Maria Thomas, author (“African Visas” and “Come to Africa and save your Marriage”) and a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, Ethiopia, probably said it best: “If you’ve ever lived in Ethiopia, you never really put it behind you. You follow the news, any you can get, avidly. You look for people who have just been there. You find Ethiopians on the outside, or they find you. You collect stories. You wait for any chance to go back.”  Like Maria (pen name for Roberta Worrick), I served in the Peace Corps in Ethiopia in the 1970s, in my case Emdeber, sebat bet Gurage. Since my return to Colorado (USA), to school, to work, I have thought about Ethiopia every single day, without exception.  Like Maria, I have been known to walk up to complete strangers, be they students, hotel staff, airport employees, drivers, the guy at the local sandwich shop, and greet them in Amharic.  The usual response is a great big smile, and who has a better smile than an Ethiopian?  In some instances, we have become great friends, but in all cases our days have become brighter as we share a common bond, one that goes beyond words, a sense of fellowship and shared memories.

Years after my Peace Corps service, I have had several opportunities to return to Ethiopia:  once to visit a hospital and school at a project near Butajira, also in the Gurage Zone; the next time to set up a school library in memory of a colleague; and later to set up a children’s library in Mekelle, Tigray, during a five-month sabbatical.  It was during the later visits that I met the publisher of the Ethiopia Observer and we became friends and colleagues. Through word of mouth and the internet, a noted author and storyteller, Anne Pellowski, approached me about conducting children’s book publishing workshops in Ethiopia and we joined together and set up workshops in Addis Ababa and in Mekelle.  As Dean of the Library at Regis University in Denver, Colorado, I was able to take the opportunity to meld my profession and my passion into one:  libraries and literacy in Ethiopia.  Each time I returned to Ethiopia I felt like I was returning home.

Over the years, many Ethiopians have immigrated to Denver, where I live and work.  I remember when the first restaurant opened and I was able to introduce my young sons to the joy of Ethiopian food and eating with their hands.  Now there are scores of Ethiopian restaurants that line Colfax Blvd. and other nearby vicinities.  Twenty-two years ago, Denver Sister Cities formed a twinning with Axum and a few years back, nearby Aurora, Colorado partnered with Adama.  Mayors of all four cities have had opportunities to travel to and from, encouraging tourism and economic development

Which leads me to my most recent opportunity to travel to Ethiopia, this time to the historic city of Axum. My eldest son, himself a Fulbright Scholar in the Philippines, was perusing the Fulbright site and noted that the University of Mekelle was actively seeking scholars in a variety of areas, including Information Science.  Although my time in Mekelle years was fulfilling, I investigated options in nearby Axum, the site of the Axumite Heritage Foundation Library, a community library that was undergoing a significant building project.  While I was on sabbatical in Mekelle years earlier, I met Dr. Tsehaye Teferra, founder of the Ethiopian Community Development Council, who visited the library in Mekelle.  He and I kept in touch and I followed the progress of the Foundation Library.  Each time I was in Ethiopia in the interim, I took the opportunity to visit Axum and the library.

Long story short, I applied for and received the award and became a Fulbright Scholar and was assigned to my choice of the University of Aksum. Along with fellow “Fulbrighters,” I arrived in Addis Ababa attended orientation at the American Embassy and received credentials at immigration in late August.  Three of my colleagues were placed at institutions in Addis Ababa and three in Gondar.  I was the sole Fulbright assigned to Axum, and I was quite comfortable with that arrangement. The only other American in the community was a Peace Corps Volunteer who had extended for a third year. He like I chose to live within the community and not be part of a large ex-pat circle isolated from the day-to-day life of the country.

For ten months I split my time between the university and the Foundation Library, one almost being the extension of the other.  I investigated open access journals, set up a computer lab, cataloged books, advised on library operations and collections, and was part of a team that saw the grounds of the library transform.

But more importantly, I became part of the community.  Staff at the hotel where I was staying frequently remarked that we were family.  I joined in celebrations such as Timket, Gena, Fasika, and christenings.  Never once did I spend a holiday alone, but was part of my extended family of co-workers, library staff, shopkeepers, university faculty, and hotel staff. We fasted together and broke bread together. Axum is a small community and I knew that not only were people watching me, but they were watching out for me, whether it was the announcer at the airport who took me under his wing when the last flight of the day was canceled, the stranger who interceded when a transient became too aggressive, the soldiers who watched over me at a distance when there was a disturbance in town, the man who literally picked me up from the cobblestone sidewalk when I tripped on a curb and took a bad spill, and the guards at the hotel who not only watched over me as I waited for my daily ride, but became my friends.  Not a week went by, that I wasn’t offered a free ride by a Bajaj driver concerned about the heat of the day and intensity of the sun.  Although I didn’t drink coffee, the buna ladies greeted me daily on my walks to and from the library or the stelae.

There were some low moments such as when the government declared a state of emergency and shut down internet, social media, data plans, but lifelines in Axum and far away Denver brought me comfort.  Tragedy also struck when a student was killed while at university in another region; a small boy was hit and killed as he crossed a road near the hotel as I listened to the blood-curdling scream of his sister; and the unexpected death of the four-year-old son of a co-worker.  Faith and community pulled together to comfort the family and friends.

I went on walks every day, throughout the neighborhoods, the nearby hills, but most frequently past St. Mary of Tsion church and to the stelae or Queen of Sheba bath.  I marveled at my fortune to live in a community with such historic treasures.  I frequently stood in awe at the wonder that is Axum.

Books also brought me comfort and time for reflection.  Regis University, my home institution, had chosen “Across that Bridge: A Vision for Change and the Future of America,” by Georgia Congressman John Lewis as its One Book, One Regis selection. Lewis was a young pioneer during the Civil Rights Movement in America, a time of hope and despair, tragedy and joy, hardship yet a promise for the future.  I saw many parallels to that time in US history with the growing unrest occurring in Ethiopia that ultimately led to the resignation of Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn and the election of His Excellency, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed.  The book is an excellent look at faith, truth and reconciliation and is a testament to the power of nonviolence to affect social change.

On a more personal note, another book, Helen Thorpe’s “Newcomers: Finding Refuge, Friendship, and Hope in an American Classroom” resonated with me as I struggled to learn the Fidel.  “Newcomers” is the year-long study of immigrant children studying in a Denver-area high school. As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I was not taught the script and made it a goal during my ten-month stay to learn to read and write Amharic.  A lofty goal in which I made modest progress, perhaps at the first grade level.  I have to admire these students from all nations who immigrated to the US, specifically Denver, and learned to adapt and succeed despite great odds.  It was an opportunity for me to “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.”

Literacy and libraries were what brought me to Ethiopia in the first place as a seventh grade English teacher in the Gurage Zone and later as a librarian in Mekelle and a scholar in Axum.  I was fortunate to have an active network that allowed me to travel to libraries in Adama, Debre Birhan, Bahr Dar, Gondar, Dire Dawa, Harar, and Wolaita Sodo, sometimes for a library visit and other times to present workshops on first language publishing of children’s books.  I received a small grant from the Colorado Association of Libraries in support of work with the African Storybook project (http://www.africanstorybook.org) and another from the American Library Association to set up a Chromebook Lab in the Axumite Heritage Foundation Library.  I was also privileged to work with Midako Publishing and contracted to have a book about the battle of Adwa translated into Tigrigna.

Ten months seems like a long time, but the time went quickly, too quickly.  Leaving Ethiopia was one of the hardest things I have ever done.  What do you do when you have fallen in love?  …with a country?  ….with a people?  I may have returned home to Colorado, but I have left home as well.

(Main Image: Janet Lee with a girl at Yeha Temple, near Axum during her assignment at the University of Aksum.)