Kyselas A to Z

Hello again! After over three years, we're reviving our blog to share with you photos and stories from our second trip to Ethiopia. While we were gone, some of you followed us on Facebook (which, strangely, was the fastest Internet link I could get to in Addis Ababa), but here we'll put all the pictures that were not on our phones and try to show you some of the many, many highlights. Folks keep asking us what our favorite part of the trip was, and we are all left a little speechless. There is just too much to choose from!

As a first post, I'll start with sharing all the flower photos I took -- mostly while the boys were playing soccer nearby. Traveling in the rainy season had its benefits, not the least of which was all the blooming trees. And the baby donkeys. Oh my goodness the fuzzy, wobbly, big-eared baby donkeys with sideburns! I would have brought one home if I could. We also managed to be there in season for avocados, mangoes and fire-roasted corn -- mmmm!

The following events happened weeks ago, but it has taken till now for Dave and Emily to recover from the trauma to our eardrums and parental psyches and talk about it.

Vaccinations. Needles. Ouch.

The story begins with a visit to our family doctor that involves waiting in the sparse lobby for two hours with nary a toy for entertainment. The boys are slowly dissolving into panic as they realize that this little room with the chairs and magazines is in fact connected to a doctor's office. The wailing begins and is barely appeased with a couple of lollipops. Since the whole visit was just a first physical and did not involve any pokes or sharp things, the boys actually had a good time with the nice lady doctor.

A mere two days later, we load the boys in the car to "say bye-bye to the Christmas tree." Turns out that the recycling center is just around the corner from the Health Department and free vaccinations. So, we also happen to be popping in to another doctor's office. This time, we are prepared: magnetic doodle pads (thanks, Leslie!), snacks, crayons, and even a wrapped prize for after the event.

We should take a moment here to hop on our soap box for a moment and explain that Dave and Emily are totally PRO-immunization. We are both biologists, after all, and strongly believe in the necessity for vaccines to maintain public health. To be honest, the only reason that some folks can "safely" take the risk *not* to vaccinate is because the rest of us (and our kids) are already immune and don't give those nasty little measles/polio/whooping cough bugs a place to breed.

So it is with this self-righteous attitude about the public health benefits of vaccinations that we march with our deluded children into the Health Department. The poor kids have now been duped into believing that going to the doctor is just a peek in their ears and throat, a high-five and then sugary candy. So they trustingly gobble up their snacks and happily play with their toys while we wait.

And then.

The parental blunders begin.

Mistake #1: Tell the boys that there will be a "small ouch."

Mistake #2: Decide to get as many vaccines as possible in one day to "get it over with."

Mistake #3: Bring both boys into the same room so they can freak each other out.

Mistake #4: Forget to pack earplugs and a size 4T straight-jacket.

Amare is the first victim. The nurse arrives with the needles lined up on a tray like a firing squad (at least that wasn't *our* blunder). Mommy makes her best attempt to hold him down while syringes are stabbed into his thighs. Arms flail. Legs kick. Both boys scream non-stop. After what seems like half an hour, but is probably five minutes, the nurse leaves. Amare is howling in the middle of the room with his pants around his ankles and won't let anybody touch him. Mommy tries grabbing his torso, while Daddy tries to pull up the pants AND hold on to whimpering Zenebe. Spittle and snot are flying; the look of betrayal and anger in Amare's eyes stabs Mommy in the heart and *she* starts crying for having done this to her poor baby, especially after trying so hard to build up any trust whatsoever. Daddy shoots Mommy a glare that says "Don't you dare lose it on me right now," as he grapples with both shrieking boys. Mommy gets a grip (figuratively and literally) and somehow drags Amare into the hallway so he isn't present for the toture session of his brother. Amare has worked up quite a sweat with all his flailing and wailing, so Mommy tries to help him take off his sweatshirt. He still won't allow any touching, but rips off the sweatshirt and throws it down the hallway at that woman who held him down while they stuck needles in his legs!!! He then starts taking off his shirt and hobbling in the opposite direction with a sob and a look that say, "You can have this shirt back, too, because I'm leaving. It's over. I'm walking all the way back to Ethiopia right now...."

Somehow we all emerge back into the waiting

room, where the other families give us wide-eyed looks of panic ("What did they do to those children to make them scream like that?!!?). We present the boys with their gifts (thank you, Ashley & Mike!) of 3-D viewers. And before long, we are all staring into the little devices trying to figure out what the heck that Barney-like hippo puppet is holding in his blue hands...

The resilience of children is amazing. Not that the day was without moping (see photo of Amare that evening -- note also the much-needed post-trauma bottle of beer on Dave's lap), but really, how

can they not still hold it against us? Of course, we have absolutely no idea how we are ever going to get them back into the Health Department building for their subsequent boosters... suggestions, anyone? (Dave has already tried laying out the aforementioned arguments about the personal benefits of disease immunity and public health concerns, but we're not sure they got all of it...)