge is pointless without actual experience. Initially, I was nervous to be the youngest one on a potential property cite talking to managers and developers who have MBA's and decades of experience, but I quickly learned that timidity will get you nowhere...

The Color of Gold

“The visit restored me and revived my feelings for the place in which I grew up…a way of measuring the distance I had come. I saw how my own people had remained in one place, while I had moved on and seen new worlds and gained new ideas.”- Rolihlahla, Tatomkhula, Dalibunga (all the same author to the quotes I have used)

Rolihlahla (birthname), Tatomkhula (nickname), Dalibunga (circumcision name) but known to most as Nelson Mandela. In A Long Walk To Freedom, Mandela recounts how he was given the English name “Nelson” on his first day of school. “This was the custom among Africans in those days and was undoubtedly due to the British bias of our education…Africans of my generation—and even today— generally have both an English and an African name. Whites were either unable or unwilling to pronounce and African name, and considered it uncivilized to have one.”

It was during my trip to England this year that a family friend, a Morehouse College graduate studying for his masters in Comparative Social Policy at Oxford University, would recommend this book to me. The irony of his HBCU/UK education merits its own book. I definitely agree that it should be read by every person alive. Thank you Quinn for reconnecting me to the art of words.

I have always been proud of my name as it defines two elements of my life, both as an African and American. Not only have I (in my choices and actions) contributed to its definition but the meaning of my name is now defining me. Allow me to explain. There never has and never will be another you. Like an artist preparing to paint a blank canvas, we create for ourselves the lives in which we want. Whether we create a masterpiece or not is based solely on the manner in which we try; determination and heart.

This trip, Teru told me the name given to me at my birth, Yordanos Berhane Tariku (mouthful). My first name(Amharic for "the color of gold") is the only part of my name I somewhat understand. As for the rest of my name, well in my trip I learned that my grandfather the only Orthodox in a strict Muslim family had four wives and 20 children. I have only begun to scratch the surface...

Opportunity

Ethiopia haw always held a special place in my own imagination and the prospect of visiting Ethiopia attracted me more than a trip to France, England and America combined. I felt I would be visiting my own genesis, unearthing the roots of what made me an African." -Nelson Mandela

On my fourth night in Ethiopia my birth mother, Teruwork, who is called Teru (tooroo), put a tape in the stereo and my emotions quickly became paralyzed.

(I remember as a child my American family would tape-record me learning English to send to my Ethiopian family, along with pictures and videos)

A loud voice from the stereo echoed in the small living room as I heard a tiny little voice talking about the food she was eating for breakfast. There are four distinct voices: first, I heard my brother Mohammed, then I heard my momma and daddy (Charlie & Cheryl) and finally, my six year old voice started to talk about biscuits. I heard my mom teach me how to say, in English, “I love my mommy, I love my sister” as I mimic, “I love my mommy, I love my sister.” I then ramble off something in Amharic.

I couldn’t help but think wow, that fragile child had no control over her innocent life. It amazes me the conditions we subject the children of the world to suffer, not only do they not deserve it but they have no say in the matter. Hundreds of million children are not as fortunate as I am to have two mothers that strive to give me the best.

At first, I sat there and listened to the tape completely numb to the strangeness of hearing myself, but after trying desperately to fight it, my eyes began to water. As I starred at Teru, I looked at my 18 year old sister Tesfu and said to my mom, “Tesfu is a great student, healthy and happy, why did you let me go?” A question I have always thought about, Teru simply answered. “You would not be alive today if I had let you stay.” I had no response, I just simply held my sister and she began to cry.

I will never know if what my mothers did was the best decision; however, I do know that they gave me one of the greatest gifts one can provide their child; opportunity. In the past two years, I have made some of my finest achievements, and I owe it to my family and friends who continue to uplift me and keep me grounded at the same time. I am eternally grateful. Recently, a friend put into eloquent words the gift I am still learning how to unwrap… thank you

“What you have is opportunity, opportunity to advance not only yourself but the condition of your family. What was a seed planted in the soil of America at six years old has been nurtured by your mother and the American experience into a beautiful young woman who has not lost the essence of a continent, a country, a people, a family.

Through the sacrifice of lost time, lost years, lost moments, you are provided with the opportunity that so many on the African continent lack, that so many in this country waste. So long as you take that opportunity and you utilize it, there is no shame to be felt for you have taken responsibility.” -Abeeb

I am Habesha hear me roar!

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered."-Dalibunga

I later realized that the guilt and shame stemmed from within. I allowed myself to become uncomfortable because I had grown accustomed to the many privileges I had taken for granted in America. In the following week I would learn more about kindness and love from a family with no bank account and realize that my expensive presents and money would fall short to the invaluable gifts they would teach me.

Day1 contd....I swallowed my emotions for I could not let anything but happiness show on my face, that evening we would be joined by over 20 family members to celebrate my return.

Although I can boast about my extraordinary life in America and happy childhood (as I feel connected to my adopted family as if they were my biological one)…however, seeing the same brown faces looking at me and knowing we have the same blood running through our veins does something to me that is unexplainable. Kind of like the one missing piece of a 1000 piece puzzle, you can see the magnificent picture and it’s practically complete yet there is still one piece missing. I felt as if I had finally found it.

The celebration began with a member of the household washing each person’s hand. A pitcher filled with fresh water and a portable basin (to collect the rinsed water) is used to wash every member. My family does this by age, starting with the oldest as a sign of respect. Since I was the guest of honor, they began with me. I was also the first one to retrieve my food from the immaculate spread of authentic Ethiopian food, filled with the most mouthwatering spices and delectable entrées. I was in heaven . In six days, my family would do this FOUR more times! With each relative taking their turn and hosting me at their house.

In Ethiopia there are more than 200 ethnic groups; my family is Gurage (goorahgae), one of the four main tribes. Each tribe has their own geographical origin, language and culture. Gurages are known to be hard working and good with money and in my opinion the best dancers :P I only say this because after ever meal my family would play Amhara, Tigray, and Oromo(three other common ethnic groups) music and do the associated groups dance but mostly Gurage, which I feel has the best music and best dances (I promise it’s not bias) lol.

(I've realized that one can learn just as much or more from people than a history book)

Emperor Haile Selassie often referred to himself as Gurage. I was told that Haile Selassie was born as (Lij) Ras Tafari Makonnen (hence the name of those who follow him that started in Jamaica and their association with the majestic colors of the Ethiopian flag: RED YELLOW and GREEN. On the flag you will also see a Lion (Lion of Judah). Haile Selassie referred to all his people as Habesha (which includes both Ethiopians and Eritreans).

Day 1

"It was not lack of ability that limited my people, but lack of opportunity." -Tatomkhula

My life has been an endless blessing of limitless opportunity, many times given freely to me and a few I have managed to earn for myself. Yet I must still remind myself that I am no more special or gifted than the beggars who line the streets of Addis or the convict who is serving time for his crimes. Arrogance is poisonous and continues to cripple us as individuals and as a nation...

To understand this moment , I should at least provide you with some sort of info leading up to this special day. As many of you already know (and some who do not) I was adopted at the age of six. Ironically, I grew up on Churchill Blvd, unlike its name; it was like many other streets, flourishing with struggling families oppressed by political strife and consumed by poverty.

My house, like most, was a one room shack (about 12x12 feet) made of mud and sticks with a tin roof. No electricity, not running water, a dirt floor and the only furniture consisted of two flimsy beds. Water was collected by one communal faucet shared by a dozen houses. In addition to me, our household consisted of my mother, one year old sister and grandmother (who I found out years later to just be an old lady who took us in).

This blog would turn into a book if I listed out the events that lead up to me coming to America so I will put it into three sentences. One day I was sitting on the corner of Churchill Blvd and a “farange” , forgive my spelling but it means white foreigner in Amharic (the official language of Ethiopia), saw me and was taken by how unhealthy and malnourished I looked. As it turned out, I was in critical need for medical attention if I was to make it to my next birthday. My farange sponsor got me a student visa (something unheard of for a six year old) and brought me to America. Within a year I recovered 100% and with the request of my birth mother, my sponsors became my new adopted family.

Since then I have been back to visit my birth family three times; however, it has been almost six years (military and school) since I last returned and this time will be my first time going on my own.

We have sponsored my birth family since I first went to America. Therefore, my sister and mother are now comparatively much better than when I was a child. Nevertheless, I was still shocked at the conditions they were still living in.

They now live in a Ethiopian style townhouse. There are two big rooms, a living room and a bedroom they both share. The house is an actual building and is connected to four other houses and all together they share an Ethiopian style kitchen and a latrine. There is electricity (but the government chooses to turn it off entirely at least three days of the week). The entire compound shares one faucet that is centered in the middle of the five houses. It is decent and they are happy to be living there but the only emotion I could feel when i first stepped into the compound was shame and complete guilt...

Ethiopian503 (Heavy)

"I could only imagine that the future I was walking toward could compare in any way to the past that i was leaving behind."-Rolihlahla


After four years as an Air Traffic Controller (ATC) I can easily figure out my plane's call sign. Simply take the name of the airline and add the flight number (ie United1042)

Today is June 29, and I am minutes from landing in the land of my birthplace. I can hear the wheels coming down as I suspect the Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia ATC just cleared us to land. Inside I can barely contain my excitement and my anxiety is compounded as my ears pop from our quick descent.

The soundtrack: Melodic, Ethiopian Jazz vibrates through my headphones as mountains peep in the majestic, hazy sky. The earth becomes larger as trees and man made structures begin to appear larger and larger. I am home. Violently the wheels touch down and the gears roar like thunder. It is 8:29 AM and I am minutes from re-uniting with my birth mother, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins. I take a deep breath as I take my first step off the plane towards the journey ahead...