The Safari Post
2 months ago
Announcing Ellilta "Ellie" Joy Kipfer
Pregnant and seeking balance
Among the blend of emotions that most new-parents-to-be feel, this stage has been made particularly potent for us as we are pulled between two very different worlds: Ethiopia and the US.
A few days after arriving in the US, I took a trip to a baby superstore to register for gifts. I saw the clash of a perhaps sincere desire to help alongside an unabashed marketing scheme when I was handed a booklet that listed 152 “must-have” items for the baby. One hundred and fifty two. The number is actually closer to 250 if you included the multiples they suggest of some items (9-12 body suits, for example). If that wasn’t bad enough, I then had to walk through the store figuring out what I really needed. Thankfully, I had the support of my mother and husband, and even younger brother who wanted to tag along, but it still proved to be a rather daunting task. After we left, I lamented to Kevin: “I thought registering for baby gifts would be more fun.”
My mind shifted to the women at our Center in Ethiopia. A new mom of a two-month old brought her little baby to the Center multiple times a week strapped to herself and carrying a plastic bag filled with cloths and rags that were used as diapers. Those supplies were the extent of what she had. I wonder how she would react walking through the store with me as I (my husband, rather) pointed this electronic “gun” at any item as a way to say to future gift-buyers, “this is what I want.”
The marketing strategies used at these types of stores really play on a mother-to-be’s guilt. The theme seems to be: “If you want to be a good mother, then you will have these supplies, these brands, this cute of a decorated nursery, etc.” It plays on our naiveté and anxiety by saying, “If you want your baby to survive and you want to survive each stage of your baby’s life, then you must have these supplies, these brands, etc. etc.” Talk about pressure!
I think again of my friends in Ethiopia. Babies are born there every day without all of this stuff. They survive. Now, I realize that the mortality rate for both infants and children is higher in countries like Ethiopia because they don’t have the advantages we have in the States. Advantages such as education on hygiene and nutrition; basic supplies that can help minor issues that arise. Mothers are faced with many challenges including lack of access to medical care, unhealthy traditions and myths related to pregnancy and baby-care, lack of supplies and sanitary conditions. I feel so blessed to be able to bring a child into this world in the US rather than in a developing country. I, like any mother, want my baby to have a good life from the day she enters this world. Does that mean I need to buy all 152 of the items on the “must-have” list?
The pressure built further over the course of my pregnancy as I signed up for, knowingly or not, additional information emails. Into my email inbox every single day would arrive between five and ten emails related to baby products, pregnancy information, week-by-week developmental stages and advice, deals, sales, and advertisements for products. Some emails proved helpful or maybe just interesting: it’s intriguing at least to know when your baby is the size of an eggplant. Others were not so helpful or interesting; I learned over time which ones I could delete without even opening them. There does come a point when you can have too much information to adequately digest, I believe.
Throughout the nine months, the challenge I found myself facing was finding a balance between the two very different worlds. On one end of the balance is the world of bare minimums, much sacrifice, and high risk. On the other end is the world that celebrates excess, flees from sacrifice, and seeks to minimize risk at any cost. I’m still looking for that balance and think I will continue to for a long, long time in many different situations besides pregnancy. But I’ve learned that when I’m in the middle of that tension, feeling pulled from two different realities and worlds, that’s when I’m closest to the balance. As uncomfortable as that place of tension is, there is value in living there.
For my first 7 months or so of pregnancy, my preparation had consisted of reading bits and pieces of “What to expect when you’re expecting” in book version and the email version. I did some minimal looking online at registry items until it got to be too much for me and also did a little research on cloth diapers. There was part of me that knew once we landed in the US, I’d hit the ground running with other types of preparations for the baby but I didn’t know what that looked like.
A few days after arriving in the US, I took a trip to a baby superstore to register for gifts. I saw the clash of a perhaps sincere desire to help alongside an unabashed marketing scheme when I was handed a booklet that listed 152 “must-have” items for the baby. One hundred and fifty two. The number is actually closer to 250 if you included the multiples they suggest of some items (9-12 body suits, for example). If that wasn’t bad enough, I then had to walk through the store figuring out what I really needed. Thankfully, I had the support of my mother and husband, and even younger brother who wanted to tag along, but it still proved to be a rather daunting task. After we left, I lamented to Kevin: “I thought registering for baby gifts would be more fun.”
My mind shifted to the women at our Center in Ethiopia. A new mom of a two-month old brought her little baby to the Center multiple times a week strapped to herself and carrying a plastic bag filled with cloths and rags that were used as diapers. Those supplies were the extent of what she had. I wonder how she would react walking through the store with me as I (my husband, rather) pointed this electronic “gun” at any item as a way to say to future gift-buyers, “this is what I want.”
The marketing strategies used at these types of stores really play on a mother-to-be’s guilt. The theme seems to be: “If you want to be a good mother, then you will have these supplies, these brands, this cute of a decorated nursery, etc.” It plays on our naiveté and anxiety by saying, “If you want your baby to survive and you want to survive each stage of your baby’s life, then you must have these supplies, these brands, etc. etc.” Talk about pressure!
I think again of my friends in Ethiopia. Babies are born there every day without all of this stuff. They survive. Now, I realize that the mortality rate for both infants and children is higher in countries like Ethiopia because they don’t have the advantages we have in the States. Advantages such as education on hygiene and nutrition; basic supplies that can help minor issues that arise. Mothers are faced with many challenges including lack of access to medical care, unhealthy traditions and myths related to pregnancy and baby-care, lack of supplies and sanitary conditions. I feel so blessed to be able to bring a child into this world in the US rather than in a developing country. I, like any mother, want my baby to have a good life from the day she enters this world. Does that mean I need to buy all 152 of the items on the “must-have” list?
The pressure built further over the course of my pregnancy as I signed up for, knowingly or not, additional information emails. Into my email inbox every single day would arrive between five and ten emails related to baby products, pregnancy information, week-by-week developmental stages and advice, deals, sales, and advertisements for products. Some emails proved helpful or maybe just interesting: it’s intriguing at least to know when your baby is the size of an eggplant. Others were not so helpful or interesting; I learned over time which ones I could delete without even opening them. There does come a point when you can have too much information to adequately digest, I believe.
Throughout the nine months, the challenge I found myself facing was finding a balance between the two very different worlds. On one end of the balance is the world of bare minimums, much sacrifice, and high risk. On the other end is the world that celebrates excess, flees from sacrifice, and seeks to minimize risk at any cost. I’m still looking for that balance and think I will continue to for a long, long time in many different situations besides pregnancy. But I’ve learned that when I’m in the middle of that tension, feeling pulled from two different realities and worlds, that’s when I’m closest to the balance. As uncomfortable as that place of tension is, there is value in living there.
Home?
But it got me thinking a little. Since I left home for college 14 years ago, I’ve moved 14 times – sometimes across town, or the country or even an ocean. I don’t have any grand wisdom to share. But personally, I’d like to get a little more settled…but not too settled. I don’t think as much about the physical buildings I’ve lived in, but I love to remember and reconnect with the people in all those places. I think a lot of life is about relationships, being pilgrims and remembering that all of us still have a little ways before we truly get “home”.
February/March Newsletter
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Waiting in line at the DMV…
After living in Addis for a year and a half now, there are many things that seem “normal”. But quite a few times, an experience strikes me as being comical or extremely far removed from life in the US. Ethiopia is not as corrupt as many other African nations, and we have never had to bribe anyone for anything. But last week I made a very well-placed investment to save some time.
I had to go renew our registration for our car. The first step is to get the vehicle inspected at an official inspection site. I pulled up to the place, the guard asked what my business was as they usually do. I had to get an “order” for the inspection and take it to one building on the far end of the compound, get a bill at one window, then wait in line to pay at the next window. Then once I had paid, I could take the receipt to show the official inspector who then sent me to another little office to get the official stamp of approval. The inspection was extremely “thorough” – including everything from testing the windshield wipers, turn signals, popping the hood to make sure there was an engine, and so forth. It took about 2 minutes.
Then it was off to the transport authority. People complain about waiting in line at the DMV and that is small stuff compared to this place. I walked in the door and there were 2 floors full of people, probably close to 400 total, waiting at each of these separate windows. Waiting and lines in Ethiopia are far from a structured process. Instead of a line, people tend to form a mob, wiggling around each other with no regard for order arrival, just to try to get position by the reception window. I knew I’d be waiting at least a couple hours here and have to elbow my way through a mass of people the whole time.
Then a gentleman approached me an offer similar to those “skip the lines” offers at amusement parks. He said, “you wait a long time here, rest of the day. I can get you done in 20 minutes”. I was intrigued, so I asked him his price. He said, 100 Birr, the equivalent of 6 dollars. We haggled and settled on 40 Birr, and I said “you only get half though if it takes more than 20 minutes”. He quickly accepted the challenge, and with my documents in hand he rushed to the first window, cutting around everyone who was waiting and the clerk helped him right away…then the second window in the same way…then the third…then came back to get my signature…then he hustled upstairs to a couple more windows and finally brought me my finalized paperwork….only 13 minutes later. I was very impressed and relieved not to have to wait in “lines” all day, so I threw in an extra tip. I’m sure my payment was split between him and a few desk clerks. For most Ethiopians, they have plenty of time so they don’t mind waiting. But for my Western mentality, the price was well worth it. I walked out laughing to myself at how much different this is from the last time I had to go to the DMV in the States. Renewing a car registration online is definitely simpler, but I don’t think it’s as much fun :)
I had to go renew our registration for our car. The first step is to get the vehicle inspected at an official inspection site. I pulled up to the place, the guard asked what my business was as they usually do. I had to get an “order” for the inspection and take it to one building on the far end of the compound, get a bill at one window, then wait in line to pay at the next window. Then once I had paid, I could take the receipt to show the official inspector who then sent me to another little office to get the official stamp of approval. The inspection was extremely “thorough” – including everything from testing the windshield wipers, turn signals, popping the hood to make sure there was an engine, and so forth. It took about 2 minutes.
Then it was off to the transport authority. People complain about waiting in line at the DMV and that is small stuff compared to this place. I walked in the door and there were 2 floors full of people, probably close to 400 total, waiting at each of these separate windows. Waiting and lines in Ethiopia are far from a structured process. Instead of a line, people tend to form a mob, wiggling around each other with no regard for order arrival, just to try to get position by the reception window. I knew I’d be waiting at least a couple hours here and have to elbow my way through a mass of people the whole time.
Then a gentleman approached me an offer similar to those “skip the lines” offers at amusement parks. He said, “you wait a long time here, rest of the day. I can get you done in 20 minutes”. I was intrigued, so I asked him his price. He said, 100 Birr, the equivalent of 6 dollars. We haggled and settled on 40 Birr, and I said “you only get half though if it takes more than 20 minutes”. He quickly accepted the challenge, and with my documents in hand he rushed to the first window, cutting around everyone who was waiting and the clerk helped him right away…then the second window in the same way…then the third…then came back to get my signature…then he hustled upstairs to a couple more windows and finally brought me my finalized paperwork….only 13 minutes later. I was very impressed and relieved not to have to wait in “lines” all day, so I threw in an extra tip. I’m sure my payment was split between him and a few desk clerks. For most Ethiopians, they have plenty of time so they don’t mind waiting. But for my Western mentality, the price was well worth it. I walked out laughing to myself at how much different this is from the last time I had to go to the DMV in the States. Renewing a car registration online is definitely simpler, but I don’t think it’s as much fun :)
