Nebiyu's first view of the ocean

Alden writes his name in the sand.

Jeff Donovan, artist

Jeff Donovan is probably my all time favorite artist. I took drawing lessons from him for awhile, and he taught me to meditate. Tonight I took the "little" kids by to check out his new show. Last time we were in the gallery, Aaron was there, telling people he was going to run for mayor. The campaign staff got a shot of him with my kids and they were thrilled to see it on the Columbia City Paper today.


Here are some pics from the gallery. Notice how calm Jeff looks after my children have run all around his work. Jeff meditates a LOT.

Passport for Nebiyu

I'm strongly considering taking Nebiyu to Ethiopia next month.

Ordered his passport today - after standing in line yesterday only to find out they require photocopies of drivers' licenses now with the paperwork. Yes, I was thinking the same thing . . . how can a 7 year old submit his driving license? Well, he can't, but both parents can (and this is not on the UPDATE poster), and - I know this is shocking - they don't have a copy machine at the post office.

Government efficiency.

Is there any private business out there that could put a coin operated copy machine in the post office?

Today they added that he must to have a social security number, too. I said none of my other kids needed that for a passport and asked if it was a new requirement. She basically said Nebiyu's birth would get put in file 13 for about ten years if she even decided to mail it in for us.

I could tell David was NOT going back to the post office! So, we called the passport office and they said "just put in all zeros."

personality test

I took a personality test through my dad's company, Peoplefit. It's about as much fun to take as chewing off a finger, but the results are pretty thorough. Evidently, I orient myself to my environment, and achieve a feeling of stimulation and self actualization through personal growth opportunities. So, I guess that's why I actually finished the test, despite hating pretty much every minute of the process.

At first, the results proved a bit depressing. I don't tend toward many things that look like typical work. I don't like to be managed unless given tremendous autonomy, I hate clerical work, I'm terrible with details, I'm not good at giving people feedback, I'm about as non-traditional as is humanly possible, I don't go out of my way to react in the proper way in social situations, I don't care about being exact and correct and I'll dodge confrontation like a kid hiding spinach. God knew I should not be born a royal.

Oh, and I tend towards little to no self discipline.

My absolute worst fear is boredom. I think this is true, because the last time I (vividly and excruciatingly) remember being bored was late August, 1986.

The test actually states that I am not a good role model. Info that might have been good to know before adopting four kids. Fortunately for them, there is David.


On the other hand, I'm good at sitting around and talking with people - as long as those people are self starters and not needy.

I'm tolerant. Extremely so when not under stress.

I tend toward artistic work.

I like to work in teams where the team members focus on "mutual and reciprocal commitment to goals and objectives."
Obviously, this is what we do in film, so good fit there.

I love change and will make change "whether necessary or not." I think that part is pretty accurate, since I'm again figuring out how to convince David to move to another country for a year. Poor guy.

I like to be in charge and I like to inspire people.

So, on closer look, there is some hope beyond drinking coffee while creating macrame sculptures and communing with friends. Perhaps some how I can make money.

Perhaps as an advertising exec. Or, maybe a cult leader.
Or a paid traveler who likes to shoot film?

Or, maybe, a professional reality show celebrity. Here is a piece of trial audition number one:

Shadow Work

Frankly, I'm not feeling good about this coming year. When I get quiet to feel it, I'm stressed. Aside from the obvious life stressors, there is no blinking light pointing at a source.


I have a feeling I might be fighting my shadow. It's been quite some time since I've sensed the need for shadow work. Perhaps it's brought up by the decision to try and parent without anger. This anger comes from somewhere, so I need to find out where and balance that into the mix.

Looking for my Owning My Own Shadow book for a re-read.

I remember last time I worked on this. Not fun.

Book Review - Fingerprints on the Knife

How Come Every Time I Get Stabbed in the Back My Fingerprints Are on the Knife? : And Other Meditations on Management by Jerry B. Harvey


Dad lent me this last week. It reads like a blog - each chapter it's own series of thoughts, with threads of insight that flow from one to another. I loved his stories, and thought at times he could have used another great story to make a point rather than a sometimes cumbersome explanation. I'm glad I started reading in the middle because I might not have gotten far. Not because the material isn't worthwhile, but just because the beginning covers something I seldom think about.

The first chapters deal with backstabbing and scapegoating, and why the author believes the backstabbee is responsible for allowing herself to be stabbed. The overall idea is one I agree with heartily. We victimize ourselves.

I want to re-read this chapter with an eye at backstabbing and scapegoating within families. He touches on the family angle in a later chapter about how high performance organizations needing a low performing player to maintain their edge. The Japanese call these people "window people," because they tend to sit at the perimeter of the building as more or less window dressing. Within a family, this person might also be known as the black sheep.

I dove deeper into the following chapters.

First, a quick look at why people sit rather than stand, and makes a call for "liberating progress" through choosing to act.

The chapters that really grabbed me, as I'm now preparing for next semester's classes, were the ones on learning and cheating (please note Harvey does NOT use the word "teaching" to describe his work as a college professor). He defines cheating as, "failure to assist others on the exams if they request it." He has a bit in this chapter about a tense meeting with his dean, who roars at him,

"Are you aware of the absolute chaos that would be generated at George Washington University if everyone began to help one another?!"

The basis for these ideas is the concept that if we can help eliminate anaclitic depression, we create an environment for people to act at their highest potential. Anaclitic depression is a concept I've seen close up with my adopted kids. Basically, it's the idea that we give up various degrees of hope and trust when we are abandoned. As a result, we give less of ourselves following the abandonment. Businesses or classrooms which communicate that only a few can succeed (like grading on the curve), or allow layoffs and mergers (out of the control of the employees or students), spark anaclitic depression blues.

I found this interesting because it is a frustrating characteristic of one of my children. Page 116, "If you have family members, friends or coworkers who consistently fly off the handle because of imagined slights (such as not being invited to business meetings or social events they they have no legitimate reson to attend), they may have been injured by the anaclitic depression blues early in life."

Harvey challenges us to create environments where attachment to others can occur, with a culture that values helping others - thus cheating is defined as NOT helping others.

I'm re-thinking this next semester in these terms.

He spends an insightful chapter discussing prayer, which, at it's deepest level is walls-down communication. I amen'd all the way through that one.

Since I've been an Elliott Jaques groupie for years, I enjoyed his overview of Jaques' Stratified Systems Theory, and agreed with Harvey's assessment that people are hyper afraid that they will become depressed if they give up their current thoughts about how things work. Therefore, they can't allow themselves to admit Jaques' science is truth.

The next two chapters deal with farting in church - the value of interventionists - and how the cult in Waco and the federal agents trying to remove the cult were followers of basically identical faiths.

Lastly, Harvey discusses the merits of managerial humor, as wonderfully illustrated by as story following his open heart surgery. This chapter encouraged me in my New Years Resolution to parent from a place other than anger.

New Years Resolutions

I took a break from this blog after we got home from Ethiopia. It has been crazy, as you might suspect, integrating a new child into the family. I didn't have enough energy to give to this blog. But, I'm starting to feel like I can come up for air and write again.

Yesterday I began my yearly ritual of considering New Years resolutions. It's that razor's edge between deciding what might be accomplished and what I truly desire, but recognize I can't fulfill.

So, this year is a blend of somewhat realistic goals. Well, at least the first four are somewhat realistic. The last one is stinking hard, and I have no idea how to measure success. Guess that will be part of the process.

First, I want to build upon the small progress I've made using the Getting Things Done system. I'd like to see it fully integrated into my life by next Christmas.

Second, I want to make it a priority to exercise, hard, at least twice a week.

Third, I'd like to schedule more time to meditate and pursue spiritual listening.

Fourth, I want to arrange our schedules so that we can complete therapy at the beginning of each day.

and lastly, the hardest one.

I want to learn to parent from a place devoid of anger.

Now that we have four kids, I find myself getting angry much more often than I did in the past. It actually began when we got Alden, honestly. The thing that most often sets me off is selfish, self centered behavior. Like today, when I asked Nebiyu to help me unload the van and he smashed three of his siblings' Christmas boxes in his rush to take HIS presents out of the van first. Then, he wanted to be FIRST to play the game. He thinks he should be able to tell all the other kids to "wait, be quiet" so he can be the only one talking - first, etc, etc.

Obviously, this is typical kid stuff, amplified by a boy who spent most of his first seven years as an only child allowed to run free 90% of the time. I'm the adult, I can see this for what it is, so why does it set me off? I have a feeling my four fingers point back at me as I point my accusing index finger at him.


I have to change my behavior before I can help guide him, since my actions are LOUD. I'd love to hear ideas and suggestions. Please comment.

Ethiopian Dinner & Dancing

This evening our friend, Tsion, took us to an amazing Ethiopian restaurant with great food and great dancing. It helps to have a local, knowledgeable guide--it was the perfect place to go.

The kids loved the hand washing.













The dances were from all these different parts of Ethiopia. In the northern areas, there are all these amazingly fast and complex shoulder movements. In the southern parts, it's more about moving the hips.





I kept kicking myself that I didn't have the video camera with me!

The guys move SOOO fast. And Nebiyu is amazing. He can tell exactly what the music is going to do and dances accordingly. Even music not from his area. I want to get some dance CDs if I can find them. All of the songs were in the various tribal languages, but we didn't stay long enough to get to his, and he was saying he wished they would sing in Woliattian.

Zion really got into it too--I wonder if we should have her in dance classes instead of gymnastics. Nebu also wants to dance and do gymnastics, but karate was the first thing he mentioned. He can already do round offs and cartwheels perfectly, and flips from a stand still. Nebiyu is also SOOOO physically talented.

This shot of the guy in the air - well, he fell and hurt himself doing a dance off with another guy. But, then it turned out to be fake - just part of the act. He really got me.

My favorite was Garage, though i'm not sure how to spell it. Awesome dancing. I only spent $320 birr on everything, including tips. For three adults and four kids.

We had a GREAT, GREAT evening!

Poverty up Close

Coming back from a walk, just before we got to the compound, we met a woman who was almost crying. She wore a pretty skirt, and a torn and dirty t-shirt with a jacket over it, and clutched a letter in Amharic. She had no shoes. She did not speak Amharic, so Ruth asked her to come with us so she could find a translator. Just before the gate, we found Kebede, who helped us speak to her. The woman said she was from the country, and her husband died, leaving her with four children and no home. She gave the youngest child, a girl, to an orphanage. She desperately wanted to keep her other children, but the person with whom they were living had said they needed to get out of his house. She came to Soddo to find work, and had not found any. Tears came down her face as she spoke of her children. Ruth asked if she was involved in a church and she said she had been Catholic, but now was in a new church, that could not help. We gave her 14 birr, and I gave her my shoes (which I had planned to give away anyway) and an avocado, and Ruth told her to return Monday and talk with the pastors at the hospital compound.

On Monday, I was with the kids, returning from a walk to the trash incinerator, and Ruth called to me, “Heidi, behind you is the woman wearing your shoes!” I turned to see her and she began to kiss me and hug me. I introduced her to my children. Just then, Kebede walked up and was able to translate for me. I told her that these were my children, and I loved them very much. I told her that the person in who adopted her little girl would also love her deeply and take good care of her. She smiled and hugged me—then Ruth took her to see the pastors.

Alden and I talked after we met this woman. Her story touched his heart, and we talked about his birth parents, and wondered if they might have been in a similar situation to this lady. “Does that mean my mom and dad are dead now?” he asked. He often wants to know if they are dead. I said I did not know; that all I did know is that they did not want to let him go because they loved him, but something made them have to let him go. And, his new Daddy and I would NEVER let him go, because we are not in a sad situation like what we see here.

That evening, Ruth and I talked about fatalism in the culture. Most people here won’t name their children until they have been alive one week. And, in Amharic, the way you express sickness is to say, “the cold got me.” Ruth has challenges with the nurses when she wants them to try and save a child they feel is going to die. They do not seem to want to fight for life. For instance, if a child should not be laid on his back, but rather inclined, so the lungs don’t fill up or the child does not swallow vomit, they won’t do it, because children are to lie flat for three months. Period. If they die, then God wanted to take them.

This mindset affects the HIV discussion as well. It is extremely difficult to convince people that they can live a normal life if they have HIV. Ruth attended a HIV training, and there was a long discussion among the Ethiopians about whether or not to tell a patient they had HIV. The final decision was, yes, even though it is very hard for the doctor to have to say such a hard thing to someone, they should do it.



One evening, we invited Mebrat, a woman who works at the Mossy Foot organization, to eat with us. Mossy Foot is a type of Elephantitis, basically caused by walking barefoot. Silicone gets into the feet and then into the lymph system, blocking it and causing the disease.

I remembered her from January of 2006, and eventually she remembered me, too. I asked her how she learned English. She made the comment that people’s story, or history, is a message. I like this idea and we asked her to tell her ‘message’.

Her mom, Dakeeta, became a Christian because she met missionaries from the SIM Tera Peiza compound in Otona. She got married and had seven girls and three boys. Then, her sister died and she took in her niece. Their small grass house was overcrowded with kids, and they were desperately poor. Often, they didn’t have enough food. When Mebrat, whose name means “light,” and her siblings were really hungry, her mom would tell them to go to sleep, and God would come during the night and feed them. She said she would wake up wondering if God fed her during the night.

She had one dress a year, no underwear or bra. She learned to cook full meals by the age of six, and was required to carry younger siblings when she was five—she didn’t like this job. The first time she had shoes, she was in seventh grade. Once, her gym teacher told her to buy pants for gym class. She told him that her father couldn’t buy them because they were poor, but he said that was no excuse, and beat her when she came to class in just her dress.

She remembered her mother crying to God night after night for food. Then, one day, a man from Australia came way out to their home and “right to our door”. The man took one of her brothers in and gave some of her sisters’ work. He paid for their pencils and notebooks so they could stay in school. Her mom was convinced that God sent him to save the family. And, thanks in large part to this man, Mebrat now has a job and can speak wonderful English, and has just completed her first year of study in Human Resource Management.

Update on the woman who has my shoes. She went to the orphanage today and tried to give away the remaining three of her children. She ended up only give the youngest two, the previous given daughter and her four year old daughter. Ruth treated her youngest daughter, at the hospital yesterday. She has malaria—poor baby. It makes me wonder if the rest of the family has it as well. Ruth and I are trying to figure out how to help this woman, and it’s really challenging. She basically needs a job. But, there are not many jobs, and they pay so little. She needs a home and a job, but Ruth is already supporting so many people, and she hears these sorts of stories almost every single day. I think of Hanna, too, and the stories she hears, and I just wonder what we can do.

The other night Ruth and I talked about helping and how to think about helping. She wants to go soon to this area in Zale, called Gamo Gofa, in the deep South. Ruth does a medical clinic there. It is terribly poor, and about one in ten people have huge goiters. Even the children have them. Evidently, they don’t get enough iodine in their diets. A professor Ruth knows gave a group of similarly affected people iodized salt, and people became healthy, and also more fertile. The increase in the number of children put too much strain on the available food supply, and people began to starve.



I saw a dead child today. He was covered, except his forehead, and lay in front of his mother, who was begging at the side of the road for money to bury him. Ermias asked me to take some photos, which I did. And, I gave her some money, and cried, and prayed for her.

We also saw a huge group of people wailing at the hospital because a young girl died after drinking an entire bottle of poison. Usually, they just drink a small amount, more to get attention, and then they can be helped, but though the doctor tried all night, he could not save this girl.


Poverty and death are up close here.


Today, here at the compound my older kids were helping loading large bags of rice on to 4x4 trucks. There was a container of rice and some other food shipped here from California, and is being distributed through a church in Otona, pastored by a man named Paulo.


Getting food to the hungry is the always to be commended and I am thankful for all the people that made this happen. I wonder if there is a better way than this. It took six weeks of work to get the container organized, and to set up the distribution network. They also had to negotiate with the hospital for storage space, and this week the hospital was trying to get everything out so they could get their space back. All this was on top of two people spending three days and lots of money in the capital trying to get the container out of customs (they also watched the customs agents burn all the used clothing—some of it new, but with tags removed—the country does not allow NGOs to bring in used clothes). The food in the container was not what the people here are used to preparing or eating. There was a lot of rice, quick oats, and cans of mac and cheese. The nutrition level was relatively low for what it was and the amount of money and energy used to get it here is high. The dozens of people involved in the container process have done a wonderful thing and I want to commend them--not be critical of the work, but I wonder if buying local food that is high in nutrients, like teff and lentils, would be a better use of funds. Right now, anyone with money can buy food at the markets—but if more people were buying could the supply keep up with the demand?

But, in my experience, it is so challenging to get Americans to give money rather than things. I wonder how to motivate people to get behind money projects rather than giving stuff. Could lots of photos or video updates work better? Still, the time needed for this is intensive. I think it would be motivating to get personal emails and see photos of the place where the teff is purchased, for instance, and the distribution of the food and so forth, to really connect the donors individually with the project. In my opinion, it needs to be done in a more personal way than, say, the Compassion newsletter. That means more manpower and more money spent on the administration. Ugh. Hard questions.


My thoughts circle and circle. What is helping? What is hurting? How much can and should one person from “outside” do, and what truly helps people raise themselves out of poverty?

Sneaths in Ethiopian Trees

The kids are really enjoying climbing trees. They also like to do their reading assignments in the trees. Zion has scraped her knee once, but, so far that is the only injury.

Soddo, Ethiopia--Pottery Making

7.31.09 Friday

Alden got up and threw up this morning. He has a fever. I think he had not been using soap as well as he should. I think it was that, or possibly the cafeteria food. I decided we would go on our planned adventure without him, since Almas is here at home and Ruth is so close by, and he really just needed to sleep and drink.

So, we went, all but Alden, with Ermias, on an extremely long walk. He guessed we walked 12 kilometers total today. I had some snacks, and accidentally left them sitting at home. This was a problem because Zion only ate the jelly off her toast for breakfast, and was soon in the sugar dumps, crying that she wanted to go home and that she missed her Daddy. I showed her some video of him on my camera, and that helped. And, Sarah had some crackers she had planned to give away, so they were able to eat a few. When Sarah put her bag down, later, Nebiyu and Zion helped themselves to the rest of them.

After we got through the crowded roads and onto the narrower country paths, the scenery was stunning. We passed people walking to town and lots of livestock, and crossed a nice bridge with a donkey standing guard. We could see people washing their clothes in the brown water. We also saw many children going to fetch water in the ubiquitous yellow containers. Nebiyu says he can carry two of the big ones up a hill by himself. I believe it, as he is as muscular as a high school athlete at age seven.

We arrived at a modest mud home, and saw many pieces of pottery out back. Friday is firing day. The one man in the compound was chopping wood. They put the pottery in a circle, stacking the taller stuff over the flat items with hay in between and on top. Wood is placed in a circle around the items and the whole thing burns for two to three hours. They wanted to know if we wanted to stay until five pm for the burn, but we said we’d really like to see the entire process if that was okay, instead, since five is too late to walk home safely.




Ermias eventually convinced the matriarch to show us the entire clay forming process – minus the long trek to find clay and water.









Here is the entry from Sarah’s journal about it:

There were three women using rocks against the sides of pots. I made long, thin marks on the pots. Then, the elderly lady let me try it. Then I got to see her get pieces of dry clay and smash them with a small club. Then she sifted the small pieces and then wet the pieces with water and started working the soft clay. Then she made the clay into a cone. Then she got a large leaf and put the cone onto it. She put the pointy part on the leaf and pressed it so that it was flat. That made the base. From there, she made the top rim taller by using her hands and moving them up and down. She spun herself around the pot while she did this. Then, she used a cloth and wrapped it around the rim of the pot to make it smooth. This all took about an hour, because my brother and sister and I did all these steps, too. At the end of doing this, I made the top rim wavy. It was the best part. Then we left.





I paid the people for spending time teaching us, and told a woman with a sick baby to bring it to the hospital and I would pay for him to be seen. I wrote her a note so the guard would let her in. On the way out, the kids found some baby sheep and got to pet them. They were twins, just beyond cute. You can tell the sheep because their tails are down and the goats because their tails are up. Other than that, they look very much the same, and it gives insight into the scripture, “separate the sheep from the goats.”

Welcome Nebu

Nebu is with us! Zion is very happy about it. We went to the care center, but our driver said he would not be there, so I didn't have the camera out. Then, he was there. Zion went crazy - holding his hand and kissing him and saying "my brother!" I thought she was going to really get on his nerves after awhile, but he was cool about it.

Sarah describes the dangers of being a giraffe

Sarah Ethiopia White Grass Reserve from Heidi Mehltretter on Vimeo.

Mom to Four

We have been waiting and waiting for this day!

Welcome to the Sneath clan, Nebiyou!

Here he is with his sister, Tsion (Zion), about 9 months before we adopted her.


And, here he is today. We are really looking forward spending time with him in Ethiopia, and bringing him home!

indoor seedlings

Remember how I was telling you I was growing tomato seedlings in the front windows? Well, I love how one neighbor put it the other day, "What you got there ain't no tomatoes, them's become a WEED."

World Aids Orphans Day

I bet there are some of you who read my blog that have room in your home and heart for a child orphaned by AIDS.

Some people ask, "why does God allow all these kids to lose their parents?"

Maybe we should ask instead, "why do I allow a child to live without parents?"

Let me know if you feel that tug and I'll help you any way I can.

Another way to help is to sponsor one of Hanna's girls from Children's Heaven - these girls lost moms and dads, mostly to aids, and Hanna is mom to them now, but she needs sponsors to help her parent these girls.

Thanks!!

Neuro Reorganization Update

We are in week seven of our neuro reorganization journey. The kids are getting a lot of therapy done each day without complaint.

I fall short on the amount of sensory stimulation I need to do with each of them, and am brainstorming ways to accomplish more (like having the dog help oversee patterns). The challenge is that sensory stimulation can't be done at once, it must be done throughout the day, or at least with blocks of time between each "session."

I found the book, What To Do About Your Brain Injured Child, quite helpful in understanding the methodology behind the various activities.

Hanna Update - bad news

Children's Heaven was broken into, and the laptops stolen, and the desktop vandalized. All of Hanna's records are gone. I will post updates as I receive them.

Arriving in Style

Subtitle: Does this mean we're rednecks?


If your wife was up the street hiding eggs in a park, and you had to take three kids to meet her when she called, how would you get there?

Another day at the office

Shooting during a forty minute flight on a B 25 bomber was no shabby job. It was especially meaningful to me because my aunt Eleanor (Mary Martin) flew these planes in WWII.


I was priveleged last night to shoot an interview with a Doolittle Raider, who was captured by the Japanese following the raid. I'll post the interview soon, or you can view it at The State newspaper's site.

Junior Master Gardener

I love that the kids are involved with 4-H. Specifically, the Junior Master Gardener program at Riverbanks Zoo and Garden. Sarah is always a week ahead on her assignments, but Alden and I struggle to keep up with his homework, and are generally up late getting it done - and still manage to stay about a week behind. Tonight (around 10pm), he and Zion worked together on an assignment that was right up his alley.

Edible bugs.

The idea was to show the symetrical nature of bugs. Did you know that bugs on earth, if gathered into a pile, would weigh MUCH more than all the people on earth?

Alden loves arranging his food into visual masterpieces anyway, so this was pure bliss. And, I managed to get Zion to eat peanut butter! Guess it helped that we forgot to eat dinner, so maybe she was just really hungry.

Before you think I'm a horrible mom to forget dinner, we ate lunch at 4pm. I wanted to try and cook Indian food from scratch, and it just took longer than I expected for the frozen sour cream to thaw.

Sarah said it wasn't bad, but it wasn't like the food we had in India, either. I think the rice was not dry enough and it could use just a bit more spice. The instructions were all in metric weights, like "soak 110 grams of black lentils and 30 grams of kidney beans, add 120 grams of tomato puree." So, I just guessed on most of it. Here they are, praying it will be edible.

Seedlings

One of my new hobbies, besides selling wigs on ebay to raise money for the adoption, is gardening. I started it when I realized the kids haven't had the experiences I did growing up with a mom with green thumbs, fingers and toes, who knows all the scientific names of every plant and has grown food organically since before I was born. I tried last year, and as you may recall, the garden was almost a complete failure. This year, I decided to start inside, with tomato seeds.

The only issue now is that I'm scared to take them outside. So, they are sortof past the "seedling" stage.


Ruth brought me some tulips from the Netherlands when she visited a few weeks ago. I though they seemed very odd when they began to poke out of the dirt, and now I realize why. I have this great crop of mushrooms in the tulip pot. Go figure. Need to find out if they are edible then cook um up!

Eggs, in color

There is no end to my friend Lori Cook's creativity. This week it was dying eggs, but with stuff we had around the house, like wine and red onions, tumaric and yellow onions, tea and coffee (tea works better) and spinach (needed some food color).