The whole world in her home

Journalist Melissa Fay Greene talks about the enormity of the African AIDS crisis and why, as the mother of five, she decided to adopt four Ethiopian orphans.

By Curtis Sittenfeld

Read more: AIDS, Adoption, Africa, World News, Life

Haregewoin Teferra (top), Melissa Fay Greene

Sept. 12, 2006 | For Melissa Fay Greene, the enormity of the AIDS orphan crisis in Africa became impossible to ignore one Sunday morning in August 2000. After reading an article in the New York Times estimating that more than 12 million children in sub-Saharan Africa had lost parents to AIDS -- and that by 2010 those figures were expected to rise to between 25 million and 50 million -- Greene wondered who was going to raise 12 million children. Admitting that she and her attorney husband in Atlanta were being driven cheerfully "insane" by their five kids, Greene asked, "Who will offer grief counseling to 12, 15, 18, 36 million children? Who will help them avoid lives of servitude or prostitution? Who will pass on to them the traditions of culture and religion, of history and government, of craft and profession? Who will help them grow up, choose the right person to marry, find work, and learn to parent their own children?"

These questions sent Greene, now 53, on a journey as both an adoptive parent and a journalist. Since that Sunday morning, she and her husband have adopted two Ethiopian orphans, with two more on the way.

This month, Bloomsbury has published Greene's fourth book of nonfiction, "There Is No Me Without You: One Woman's Odyssey to Rescue Africa's Children." Greene, who has twice seen her work nominated for the National Book Award, is not the titular woman. Instead, it is Haregewoin Teferra who gives a human face to the havoc AIDS has wreaked on an entire continent. A middle-class, middle-aged Ethiopian, Teferra is as surprised as anyone to find herself running an orphanage out of her home in Addis Ababa. In 1990, Teferra's husband unexpectedly died of a heart attack at the age of 54; eight years later, her adult daughter, the mother of an infant, died of AIDS. Overcome with grief, Teferra prepared to move into a hut on the grounds of a cemetery and live in seclusion. Instead, the director of a Catholic charity asked if she'd consider staying where she was and taking in a 15-year-old AIDS orphan. One orphan became two, and then four, and then -- despite disapproving friends and little to no government assistance -- 80. Some of these orphans were HIV-positive, some not. With the expansion of the orphanage came problems for Teferra, which Greene does not shy away from describing: Teferra was accused of child trafficking and also of negligence in ignoring claims from orphans that an orphanage employee molested them. These charges led to Teferra's arrest, though she eventually was exonerated.

In addition to chronicling Teferra's story, Greene provides a scientific and cultural history of AIDS -- one in which she makes withering assessments of government leaders and pharmaceutical companies -- and also a history of Ethiopia. But Greene is too shrewd a storyteller to think that it's statistics that will motivate people to act, or even make them cry. Without a doubt, this is a three-hankie read, but it's because of the stories about individuals: of those who, like Teferra, have upended their stable lives in order to help those less lucky; of the orphans themselves, among whom it is not uncommon for a 7-year-old to single-handedly raise a 5-year-old; of the adoptive families in America who, in cross-cultural run-ins worthy of a sitcom, must politely decline their new son's offer to butcher a cow for dinner, or explain to their new daughter that there is no need, in Snellville, Ga., to watch out for hyenas when using the bathroom at night.

Both in print and in conversation, Greene comes off as very much a mom. She is perceptive, compassionate and clearly tickled by a good fart joke: Although the Ethiopians are famously well-mannered, she can't resist bringing whoopee cushions as gifts for children at one orphanage. Indeed, it is the combination of Greene's maternal tendencies and narrative gifts that make her the ideal person to tell this timely story.

What do you think motivated Haregewoin Teferra to give her entire life to taking care of these children?

I think in Haregewoin's case, she was absolutely up against the wall. Grief had completely ruined her life, and she was going to need to leave the world as a result. She could no longer live without her husband and her daughter. That component of the story is so powerful and universal. I think a lot of people have found that the only way to survive is to start reaching out to others and trying to love other people. The children saved Haregewoin as much as she saved them.

How did you cross paths with Haregewoin?

I had heard she had these containers, like a trailer off the back of a truck, and she would cut a door in the container. People were calling her "the Container Lady" and thought she was living in the container with the children. But she wasn't -- she was using that as a dining hall and classroom.

I asked Good Housekeeping if I could do a story for them about her. Good Housekeeping had never done an international story, ever, but they said OK, they would try it.

The response [to the story] was tremendous. Good Housekeeping readers from all over the country sent contributions, $10 and $25 at a time, saying, "We had no idea this was happening." Haregewoin was so encouraged by that. It emboldened her to keep talking to me.

And yet, while you were in the process of writing a book in which Haregewoin plays a huge role as a heroine, things temporarily unraveled at her orphanage. What was that like?

Last September, I first heard that there were accusations that child molestation had taken place in her compound, it was overcrowded, there were too many kids in each bunk, there were too many kids everywhere.

I did not mention it to my editors at that time because I wanted to be able to confirm it myself and figure out what was happening. I went over to Ethiopia, got what I thought was the story, came back, and then in December, she was arrested. The book was due Dec. 15. And Dec. 14, Haregewoin called me from prison. So then there was a frantic scramble on my part to get on top of events and to deal with my own disappointment and fury.

When I connected with Haregewoin again, I understood what had happened and I felt that I didn't have her wrong. This stuff was not her fault. She wasn't getting any help from the government or anywhere. She was taking in all these kids.

I had to forgive Haregewoin, see her as human, understand that she's more interesting not being a saint, and realize that I sort of messed up because I did think I was writing about a saint. So I had to rewrite the book, starting from the beginning.

Next page: "He thought the most good he could do was let the children at least die in a loving circumstance"