Redefining Travel Writing

One month visit

April 26, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

by Naol Hulufe

Seven thousand, seven hundred forty-seven miles away from her for six years, the only way I was in touch with her was through a phone call once every two to three weeks. And that was only possible when their service was good, which was rare in the city of Assela, Ethiopia. She was my angel, my life, and most importantly the best grandmother any human being could ask for. She was a well-known person: first, for being the only daughter of her father, who was a great Oromo warrior and one of the best horsemen during the First Italo-Ethiopian war, which is also known as the Battle of Adwa; and second for her generosity and devotion to help those in need.

While her story is long and is only documented orally, in June 2018, I had the opportunity to interview her for a short amount of time due to health issues she was facing at that moment. This visit was intended to be a vacation for my family and myself. However, as I was packing my bags for the flight, I was determined to spend as much time as possible with her. She left everything she had in the countryside behind and moved to the city to take care of her grandkids.

On the day of the flight, the childhood memories I had with her started flashing through my mind. While packing, I started to reminisce about those childhood memories and I was impatient to see her. On the flight day, I couldn’t wait for the plane to take off already and land.

Flying back over the same ocean and land that I had first flown over six years ago felt thrilling: this time, instead of heading into an unknown continent, I knew exactly where I was heading, and I knew who was waiting for me in my homeland. This time I knew exactly where I was heading, and I knew who was waiting for me on the other side of the world. I was excited and my eyes were sparkling out of joy like the stars in the sky. The flight felt so long even though I had traveled this path once before. Beforehand, I googled the total travel time from Atlanta to Addis Ababa. The result said, “17 hours and 45 minutes with 1 stop,” which was the same as the flight my family booked. When I looked at the time on the screen in front of my plane seat, it said, “landing in Addis Ababa in 15 hours.” I couldn’t believe there were 15 hours left to land. I felt like I had already flown 20 hours, but it had only been 2 hours. At that point, I gave up and stopped checking at the time, instead, I started watching a movie to distract myself from my eagerness to land in Ethiopia.

After flying overseas for nearly 18 hours, which felt like 48 hours, I was there. As soon as I saw her, tears rushed down my cheeks and I ran towards her and hugged her as tight as I could. At that point, someone behind me said, “Don’t kill her now, she’s too old for that kind of hug.” I smiled and let loose. Everyone greeted one another, which itself took about 20 minutes due to the amount of family members who came from different parts of the country to welcome us back. After six years of being apart, I had the privilege to see my favorite person and was able to visit the city I was born in.

She used to call me Tahir, which is an Arabic name which means “pure” or “virtuous”. She was the only person who called me that. We talked about how she used to call me in for a quick snack while I was out playing with my friends. And I mentioned to her how she would invite other kids to come and eat as well. I mentioned to her how she was very protective of me and never let me leave her sight. We talked about how I used to walk her to the mosque and how she would ask me to lead her in a prayer when I was a child.

It was during this visit that I was able to find a true meaning to what happiness is and how one can find happiness in small things. It was during this time, that I was able to understand how I wanted to live my life, which was to cherish small moments. Within that journey, my grandmother was the person that sparked such a realization. Before coming back to the United States, which was the last time I saw her, I asked her what advice she has for me and she simply said, “be there for those who are in need and love others as you love yourself. And my dear Tahir, most importantly live your life to the fullest no matter what you end up doing.” That made me think a lot about how I have lived my life and it got me questioning how one can truly live up to that principle. At that moment, I realized that she was the true example of that exact advice because she truly has lived up to that.

Within that one-month visit, I learned a lot more about myself and how I wanted to live my life from here on. I spent every day of that month reliving most of my childhood memories and laughing with my favorite person and family members. I took pictures with my relatives, visited my favorite childhood places with my childhood friends, and got the opportunity to spend time with my grandmother who I was extremely excited to see.

Her name was Faayoo Hamdaa, but I used to call her Aayyoo, an Afaan Oromo version of grandma. Due to the lack of a birth certificate, her exact age was unknown, which is the case for most Ethiopian senior citizens. However, she estimated her age to be around 94. She passed away around the age of 95.

A Day in the Life of a College Student-Athlete (Covid-19 Edition)

April 26, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

by Maddie Cambier

Afternoon sun seeping in through window blind. Two beds are present with photos hanging up. — Photo taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

It’s 8:45 a.m. and my alarm blares full blast right in my ear. I roll over and can see the bright sun shining through the blinds. I roll back and check my phone and contemplate sleeping through my first class – which is especially easy now that it’s online. I remember the exam I have coming up, so I force myself out of my warm, comfortable bed and quickly get ready for class. My roommate is still sleeping, so I am careful to be quiet.

Microsoft teams pulled up with a notebook of notes with make up in the background. Warm lighting — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

I groggily climb down from my lofted bed and sit at my desk that I moved underneath it. I check the time and see that I have five minutes before my class starts, so I log onto my computer and open Microsoft Teams. I see that my Professor has already started the meeting, so I join and quickly get my notebook out. He talks way too fast for 9:15 in the morning! I take sloppy, rushed notes until around 10:05.

Dorm hallway with green doors decorated. White brick walls and grey carpets. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

I do my hair and leave my dorm room, making sure I have everything I need for the day. I begin the short (but seemingly long) walk to my first in-person class of the day. I’m excited to have somewhat of a normal college experience because I know not everyone has in-person classes, so I try to make the most of it. I hear pieces of muffled conversations as I walk past the other rooms in my hall.

Staircase in a dorm building, looking down. — Taken By Maddie Cambier. April 2021

Once I get to the stairs, I remember my fear of heights and walk as far away from the railing as possible. This is the only time I don’t like living on the third floor. The three flights of stairs I have to climb up and down every day are brutal. Especially after practices! The stairs in Bornhuetter are restricted to up and down on opposite sides of the building, but no one ever follows those rules.

Sidewalk leading lines moving forward with an arrow on the street. Light posts and trees can be seen. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

As soon as I am outside, the cool, crisp air wakes me up. I forgot to check the weather and assumed it would be a lot warmer than it was. The cars rush past me on the road to my left, and I feel the wind hit me after they pass. Occasionally, people will yell out of their car windows – but I’m used to it by now. This is definitely the longest part of my walk. Sometimes, the tennis team is practicing as I walk by and I can wave to my friends.

An academic quad, a brick pathway leading onward with a bunch of trees framing the photo. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

As I walk up through the arch, I enter my favorite part of campus. My class is here. I love looking at the sculptures and statues along the way. I also enjoy seeing other students coming and going to and from their classes. As I walk, I listen to my shoes hitting the pavement. I follow that rhythm until I reach the building where I have my first in-person class.

An academic building in the background. Grass, bench and light post in foreground. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

I enter the building for my first class. It is by far my favorite and most interesting class I am taking this semester! I also absolutely adore this professor. I make sure I am fully awake as I walk in the building, to learn and comprehend as much as possible. My mentality immediately begins to shift and I begin to focus before I even reach my classroom.

Overlooking Knowlton café. Tree lamps, big window, tables and students working present. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

After my class, I go to Knowlton café, where I get a coffee and get some homework done before my next class. The other students around me are also studying and doing their work. Focused and determined looks appear on all of their faces as they read their next questions or take their notes. The amount of natural light that soaks in from the large windows makes me happy as I continue to do my work.

Kauke Hall; a castle like building with two flags and an archway. A brick pathway leading up. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

After doing some homework and attending my last class of the day, I walk back through the arch. I hear the same rhythm of my shoes hitting the pavement. It’s getting cooler and the wind is picking up; I think it might rain. I hurriedly make my way towards the library to study with some friends.

Carrol Desk in Wooster library, a book open on desk — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

At the library, I am able to find a little nook where I can properly focus with minor distractions. I set my bag down and pull out a book that I have to read for one of my classes. For some reason, I am able to focus so well whenever I go to the library. It’s like magic! I easily complete three assignments before I check the time. I realize it’s almost time for practice. I quickly pack up my supplies and say “goodbye” to my friends.

Scot Center- Light brown building with teal roofing, overlooking an outdoor amphitheater — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

As I walked over to the Scot Center from across the street, I begin to shift my mentality into “practice mode,” focusing on what coach wants us to do for practice. This semester, we are required to show a badge that says we are “good to go” for the day. Without this, we can’t enter the Scot Center. I also go here to get my weekly Covid-19 tests. I am eager for next year when we might not have to take all of these precautions.

Carl Dale Soccer Field: at the College of Wooster. An overcast day looking over field. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

After changing in the locker room, I head out to the soccer field with my teammates. This is by far the best part of my day. I get to focus on something other than schoolwork, and I also get to play the sport that I love! Soccer is a great way for me to relieve stress and exercise. I am also extremely grateful that I am able to continue playing in college. Although practices are two hours long, they seem to fly by, and soon I am on my way back to my dorm.

Pathway on campus with a light post in foreground and a lot of trees and dead leaves on the ground in background. — Taken by Maddie Cambier. April 2021.

Walking back to my dorm room, I veer off onto a new path and take in the oak trees that greet me. I think of the fall and how pretty they all are when the leaves are changing. I noticed some new buds on the branches, and I become excited for summer. I continue my walk to class and listen to the birds chirping and singing their songs around me. A wave of calmness rushes over me and I am content.

Stories I Heard in Ecuador

April 23, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

by Yamini Manikoth

In the spring of my junior year of high school, I had the privilege of being a part of the visiting members of a literacy program between my writing school and an orphanage in Quito, Ecuador. It was a chance to get to see the kids in person and to lend a hand if we could. I’ve compiled a series of photos as a glimpse of my time in the city.

Quito, Ecuador, is the second-highest city in the world, and the orphanage sat near the peak of a mountain, looking down at it. The elevation was a nightmare on my persistent fatigue, but the view of the sky was incomparable.

Some of the children we worked with were too young to read to or read with. Engaging with them was mostly about getting to hang out with them while the other babies were being fed or washed. We had conversations, they and I, and tragically I feel it may have been the only time my Spanish was up to par for the discussion at hand. Here, one of the children and I review colors with the help of the balls from the playpen.

One of the things we were consistently encouraged to do was have the kids read to us as much as possible, rather than the other way around. Here I am being walked slowly through a copy of “Buenas Noches, Luna,” waiting for little hands to move so that I can turn the page.

One of the annual projects for the visit was to encourage the kids to tell their own stories, which we then turned into books! I worked with Jayco, who had strong opinions on my bad taste in comic book characters. On the day where Jayco wrote down his story with me, he had far more interesting things to worry about.

“Que historia quieres, Jayco?” I asked him: what story do you want?

“Una vez había una niña,” he said: once there was a girl.

“Una niña que?” . . . a girl who?

“Una niña que se llama Caperu Cita”: a girl who is called Little Red Riding Hood.

“Maravilloso! Y…”

“Y?”

“Una vez había una niña que se llama Caperu Cita, y…” At this point, Jayco had found himself very concerned with a ball being kicked around in the playground. “Que es el resto, Jayco?”

“Y nada,” He tells me, wriggling out of his seat.

“Y nada?”

“Y nada, y nada, y nada, y nada, y nada.”

There once was a little girl called Little Red Riding Hood, and nothing and nothing and nothing and nothing…

Sometimes kids would just much rather be playing outside.

We had a day for tourism as well, a chance to simply view the beautiful, historic city.

This is Basílica del Voto Nacional, the largest church of its kind in all the Americas. When it is completed, they say, the world will end, so there are always more stones left to be mortared and new windows set to be installed.

A personal fact is that I have a bit of a love affair with Gothic Romantic art and the general concept of light. This is one of the most famous rose windows in the world. I wonder if I’ve captured it correctly.

From the top of the church, we could look across the city.

Do you see the figure in the distance?

Here it is! Her name is the Virgen de El Panecillo and she is inspired by Quito’s Madonna. From anywhere in the city you can see her, dancing atop a snake.

This was not our last night in Quito; that came three days later, with a lot of packing, checklists, and tearful goodbyes to tiny faces. But the sky was beautiful this night, and the light of the city wanted me to remember it.

***Due to strict regulations regarding the distribution of images of these children’s faces, there are limited photos I can show of the time we spent in the orphanage itself.

A Chapter in My Life

April 23, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

By Alegnta Dawit

My name is Alegnta Dawit Mezmur, and welcome to one of the chapters of my life. I was born and raised in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, located in East Africa, and also the birthplace of coffee. It is pretty ironic how I have to elaborate more on where I am from, as many of the people I have encountered abroad are unaware of its location. They can write up a whole essay about their love for coffee and how they can’t live without it but not know the place of its origin, quite ironic.

Alegnta's Image — by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY -SA

However, as time went by, I understood the real meaning of the statement; what is local to them is foreign for me and what is foreign for me is local to them. Nevertheless, through the positive aspect of globalization, we can find common ground.

After I graduated from high school in 2019, I enrolled at the College of Wooster. In my eyes, the College looked gorgeous, while we browsed the catalog and the website. It was an unfamiliar place, as I didn’t get the chance to visit the campus.

As some got to feel the air, the wind, and most of all, the energy, I just flipped a page and decided to travel 7,336 miles away from home.On August 19, 2020, I arrived in this new place I was yet to call home. I was startled as I faced several culture shocks. For instance, at home I lived in a tropical climate, so I did not have to worry about what to wear because of the weather nor check the weather application on my phone. In Wooster, as the months went by, the weather changed, as it got too cold to bear. I woke up one morning, and, as I went to open my curtains, I saw snow for the first time. I was glomming like a flower during spring, and my excitement was equivalent to a little kid receiving candy. Little did I know that this was the only time I would be this excited about snow. Through time I was not too fond of this severe cold weather as we did not like each other after that day.

***

As a social science student, my high school education taught me a lot about African history, an education not limited to colonialism but to how Africa was before colonialism and how it is a powerful continent. So, as I embarked on a new journey 7,336 miles away from my home to the College of Wooster, I realized that non-Africans had little to no knowledge about Africa. For instance, my freshman year in college, I was getting food from our student center (Lowry), and one of the staff members asked, “where are you from,” I replied with Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. The staff member was confused, so I elaborated more and said, “it is located in East Africa.” She said, “oh yes, Africa! You know I have a friend that works in Kenya; maybe you might know her!”

I was utterly shocked. The staff member assumed it was like knowing a person from across the road. Some do not realize that Africa has 54 independent countries with their own respective languages, customs, and cultures. For instance, there are an estimated 2000 languages spoken in Africa, and in Ethiopia, there are 86 individual languages spoken. It is not the same as moving from Ohio to Texas, where at least they speak the same language. So, this made me think, why do they not know this? Do they choose to stay ignorant, or is there a lack of teaching about the true history of Africa? Ethiopia is a place of great significance to me because this is the place where I began to walk, talk, or most of all, a place where my existence came to be. However, many of the people I met in the USA scarcely seemed to know of its existence nor had any knowledge of its size or about the countries. So, in due time I learned that the education system was at fault. Most non-Africans were taught of the “single story” of Africa, an image that is fixated towards the typical stereotypes enforced by Western media rather than the reality of Africa from a local perspective. As I have embarked on this journey, I am yet to embark on more. Stay tuned for the next chapter in my life.

Travel from Ethiopia to USA

April 23, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

By Naol Hulufe

While inner journey can be defined in many different ways, I personally define it as self-understanding through different lenses. Born and raised in Ethiopia and moving to the United States at the age of 11 gave me a more detailed understanding of myself. Having the privilege of traveling from one country to another has truly helped me explore my inner journey in depth. Being able to travel between these two countries has provided me with the ability to learn new languages, experience different cultures, and meet people from different backgrounds, which have played a huge role in this extraordinary self-discovery.

All these changes began on December 2^nd, 2011, when the plane took off from Ethiopia, the only place I had ever known. For 11 years, Ethiopia provided me with my first identity, first language, and my first everything. It was a place that I never thought of leaving because it is my home where my family, friends, and childhood memories reside. A place I first learned to walk and talk.

The moment the Ethiopian Airlines plane took off, everything I knew until this point changed. I was terrified to face this new journey because I did not want to leave my family and friends behind. However, I had the feeling this new chapter has so much to offer and I had dreamed of traveling to the United States of America, land of the free and home of the brave, for years. Before leaving my birthplace, I took one last look at Ethiopia through the plane’s window, which only gave me a narrowed view of the airport. Looking out through that small window, I noticed that the sky was full of light and dark clouds just like the feelings in my heart. The sky showed the abstract feelings I had that day. My childhood memories were flashing through my mind and my eyes were full of tears ready to drop just like the clouds were full of rain. My feelings were everywhere.

On the day of my departure, I found myself crying nonstop for 20 minutes, because I did not want to leave my friends and family and flip to the next chapter in my life. I remember hanging on my grandmother’s legs before I was forced to get in the car to hit the road. I cried so much that I forgot to say goodbye to some of my relatives. I was truly sad to let go of everything I had known my entire childhood. My friends cried as much as I did and they were saying, “Don’t forget about us!” which made me cry even more. My grandmother, on the other hand, was saying, “Go explore what God has given you, and hopefully, God willing, we will see each other.” With my eyes full of tears and my heart full of sorrow, I got in the car and headed to the airport. When I got to the airport, the planes were boarding, ready to hit the sky and face the storm that was ahead, just like I was ready to gather all my feelings together and take on the new journey.

Naol's Image — Taken on December 3, 2011 by: Naol Hulufe

Through this 48 hour journey, I understood my life and the life I hoped to live. I reflected on my childhood life and realized how most kids never get such an opportunity to travel to a place that offers so much more. It gave me the meaning of travel, and provided me with a clear understanding of my privileges. Even though I was born and raised in a place with fewer opportunities, my life took a different direction the day I boarded the Ethiopian Airlines plane and landed in Washington D.C.

On December 3rd of 2011, after 48 hours of flying, the plane that took off from my birthplace lands in a place whose possibilities I have yet to explore. A world that everyone dreams of coming to. A world that is seen by the other world as the land of opportunities, especially for those who are driven to change their life, the life of their families, and for those who are committed to change the world for the better.

Arriving at night and looking out of the plane, I see the beauty of my new city. With my phone’s camera, I try to capture the beauty that I witness with my naked eyes, but only succeed in capturing the unfocused lights of the city. That light extends for miles, and I see the beauty of the city stretching far into the distance. Just by looking at those lights, I am convinced that my life will be better and my future is full of brightness.