A friend for Papa

There's something I never told my maternal grandfather about my first trip to Ethiopia.  I have a strong feeling that, if they had a common language, he would be great friends with the man who was our driver when we went to the field, Girma.

 

I can barely communicate with Girma.  I know his Oromifa name (Gosh Liban), and we smile at each other a lot.  We were very happy to see each other again this week.  When I say "How are you?", he says "I am fine", but that's about as much as we get from each other. 

 

But I watch Gosh Liban interact with our colleagues, and he smiles, laughs, and is very courteous.  He seems kind, and thoughtful.  He took very good care of us when we were in the field in January, and there's something about him that reminds me of my grandfather.