That means Brown and White in Amharic.
My friend asked me to email this story to her for a paper she has to write. It is a special story that I haven't shared with everyone because I didn't want to risk being misinterpreted. I decided to share it with all of you because it does give us a peek into older child adoption. What these kids are thinking when they learn they have a family that they won't look like. The questions that it arouses. Here is the story:
One day while we were sitting in the court yard of our guest house waiting for a traditional coffee ceremony to begin,
Mintesinot (Ben) asked me what the colors of surrounding things were. "
Zis" (This with an Ethiopian accent), he pointed to a leaf. "Green" I answered. "
Zis" this time he pointed to our yellow umbrella. This went on for a few more minutes. With each color he would tell me how to say it in his native language, Amharic.
Finally,
Minte pointed to his skin. "Brown" I responded as I stroked his arm, "I like it." I told him. He sat quietly for a minute, "
Bunne in Amharic, Mom." I could see a question forming on his face. "When we go to America,
zis," he asked pointing to his brown arm, "become
zis?" and he pointed to my white arm. I was puzzled. "Will your skin become white?" I questioned. "Ah" he answered yes, in Amharic. "No, your skin will stay
bunne, just the way it is. Just the way I like it." I could tell this answer wasn't quite what he hoped, because he said "OK, Mom,
zas (that's) OK. But white, I like it." What could I say? I think he was hoping I would make him different. Someone new. Hopefully I
will make him a different person, but not in a way that has anything to do with the color of our skin. Hopefully we will make each other different people, better people.