The Desire (25 page)

T
hey had finally made it to Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. It had been a long and trying day. Because of the nine-hour time difference and how long the trip was, they had to get up at 3:00 a.m. and be at the airport by 5:00. When they'd finally landed and had their first conversation on the ground, both had agreed they should unpack the mouthwash first. She wasn't sure what time it was now. She was too tired to even pull out her cell phone and check.

They had just checked into the hotel and were walking to their room on the third floor. It was mostly dark when the airplane landed, completely dark outside now. She'd get a better look come daylight, but she could already tell this city looked nothing like any city in America. The cars were different, smaller, odd-looking, and there were a lot less of them for a city this big. But the exhaust fumes were horrible. The buildings looked very different. But it appeared more modern than she had expected.

“Here we are, hon.” Allan opened the door with the hotel key.

The hotel wasn't bad. Nothing fancy. Like a low-budget hotel you might find in the States. Old but fairly clean. At
least it looked clean in dim lamp lighting. “Do I need to worry about bugs?” she asked as they walked through the door.

“Wasn't a big problem for me the last time. Maybe an occasional fly.” He set their bags on the bed.

“Not a good idea,” she said. “I plan to collapse there in about two minutes.”

Allan laughed. He turned and took her hand and led her to a chair in the corner. “How about you sit here a few minutes? I'll just unpack the things that wrinkle, not that it matters too much in a town like this. But I know how much you hate wrinkled clothes. I don't think this room comes with an iron.”

“You are so nice to me.” He really was. He must've thanked her for coming a dozen times since they left the house.

“You're easy to be nice to.”

She watched him work, amazed he had any energy. “It wouldn't take much for me to fall asleep sitting here.”

“I'm almost done.” He pulled her last blouse from the suitcase. “Think you might like to take a shower before bed?”

“That sounds nice. How's the hot water?”

“It works. The showerhead's nothing fancy. But it might relax your muscles, make it easier to sleep.”

“I don't think I'm going to need any help with that. I could sleep on a wood floor right now.”

After finishing his chore, he zipped the suitcases back up and moved them to a nearby table. “I think I might take one. My back's pretty stiff from all that time on the plane.”

She got up and checked the curtain, adjusting it to make sure there were no cracks. Then walked over to him and began massaging his shoulders.

“A little lower, between my shoulder blades.”

“You go ahead and take a shower. I'm just gonna change into my pj's. But maybe you better pray with me first.” Ever
since their wedding, Allan had started a habit of praying together every night before they fell asleep. “I don't think I'll be awake when you're done.”

He turned and drew her close, said a short prayer. Once again, he included thanks for God making it possible for Michele to be there with him. Michele knew that all of Allan's anxiety and stress about the trip had completely disappeared the moment she told him she was coming.

He was tired but very happy.

She was just tired.

Michele woke up the next morning, surprisingly refreshed. They had both slept almost ten hours. On this part of the journey, the jet lag slanted in their favor. The opposite would be true on the way home.

Allan had gotten up a little earlier and was already showered and dressed. “There's a little café just a couple doors down the street. The team ate there almost every morning as we planned out our day. The food's not terrible. The coffee's actually pretty good. How about you start getting ready, and I'll go down and get two cups to go? Bring them back up here.”

“I could definitely use some coffee. Speaking about planning out the day . . . what is our plan?”

“We're supposed to meet Henok back at that same café in about” —he glanced at his watch—“forty-five minutes from now.”

“Forty-five minutes? Allan, you know I like more time than that to get ready.”

“I know. But you were completely zonked thirty minutes ago. I didn't have the heart to wake you. But you'll be fine. Everything is casual today. Besides, look at you now. You just
woke up, and you're already beautiful. Most women take an hour just to get where you're at now.”

She laughed. It was a total lie, but it worked. “Go get the coffee.”

He came back about fifteen minutes later. The coffee was surprisingly good; then she remembered one of her favorite Starbucks coffees had Ethiopia in its name. This actually tasted similar.

He picked up his cup and took a sip. “Guess who I saw in the café? Henok. He was already there, drinking coffee and writing in a notebook. So how about this? You finish getting ready and I'll go down and meet with him. See if we can get some of our business out of the way. And then you come down and join us when you're ready.”

“By myself?”

“It's really close. You just walk out the front door of the hotel, turn right, and go three doors down. You don't even have to cross the street. You can even see the café sign from the front door of the hotel. It hangs out right over the sidewalk.”

That didn't sound too bad. She just felt insecure. Of course she would, she was halfway around the world. “I guess I could do that. How much time do I have?”

“Doing it this way, you can take another fifteen or twenty minutes if you want. We'll be at a table along the right wall. I won't order breakfast until you get there.” He came over and kissed her on the cheek.

When Allan got back to the café, he found Henok where he'd left him. Henok looked up from his notebook; a big smile came over his face as he stood.

“You don't need to get up,” Allan said.

“Of course I do, my friend. I am so happy to see you.” They shook hands. “You have come such a long way, and on such short notice. I was so sorry to hear about Pastor Ray. Is he in very much pain?”

“He would be, but he's taking some strong pain medication.”

“I saw some pictures on Facebook of him in his hospital bed,” Henok said. “He was smiling. He sent me a lengthy email also, explaining everything. Which I found amazing considering the accident was just Friday.”

“Well, he's very sorry he couldn't come himself. And I'm sorry for him. He's the one who's done most of the work getting all this together back in the States.”

“That's not how he explained it in his email,” Henok said. “He talked about all the work you have done. You are the one who figured everything out and put the budget together. I have been studying it carefully. It will be my job to make it work once you leave.”

Allan couldn't believe the change he was seeing in Henok from the last time he was here. His eyes were so bright, and he was so confident now. “We know you'll do a great job. So tell me, what can we expect in our two meetings this morning?”

Ray had already briefed him that there would be one meeting with the government officials to pay all the necessary fees and sign some papers, and one with the building landlord to sign the lease. Henok explained these events in a little more detail. It didn't sound like either meeting would take very long. Henok said he wasn't expecting any surprises and, thankfully, there didn't appear to be any worry about bribes.

After he finished the briefing, Henok said, “When will I get to meet your wife? She's with you, isn't she?”

“Yes, she is. She should be down here very soon to join us
for breakfast.” He turned for a moment to look at the front door. “Before she gets here, I wanted to ask you about Korah. Will we have time to go there this afternoon?”

“I was planning on it. The facility we have picked for the orphanage is on the edge of the city closest to Korah. That's where we will meet the landlord and sign the lease. After he leaves, I'll give you and your wife a tour of the facility, show you some of our plans. After that, we'll drive out to Korah.”

“How long before we'll be ready to let the first six orphans start living there?”

“We can start now. It is very basic, but it will seem like a king's palace to the children.”

M
ichele sat in the very plain lobby of a government office, reading her Kindle. Allan and Henok had been gone about twenty minutes for their meeting with the local officials. Hopefully they were signing papers to set up the orphanage. She could tell Allan was nervous on the car ride over, but Henok seemed confident the meeting would go well. He had already met several times with these officials, bringing them printed copies of the email exchanges with the “wonderful men from America” who were providing all the funds to make this a success.

As Allan and Henok walked into the office and before they closed the door, she heard Henok introduce Allan as “one of the men I've been telling you about.”

She liked Henok right away and, during breakfast, was fascinated by stories of his childhood growing up in Korah. It had been an unimaginably hard life. As he spoke, she had decided not to press him for details. Otherwise, she'd lose her appetite for sure. She'd also loved his accent, although she couldn't quite place it. He spoke with such great diction.

The drive here from the café had given her a clearer picture of the town. It was close to how she had imagined it,
both from Allan's stories and the handful of videos she had watched on YouTube about Addis Ababa. It didn't remind her of any city in the US. She saw evidence of new construction and modern buildings but mingled in were so many structures that were old and poorly maintained. They hadn't driven past a single block that would've passed the commercial building codes in River Oaks. But here, none of the buildings seemed out of place.

She had seen plenty of signs of poverty but nothing close to the things Allan had shared about Korah, or what Henok had described at breakfast that morning. That would soon change. They were heading to Korah after lunch.

She was just about to reconnect with her book when the office door opened. Henok came out first, followed by Allan. As soon as he saw her, his face lit up with a smile.

It had gone well. She was so relieved.

He waited until they were completely outside before talking. “We got the approval to launch the orphanage right away. As soon as we sign the papers with the landlord.”

“Which is where we're going now,” Henok added.

“Once the first six children are brought into the orphanage,” Allan said, “and their paperwork is settled, the orphanage can begin to make adoptions to couples a reality.”

They reached the car. Allan opened her door. Henok went around to the driver's seat. “We already have a lawyer from our church who has agreed to work with us on this.”

“How far is it to the orphanage from here?”

“Less than ten minutes,” Henok said.

The landlord had just left, his copy of the signed lease and a check representing the first three months' rent in hand.
Henok was walking Allan and Michele through the facility, showing the work they had already done and discussing plans for the weeks ahead. It reminded her of a smaller version of a daycare center. There were no decorations on the walls, nothing to indicate little children would live here. And nothing Henok had shared so far seemed to indicate that correcting this was part of his future plans.

“Allan, is there any money in the budget to buy some things to make this place seem a little . . . happier? You know, stuff kids would like.”

“I'm sure we could fix that,” he said. “Henok, do you know of any stores where we could buy fun things for children?”

“Not at the moment, but I know someone I could ask. I have hired two women to care for the children full-time. They are coming later this afternoon while we are at Korah. I will ask them when we get back.”

They walked past two open doorways to small bedrooms. Three child-sized beds lined the walls in both rooms. “Do we know who the first six children are?” Michele asked.

“Yes, I've picked them out,” Henok said. “All of them are children in Korah that I think would fit in well here. I haven't talked to them or their guardians yet.”

“Are their guardians the children's relatives?” Michele asked.

“Most are. Grandmothers, aunts, cousins.”

They walked through the kitchen. Adequate, but no bigger than you'd see in an average apartment.

“Here's one benefit of doing business in Ethiopia,” Allan said. “If we tried doing something like this in the US, we'd probably have to put in huge commercial appliances, as if we were opening a big restaurant.”

Henok looked confused. “For six small children?”

“I know,” Allan said. “Crazy, isn't it?”

Henok walked them out through the back door into a large fenced area. Barbed wire lined the top of the fence. It was bigger than a courtyard but smaller than a backyard. There were no swings, no slides, no playthings at all. Not even any grass, just dirt.

Allan looked at Michele. “We'll work on this too.”

“Can we do it while we're still here?” She would have to talk to him about this later; she didn't want to embarrass Henok in any way. Clearly, his mind had been on other important things.

But this place needed a woman's touch.

As they finished the tour, Allan said, “Henok, what you've done here in such a short amount of time is simply amazing.”

Michele was stunned.

They had finished their lunch and were now on the outskirts of Korah. She had tried to prepare for this moment, forcing herself to look over Allan's pictures and some additional material about Korah she had found on the internet. Seeing it up close was dramatically different. They were on their way to meet Ayana's grandmother but were not at the dump yet, where people all gathered to scrounge for food. Already, she could smell it. And so many people walked by on both sides of the road, carrying dirty white bags and sticks. They had just passed another group of young people. “Those bags they're holding, that's where they put the food they find, isn't it?”

“It is,” Henok said over his shoulder. “And those sticks, they use them to move the garbage around as they search. Another thing to notice, something I hope we can address in the future. Look at their feet. Hardly any of the children have
decent shoes. They are either ripped or torn, their toes are sticking out. Many get cut as they walk through the garbage. Broken glass or even HIV needles. Used needles.” He turned the car down a narrow dirt street.

“Do some of them get infected because of this?” she asked.

“Or worse,” he said. “Last week I was here doing some research on which children should be on our list. Living next door to one of the children was a young boy who had just come home from the hospital, his leg amputated below the knee. His aunt told me he had cut his foot on a piece of glass. Just a small cut. But there were no doctors, no hospitals nearby. The cut became infected, the infection grew, and . . .” He sighed. “All for the want of decent shoes.”

How heartbreaking. Back home, they would have cleaned the cut, applied some Neosporin and Band-Aids. Maybe a quick trip to the urgent care center for a few stitches.

“Ayana's grandmother's home is just up ahead through that break in the wall.” Henok pulled the car over and turned it off. A long wall made of rusty corrugated steel separated a row of shacks from the muddy dirt road.

“Follow me. She lives a few homes ahead on the left.”

Homes, she thought. How could these be homes? She looked down the long dirt walkway separating two rows of tiny shacks. A flash in her mind, of a landscaped street in their townhome complex in River Oaks. Like the difference between heaven and hell. Small children came out from dark doorways, gazing, no doubt, at the spectacle of this white couple walking through the neighborhood. All of the children were dressed in rags. She looked down at their feet. It was just as Henok said.

Then she looked into their faces filled with smiles. As if they hadn't a care in the world.