When I was younger..

    When I was younger, I thought I was going to run all the major marathons in the world, and then in my early twenties, I did the Auckland half-marathon and decided that long distance running wasn't for me.

    When I was younger, I had visions of ripping up in the body building/figure competition scene, and then I trained hard, competed in Auckland champs, placed 3rd in my figure category and automatically qualified for nationals.  I started training for nationals and realised I loved food too much and couldn't live a life so regimented.  My period stopped for some months during this time, and I developed an eating disorder.  It was a lifestyle that didn't feel healthy, physically or emotionally.

    When I was younger, I had a decade-long dream that I would use Breaking as a vehicle for social empowerment in Ethiopia, especially for youth and girls.  In 2023/24, 'Breaking Ground Ethiopia' was born.  I tried ferociously to pour my energy into creation, but as I was in the middle of difficult personal circumstances and the beginnings of what would be a major health crisis, I learnt the hard way that nothing productive can be poured from a broken cup.

    When I was younger, I had the vision of living in a mud hut in rural Ethiopia with 10 children running naked around the place.  After having one child, I decided pretty quickly, that he makes my natural-conception mother-world.  Pro-creating through my vagina, I'm done.  The world has enough people.  As for the mud hut in rural Ethiopia, I still have time..

    When I was younger, I had the dream of performing in musicals on stages all over the world but after a failed audition for Madame Butterfly in Melbourne, I felt out of my league in this cut-throat world of performance arts.  I quit and fell into a deep depression.  It was my first big lesson in failing.

    When I was younger, I thought I was going to travel the world teaching english as a first language.  After a volunteer teaching stint at a children's school in Nazret, Ethiopia, I abruptly found out that I didn't possess the patience to be a nurturing school teacher.

The beauty of life is that we are constantly evolving.  Failing is re-direction.  Failing is character building.

I use to think something was wrong with me, like I couldn't stick with something or I lacked resilience.  I heard it through my own self-talk and reflection and also from close ones.  But as I've gotten older and have been able to hold more grace for myself, I've come to learn that I own a searchers soul that is deeply curious.  I feel like I've perfected the art of meandering, that life is in the spontaneous 'veering off' one's supposed path.  The amazing Helen Keller once said "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all".  There is so much in life that stirs and moves me and continues to stir and move me as I remain a deeply curious person.  

I'm also a deeply faulted person, reckoning with what I lost as a child and most essentially, a soul striving to integrate her shadow.  I've come to realise that all these endeavours and shifts have been leading me on a painful yet rich healing journey, through creating art.

I feel like I've already lived 10 lives in my 44yrs, that no experience has been wasted, and I hold my breath in anticipation as I meander around this 2026 corner.

In order to continue on our spiritual path of evolution and enlightenment we must nurture discernment for what is no longer FOR us.  We must listen and act upon what stirs us, what I call ‘Soul Integrity’, at that time, in that moment, on that day, in that week, in that month, in that year, in that season.  

Evolution is natures alignment, for we are nature personified, it's our curiosity bringing us back to source, to remember who/what we are.  Just as the earth moves through it's four seasons, so do we.  

Life experiences change us, arising trauma and nervous system regulation changes us, hormonal shifts changes us (hello peri-menopause), relationships change and thus change us, new curiosities arise, self-reflection invites growth resulting in shedding illusions and negative patterns and so on.. we are constantly evolving and what may fulfill us one moment, may not be in alignment the next.  

This is being human.

This is having grace and compassion for our journey.

This is having the courage to keep moving.

No matter what others may think or say.

Moving on from plans doesn't mean giving up, not in the slightest.  It's actually the opposite, knowing in your soul of souls something is no longer serving you, the alignment is no longer there and ultimately being true to your path.  Building the ability to fine tune one's ‘soul integrity’ is an intuitive muscle that requires consistent working out.  The day we start NOT to listen to the whisperings of our soul is when we start to lose a bit of our selves. 

When we silence our souls, we are in trouble.

When we are in tune to the whispers and yearnings of our soul and create actions towards achieving alignment with that truth, that is when we are kicking in universal magic and life feels more meaningful and abundant.

Identity

When you look at this photo what do you see?  

Perhaps an Asian woman in Ethiopian dress comes to mind.

I was born in Cambodia two years after the Khmer Rouge ceased their brutal genocidal stranglehold on the country. 

My bloodline is Cambodian Chinese.

As post-war refugees, my family escaped Cambodia on foot through the jungle in the dead of night, as a baby just shy of 1yrs, I was drugged to sleep, and we spent a year at the refugee camp, on the Thai border, awaiting our fate.

When I was 2yrs old, my sister, brother, mum, dad, aunty, grandma and myself arrived as refugees in Auckland, New Zealand after what was our first ride on an aeroplane. 

After months in the Mangere resettlement camp in Auckland, we were settled in Dunedin for 6yrs, but my grandma and aunty found it too cold, so we moved to Auckland and there I grew up in Manurewa, South Auckland in what is a predominately Maori and Pacific Island demographic, for those unaware, a brown majority and a low socio-economic area.  In my pre-teen and teen years I remember being called “Ching Chong” and other racist choice words and mock phrases.  It was hurtful and mostly scary, the aggression was so new to me after our initial time in easy breezy Dunedin.  Somehow, after a rebellious and troublesome few years at high school, I became head girl. 

I am now a family woman.  My life partner is Ethiopian and we have a 12yr old son and are currently living in Addis Ababa, the capital city of Ethiopia.

My life foundation is mixed and turbulent.  In NZ I experienced a new country and racism because of how I look.  Even in Ethiopia, my current chosen country of residence, I get called “China”, during covid times it was “Corona” (because the first case in the country was connected to an asian person), and other choice words and mock phrases.  I’ve learnt to accept that this will be part and parcel of my living existence here in Ethiopia, which doesn't make it easier.  I know that because of the way I look, I will always be a 'guest' and thus, treated very differently.  That is part of the sacrifice of living in a land that enriches my spirit.

I see myself as a spiritual nomad, belonging everywhere, yet not quite belonging anywhere on Earth.  Many countries and cultures have played a part in my “being”.  

My little family are coloured.  I am considered ferenje / foreigner in a country I feel most home.  

What is my identity?  

Labels.  That’s all we are.  

Or is it?

Different stories.  

Different colours.  

Different heritages and a lot of mixed and pure bloodlines.  

A lot of differences.

When we look past the labels, the differences.  When we take off our masks and stand naked, we are all human beings, all with hearts and stories, wants and needs.  

We need love.  

We need meaning.  

We need to feel a sense of purpose.  

We need to feel a sense of belonging.

We need family, friends and community.  

We need connection.  

We need a country to live that allows us these freedoms, opportunities and values.  

We are more alike than we are different.  

My wish is that my little Ethiopian Cambodian-Chinese son will grow up in a world where we all treat one another with dignity, love and respect, wherever he may be living, regardless of "labels".  There may be people in the world who may not treat him well - and differently - due to the way he looks and the colour of his skin.  He is already getting that now in Ethiopia.  

Since he is starting to first-hand experience undertones of 'Identity', and what makes him different, I believe the beginnings of awareness are stirring within him.  These are the lessons I'm trying to instill in him.  I have asked him to look further than colour and to bestow onto others, the benefit of the doubt, first and foremost, based on their character, the essence of who they are, their energy etc.  As that is WHO we are, WHO we were before our souls entered our bodies, formless, and then our lives run their course accordingly, to the bodies we entered.  

It is sad that the environment our souls are born into, can and will most likely, determine the trajectory of ones life.  That society can slap a label on a person because of the colour of their skin, their ethnicity, their religion, their socio-economic background, their sexuality and so on.  Of course there are exceptions, but more often than not, this is human reality and we are living in a time where we are witnessing 'differences' play out in the world, used as weapons in unimaginable tragedy and collective hurting.

The labels are too many.  If only the way we looked wasn’t so inflammatory.  We are more than our bodies.  We are more than our generational labels.  We are spirits embodying an instrument.  We are spiritual beings having a human experience.  

Collectively, I wonder if we can imagine an interconnected community of spiritual depth where we see one another as energies, as individuals and less “labels”.

I really don't know.. but this is the world I wish for my son.  As one born on this planet we are all deserved of love and respect.  

St George and I.

St George and I

St George and I go wayyyy back..

I'm a beer girl. Mum said at my 5th birthday party, after all the guests left, I went around drinking all the leftovers in the bottles.

So fast forward to 2007 when I first came to Ethiopia and I met St George beer, a most organic encounter.

After a hot and hard day of building mud huts / chika betoche in Jimma through Habitat for Humanity, St George waited patiently for us back at the hotel. He was always there for us, perfectly chilled, to quench our thirsts and in a way congratulate us on the days work. Little did I know he was carving a place in my heart and beer palate.

Now 16 years later as I have dinner and drinks with my family, St George and I continue our romance.

2023

2007 - moments with St George

Yene gwadenya Mebrat / My friend Electricity

Yene gwadenya Mebrat / My friend Electricity

Mebrat is like my naughty friend who comes and goes as she pleases.

Always leaving unexpectedly and so upset to see her leave. Really miss her and hard to do life without her. Her absence is clearly missed and can’t wait to have her back.

When she leaves we cry out in vain, in such clear pain of desertion / abandonment. “Ereehhh Mebrat!!”.

She always leaves without warning, whenever she wants and suits her, never thinking how others may feel without her presence.

When she comes back, we are estatic, all bad feelings vanish and we yelp in joy at her return, her bad character of just leaving when ever she wants is at once forgotten. Life continues happily with her.

I hope one day Mebrat learns to tame her wild ways and stays for good, once and for all.

Exhavier yawkhal / god or universe willing.

*Mebrat means Electricity in Amharic

Cooking over coal

This piece of writing was written in 2020, around July, a time of utter desperation and vulnerability during corona confinement in Sebeta when during heavy rainy season power would go out often, sometimes for days at a time. A lot of cooking over coal, games by candlelight and chatting with family. It was a ‘dark season’ for sure, in many contexts of the phase, but in retrospect Mebrat gave us moments of connection we would never have created had she not left us.

My mother-in-law, Kete, and I

My mother in law, Kete, and I.

My mother in law, Kete, and I.. have an interesting relationship, to say the least.  We are respectful to one another, but we don’t say much because my Amharic is limited and her English is.. yellum/none.

We just returned back to Addis after spending 3 days/nights at a catholic center in DZ, taking much needed rest in this quiet sacred space.  A wonderful place that open their doors to people of all faiths and backgrounds, as long as quiet devotion is respected.

After our time together, what I know for sure, is that Kete speaks really fast amharic and I’m really good at looking at her wide-eyed and speechless, saying “I don’t understand/algebunyem”.  Then we smile at each other and have a chuckle.  

This is our language.  

Kete is a devout orthodox Christian.  She was raised this way, passed on through the generations.  Almost expected even.  It’s what she knows and what is ingrained in her and is as natural to her, as let’s say, walking.  In Ethiopia, alongside millions of others, religion/faith is a way of living and interwoven into the fabric of daily life.  

What makes her an exemplary woman of faith is that, without a second thought, she walked into the chapel for evening adoration (quiet prayer/meditation).  For her, this was a building of godly worship.  Beka.  

For devout orthodox Ethiopian Christians, this can be viewed as morally unacceptable.  

As I said, Kete is an exemplary woman of god.

Her love for her god knows no bounds.  

Her love for her god is tolerant.  

Her love for her god is unconditional.  

She wanted to be close to her god, and this godly place of worship, whether it be orthodox or other, would be her sacred container.

Kete is self-elevated to monk-hood status.  In amharic they refer to it as ‘Alem bekengne’.  The way it’s been explained to me, I take it to mean something like, the end of a human egoist life and the beginning of a life of pure spiritual devotion.  Her wooden staff represents this devotion.  It’s called a ‘Mequamia’.  In Ethiopian culture, the handle of a *mequamia, a prayer stick, is shaped like a Tau cross, otherwise known as ‘T’ cross. 

As for me, I was raised with Buddhist practices.  I have been provided the reigns to be a free thinker, open to love and define god through the lens of curiosity and awareness.  Religion was never something that was pushed on us as children.  It was not a daily practice, it was a gentle practice based on rituals to commemorate special occasions or remembering ancestors passed, that my mother encouraged us to practice, through the lens of following her practices.  But do you know what her main practice was?  It was love.  Through watching her, I learnt how to love and show compassion for others.  My mother was god in motion, to everyone around her.  (One day I shall write more about her).

That’s why I feel close to god/the universe in any place of faithful worship and in everyday life.

And that’s where Kete and I see and understand each other.  

Our other language is LOVE

 

Falling in love with Konjo Habesha, our trip to Jimma

In August 2012, Konjo habesha and I embarked on a trip to Jimma, unknowingly at the time, this trip would change everything.  This is when I was to fall in love with him.  

Click here, to read how we first met.

In south-western Ethiopia lies Jimma, situated in the Kaffa region, according to history it is home to Kaldi and his goats, hence the birthplace of coffee (buna).

'Jimma the Origin of Coffee' Roundabout

I wanted to visit some of my Ethiopian friends whom I had met in my first trip in 2007 with Habitat For Humanity to Jimma, very beautiful people dear to my heart, the very people who endeared me to Ethiopia in the first place.  We were lucky to have the companionship of two robust habesha boys we befriended on one of our adventures (konjo habesha and I) in Megenenya (ampharic translation: meeting place), a bustling transport epicentre/sub-city in Addis Ababa.  

Scenes of bustling public transport hub Megenenya, meaning 'meeting place' -  a sub-city of Addis

Soon after, we became friendly with their family, especially their grandmother who was their main caregiver.  We told 'grandmother' our Jimma plans and asked her permission to take her two grandsons as our companions on our trip.  She gave us her blessings, probably happy with the prospect of having a quieter house and bewildered that we would want to take her two active grandsons with us to Jimma, a rough 300km away or 4-5hours on the road by car or 7-8hours on a public bus, south-west from Addis!  We thought it would be fun - the four of us, and it was!!!!  
R O A D  T R I P!!!!!!!

Left: Ethiopia map - Jimma lies south-west of the capital Addis Ababa
Right: The winding and undulating Addis-Jimma road

The Addis-Jimma road takes you on a visual feast from the highland of Addis Ababa slowly through Ethiopia's south-western plateau which reveals rich greenery, breath-taking views at times from jaw-dropping heights, with the all-too-occasional encounter with livestock and their famers along the way.  It's road sharing at it's finest!  

Left: Young herders with livestock on the Addis-Jimma road, a common sight
Right: Ethiopia's countryside of rich greenery and clusters of huts

Ethiopia's agricultural lifestyle is on full display as groups of isolated round thatched huts and livestock are a common sight.  Young cattle herders learn to contribute to their family's work by tending to their family's livestock from a young age, often seen carrying long sticks.

Our two active habesha companions: Kidus (glasses), Dagim (orange shirt)

Kidus, 10years old (at the time) is exuberant, social and stubborn.  A real hand-full!  Although he was deaf, this disability did not hinder him one little bit, it actually ENABLED him to use his other senses to the max!  He played hard and got into mischief like any other 10year old young boy.  

Dagim, 7years old (at the time) pocket-sized, wise and charismatic beyond his years.  He could talk the pants of anyone, even though talking the pants of anyone a common trait of the Ethiopian people, Duggam could find an argument to back up the most minuscule point.  I would often hear him and Yonas debating over some topic (a favourite Ethiopian pastime) and I loved to just listen to him talk, mesmerised by his wisdom and charm.  I often told Yonas that he would be the next prime minister of Ethiopia. 

Main pic: Jimma's bajaj's
Surrounding pics: Scenes from Jimma

I love Jimma.  It is a special place for me - the original buna (coffee) region of Ethiopia, hence the world, we had the time of our lives.  We dissected the town, discovering and adventuring on the local blue bajaj, bikes, the blue public taxi vans and by foot, visiting some of the boys family members and my dear Ethiopian friends.  

Reuniting with friends in Jimma after 3years

We enjoyed getting to know the boys better through countless conversations and day-to-day dealings, most of it good and then of course we experienced our obligatory "other moments" of looking after kids.  There was one interesting time, one of the boys had an all-consuming melt-down/tantrum which totally caught konjo habesha and myself off-guard, having NO IDEA how to calm him down IN PUBLIC and then behind closed doors, which quickly turned into two fighting brothers!  

Weyneeee!!!!! What did we get ourselves into?  

It was a crash course into what having children might be like and working together.  What a wonderful crazy beautiful time we all had together.  It was during this trip that I had a heart shift and started to see konjo habesha in this beautiful paternal light, a most illuminating yellow 'halo' light.  He would make a wonderful father I thought to myself. 

Jimma, now with more reason, continues to hold a special place in my heart as the region where I fell in love with Ethiopia AND with the man of my heart.

I fell in love with konjo habesha unsuspectingly and unexpectantly.  Just as the sun rises each day and the seasons change from spring to summer, from autumn to winter and back to spring again, my love developed so very naturally, with each season of our relationship, love growing and laying a meseret of friendship ripe for love to crystallise.  

Yene (My) Ethiopian Story

• First trip to Ethiopia - Sept-Oct 2007 (five weeks)

Habitat for Humanity House Build in Jimma

“I’m going to Ethiopia to lead a team for Habitat for Humanity (HfH) to build mud houses for the local people” says Marty Van der Burg.  A builder and an Ethiopian heart-stung man.  After little coaxing I say “I’m in”.

September 2007.  The inaugural New Zealand (NZ) Team Kiwi fly to Ethiopia under the HfH umbrella.  An oddball group of 18 “kiwis” of all ages, sizes and ethnic backgrounds.  

Team Kiwi 2007 (and a few Ethiopian children), Habitat for Humanity Ethiopia build

Clockwise from Left: Habitat for Humanity Ethiopia Mud house construction Jimma site; Team Kiwi member Kevin at the entrance of a house mid-construction; and me (Kim) practising my squatting skills at the bottom of a freshly dug-out to-be latrine pit.

Under the blaring Jimma sun we work with locals (and the local village children) to construct mud houses (chika bet-oche) in various stages for two weeks.  Each day we eat lunch in traditional Ethiopian fashion, with our hands, consisting of injera and various complementing food made by local women paid by us - team kiwi, and shared with all - young and old, chika bet contractors, villagers, house recipients and us - team kiwi.  

Left: Team kiwi at the building site having a coffee break;
Middle & right: Lunch time! Ethiopian chika bet constructors and Team Kiwi members tuck into lunch.

Each day for morning and afternoon tea we drink traditional Ethiopian coffee (buna) freshly roasted and prepared by one of the local women.  The smell is intoxicating and fills our senses with delight on a daily basis.  She delicately pours from a jabena (Ethiopian clay coffee pot) into small china cups, each sweetened with sugar, ranging between 1-3 teaspoons depending on the receivers preference, usually complemented with a snack of freshly popped and sweetened popcorn or roasted barley and peanuts.  Three cups of coffee are always offered at each setting.  

Coffee Coffee Coffee!!  From left to right: an Ethiopian woman pounding freshly roasted coffee in a mortar and pestle;
Me in traditional Ethiopian cotton clothing on coffee serving duty; coffee poured out from a jabena.

A captivating little village boy captures my heart.  His name is Fikadu (see photo below) and my guess is he was aged about 7-8 at the time, it is hard to estimate the age of Ethiopian children with the lack of optimal nutritional sustenance factoring in many cases resulting in sizes unparalleled with their ages.  Each day he finds me and assists me wherever I am working.  It’s hard not to make a heart connection with at least one of the village children, they are heart tuggers.  

Top from left-right: Fikadu and his brother Tamrat (Fikadu is the younger/darker one on the right); Fikadu and his family outside his house;
Bottom left-right: These are the rambunctious Ethiopian children in Jimma who greet us each morning at the building site; friends

I return to NZ changed - intrinsically, spiritually, emotionally; internally something happened.  From then on my heart started to beat for this beautiful east african country.

• Second trip July-Oct 2009 (three months)

Volunteer English Teacher at English Alive Summer School in Nazret.

Collection of moments of students and teachers during my teaching season at English Alive School in Nazret in 2009.

After spending three months volunteer english teaching at English Alive summer school in Nazret from July-Sept 2009, I return to Addis to fly back to NZ.  What will turn out to be my last evening in Addis on this trip and possibly the most important day of my life.. I ride the elevator of KZ hotel on Bole road with who would be at the time - my future husband.  

KZ Hotel on Bole Road

A well-suited up Ethiopian man and the only other occupant in the elevator, who happened to be the hotel’s manager on duty, was possibly the most handsome man I had ever seen!  I couldn’t look away.. I was mesmerised.  “Konjo Habesha” I said.  Translation: Beautiful Ethiopian.  

I have been known to lavish my appreciation of beautiful Ethiopians on them, male or female - they are all aesthetically stunning, and this time was no different from any other.  A half smile was given in return and not much else.  And that was that.

Konjo habesha in his suit

• Third trip - 2011-2012 (one year)

Elephant Walk Cafe on Bole Rd (exterior and interior)

Fast forward to one fine Addis Ababan day in Easter April 2012, around midday I walk into The Elephant Walk cafe on Bole rd.  “Are you Kim?” a bewildered Ethiopian man seated at an outside table with a lady friend questioned.  It was the Konjo Habesha looking a little older but still konjo.  “Yes” I replied, not recognising him at first until I walked closer and had a better look at his face.  

Talk about lifes' synchronocities!  There are four million residents in Addis Ababa and the universe places this man in my path twice in two consecutive trips four years apart … and to top it off he still remembered my face!  

Bole Road - a bustling arterial road in Addis Ababa

We were like magnets drawn to each other by a larger force.  It also seemed the universe was adamant our courtship be hosted by Bole Rd in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  We exchanged numbers.  And that was that.

From Left to right: Macchiato and Cake at Saay Pastry on Bole Road; Taitu hotel exterior; and interior

We meet up for macchiato and cake a week later at Saay Pastry cafe on ….Bole road (you guessed it!).  We make plans to meet up later that week on Thursday at Taitu Hotel, one of my most favourite places in Addis to chill, in crazy-wonderful Piassa, where I was staying and later in the evening to head to Jazzamba, situated in Taitu Hotel’s compound, for some tantalising soul-energising live, old-skool, big band Ethio-jazz music.  And so we do.  

We have a fine time enjoying pizza, listening to live Ethio-jazz music, dim yet invigorating ambiance, an impromptu ampharic lesson given by Konjo habesha under the influence of two bottles of very sweet local Axumite wine and then we head to my room for the night.  And that was that.

Jazzamba vibes

"Ambassel" by Addis Acoustic Project live at Jazzamba, Addis Ababa,

Konjo habesha

Konjo habesha is respectful, sweet and calm.  He vibes off a peaceful harmonious homeostatic energy and takes everything in his stride with a contented disposition firmly rooted in the present.  A beautiful, pure, untainted soul.  

Kim (me)

I am a dream-lover, a treasure-hunter, a soul-seeker driven by visions and goals, forever blowing in the wind, changing and redirecting in rhythm with the whisperings and stirrings of my heart and soul.  A wild card.  Unpredictable, complicated and spontaneous.  My energy rooted in ideas and possibilities - abundant and overflowing.

Yin and Yang symbol

We are polar opposites.

Like night and day.

Like yin and yang.

Like faranje (foreigner) and habesha (Ethiopian).

Needless to say our energies clashed or balanced, however which way you looked at it, or however which way WE looked at it.  

During our courtship I pushed Yonas away numerous times feeling frustrated and underwhelmed by his energy.  We continued this way on and off for months, blurred lines - friends and occasional lovers.  Most importantly during this time Yonas, despite our tumultuous relationship, continued to support me by coming and supporting me in my dance endeavours.  

Little did I know at the time I was becoming to appreciate him emotionally.  His presence, not needed but felt and cherished.  His love, strong yet boldly humble, helped build a strong foundation (meseret) of friendship between us.

"Kass pa kass enkolal begrua tehidaletch"

Slowly slowly the egg learns to walk.

Amharic translation: things take time.

Ethiopian proverb

Click here, to follow our story of how I fell in love with konjo habesha on our trip to Jimma.