Feleke's first American haircut

Feleke finally agreed to get his hair cut.  He lost most of his hair last year when he underwent chemotherapy in Ethiopia.  Since he's been living with us, his hair has grown back thick and unruly.  I actually like the look, but I think Feleke's father would prefer a neater cut.  So I've been urging him to go to a barber.  He finally agreed.  We also decided to go ahead and get it done before we head down south for a trip to Alabama.  We leave tomorrow.

We had heard that this barber shop, the one in the Nickles Arcade in Ann Arbor, knew something about cutting Ethiopian hair.  An Ethiopian friend of ours had gotten his hair cut there, and he liked them. I've gotten my hair cut there before, and they do a good job and are always very nice to everyone who comes in.  Plus they are extremely cool, in a kind of low-key way.  You can see what I mean from their pictures, which are here, if you scroll to the bottom.  Believe it or not, James has more tatoos than Brian.  


Anyway, this is a cool place.  Perfect for Feleke.  When we went in, almost the whole crew was there.  Brian and James were sitting in their chairs, Bob and Jessica had customers with them, and Mel was "up," as they say, or next in line.  So we took him.  

I thought Mel did a great job.  I had to talk Feleke through it, though.  There were moments when he was completely unsure about how it was going.  At one point, staring in the mirror with consternation on his face, Feleke literally whispered this to me:  "Is he learning to cut hair on me?"  Luckily, his English was a little garbled and Mel couldn't make out exactly what he was saying.  Or maybe he did but just ignored it.  Mel seemed pretty chill about the whole hing.  Ruth Ann sat calmly in a chair during the whole event, looking up occasionally to give an encouraging smile--as I struggled to figure out exactly what Feleke wanted Mel to do next.

At the end of it, Feleke seemed okay with how it turned out.  He did, however, turn to me afterwards, once we were outside of the barber shop and walking through the Arcade, and say that there was a barber shop in Addis where they would do a much better job in half the time for a tenth the cost.  He may be right, but I'd put my money on Mel.

Fasting, Food, and Feleke

This is a blog about my family's experience with a little Ethiopian boy who came to the United States in January of 2012 for several weeks of live-saving medical treatment and who ended up staying longer.  If you're new to the blog, click on "Going to Dafe Jema" to get the background story.

***

The Biru Kumbi family are devout members of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.  This became apparent shortly after Feleke arrived. He was extraordinarily careful to maintain all of the various dietary restrictions of his faith, of which there are many. We are continually surprised by all of the things he can't eat when he is fasting, and by the sheer number of fasting days.  By some counts there are as many as 250 fasting days in a year.  Fasting for an Ethiopian Orthodox person often means basically eating a vegan diet--no meat, eggs, milk, or cheese. Some believe that fasting forbids eating any food before 3pm or so during the fasting period.  There are fasting days throughout the year.  If you want to get a sense of all of the many celebrations and fasting days, go here.

Probably the longest fasting period is for lent, which is 56 days, ending on Easter, which falls on a different day for them than it does for Christians in the west.  This year the Orthodox lent started not long after Feleke arrived in the US.  This mean we had to learn quickly how to prepare vegan dishes.  (We could not have him going on a religious hunger strike, especially given that we were trying to keep up his strength during the radiation treatment.)  It was amazing how determined Feleke was to maintain the fast, and how uncannily aware he was of when it began and ended.  He once told me, accurately, the number of days remaining.  One night when I asked him how he knew (this was before he spoke English and way before he knew how to use the Internet), he took me outside and pointed to the position of the moon in the sky.

The very first week the Feleke was with us, before he knew any English at all, we took him to visit the Ethiopian Orthodox church in Commerce, Michigan.  It was a very important Sunday in the Orthodox faith, the celebration of the Epiphany -- the revelation of God the Son as a human being in the person of Jesus Christ. When we told him of the possibility, Feleke really wanted to go.  So we went, and we took a couple our kids along as well.

The music and the dancing were fantastic.  Right up my alley.  And the food was amazing.  I'll have another post about Ethiopian food generally later on, but I'll just say here that the Epiphany feast following the Epiphany service at the Orthodox Tewahedo church in Commerce, Michigan is truly exceptional.  It was one of many fantastic Ethiopian meals we would have over the months to come.  The church service was also very interesting.  The preaching and the chants of priests were in the language of Ge'ez (pronounced Geez, I think.)  It is an ancient liturgical language that no one but the priests seem to understand.

At least some of the singing was in Amharic, one of Feleke's native tongues, and he sang along with everyone else.  He knew all of the words by heart, and singing them seemed to transport him back to his home church in Ethiopia, where he must have sung the songs many times with his mother and father and brothers and sisters.  The Orthodox "church music," as he calls it, has been a comfort for him here in the US.  During the early days, when we had long drives in the car and the American music on the radio didn't appeal to him, I would use my Android phone to pull up videos of Orthodox church services.  He was at first astounded that I could summon his music, with videos, to my phone so easily.  Now that's no big deal to him.

Feleke has continued to attend the church in Commerce off and on, catching a ride with our wonderful, absolutely indispensable Ethiopian friend, Abdi Zeynu, who is a graduate student in the Engineering School at UM, a very devout member of the Orthodox church, and a mentor to Feleke.  There will be more about Abdi's significance to our Ethiopian adventure in a later post.  Feleke decided he wanted some nice church clothes, so we took him to JC Penney and got him this.  He picked it out.

Ruth Ann and I have made made one return trip ourselves to the Orthodox church, for the Easter celebration.  Although it started officially at 8pm, Abdi told us to come closer to 10pm, as the event could easily go until midnight.  The reward for sitting through 2 hours of liturgy in a language we didn't understand, besides the pleasure it gave Feleke, was the chance for another Ethiopian feast. Unfortunately for us, the service continued until almost 2:30 in the morning. We didn't get home until after 4am.  Feleke slept in the car on the way home.


Religion is a big deal in Ethiopia.  Eastern Orthodox Christianity is the dominant faith in the country, both in terms of numbers of members and its place in the culture.  Something like 44% of the population reports being affiliated with the Orthodox church.  There are also sizable and increasing numbers of Muslims (34%) and Protestants  (18%).  Dafe Jema is located in the Oromia area of Ethiopia, where Oromo is the primary language.  In this region, the Orthodox church has lost its dominance in the last 10 or 15 years, as the number of people professing to be members of the Orthodox Church has significantly shrunk and the number of Muslims and Protestants has risen.  I would be surprised if such shift a significant cultural/demographic shift has not produced conflict, or at least tension in the area.  

There are also Ethiopian Jews, or "Beta Israel."  You can read about them here.  In 1991, when there was political turmoil in Ethiopia, many of the Ethiopian Jews were airlifted by the Israli government to Israel for their protection.  It was called Operation Solomon.  Dr. Hodes was there at the time and was deeply involved in the operation, providing medical care for those who needed it.  

That reminds me.   Here is another cool story about another little boy that Dr. Hodes was able to help.  There have been many.

Shots

Thomas and I got shots today at the University of Michigan Travel Clinic.  I needed shots for typhoid, meningitis, polio, hep A and B, and yellow fever.  Thomas needed a few of those; the others he'd gotten at the pediatrician's office earlier in the week.

First me.  That one stung a little.

Then Thomas.

The nurse read a list of do's and don'ts for us to follow on the trip. Basically, don't drink anything other than bottled water or eat anything that hasn't been cooked, unless it's fruit you can peal or a granola bar from home, and inspect all bottled water to make sure the seal isn't broken. Use mosquito nets if you sleep outside.  Use DEET all the time.  And don't pet the dogs, or the hyenas and leopards.

If you want to see what we're in for, you can check out the CDC site here.  Dengue fever sounds bad.

Feleke apparently doesn't need shots to return to Africa, since he lived there for almost 12 years.  But he will need a few shots before starting school here in the fall.

The Honey Tree

Here is a random picture of Feleke with a subset of the Logue clan.  This is from our trip to Chicago earlier in the Spring.  Feleke had been interested in seeing some "tall buildings," as he'd heard that America consisted mainly of skyscrapers.  But once we got there, he was very unhappy during much of the time that we walked around the City. He did not like the cold and didn't understand why we didn't mind it.  We eventually found a fantastic Ethiopian restaurant, and he snapped out of it.  But not before we took this picture.

***


Yesterday I took Feleke to try out for a soccer team.  At the end of the tryout, the coach came over and told us that the team was already full.  He was very apologetic and encouraging to Feleke, but said there were 20 kids trying out for 4 slots. Feleke was disappointed; he had hoped to be on a team. But he thoroughly enjoyed playing with the other kids anyway.  He loves playing soccer.  You can see the happiness on his face.  He obviously loves doing something that he's good at.  We'll keep looking for a team for him.  Most of the travel teams are full, and I'm not sure we have time for a travel team anyway. Maybe in the fall he can play Rec & Ed, which is all local and everyone is guaranteed to be placed on a team.


***


This morning Feleke started robot camp--a camp for kids who want to learn about robots.  (Not a camp for children who are themselves robots.)  This sounded perfect for Feleke.  We learned early on that he loves to take things apart and put them back together, and he has a special, somewhat inexplicable talent for hi-tech stuff--computers, cameras, Ipods, Ipads, and the like.  He will go into our garage and find old electronic devices that we've consigned to the junk pile, old smoke detectors and electric baby swings, and completely disassemble and then reassemble them, or scavenge them for parts for some new, not necessarily useful invention.  When he needs a repair for his bike, he harvests parts from other, older bikes that we have.  And he's a wiz (of sorts) on the computer.  He likes to make movies on the Apple and listen to music.  I think I've mentioned that Feleke likes to play computer games.  Much of this behavior, of course, he picked up from my kids, and he sometimes gets our computer so discombobulated that it takes hours to restore the default settings.  Still, there's no denying his interest in and aptitude for machines.  


Anyway, Ruth Ann thought he might like a robot camp.  And he did; at least he liked day 1. The kids were given a bunch of Lego blocks and instructions about  how to build a robot out of them and how then to connect the robot via USB port to a computer, which they would then use to give the robot instructions.  Pretty cool.  The first day apparently went well.  The teacher said Feleke handled the project with ease, and that he got along well with the other kids.  He actually volunteered to help some of the younger kids complete their projects, which they appreciated.  Feleke had to miss swimming for camp today, but you can't do everything.


***


Mondays are always busy at our house, but this one has been especially crazy.  In addition to robot camp with Feleke, Marcy Claire had swimming at 9:45, then Caroline at 10:30.  In the middle of that, Thomas had a doctor's appointment to deal with this foot.  (He has large splinter that in his ankle that has caused an infection, which we are fighting with antibiotics, trying to avoid the option of surgical removal.  No fun.)  Then Thomas had basketball practice in the afternoon (his coach wanted him there to be with the team, even if his injury prevented him from going full speed), and Feleke saw yet another doctor, this time a hand specialist.  Feleke's left hand suffered severe tendon damage in a botched attempt at chemotherapy in Ethiopia.  The hand doctor says that physical therapy will help some.  We will see. This is another doctor who has generously donated his time.   At some point, though, we need to get this child some health insurance.


***


At dinner tonight Feleke told a funny story about his sister Bayush and a bee.  At least he thought it was funny.  In fact, he literally started the story by saying "that reminds me of a funny story about Bayush getting stung by a bee."  This is how I think the story goes.  (Thanks to Caroline for helping to translate.  My kids are sometimes better able to understand Feleke's English than I can.)  


Feleke's family are farmers.  They raise all sorts of animals, including honey bees.  Years ago, they apparently kept the beehive on the ground next to their house, but that became a problem when coyotes started coming into the compound to eat the honey.  (Who knew coyotes like honey?)  Because of the encroaching coyotes, Biru and family moved the beehive into the big tree that grows in the center of the compound.  


Their method of getting honey from the tree, according to Feleke, is roughly as follows: Feleke's father or one of his brothers will climb up into the tree at night, when the bees are mostly sleeping.  The climber takes with him a flower of some sort, a blossom that is known to be enticing to honeybees. He then somehow uses this flower to lure the queen bee away from the hive.  (This sounds incredible to me.  I mean, isn't she sleeping too?  And how do the honey harvesters wake only the queen and not the army of drones?  And how does waving a flower around produce enough of a scent to bring her out of her warm nest?  I will need a demonstration of this when we get there.)  Anyway, when the queen bee leaves the hive on her futile flower-chasing odyssey, the other bees follow, leaving team Biru just enough time to get some honey.  Feleke reports that, when this works, they take most but not all of the honey.  Some has to be left for the bees, so they will make more.


One night they followed this standard procedure, and they believed that all of the bees were away from the hive.  At this point sister Bayush decides to climb the tree to try her hand at getting some honey.  Unfortunately, one lone soldier bee had stayed behind.  Maybe to guard the nest.  Maybe because he was too lazy to follow the queen.  Maybe because he sensed something was afoot, what with all the honey theft that had been happening since they moved to the big tree.  Anyway, there he was.  And when Bayush poked her head over the nest, the bee up and stung her on the lip.  Feleke said Bayush did a lot of screaming and dancing around, and her lip swelled up very large.  He said, "if I had camera, I would take a picture.  Very, very funny."  The swelling obviously went down and she was later fine, which is why he can laugh about it now.  He dearly loves his sister.  But comedy is comedy.


I told him that something similar had happened to me once, when I was jogging on a country road.  A bee stung me on my upper lip, which swelled to the size of a small fruit.  Less than an hour later,  I had to teach federal income taxation to 120 law students.  The students were just as amused as Feleke was about his sister's situation.  I reported that it's not as funny if you're the stingee.  


But this makes me think.  I've always been somewhat allergic to bees.  Maybe I should ask my doctor if I need to take an EpiPen to Dafe Jema.  Maybe one for me and a bunch for Bayush, just in case.


Here is a picture of the honey tree.  (Thanks to Steven Weinberg for the picture.)  Feleke says the wood at the bottom is used to make repairs to the house.

Going to Dafe Jema

Feleke, Thomas, and I leave for Ethiopia on July 30th.  We're taking Feleke to visit his family, most of whom he hasn't seen in over a year as he has been in various hospitals.  While we're there, Thomas and I will do some traveling around the country, seeing the sites -- Lalibela, Gondar, the Rift Valley.  Also, I will spend a day or two doing research in Addis Ababa and Adama, trying to figure out how the Ethiopian government collects taxes.   I'm a law professor at the University of Michigan, and I have a scholarly interest in tax policy, including how best to administer a tax system. We will also visit the family and medical practice of Dr. Rick Hodes.  More about him below.

When we visit Feleke's family, we'll go to their village, Dafe Jema, which is a rural farming community far from any major city, and not really close to any small towns either.  As remote as it is, you can see it for yourself.  Just paste these coordinates into the Google Earth search window (8 38 40.33 N 39 49 38.30 E) and hit the search button.  The result should be Dafe Jema.  Now hit the plus button on the right and let Google Earth zoom in close. The result should look something like this. 

That is Feleke's home.  At least we think it is.  He and I stumbled on it one night while we were trolling across the Ethiopian landscape using Google Earth on the iPad.  If you zoom  in really close you can see that this is a picture of several round mud-walled and thatch-roofed buildings surrounded by a fence.  The fence marks a boundary between the land that "belongs" to Feleke's family and the land that is "owned" communally by all the farmers in the area.  I use quotation marks to signify the uncertain nature of ownership rights in Ethiopia.  Under the current regime, it is unclear whether any private citizen can own land in the sense in which we mean "own"; rather, they have long-term leases issued by the government.  But whether that message has filtered down to the people on the ground -- whether they know they don't own their land -- isn't clear.  

The fence also protects the cows and other animals at night from the many hyenas and occasional leopards.  If you zoom back out and scroll around, you can see that there are dozens of little farms like this one in the area.  There is no source of fresh water close by.  The farmers and their families go to the river, a mile or so to the west, to bathe and to get water for their animals.  For their own drinking water, they collect rainwater and purchase bottled water from neighboring communities.  It would be great if we could put a well in Dafe Jema, but our initial inquiries suggest this would be difficult. 

The biggest building in Feleke's fenced-in compound, just below the largest tree in the center of the picture, is his house.  He lives there with his mother, father, and three of his siblings (two sisters and one brother).  This farm was passed down to Feleke's father, Biru, by Feleke's grandfather, Kumbi.  In Ethiopia instead of surnames they use the first names of their fathers and their grandfathers.  So Feleke's full name is Feleke Biru Kumbi.

When we go to Dafe Jema, it will be an international, cross-cultural family reunion.  The Biru Kumbis from Dafe Jema and the Logues from Ann Arbor, coming together.  Here is a picture of some of the Biru Kumbis.

Going clockwise beginning at the top left:  sisters Bayush and Kibinesh and brother Addisu (the three that still live at home in the village), Biru (the papa), Elfinish (the mama), Simeh (the oldest brother, all business, and Ethiopian police officer), Kabede (the brother we correspond with the most), Dajene (another of the older brothers), and Zewdinesh (the oldest sister, who just became engaged to be married).  They are standing in front of Feleke's house.  Here is another picture of the house, from a few steps back.

These pictures were taken by our friend Steven Weinberg, who visited the village in March.  Here is a picture of him on his trip to Dafe Jema.

  

So Thomas, Feleke, and I are going there, at the end of July.  It should be a blast.  There will be lots of hugging and laughing and storytelling, and maybe some crying.  Much injera will be eaten.  Much soccer will be played.  To be followed by more hugging and crying, and eventually saying goodbye.  Then we'll come back to Ann Arbor, the three of us.  At least that's the plan.  

Feleke is coming back to Ann Arbor to live with us, at least for a year and maybe longer.  If all goes well--if we can get Feleke's visa status changed from B2 to F1, which requires us to get him enrolled in a private school that is accredited to accept foreign exchange students (and that we can find some way to pay for), and if we can establish guardianship so that we can get him on our health insurance plan, and so on--he will be staying with us to try going to school in the US.  This is what Feleke's parents have told us they want for him.  In fact, they have told us that they want him to continue living in America, with us, as long as we will have him, both because of the superior medical care available in the US (should Feleke's cancer return) and because of the greater overall opportunities for him here.  They will miss him dearly, but they think this is best for him. 

***

We first met Feleke in mid January.  Immediately before that, he had been a patient at the Mother Teresa Medical Mission in Addis Ababa, under the care of Dr. Rick Hodes.  (I will have more to say about Dr. Hodes in future posts.  It's difficult to overemphasize how awesome he is.  If you want to read about him now, you can check out his website here. Or watch some videos about him here.  Steven Weinberg has been working with Dr. Hodes in Addis for the past few months.  He will return to be a medical student at UM, starting in the fall.)  Anyway, Dr. Hodes figured out that Feleke was suffering from  Hodgkins Lymphoma, cancer of the lymph nodes, which would likely be fatal without the proper treatment, treatment  Feleke was not able to get in Ethiopia.  He figured this out with the help of visiting oncologist, Dr. Jeff Forman, who confirmed the diagnosis.  

Here is a picture of Feleke with Dr. Forman in the Mother Teresa clinic last November.

The next part of the story is big:  Not only did Dr. Forman confirm the diagnosis, but he agreed to provide Feleke with radiation treatment that would likely save his life, and he would do it for free, if Dr. Hodes could only find some way to get Feleke to Dr. Forman's clinic in the US.  That was all Dr. Hodes needed to hear.  Through his website and his affiliation with the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, he found a donor to pay for the plane ticket.  At that point, the only remaining needs were a place for Feleke to stay and someone to coordinate the driving to Dr. Forman's clinic.  That's where the story stood when we heard about it.  (You can read about that story too here.) 

My wife (Ruth Ann) learned about Feleke for the first time in early January through a very generous and caring and well-connected friend who had heard about the situation and thought we might be able to help.  She knew that two of our five children were away in school--actually just across town at the University of Michigan--and thus that we might temporarily have an extra bedroom.  She also knew that Ruth Ann was trained as a nurse, and thus would have not trouble dealing with any special needs Feleke might have as a cancer patient, and that Ruth Ann was a supermom.  We talked it over and decided to offer to host Feleke.  When they took us up on it, Rutth Ann set about getting a bedroom ready for Feleke and finding volunteers to help with the driving to the clinic.      

That was in January.  Here it is June, and the treatments are done.  Actually, they've been done for weeks.  And they seem to have worked.  Feleke's lymph nodes are pretty much back to normal, and there is no sign of the cancer.  This particular treatment has a very high success rate generally, and Dr. Forman is very good at what he does.  So Feleke is feeling great.  (Thanks also to his pediatrician, Neal Weinberg--Steven's dad--who donates his time and expertise to "team Feleke.")  Besides being healthy, Feleke is now fully incorporated into our family.  He eats, sleeps, plays, and works with us.  He helps with the dishes and with feeding the dogs.  He keeps his room pretty neat.  He follows the household rules, most of them, when we remind him--often without grumbling too much.  He loves the Michigan Wolverines because we do, and he cheers for Lebron because that's who Thomas cheers for.  He calls Ruth Ann "Mama" and me "Dad"  because that's what our kids call us, and because that's how he thinks of us--his American parents.  He adores my kids:  Hannah (22), Molly (19), Thomas (15), Caroline (13), and Mary Claire (10).  And he really, really adores Ruth Ann.  (Who doesn't?) 

As you can imagine there is sometimes conflict in the house.  (Every day?  Every other day?)  But we are managing.  Sometimes we have long sit-down discussions with Feleke about various topics--like why it is important to obey Mama and Dad, even when you don't fully understand the reasoning (or even understand the words they are using); or why there are limits on the amount of time children are allowed to spend on the computer or the Wii or the DS; or why sometimes you have to apologize to your sister even when you don't know exactly what you did wrong (and even when you've never been forced to apologize to your siblings before) and you have to accept your sister's apology even though you're still angry; or why we constantly have to talk about our "feelings" when that simply is never done in your culture; and why it's important to trust mama when she says that the dentist is not gong to hurt you (except for the small sting of the numbing needle), which is especially difficult to accept when you've been stuck hundreds of times with needles, sometimes by people who don't  know what they're doing; and you have to trust dad when he says that even when you are sent to your room or told no or made to do stuff you don't want to do, we--all of us--love you, all the time, no matter what.  

When he arrived in January, Feleke spoke not one word of English and, although he was thankful to be getting good medical care, he was of course very scared to be so far from home in such a strange place with such strange (though friendly) people.  He now can understand almost everything we say, if we are willing to speak slowly and clearly, though he sometimes pretends not to.  He is also quickly learning how to put English sentences together himself.  Language acquisition in a full-immersion environment is an amazing thing to behold.
Here are a few more recent pictures of Feleke.

This one is from his first day in Ann Arbor. That's Mary Claire on the left and Ruth Ann on the right.

This was shortly after he had learned to ride a bike for the first time.  That's Mary Claire on the other bike.  Caroline taught Feleke to ride.  

Here he is with Caroline and Mary Claire.

Here Dr. Forman came to our house to check on Feleke.  I think the t-shirt says Michigan in Hebrew.

Here he is with Caroline and MC next to our barn.  This is one of my favorite pictures. (Thanks Ken White.)

And here is a picture taken this past week.  His hair is out of control, but he likes it long.  And he's stubborn about getting it cut.  The last time his father cut his hair, he waited until Feleke was asleep.  I may try that.

I like this next one too.   Feleke is standing with all of my kids in the parking lot after church. 

That picture also reminds me how amazing my own children have been through all of this. Imagine if you were a kid and you were told, hey, a little African boy will be moving in with us, he will not speak any English, he won't understand the rules of the house, he will be taking one of the (scarce) bedrooms for himself, he will also be taking up much of mom and dad's time and energy, and he will be the center of attention pretty much all the time at least until people get used to him being around.  Oh, and he's being treated for cancer so you really have to be nice to him and constantly cut him slack and can't just tell him to get over himself.  How would that be?  Our kids have handled it with incredible grace.  They have been patient and generous.  They have loved Feleke in exactly the ways that he needs to be loved.  They haven't been perfect all the time, of course.  Sometimes they get annoyed or lose their patience.  And, it should be noted, their parents have had numerous moments of imperfection as well.  But the kids have mostly been amazing.  And they now treat Feleke like a brother, which is exactly what he needs.   

From Feleke's perspective, there are some great things about living in Ann Arbor.  Besides the absence of hyenas and leopards, he gets five cool new siblings, which is awesome;  he gets to go to UM basketball games and be on a swim team and soccer team.  He gets to spend some (though limited) time on the Wii and the DS and the TV.  But in many other ways, life is hard.  Of course he misses his family terribly.  And he worries about them.  His mother's health is not great, and he is concerned that it might get worse.  He wishes she could get the benefit of the medical care he has had.  He worries about his father too.  Not about his health, so much, but about other dangers that exist in a rural community where ownership of a few cows can make you a target and where the police have no regular presence and therefore where daily law enforcement mostly takes the form of self help.  Feleke also misses  his many friends from Dafe Jema.  One gets the feeling that life as a child in Dafe Jema, when things are good, is a blast.  They get a lot of independent play time, and they have many adventures together.  Here is a picture of the children from his school.  

The little fellow on the far left, striped shirt with blue jacket, is Feleke's best friend back home.  He once gave Feleke one of his family's new puppies so that Feleke could have a dog of his own, and, when the boy's parents asked what had happened to the puppy, he told them a hyena must have gotten it.  Not sure how he explained the fact that Feleke had a new puppy that looked just like the one that had disappeared.  Maybe I'll ask him that when we get to Dafe Jema.

I mentioned above that Feleke's parents want him to stay with us.  How do I know this?  Because they told us so on a video that Steven Weinberg made.  Steven recorded Feleke's family and sent the videos to us.  The videos from Bayush, Kabinesh, and Addisu are adorable.  They are all smiles and giggles and enthusiasm.  The message from the parents is  more serious.  After thanking us profusely, they make their position clear:  we love Feleke and miss him very much, but we want you to keep him in America and let him go to school there, if you are willing to let him live with you.

So there you have it.  The lives of the Biru Kumbis and Logues have been changed forever, inextricably intertwined.  There really isn't any going back.  We, all of us, are on a journey together now, and we're not sure where it will lead.  I will be posting messages here periodically as we prepare for our trip to Ethiopia.  Then I'll blog a bit when we get there.  I'm not sure if I'll keep the blog going after we return.  Life is busy.  But I will try along the way to tell some of the amazing stories Feleke has told us about his life in Dafe Jema.  I hope I can do them justice.  Some of the them may have to wait until Feleke is older and has his own blog, or writes his first book.  

Here is one last picture of him next to our barn. I'll explain the "honey tree" title of the blog in a future post.