It is the morning of July 4th, 2008: I groan as my mother gently whispers, “teneshi yene mar (Get up honey)”. Struggling I open my eyes and notice the trembling cabin, I turn to my mother with a look of concern and she reaches out her hand and squeezes my own looking up at me, “we are going to be okay Mar”. A couple of moments later our plane has landed, we gather up our belongings and make our way towards the exit filled with people attached to their screens and MP3 players. The airport is filled with an undercurrent of anticipation, impatience, and boredom; bodies scramble back and forth from one gate to another. My mother, attempting to balance three children, clasps my hand, holds my little brother to her waist and calls back to my older
