By Robin Summerfield | Calgary Herald
Robin and Anjanette Bailey and their children Josiah, 7, and Hannah, 9, hold a photo of Mamush before leaving for Ethiopia to meet the newest member of their family for the first time. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
The Bailey family fridge is plastered with photos, an erasable calendar and to-do notes.
Amid this mishmash, one face draws the eye.
In the photo, a boy with closely cropped curly black hair stands alone, leaning up against a white stucco wall.
Looking directly into the camera, he suppresses a grin. Deep dimples dot both cheeks.
Hannah Bailey, 9, and Josiah, 7, will soon have a new brother. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
His name is Mamush.
For months, he’s been a two-dimensional figure in this home, yet he’s already become a huge force in the Baileys’ lives.
In 1999, Robin and Anjanette and their baby daughter Hannah moved to Taber, where the new dad took a job as a youth pastor at a local church.
The couple, who’d married young and lived in Ontario their entire lives, were eager to move to the West.
In 2000, their son Josiah was born.
How do you shop for shoes for a child you’ve never met? Use paper tracings of their feet. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
By 2003, the family moved to Cochrane, where Robin, a “church planter” with the Christian Reformed Church, was charged with building a congregation.
Today, his wife Anjanette cares for their children and teaches piano.
One boy, one girl, a minivan and a family dog — it seems the Bailey family is complete.
But they want another child.
After months of waiting, Robin and Anjanette Bailey of Cochrane share a laugh while shopping for clothes for their Ethiopian son. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
After the birth of their son, Anjanette didn’t want to go through another pregnancy. Robin had a vasectomy.
They both wanted to adopt a child from overseas.
As a couple who have built their lives on a deep-rooted Christian faith, the Baileys firmly believe they were meant to adopt a boy of colour.
“It’s just who we are,” says Robin, struggling to explain why they wanted a boy from overseas rather than a domestic adoption.
“I just knew that it would be — that that’s how our family will look,” adds Anjanette.
A family of four will soon become five. The Baileys prepare to add a new child in their lives. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
The Baileys long suspected the journey to adopt a foreign child would be complicated, but even they’ve been daunted by what the past 18 months have delivered.
“I can handle a lot more than I thought I could, and not fall apart at the seams,” Anjanette explains.
Getting in Line — January 2008
If there’s anything the couple has learned, it’s that adopting a child from overseas takes will-power, fortitude, patience and plenty of money.
The sun rises over homes in Addis Ababa, the impoverished Ethiopian capital. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
Navigating the maze of international adoption rules — with its labyrinth of provincial, federal and foreign bureaucracy — is frustrating and time-consuming, but it’s only the first step.
International adoptees, by virtue of poverty and malnutrition, often have special needs.
They don’t speak the same language as their new parents. Many are sick; others are simply starved for attention.
Orphans must leave their country and culture behind, and feelings of abandonment can surface later. This raises the broader question of what western nations are doing to developing countries by spiriting their children away to another world.
Inside an Addis Ababa market, Robin Bailey stocks up on groceries for his family. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
Even in their own families, parents and children sometimes struggle to bridge cultural differences and face discrimination in the broader community.
Parents like the Baileys believe the problems are manageable, a child will be available, the bills will be paid, the adoption will go through, and they’ll be left with a united family.
“It is such a leap of faith, but so is getting pregnant, so is getting married. Most of life is, though, right?” Robin says.
Last year, Canadians took the same leap and adopted more than 1,700 children from overseas.
Sporting a grin like the one in his photos, Mamush meets his new family from Canada for the first time inside an orphanage in Addis Ababa. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
Conversely, about 1,800 Ethiopian children are adopted annually by foreigners around the world, a number that has spiked since celebrity Angelina Jolie brought home a girl from the country in 2005.
In Alberta, about 1,000 families are currently in the international adoption queue.
While China is still the No. 1 country for international adoptions to Canada, adoptions from the landlocked east-African nation have steadily grown in the last four years, reaching 134 adoptions last year.
The main reason for the jump is time.
Without his own toys, Mamush holds gifts from his new family. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
Ethiopian adoptions take an average of 18 months, making it a relatively quick process, at least for now. It’s fast, it’s regulated and it’s predictable.
The average cost for a foreign adoption varies, but can span between $15,000 and $35,000.
Amid such price tags, though, there are concerns that the dollars and cents are sometimes more important than the child’s welfare.
“Many families approach adoption with a consumer mentality — they paid money, they expect fast service, delivered on time with a guarantee the child will have no defects,” says Deborah Northcott, co-founder of the Canadian Advocates for the Adoption of Children (CAFAC), an international adoption agency.
After five months living at an orphanage, Mamush will soon go to Alberta with his new parents, Robin and Anjanette Bailey. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
“It isn’t like ordering a car,” she says. “It’s about ‘Are you going to be a good parent to this child?’ ”
The Baileys answered that question with a resounding yes, deciding they wanted to adopt a youngster from another country.
Mamush, whose name literally means “little boy” in his native Amharic language, fit the bill.
He entered Ethiopia’s adoption system two months shy of his third birthday.
His father, who mowed grass for a living, died before he was born. Mamush has three older brothers and one older sister, according to adoption records.
Brothers Josiah, 7, and Mamush, 3, bond while playing soccer. (Photo: Leah Hennel/Calgary Herald)
|
His family lives in Kembata, a rural region south of Addis Ababa, the country’s capital city of 3.6 million people.
One year ago, on Nov. 5, 2007, Mamush’s mother gave up her youngest child.
Locals working in the region with a Canadian international adoption agency arranged to pick up the boy, along with several other children, at a meeting point.
On the way to Addis Ababa, the vehicle broke down and the kids were stuck at the side of the road for hours.
They were hungry, tired and scared.
It was dark by the time Mamush and the other children arrived in Addis Ababa at the orphanage operated by Canadian Advocates for the Adoption of Children.
Staff already had a family in mind for Mamush.
The Baileys — the young couple from Alberta — had put their names forward for a child two months earlier.
Robin and Anjanette met at a church youth group in Mississauga, Ont., more than 17 years ago.
She was 17, went to church regularly and had never kissed a boy.
He was 21, had quit church, drank and hung out with a dodgy crowd that stole gas from parked cars for kicks.
“He was big and scary,” says Anjanette, recalling her first impressions of the man who would later win her heart.
“He’s this charismatic type of person and people are drawn to him,” Anjanette says. “I just knew he was the one I was going to marry.”
Despite different personalities, they fell in love and were married five years later on Dec. 1, 1995.
She went to university to study music; he took religious studies at a local Bible college.
They both had a deep faith in God and wanted a family, one that might include an adopted child from overseas.
Anjanette had an aunt and uncle who’d adopted a young girl from India three decades earlier.
Robin’s mother worked at World Vision, a faith-based group that assists impoverished children in developing countries.
The idea of helping a child, perhaps from Haiti or Africa, attracted them.
Yet it would be seven years after they moved to Alberta in 1999, and after the birth of their two children, before those talks grew serious.
Preparing for a New Son — February 2008
One day two years ago, Robin searched the Internet and found a 25-page international adoption guide on the Alberta Children and Youth Services Department website.
In August 2006, the couple took a one-day course, showing them the obstacles in their way: money, effort and an estimated cost of up to $30,000 US, plus travel.
“It was overwhelming,” says Robin.
“We walked away going, ‘Wow, we really have to be serious about this,’ ” adds Anjanette.
They let the idea percolate longer.
Last year, the couple hired Christian Adoption Services to oversee a home study, putting their lives, finances and motivations for adopting under the microscope.
The first home study cost $1,300, while another $2,250 went to the adoption agency CAFAC.
Anjanette worried that they couldn’t afford the adoption on Robin’s $50,000 annual church salary and her earnings teaching piano.
The bank gave them a personal line of credit for $20,000 to help finance the adoption.
Robin took over as the family’s point man for all paperwork, phone calls and appointment scheduling.
“I think (Anjanette) thought that if she put it in my lap, it would slow (the adoption) right down,” Robin says, “but the exact opposite thing happened.”
Early on, the couple decided they wanted a boy about two years old, given the ages of their older children.
Meanwhile, the couple faced tough questions inside their home. The choice to adopt a boy — because girls are often the first choice in international adoptions — confused their daughter Hannah.
“She came to me one day and asked, ‘Why do you hate girls?’ It broke my heart,” Anjanette says.
The 34-year-old mother explained their reasoning. Hannah was satisfied and “after that she decided she wanted a brother,” Anjanette says.
Yet, as bills mounted last year, Anjanette grew scared. They couldn’t foot more expenses.
It was over, she decided.
The next day, however, Robin received a registered letter. They had won $10,000 from an Ontario charity called Orphan’s Hope that Robin had applied to months earlier. The windfall would go toward
When Robin told Anjanette the news, her money fears fell away.
It was another sign that “we’re supposed to do this,” she says.
In September, their dossier — which includes the family background, reports, documentation, proof of finances, and the age and sex of the child they wanted — was sent to Addis Ababa via FedEx.
Then, they waited.
On Dec. 14, 2007, the adoption agency called with news.
They had a match.
The following day, the Baileys got their first look at their new son Mamush, in photos inside his referral folder.
“We had heard about people falling in love the moment they saw their child’s picture, but we felt more shock,” Robin says.
Mamush didn’t feel like their son yet.
He was just a stranger in a photo, a name in a file.
“I looked at his picture and thought, ‘Is this really the one?’ ” Anjanette says. “Is this really going to be our son?”
The Journey Ahead — March 2008
It’s the small signs inside the Bailey home that show their life is set to change.
Soon they will be five instead of four, along with their pug-beagle named Bolen.
Robin and Anjanette think about adding a leaf to the family’s kitchen table and figure out who will sit where when Mamush arrives.
Both Bailey kids happily chat about Ethiopia and the little brother they’ve never met, whose picture now sits near their school photos in the living room.
Upstairs in her bedroom, Hannah pulls out a picture book on Ethiopia and practises the Amharic words she’s learning.
Inside Josiah’s bedroom next door, he explains how Mamush will take the bottom bunk while he, as the big brother, will sleep on the top bunk of their shared bedroom.
They know they’re going to Africa on an adventure — all to meet Mamush and bring their new brother home.
Meanwhile, inside a courtroom in Addis Ababa on Feb. 26, Mamush’s mother relinquishes all rights to her son, giving verbal and written approval for the adoption.
Mamush is officially a Bailey.
For Robin, this point in the adoption has become the most frustrating.
“He’s officially part of our family and now because of government paperwork, he can’t be here,” the father of three says.
“You want to be able to start living together and not have this distance between us.”
In late March, the couple get an e-mail that they will leave for Ethiopia next month, along with nine other Canadian families on the same journey.
Smiles and Tears in Addis Ababa — April 26
It’s Saturday morning in late April and a small group of Canadian parents-to-be wait anxiously in a gated courtyard of an Addis Ababa orphanage.
They’ve come a long way and waited a long time for this moment — to meet their new children for the first time.
Biology and science have failed some of these parents, while others have biological children but have chosen to expand their families through international adoption.
Whatever their reasons, much rides on these next few minutes.
“It’s like the biggest blind date ever,” says one mother-to-be from Russell, Man.
“We both woke up at 3 a.m. with mutual panic attacks,” she adds, motioning to her husband nearby.
For Robin and Anjanette, with Hannah and Josiah in tow, this moment is the culmination of 18 months of waiting, paperwork and almost $12,000.
Soon, singles and couples are escorted to the living room inside the orphanage operated by CAFAC. This is just the first meeting before they take their children home the following day.
Through the living room window, nannies are seen handing over Ethiopian babies to their new parents.
Waiting for their turn outside, the Baileys are finally brought in.
Sitting together on the sofa, the family holds gifts for Mamush: a soccer ball, picture books and a bag full of other games and toys.
The day before, the Baileys travelled a gruelling 24 hours, flying from Calgary to Germany, and on to Sudan, before finally reaching Addis Ababa.
Now, the moment has come.
Without warning, Mamush appears — to blink would be to miss it.
He’s led by his right hand to the sofa by Deborah Northcott, who runs the adoption agency.
A small child, less than three feet tall, Mamush has short dark hair and is wearing a blue and red knit sweater that’s too short for his arms.
In the face of this monumental moment in his young life, he bears a wary look.
Mamush quickly pads across the floor in blue sneakers, remaining silent.
Then, spotting his new sister Hannah and brother Josiah, he breaks into a grin, like the one he sported in photos still posted on the family’s fridge in Cochrane.
Anjanette begins to cry. Robin breaks into a wide smile.
Speaking in Amharic from across the room, a translator jumps in with an explanation for the boy. His new mommy is crying because she’s so happy to meet him, the translator tells him.
Mamush flashes a slight smile and arches his eyebrows — signifying “yes” in Ethiopian body language. He turns and plants a kiss on Hannah’s cheek. Robin is next.
Big brother Josiah gets a smacker right on the lips, which the seven-year-old immediately rubs off with his arm.
From across the room, the translator speaks again to the little boy in Amharic. After a slight delay, Mamush pecks his new mom’s cheek.
She grins widely and rests a hand over his little hand momentarily before pulling away.
Hannah hands Mamush her favourite stuffed animal, a grey koala bear. Big sister is instantly in love, touching Mamush’s head and standing close to him.
The next few minutes pass in a blur. The family of five walk outside together to the sunlit courtyard, where other families have gathered with their new children.
Fifteen adults and 16 children crowd the tiny courtyard, and play becomes the shared language.
Some children show signs of sickness, with runny noses, coughs and the bumps of bacterial infections.
Photos are snapped, fast and furiously, capturing these once-in-a-lifetime moments.
The Baileys claim a small patch of grass for themselves and toss the soccer ball around in a circle.
Mamush is silent, yet offers up a few toothy grins when someone makes a good catch, or Hannah and Josiah make funny faces or call his name.
Then Robin pulls Mamush onto his lap, as the family sits down together in a close circle.
The official introductions begin. Anjanette points to herself, and says “Mommy.” Robin jumps in, saying “Daddy.” Anjanette points to Hannah, then Josiah, saying their names slowly.
Mamush quietly repeats back each name.
“You’re a smart boy,” Robin praises the little child.
They all speak to him in English, carrying on one-sided conversations with the boy who speaks Amharic.
The soccer ball is produced again and Mamush reveals the three-year-old within.
He chatters away in Amharic, talking to Josiah as he kicks the ball back and forth to his new family.
As time slips by quickly — in contrast to the wait before the meeting — their visit winds down.
Back in the living room, parents retrieve special outfits for their new kids — the clothes for pickup day. Mamush will wear brown pants, a T-shirt printed with African animals, and new sports sandals the family bought in Calgary using paper tracings of his little feet sent along about a month ago.
Inside the crowded living room, Anjanette sits on a chair against the wall and pulls Mamush to her lap for a quiet moment.
“How are you doing?” she asks him calmly. “It’s a big morning, isn’t it?”
He says nothing in return.
Around the room, other families say similarly toned goodbyes in quiet clusters.
Ethiopian caregivers — surrogate moms to the adoptees — reappear in the room. One by one, they take infants from the arms and laps of the new Canadian parents.
A new mom struggles. She must give back her infant daughter, her first child, but hesitates before handing the baby over. Now childless again, the mother breaks down crying, as her husband pulls her close.
“OK, that’s the hardest thing I’ve been through,” offers another Canadian mother nearby who has just said goodbye herself.
The excitement, joy and delight of the past two hours has evaporated from the room.
The Baileys hug Mamush, one after the other.
Then he’s gone, as fast as he first appeared.
Tomorrow he will join the family for good.
[email protected]
– Coming Sunday: Meeting Mamush
– – –
When Strangers Become Family
Part 1: The Path to Ethiopia
For six months, the Calgary Herald followed one family’s unpredictable journey to adopt a child from another land.
Today: The Path to Ethiopia. The Bailey family faces obstacles — time, money, paperwork — to expand their family.
Sunday: Meeting Mamush. The Baileys go to Ethiopia, but will this young orphan find a spot in their family?
Monday: Mamush comes to Canada. Homesickness, language barriers and discrimination — the struggles to adapt to a new country.
Tuesday: Trends, tragedies and triumphs. How international adoption is changing the world.
– – –
Counting the Cost: A breakdown of what the Baileys paid to adopt Mamush
$1,300 to Calgary-based Christian Adoption Services for home study.
$4,500 to Canadian Advocates for the Adoption of Children for agency fees.
This Medicine Hat-based agency acts as a liaison for families adopting internationally. The agency owns a transition home in Addis Ababa and works with locals on the ground
facilitating Ethiopian adoptions to Canadians. It also handles international adoptions to a handful of other countries, including Haiti, Russia and China.
$5,500 to Ethiopia for all costs, court fees, transition home, etc.
$600 for three post-placement reports.
About $10,000 travel, hotel and living costs in Ethiopia.
Rebate: In July 2007, the Baileys won a $10,000 grant from Orphan’s Hope, a Cambridge, Ont.-based charity that awards money to Canadian families adopting foreign children.
Final cost: $11,900
– – –
Do you have what it takes to adopt?
These are a few of the questions prospective parents hoping to adopt from the Philippines are asked to answer on a questionnaire. While not mandatory, the answers help authorities determine an applicant’s suitability.
1. Describe the kind of person your mother is/was and your relationship to her.
2. Describe the kind of person your father is/was and your relationship to him.
3. Describe any difficulties, frustrations, embarrassments, sad incidents you experienced as a child.
3. Describe a happy incident you had as a child.
4. Describe your best friend and the reasons why you like him or her. If no best friend, why?
5. What do you like best about yourself? Least?
6. If you suddenly had a two-week paid vacation, what is the first thing you would do?
7. What would you change about your personality, if possible?
8. What would you change about your body, if possible?
9. What do you feel has been the cause of your present happiness?
10. Describe any recurring dream(s) you may have had in your lifetime. Describe any recent dreams you have had.
Source: Alberta Children and Youth Services
By Melissa Burdick Harmon
ADDIS ABABA, ETHIOPIA – The Queen of Sheba’s palace isn’t what it used to be. Its roof is long gone. Its grand entrance is but a memory. Yet the 3,000-year-old ruins remain, sprawling over thin-grassed farm fields in Axum — once the capital of a great world power and today a dusty Ethiopian town where cows and children, goats and donkeys roam free.
The Queen lived well. It is still possible to stride across her vast flagstone-floored throne room, just one of 50 excavated chambers. The sophisticated drainage system features fish-shaped granite gargoyles. Several brick ovens line the large kitchen, and multiple stairwells indicate that there were many more rooms above.
Here, according to Ethiopians, a great dynasty was born. And, as all great dynasties should, this one begins with a love story. As they tell it, the Queen of Sheba left Ethiopia only once, to visit King Solomon in Jerusalem. Solomon, despite being married, became smitten with the beautiful Queen. She reciprocated his desire and upon her return to Axum she gave birth to his son, Menelik.
Menelik I took the throne when his mother died, roughly a thousand years before the birth of Christ, and began a line of Solomonic rulers that endured with only a brief interruption until Emperor Haile Selassie, King of Kings and Lord of Lords, was deposed 31 years ago.
Menelik I is also, according to the Ethiopian Orthodox church, responsible for that country’s possessing the greatest relic of the Judeo-Christian tradition. It seems that the king went to visit his father, and somehow brought back the original Ark of the Covenant, previously kept in the great temple in Jerusalem.
The Ark is believed to hold the original tablets containing the Ten Commandments that God handed to Moses on Mount Sinai, and it is now said to be kept in Axum’s Church of St. Mary of Zion. Only one elderly monk guards this treasure, which no one else may see.
St. Mary of Zion is one of thousands of Christian churches that dot the Ethiopian landscape. Christianity came early to Axum, and soon after A.D. 300 this new faith became the country’s official religion. It has evolved little over the years, and its vivid churches are unlike any found elsewhere in the world.
This town’s greatest attractions, however, are not its churches, but its stelae — towering obelisks piercing the bright blue sky, the largest nine stories tall and cut from a single piece of granite. An even taller one, the height of a 13-storey building and weighing some 500 tonnes, lies on its side, broken. It fell, according to a written account, in about 850 AD.
Each stele has an altar for sacrificial offerings and a false door. No one knows exactly when or why they were built. Some say they were meant to house spirits.
Axum today shows much and hides much. Only about three per cent of this once vast city has been excavated. Kids routinely pull ancient coins from farm fields. It is a place rich with the feeling of unsolved mysteries.
In fact, mysteries and miracles abound all along Ethiopia’s Historic Route, with each of the three remaining stops reflecting a different era in the county’s rich life.
The 11 rock-hewn churches in the town of Lalibela have often been called the Eighth Wonder of the World. Like the monoliths at Axum, they are a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And, according to legend, they were each carved out of a single piece of rock at record speed, as angels worked on them during the night.
The churches, many carved in deep trenches with only their roofs exposed, others cut directly into the rocks of caves, are all connected by a labyrinthine series of tunnels, paths and steep steps. Each has been used continuously since the beginning of the 13th century. Most are decorated with a Star of David, underscoring the church’s close kinship with King Solomon. One displays a very old painting of a black Jesus.
It is a remarkable place, as priests and monks in brilliant brocade vestments carry on a religious life that has gone on here, hidden among the hills and caves, for nearly a thousand years.
If the rock churches of Lalibela impress with their stark simplicity, the 29 churches and monasteries scattered over the islands of Lake Tana, headwaters of the Blue Nile River, delight with their vivid paintings in primary colours.
Abba Hailemariam Genetu, Head Priest at Azwah Maryam — a circular church with a grass roof, located on an isolated peninsula — greets visitors.
This church, he says, dates back to the 14th century. It is younger than most.
The handsome Abba, or Father, Genetu, speaks a Semitic language related to Hebrew, doesn’t eat pork and performs ritual circumcision. He, like all Ethiopian Orthodox, practices a Christianity that is older, closer to Judaism, and far more exotic — complete with ritual dancing and drumming — than you’ll find anywhere in North America.
His remote church was constructed to protect the faith, but also to reserve Ethiopia’s ancient religious treasures — ornate silver and bronze crosses, prayer sticks that recall Moses’ staff and centuries-old illuminated manuscripts.
The church walls are covered with paintings which, over time, have also become treasures. One shows the child Jesus zooming down a board from a second story window, while less sacred children, who have tried and failed, lie scattered around the ground. Others illustrate the Holy Trinity: three identical dark-skinned, white-haired, white-bearded men.
If the rock churches are marvels of construction, and the churches of Lake Tana delight with their vivid paintings, the castles of Gondar simply astonish. Getchu Eshetu, my guide throughout Ethiopia, calls this site Africa’s Camelot, and he does not overstate the case. This palace complex looks as though it has been airlifted from medieval Europe.
In fact, the castle construction was begun by Emperor Fasiladas in 1632, when he declared the town of Gondar to be Ethiopia’s first official capital.
His brown basalt palace was assembled using mortar and boasts four domed towers and battlements.
A Yemeni merchant who visited in 1648 wrote that it was one of the most marvelous of buildings he had ever seen, mentioning rooms trimmed in ivory and jewels, courtiers in fine brocade and thrones embroidered in gold.
Succeeding rulers constructed their own palaces. The 18th-century Empress Mentewab built a lovely one, where it is said she hosted Scotsman James Bruce (for five years!) when he came through searching for the headwaters of the Nile.
Other Europeans were less kind to the castles. Mussolini’s Italians, who occupied Ethiopia from 1935 to 1941, used them as barracks. The British found out and bombed the buildings. Restoration is a slow process in a poor country, yet much of the complex remains, a reminder of the days when Gondar ruled a great empire.
As travellers complete the historic circle, it becomes abundantly clear that this mountainous country in the Horn of Africa contains treasures that should be on every history buff’s wish list. Someday they will be, but for now it’s still possible — and lovely — to experience Ethiopia’s great sites without being jostled by hoards of tourists.
