Ethiopian air crash shines light on lives of
migrant workers
One of the victims, Tigist Tadess Woldemariam, is
remembered as a trusted friend and beloved nanny who one
day hoped to launch a farming project in her homeland
3 February, 2010 | By Alexandra Sandels and Borzou Daraghai
(Los Angeles Times)
Over the last decade, Tigist Tadess Woldemariam tried hard to set down
roots here, winning the adoration of the family that hired her, becoming a
respected member of her church and earning the loyalty of her friends.
And it was that love and unflinching trust of friends that compounded the
tragedy of her death when her jetliner crashed into the Mediterranean Sea
last week on her first trip back to Ethiopia in seven years.
Aboard the doomed Ethiopian Airlines Flight 409, the 41-year-old carried
not only her belongings, but also the labors and dreams of fellow
Ethiopians who had entrusted her with envelopes full of cash, precious
bundles of jewelry and carefully wrapped gifts to take back home.
"She was like a sister, more than that even," said Genet Ylimia, a 26-year-
old Ethiopian who shared a room with Woldemariam. "She cared about
everyone. Whatever you needed, she helped you out with."
The crash of Flight 409 during a ferocious storm has sent shock waves
of grief throughout this small country of 4 million. More than 50 of the
90 passengers and crew were Lebanese.
But also among the passengers were Woldemariam and 22 other
Ethiopians on their way to their homeland. Their deaths shined a brief
light on the often anonymous lives of African and Asian migrant workers
in the Middle East, many of whom live in cramped quarters, lack basic
legal rights and face economic exploitation.
Friends say Woldemariam tried to forge a different path for herself in
Lebanon. She cultivated ties to the Ethiopians in her community and to
the country where she worked.
At a teary ceremony Sunday at her evangelical Christian church, friends
and her employers, the Talhouk family, mourned her amid her portraits
placed along the walls.
Woldemariam came from humble origins in Nazareth, 60 miles from
Addis Ababa, the Ethiopian capital. Her relatives worked for a small shop
belonging to the Talhouks' previous maid, who recommended her to the
French-Lebanese family about 10 years ago.
She immediately connected with the Talhouks. Their Francophonic
daughter, 13-year-old Lea, practiced her English with Woldemariam,
who also taught her words and songs in Amharic, the official Ethiopian
language.
As a cook, she tried to invent new dishes for the Talhouks, who are
vegetarians. "When she cooked and cleaned, she put her whole heart into
it," said Sandrine Talhouk, the family matron.
At the Ethiopian Evangelical Church in the Badaro district of Beirut,
Woldemariam served as a mentor to the younger domestic workers. "She
was soft, kind . . . a lovely person," said pastor Elias Wolde. "She had a
kind heart. She always gave people advice on life and spirituality."
Not only did Woldemariam send money home to her family, but she also
gave donations to orphanages and charities in Ethiopia, despite her
circumstances.
And she had a dream, said Lidet Tadese, 27, another of her friends. She
was one of a group of Ethiopian women in Beirut saving money to
launch a farming project in her homeland to provide jobs for fellow
Ethiopians and a future for herself.
Her friends and employers said Woldemariam was thrilled to be going
back to Ethiopia on a two-month visit for her brother's wedding. "She
lived her last 10 days in total joy," Sandrine Talhouk said.
Friends at the church entrusted her with thousands of dollars in cash and
valuables to take to their families. One gave her an envelope with $1,200,
a year's savings for a migrant domestic worker. Another handed her gold
she had bought during her years abroad.
Hours before the Talhouks' driver took her to the terminal, Woldemariam
made one last batch of vegetarian lasagna for the family, which they ate
together.
"We cried even then," Sandrine Talhouk said.
Addis Ababa-bound Flight 409 crashed into the sea minutes after it took
off from Beirut's international airport about 2:30 a.m. on Jan. 25. All
passengers aboard are presumed to have perished.
As of Tuesday, the flight data and voice recorders had yet to be
recovered.
Tadese said she had planned to call her friend once Woldemariam landed
in Addis Ababa.
"I wanted to talk to her to see if she got home safely," she said, tears in
her eyes. "Now I make special prayers for her."
daragahi@latimes.com
Sandels is a special correspondent.
Courtesy
migrant workers
One of the victims, Tigist Tadess Woldemariam, is
remembered as a trusted friend and beloved nanny who one
day hoped to launch a farming project in her homeland
3 February, 2010 | By Alexandra Sandels and Borzou Daraghai
(Los Angeles Times)
- Reporting from Beirut -
The woman from the
small Ethiopian village
of Nazareth was never
content to toil in the
shadows as a maid or
nanny, one of the
thousands of poor
migrant workers who
make their way to
Lebanon from Asia or
Africa.
Over the last decade, Tigist Tadess Woldemariam tried hard to set down
roots here, winning the adoration of the family that hired her, becoming a
respected member of her church and earning the loyalty of her friends.
And it was that love and unflinching trust of friends that compounded the
tragedy of her death when her jetliner crashed into the Mediterranean Sea
last week on her first trip back to Ethiopia in seven years.
Aboard the doomed Ethiopian Airlines Flight 409, the 41-year-old carried
not only her belongings, but also the labors and dreams of fellow
Ethiopians who had entrusted her with envelopes full of cash, precious
bundles of jewelry and carefully wrapped gifts to take back home.
"She was like a sister, more than that even," said Genet Ylimia, a 26-year-
old Ethiopian who shared a room with Woldemariam. "She cared about
everyone. Whatever you needed, she helped you out with."
The crash of Flight 409 during a ferocious storm has sent shock waves
of grief throughout this small country of 4 million. More than 50 of the
90 passengers and crew were Lebanese.
But also among the passengers were Woldemariam and 22 other
Ethiopians on their way to their homeland. Their deaths shined a brief
light on the often anonymous lives of African and Asian migrant workers
in the Middle East, many of whom live in cramped quarters, lack basic
legal rights and face economic exploitation.
Friends say Woldemariam tried to forge a different path for herself in
Lebanon. She cultivated ties to the Ethiopians in her community and to
the country where she worked.
At a teary ceremony Sunday at her evangelical Christian church, friends
and her employers, the Talhouk family, mourned her amid her portraits
placed along the walls.
Woldemariam came from humble origins in Nazareth, 60 miles from
Addis Ababa, the Ethiopian capital. Her relatives worked for a small shop
belonging to the Talhouks' previous maid, who recommended her to the
French-Lebanese family about 10 years ago.
She immediately connected with the Talhouks. Their Francophonic
daughter, 13-year-old Lea, practiced her English with Woldemariam,
who also taught her words and songs in Amharic, the official Ethiopian
language.
As a cook, she tried to invent new dishes for the Talhouks, who are
vegetarians. "When she cooked and cleaned, she put her whole heart into
it," said Sandrine Talhouk, the family matron.
At the Ethiopian Evangelical Church in the Badaro district of Beirut,
Woldemariam served as a mentor to the younger domestic workers. "She
was soft, kind . . . a lovely person," said pastor Elias Wolde. "She had a
kind heart. She always gave people advice on life and spirituality."
Not only did Woldemariam send money home to her family, but she also
gave donations to orphanages and charities in Ethiopia, despite her
circumstances.
And she had a dream, said Lidet Tadese, 27, another of her friends. She
was one of a group of Ethiopian women in Beirut saving money to
launch a farming project in her homeland to provide jobs for fellow
Ethiopians and a future for herself.
Her friends and employers said Woldemariam was thrilled to be going
back to Ethiopia on a two-month visit for her brother's wedding. "She
lived her last 10 days in total joy," Sandrine Talhouk said.
Friends at the church entrusted her with thousands of dollars in cash and
valuables to take to their families. One gave her an envelope with $1,200,
a year's savings for a migrant domestic worker. Another handed her gold
she had bought during her years abroad.
Hours before the Talhouks' driver took her to the terminal, Woldemariam
made one last batch of vegetarian lasagna for the family, which they ate
together.
"We cried even then," Sandrine Talhouk said.
Addis Ababa-bound Flight 409 crashed into the sea minutes after it took
off from Beirut's international airport about 2:30 a.m. on Jan. 25. All
passengers aboard are presumed to have perished.
As of Tuesday, the flight data and voice recorders had yet to be
recovered.
Tadese said she had planned to call her friend once Woldemariam landed
in Addis Ababa.
"I wanted to talk to her to see if she got home safely," she said, tears in
her eyes. "Now I make special prayers for her."
daragahi@latimes.com
Sandels is a special correspondent.
Courtesy
| All rights reserved. |
| Ethio Quest News Together We Can Make It! |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| Ethio Quest News: For latest Ethiopian News, views, Reviews and More |
| Ethiopian Airlines by Jerry W. Bird "..Having pioneered a mighty "Air Bridge to Africa," Ethiopian Airlines now flies to more African destinations than any carrier in the world." More |
| Related Stories |
| Flight ET409 Exposes Lebanon's Racist Underbelly Patrick Galey Ethiopian airliner black boxes elude searchers Examiner Hezbollah denies link to jet crash UPI Ethiopia urges Lebanese officials to stop speculating on crashed plane Sudan Tribune Speculations mount about Ethiopian jet Crash Ethio Quest News Ethiopian jet crashes in Lebanon, no sign of survivors AFP |
| More Stories |
