inner/outer journey

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.

Journal Entries from Australia

April 25, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

By Gabriele Gajdos

The number of places I have slept, on this trip:

Bere One- Momi Bay, Fiji
A cot in a tent (on the beach)- Somosomo, Fiji
Bure Nine- Momi Bay, Fiji
Lawaki Beach House, Fiji
Club Oceanus Resort- Pacific Harbour, Fiji
Capricorn Apartment Hotel- Suva, Fiji
Bure Five- Momi Bay, Fiji
Family Stay- Nausori, Fiji
Bure 12, Momi Bay, Fiji
Vaturu Dam, Fiji
Bure Six- Momi Bay, Fiji
YHA International Auckland, New Zealand
Kerikeri Holiday Park, New Zealand

YHA International Auckland, New Zealand
Base Backpackers Rotorua, New Zealand
YHA International Auckland, New Zealand
YHA- Alice Springs, Australia
Ayers Rock- Outback Pioneer Lodge- Yulara, Australia
Kings Canyon Campground- Australia
YHA- Alice Springs, Australia
YHA- Cairns, Australia
Cape Trib Beach House- Cape Tribulation, Australia
Flashpackers Noosa- Sunshine Beach, Australia
BIG4 Caloundra Holiday Park, Australia

Waking up in a new place becomes easy after traveling so much; I was ten weeks into this trip. Blankets were a luxury at this point. I could not imagine being back in my bed at home. On November 18^th, 2019, I woke up at a hostel-based campsite in the middle of the Daintree Rainforest, the oldest rainforest in the world. Our bungalow was 20 meters from the crocodile-infested Pacific Ocean. It was a wet heat that took over the forest—the exact opposite of desert-based central Australia.

The room had three twin-sized beds, pushed up against any wall possible. There were sheets and comforters, air conditioning, and black-out curtains. I was very well rested, yet I was anxious about oversleeping. That morning, my cohort had to wake up at seven to plant trees with the Rainforest Trust. I remember walking up the concrete hill to the communal kitchen. My go-to breakfast at this point was a bland cereal and fruit. I was craving comfort; I was craving home. I was falling back into some old habits. I was reading and journaling, even playing on my phone instead of getting out and exploring a new environment. I stopped trying to push myself out of my comfort zone. I was exhausted. I was thinking more of my personal goals and future and less of where I was in the moment. I was eating breakfast in an outdoor pavilion style kitchen and there were signs posted everywhere, warning the guests about cassowaries. Cassowaries, the closest animal still alive to the dinosaurs, are a type of bird that can be up to 5 feet tall and can be very dangerous when provoked. Despite being in the rainforest and being surrounded by wildlife, I did not see a cassowary.

***

I was ready to plant trees; we rode in our two vans to this tucked-away spot down the road. Eventually, we would walk this route. We approached this nice, older man who went by the name Golli, he went by Golli based on the name Golliwog. He was tan and had dark dreads that went past his waist, he was in charge of running man running the base house for the Rainforest Fund and taught my group about different jungle plants and fruits. He considered himself a pirate, or maybe he cosplayed as a pirate. I am still not quite sure. During our tree walk, we tried fruits right off these tall branches surrounding the property. The fruits tasted as if they had artificial flavoring. We ate “ice cream” beans, which had a weird banana taste but the texture of a stale cotton ball, and saw a nursery of baby plants that he had started. My group learned that the Daintree Rainforest is 150 million years old, impossible to imagine (the Amazon is supposedly only 60 million years old). He explained how we would go into the rainforest and collect nuts and seeds to be planted later.

Photo taken by my friend Katerina, on November 18th, 2019. At the Rainforest Trust in the Daintree Rainforest.

***

During this first day, we hiked around the forest. There was no sky, just a canopy of green. It was extremely warm here, and I struggled to keep up. Looking back, I can only remember seeing the ground.

The second day, we met up with Golli and took our van to this random part of the forest. Finally, I thought, tree planting time. First, Golli wanted to introduce us to a friend of his, Tony. Tony’s house was down this huge slope; walking down with an ankle injury was interesting, but I survived. Tony approached out of this house with a huge deck and patio, in the middle of the jungle. The windows had a lot of Batman related stickers. He gathered us into a crowd and gave us a safety briefing; he inquired if any of us had ever had a rabies shot. If not, he warned us that we should be careful and not pet the bats. At this point I was extremely excited but also petrified. In American culture we treat bats as rodents, filthy and full of diseases.

***

“You guys ready to see my children?”
At this moment, I was incredibly thrown off. I was ready to plant trees and help the rainforest; I was selfish and wanted to get some good resume builders. Instead, I walked into this fenced-in patio and was greeted with over a dozen speckled flying foxes. This was a completely unique experience, who can say that they interacted, super up close and personal, with bats? Tony volunteered at this bat habitation center, for the bats that were injured could never fly again but were still alive, injured bats are very common in Australia. Farmers put up barbed wires that are often not visible to the animal but bats are not filthy animals, they are essential for the ecosystem because they are a keystone species; they are pollinators and keep the insect population checked, it’s unfortunate that they have such a bad reputation.

Taken by my friend Katerina, on November 18th, 2019 at the Daintree Rainforest.

They hung from their feet, and their wings stayed closed. A lot of them made cute baby noises, and sounded very squeaky. The bats would climb all over Tony; we were advised to be careful, but we did pet them. I risked that danger, I felt not afraid anymore, and in love with these creatures. The bats clung to our shirts and hats, and were incredibly playful. I connected with Tony, it made sense to protect these animals and give them the best life possible. Maybe I did not need volunteer work, but instead, this experience: learning and immersing myself in the small activities that bring joy.Not everything has to be about my future.

Taken by my friend Katerina, on November 18th, 2019.

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.

Ocean City

April 23, 2021 by Jennifer Hayward Leave a Comment

By Liam Walker

My trip to Ocean City, New Jersey is one I will always remember. I felt so out of place, but also like I belonged there. It was, and still is, one of the weirdest feelings I have ever experienced.

Someone shook me awake, and I managed to read the clock on the wall.

3:45 am.

Disgusting.

Absolute mayhem engulfed the house as we all wrangled our suitcases and pillows to fill the van before we got out on the road. Jake’s mom made a point that she will absolutely leave us if we were not in the car by 4 am. When it comes to punctuality, Dawn does not mess around.

With Jake’s mom in the driver’s seat, his two brothers passed out in the second row, and Jake and I smushed in the third row of the Honda Odyssey, we set out to beautiful New Jersey. I had never been on a trip without my family, so I could barely wait to go to the ocean and visit a real-life boardwalk. The trip, in total, was around eight hours, but thankfully we were asleep for about five of them.

The whole car ride felt like a fever dream. Dawn stopped at least 6 times for bathroom breaks, and every groan we made was followed by a rant about how having children messes with your bladder. Jake and I cannot hear this spiel again, so we put our headphones back in and try to fall back asleep.

We arrived at his aunt and uncle’s house, and it was gorgeous. I never knew what a 1.5-million-dollar house would look like, let alone what it would feel like to live in one for two months.

Coming from a single-parent household, they had things that I never imagined people would need. An outdoor shower for when you get back from the beach, which I may add was a 4-minute bike ride from their house. And a garage full of beach bikes, kayaks, innertubes, jet skis, and a dock in the backyard that was connected to the marina. I would have been content with living there for the rest of my life, but it was time for Jake to show me what we really came here for: the boardwalk.

Originating from a small town in Ohio, I found the diversity of food and people that occupied this boardwalk almost overwhelming. After the initial shock from the sheer beauty of my surroundings passed, I decided it was time to take it all in. Never had I seen a place with a pizza shop every ten steps, hundreds of gift shops, and people genuinely enjoying themselves with no consequences. My unrequited nostalgia was interrupted by a high-pitched scream. A little girl was sharing her ice cream with the friendly seagull that swan dived onto her head. Or at least, that’s what her parents were trying to tell her. It took every muscle in my body to keep me from smiling, but I looked over at Jake and his brothers and they were already cackling. I had to give in and join in on the fun.

Did people actually live here?

***

It was a magical place where anything was allowed. Bikers and pedestrians shared the boardwalk simultaneously in perfect harmony while, back home, if you don’t get hit by a car, you’d chalk it up as a good day. In a place so foreign to me, I felt truly at home and accepted by those around me. No one person could be singled out as weird or out of place. Even the performers at The Freak Show were celebrated for being themselves. Complete strangers would give nods of approval and the occasional whistle with a “good job.” It was absolutely amazing to see such pure balance.

Ocean City Boardwalk at busy night hours with the Ferris wheel lit up

Throughout my time in Ocean City, I realized that I wanted to live like everyone on that boardwalk. Happy and unapologetic. And to live like this, you have to be stable within yourself and have the means to back it up. I had been surrounded by people with financial distress all my life, and it made them miserable. That trip was the final push for me to apply to college. And I am so happy that I did. I needed that change of perspective to see that life is what you make of it.

Life does not run you.

You are in control of your own happiness.