A Quote by Liya Kebede

I'm a mom. I'm from Ethiopia. I gave birth in the U.S. and had all the proper care available to me. If I had given birth in Ethiopia - I don't know if I might have even survived it.
There's a book called 'The Shack' - it had a lot to do with me coming full circle, meeting my birth mother. Awhile back, my birth mom and my adopted mom came to my show together, and it was pretty surreal.
My dad almost died as a child from water-borne diseases in Ethiopia, and he had talked to me about digging a well in Ethiopia and I thought, I have too many friends and great people in my life that would be concerned with this subject of clean water.
I spent time living in Ethiopia, learning about the cultural importance of coffee and its roots in Ethiopia.
When you've got a mother who's given birth to eight children, you know, often without any kind of medical intervention - just she gave birth to one of my brothers sort of on the bedroom floor in front of all of us -you know, you see that women are fairly capable.
I had a home birth because I really believe in the body's natural ability to give birth. The medical profession has kind of warped women's minds into thinking we don't know how to birth and we need doctors and epidurals and Pitocin.
Many people know that Ethiopia is poor. When I break a world record, maybe people get to know something else about Ethiopia, something good. We can't make planes or cars, we don't have the materials. We do what we can.
What I want people to know about Ethiopia is that it is a country of nations and nationalities. Oromos are the majority. But Oromos have been so good to Ethiopia but have been marginalized for years.
I had amazing midwives when I first became a teen-aged mom, and each of the five times I gave birth.
Traveling around Ethiopia, I saw dozens of abandoned textile factories. People kept asking me to help them find work. So I thought I could make use of my experience in fashion to commercialize their products outside of Ethiopia.
Ethiopia always has a special place in my imagination and the prospect of visiting Ethiopia attracted me more strongly than a trip to France, England, and America combined. I felt I would be visiting my own genesis, unearthing the roots of what made me an African.
In 1984, my mom gave birth to my older sister, Teresa. Due to a complicated delivery, she needed a blood transfusion, and at that moment, my mom had HIV+ blood put into her body.
I trained the day before I gave birth and the only reason I didn't on the day I was giving birth was that I had to be in hospital at 6:30 A. M. to be induced so I wasn't able to make a spin class.
As many as half of Ethiopia's girls become wives before becoming adults. But Ethiopia is also a place where lasting solutions to child marriage are starting to make a difference.
I wish I had read Sacred Pregnancy when I was pregnant instead of the dozen books I had to piece together to try to make sense of it all. Anni Daulter has created what should be the new standard for today's mom: birth journals, labor workbooks, pregnancy memoirs, and holistic wisdom. It is gentle and enlightening, and lays the foundation for what we know helps women have the labor and birth they want and deserve: support, self-knowledge, and empowerment.
By the help of the water of new birth, the stain of former years had been washed away, and a light from above, serene and pure, had been infused into my reconciled heart, — after that, by the agency of the Spirit breathed from heaven, a second birth had restored me to a new man.
My first big mission for UNICEF in Ethiopia was just to attract attention, before it was too late, to conditions which threatened the whole country. My role was to inform the world, to make sure that the people of Ethiopia were not forgotten.
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