Can't Forget

It was late and raining when we touched down in Addis Ababa. I was exhausted from 26+ hours of travel. So happy to back in Ethiopia to bring our second daughter home. Returning to Ethiopia was, after all, a homecoming of sorts. I felt confident and calm as we loaded the van, hopped in, and started the journey from the airport to our hotel.

People on the streets. Homeless. This time, unlike last time, begging children do not swarm the van, thank god.

We chat with the others who are in our travel group, and A and I start to recognize some landmarks.

We stop at a light, a rarity in Ethiopia.

A man emerges from under the cover of a tree and approaches the van.

He is practically naked, wearing only gym (basketball) shorts. Rain rolls down his face. His feet are bare. The elastic has come out of the shorts so he holds them bunched in one hand.

In the other, a piece of paper. The paper has some writing on it and a photograph. He speaks to us, his voice desperately pleading. We cannot understand what he is saying. His expression is one of pain, of suffering, of agony. I don't think I will ever forget what his face looked like.

No one in the van gives him money. All, I think, are in shock as the light changes and drive away.

I cannot tell you how often I think of this man, alone, desperate, begging to people in a van. For what? I do not know.

But I do know that I wish I would have reached into my bag and handed him some birr. Even in saying this, it is for a selfish reason-- so that I would not feel the way I do now about that man, so that I would not think about him and wish I had handled the situation differently.

Sometimes, the suffering and pain and poverty of the people of my children's beautiful homeland overwhelms me. I feel helpless to do anything. I think of that man on that night and other equally horrifying things I experienced in my 2 trips to bring our children home.

Please, God, forgive me for not helping that man.