By Celese Sanders

On my recent trip to Ethiopia there were a lot of things about America that I missed. So many times we are reminded how we live in the blessed land, so we naturally think that America is better in every way. Even though I love the United States, I learned that every country and it’s people have wonderful things woven into their traditions and culture. I came to love many things about Ethiopia in the short time that I spent there.

The one thing that I loved the most was the friendliness of the people. I love how they greet each other with kisses and shoulder bumps. I love how they hold hands when they talk. I love how they wrap their arms around each other. In America the most we do is a courteous handshake and then we maintain at least a two-foot distance as we continue the conversation. I miss the comfort and friendliness that Ethiopians generally have.

I also appreciate how the Ethiopian people treat the foreigners that visit their country. To them, we are their guests. We were treated with kindness. They gave us their best, and respected us. It was surprising when we got back to America to feel the difference in the way that we were treated.

Another thing that was really different between Ethiopia and America was the pace of life. America is definitely much more fast-paced than Ethiopia. In Ethiopia there were no time schedules to keep to, nobody had long to-do lists, and very often we saw people taking the time to sit and talk with one another without worrying about having to be somewhere. I admit that there were times when I felt frustrated at the lack of hurrying. I had moments where I felt that I was somehow more important because I had things to accomplish and places to be. However, as I spent more time there I really began to appreciate the way they looked at each day. Since I’ve returned to America I’ve felt a distinct sensation that I am missing something in my rush to accomplish and do.

Growing up in the United States, race is always a big concern. We have to be careful not to say or do things that could potentially be perceived as a sign of racism. I never realized until I went to Africa how much that influences us. I realized once I got there that I am overly sensitive to it. Instead of referring to someone as “black” or “white” we have to make sure that we use politically correct terms to describe someone. In Ethiopia it wasn’t a problem. They call themselves black. We are white to them. There is nothing wrong with it. Another moment that made me realize my underlying worry about being racist was when our friend from Ethiopia picked up my suitcase to help carry it. I instantly felt defensive and told him that I would carry it for myself. He was surprised and told me he was just trying to be a gentleman. I realized that I had been rude simply because I was afraid people would consider me racist when they saw a black guy carrying a white girl’s luggage. I was also worried at one point that people would be bothered simply by him and I walking together. When I asked him about it he was kind of hurt. He said that it is different there. Black is black and white is white. Our skin color is part of who we are, and we don’t need to be afraid of our own color. Although I never did quite get over my underlying fear of it, it was refreshing to know that I didn’t have to continuously portray “white guilt.”

Now that I am back in the USA I miss the Ethiopian people the most. They were so kind. They were so beautiful. I felt like I belonged there. There is a special spirit of friendliness in that country, and I miss that. I hope someday I can return to Ethiopia.

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