Day 345 - The Call

Israeli Ambassador in Eritrea
with Sandra

Jewel went out of town for a week. While she was gone, she let me use her car. I don't know if that is the reason she found that her tire was flat the Sunday morning after she returned or if something else caused the flat. But no matter what the cause, that flat tire was also an important event in the story of my calling.

On that Sunday Jewel and I were on our way to a barbecue at the Israeli ambassador's home when she parked her car on one of Asmara's main streets near the ambassador's house. When we got out of the car, she noticed the flat, but there was no need to get it fixed right away, so we walked down the alley next to the movie theater that hid the ambassador's house from view. The barbecue was a farewell event for someone Jewel knew. At the end of the event, Jewel asked two of the men if they would help change the tire. They agreed and we headed back down the alley to the street.

While they worked on the tire, Jewel remained available to find what they needed in her car and to answer questions, but I had nothing to do but stand around. So when a group of seven boys approached me to ask for help, I recognized that I had two choices: I could shoo them away or I could talk with them.

Two of the boys were carrying a T-shirt held horizontally between them. When I asked why they were holding the T-shirt, they said again that they needed help. Apparantly, the T-shirt was a sign I didn't recognize so I asked what type of help they needed. The smallest of the boys, Dawit, said they needed money. I asked why they needed money and they said they wanted to buy uniforms for their soccer team. The long and the short of it is that after I asked and they answered many more questions, I gave them 300 nakfa, about $30, so they could buy three uniforms. They accepted the money and then headed down the street.

Habtom

I saw them stop on the next block and talk together. They turned around and came back to ask me where I lived. I told them I lived in Virginia, in the United States. But that wasn't the answer they were looking for. They wanted to know where I lived in Asmara. Now I knew where I lived, and Jewel knew where I lived, and all the embassy drivers knew where I lived, but I had no idea how to tell someone else where I lived. And I wasn't sure I would tell a bunch of adolescent boys, even ones as cute as this group was, where I lived. So I told the truth; I didn't know the address. I saw puzzled looks, but they walked away again. For a few minutes. But then Habtom, the tallest, and Dawit, the shortest, came back and asked me what my telephone number was. As I told them, Habtom wrote it on his hand with a pen. And off they went again. I was certain I wouldn't hear from them again, as I was sure Habtom would either wash his hands or they would end up playing and he would get sweaty and the numbers would smear off.

On the next Saturday, the phone rang. I couldn't understand the person on the other end and was about to hang up when I heard "Habtom, 300 nakfa." At that point I said hello, but Habtom didn't respond. Instead, I heard some background noise as I learned later he handed the phone to a passing stranger who spoke English. The stranger explained that he was downtown at a phone booth with a group of boys who wanted to arrange to see me the next day. Since I didn't know how to give directions to my house, I asked if the boys knew the small grocery store on the main road near my house. They did and we agreed to meet on Sunday at 3 p.m.

Dawit Abeba

The next day, I told the embassy guard outside the house that I would be returning with some young boys in a few minutes. I told him that I planned to give the boys something to eat and drink, and that by the time the boys left I would know all their names and ages and where they went to school. I wanted to be sure the guard wasn't concerned about my safety or the security of the house.

When I reached the store, I bought some cookies and then waited outside for the boys. Instead of the seven I saw the previous Sunday, there were 14 boys. Four of them were wearing new uniforms. They explained that they had just finished practicing at the nearby Expo center. I invited the boys to my house for cookies and soft drinks.

That was the beginning of my calling in Africa.