Happy Independence Day! It is one of my favorite holidays. I love the colors of patriotism, the family, and community festivities, and most of all, I love our country.
In the past week, I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on the greatness of our nation as I have been made painfully aware, once more, of the desperate situation in another country that shares a corner of my heart.
It was five years ago, on June 30th, that I got off an airplane with our daughter Hannah Saba Smith. Hannie, as we affectionately call her, was almost four at the time, and spoke no English. Her native language is Amharic. She is Ethiopian. Her first 4th of July was spent clinging to me. The parade was fun, and interesting, but the fireworks were frightening, and fuss being made over her by people she did not know, and could not understand, appeared to be confusing. Since then, she has also learned to love this country and appreciate this holiday. In fact it didn’t take long. Within the first year of her arrival in America I asked her what the best part about being here is. She answered: “having a family, a mom and dad and brothers, having pets, having friends, and living in a place where I can be anything I want to be when I grow up.” I then asked her what she hoped to be when she grew up and she said, enthusiastically, “a cheerleader doctor!”
Bringing Hannie to the United States was not without difficulty. It took us two years to complete the process. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Had everything worked as it should have, Hannah Saba would have arrived on American soil without me ever stepping off of it. I am grateful in retrospect for the troubles of life and the lessons they teach. Because of closed down adoption agencies, new Hague requirements, and a myriad of other troubles, I was forced to get on a plane and complete the adoption in Ethiopia. I lived there long enough to love the people, understand the culture, and respect this very poor nation that is so rich in heritage, culture, and beauty. I lived there long enough to feel pain and sorrow for a nation once again in the throws of famine.
Five years ago, I was there when the LDS Church sent famine relief to Ethiopians who were on the brink of starvation. In fact, in the midst of conducting the business of Hannie’s adoption, I covered the famine, and relief for ABC 4. The sorrow and fear-filled eyes of the women who were forced to weigh their children, to determine if they would receive the life-saving food haunt me still. If the child weighed too little, or too much, humanitarian workers from world-wide agencies would send them away until the next weigh-in. Ethiopia recovered from that drought caused famine, but the underlying problem of a lack of infrastructure, in the impoverished nation remained, leaving the perpetual threat of it happening again.
It’s happening again, only this time it’s worse. Drought has again decimated crops. Mothers are once again looking at aid workers with pleading eyes, as they decide if a baby is sick enough to eat, and in a nation of ten million people, twelve percent are in need of emergency food aid, but there is only enough food for those who are in immediate danger of starvation. This is now compounded by the fact that there is global food insecurity. Because of the rising prices of grain, oil and corn, The World Food Program has only been able to get emergency rations for half of the Ethiopians in danger of starvation. The result could be potentially catastrophic. Some aid workers are now predicting the worst crisis since the1980’s when the world watched one-million Ethiopians starve to death on the nightly news.
My heart aches for the mothers of Ethiopia. I lived there and I know they are just like all mothers. They love their children, they hope for the best for them. They dream of a better life. Now, they are dreaming of simply the opportunity for life. They are hoping that the next time their baby is weighed… the food will come. The Ethiopian government reports 75-thousand children are already in peril. I am selfishly thankful that our Hannie is not one of them. I am thankful that today she is dressed in the red white and blue of a nation that also knows poverty and suffering, but does not know the terrible desperation faced by a beautiful people in a far distant land. If you would like to know how you can help you can email me at bsmith@abc4.com
