Reflections

Well, this is the post I have been putting off for the past two months. It is my “reflection” post. I was expecting to know how to move forward from my experience in Ethiopia before I wrote anything, but I am still trying to figure that out. I am hoping to say what is most important to share. I know that I want my reflections to encourage and inspire acts of love. I want to motivate people to give more – more time to God’s work, more love to the lonely, and more help to the poor.

First, let me say that every experience is unique and the quality of it depends on your attitude. If you enter with expectations you are bound to be disappointed. That may sound strange because doesn’t a positive attitude mean having high expectations? I used to think so until I realized that everything in this world is capable of disappointment. Expectations (high or low) set you up to miss the joy of the moment. When I got on the plane to head to Ethiopia I prayed that God would help me clear my head of my own expectations and reveal His plan. By laying my expectations on God (the one who will not disappoint) I went through this journey in constant prayer…asking God in the morning to give me a positive attitude, to show me the right course for the day, and seeking His grace when situations tried my patience. That ongoing conversation brought me closer to Him and simple things that would have been overlooked became matters of praise. I was more tuned in to others around me. Since I’ve returned I’ve watched myself slip from that trust. My expectations have been lowered because I’m back to my “normal” life. In the beginning of this I mention my expectation of moving forward. I’ve been relying on my own efforts to discover what I should do next and because of it I am restless and anxious. Already, I’m me-focused again.

There are two points here: 1. You don’t have to go to Ethiopia to have a life-changing experience (Although, if you do go you will.) 2. We are not equipped to go through this world on our own. We need God. We need each other.

To help process these reflections I came up with some questions. Hopefully, they will help me say what needs to be said about the desperate situation facing millions of people on our planet. (These are in no particular order)

Is there hope? Yes. Hope is found in the children…the ones who go to school hungry because they believe in a greater future. Hope is found in the volunteers who come from across the world, cross all borders, to show love to a stranger. Hope is in the congregations that send money to places they’ve never been. Hope is in the Addis Ababa SIM mission who is administering ARV medicine to AIDS patients – making life possible and turning death into a thing of the past. Hope is in Destiny Academy where one school of thirty is now a school of 200 and employer of 19. Hope is in the mothers who will do grueling construction labor to provide food for their children. Hope is in the countless stories of redemption when someone does something out of compassion and selflessness.

What can be done? Become aware. Be a servant. Think beyond yourself. Put your problems aside and do something about the loneliness and plight of people around you. Each one of us can start by showing more love to family and friends. We can start doing what we have expected others to do – giving food to the hungry, sheltering the homeless, caring for the elderly, supporting the missions of organizations that are already at work. Use your passions and gifts for the betterment of someone else’s day.

Isn’t it (the problem of poverty) overwhelming? Yes, if you try to do it all on your own. Fortunately, there is a network of NGOs, charities, public/private efforts around the world doing incredible things that save lives everyday. Those entities are made up of individuals like you and me. Through an act of faith Mother Teresa started as a mission of one. Hareg and Yonatan started Destiny Academy on their own. The acts of individuals have inspired others and the ripple effect brings us to hope in spite of the odds.

Why Africa? Because it is a continent that will grab hold of your heart and never let go. Because the poverty is worse than anywhere else in the world.

What works? Opinions differ on this, but however it is done, empowering people to live healthy, independent lives should be the mission. I think education and jobs are two of the most important things in breaking the cycle of poverty. But sick people can’t work or go to school. They need clean water and healthcare. Whether it’s through a micro-loan or donation I think the thing that matters is that people are receiving a fighting chance. Another component is the restoration of dignity – which comes when a father is able to provide for his family, when children can go to school, and mothers are not reduced to begging. A saying that Ethiopians adopted from a Chinese proverb is, “Give a man a fish and feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime.”

How can you go back to a normal life without guilt? Let the guilt be a reminder of your blessings and then do something about it. Those of us blessed with material possessions and security have a responsibility to be good stewards of our wealth. Don’t stop giving. Now that I am back I am volunteering at a local mission in Toledo, OH. It serves the homeless and vulnerable...turning lives around. For more than 60 years it has relied fully on private donations.

What is the situation? The situation is that there are children dying of hunger every few seconds. There are people dying from preventable diseases. War is turning children into soldiers and killing the innocent. In Ethiopia (pop. 72 mill) there are approximately 5 million orphans. Grandmothers are raising their grandchildren because the parents have died of AIDS. Only 22% of the country has access to clean water and electricity. 50% of the population is below the poverty line and lives on less than $1 a day. Only 3% of the nation’s 7 million 4 to 6 year-olds is in school.

What do I miss most? The people. The love and grace shown by the people of Ethiopia is second to none. They are also some of the most beautiful people I have ever seen. They possess a heritage that dates to the beginning of humanity. They have endured hardships that most in this world cannot comprehend, but they always welcome a visitor as a guest in their home. I miss the delicious mangoes, the feeling that you get when you’ve taught a good school lesson, the humility of seeing people with nothing offer all they have, the crowded minibuses, the unpredictability, the traditions of a culture that treasures food, dance, and religion, the coffee, the hugs and kisses from the children, the beautiful landscape, the inspiring acts of kindness and triumph.

In conclusion, the basic truth is that people are resilient and capable of amazing things. The other truth is that human suffering is something we can’t ignore. Moving forward I will post opportunities to get involved with the effort in Ethiopia. One thing I ask that you pray for is a way to help Destiny Academy expand. Destiny is the school where I worked. It is already growing beyond its capacity, and we are exploring options to open a new compound. Thank you for joining me in this journey.

Pictures

I've added more pictures of my trip on facebook.
Here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=71989&l=104f3&id=501775149
and here: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=72031&l=1e244&id=501775149

Back In America

I arrived home yesterday afternoon. I'm still processing all that has happened over the past four months, but I intend to post reflections and updates on things going on in Ethiopia. I just want to thank everyone that has stayed in touch and prayed for me. Your support helped make this possible. God bless you.

You can also check out the blogs of some of my friends still living at the Cherokee House. I've linked to their sites on the right. They have great accounts of our work in Ethiopia.

Here are some pictures of my final days at Destiny Academy. These are the best children on the planet.

Saying goodbye to the preschoolers at Destiny Academy.

The fourth grade class at Destiny Academy.

Reading a story during recess.

Seeing What's Changed

I have decided to return to America as planned on November 1. It is strange to picture myself back in the States, back to my old way of life. I’ve grown accustomed to so many things…little things that seem insignificant, but add up to a changed mindset. For one thing, I have gone nearly four months without TV. Reading a book is now my choice form of entertainment. I’ve accepted that if one thing on a to-do list gets done then I’ve accomplished something. Though difficult, it is possible to coordinate without a cell phone. Choosing from a wardrobe that consists of 3 pairs of jeans, cargo pants, and a few tees makes the morning routine a whole lot shorter. Meal time is for sharing and visiting with friends – there is no such thing as a drive-thru. Getting online (via dial-up) every other day is sufficient. Buying food and toiletries is what I consider shopping. I’ve used a hair dryer maybe ten times and that’s the extent of fixing my hair. The term “going out” refers to dinner at a restaurant and home by 10:00PM. I have gotten used to taking my own toilet paper to the bathroom; it’s a novelty to find it in the stall. Dodging livestock and manure in the streets is commonplace. I find more pleasure in finding a seat on a taxi than hearing the latest celebrity gossip. Waking up at 6:00 AM comes naturally (it no longer takes two alarms and a phone call from Dad.) A sunny day makes for a great day. Some of these I’ll be glad to do without, but most have been a blessing in disguise. Certainly, safely drinking water from the tap will be a treat. And having the luxury to “get in a car and go” will be awesome. But being without some of the comforts of home has stretched me and given me the patience and the ability to find contentment in tough situations.

Thankfully, I managed to overcome the common attitude of feeling limited by the inaccessibility of so many things. Though at times the conditions are frustrating, even disgusting, it helped me to see how blessed I am and how much we are capable of living without. Or, in other words, how little can make us happy. What I’ve gained is a life that has been simplified and stripped of a lot of clutter. In some instances, going back will be a breath of fresh air. Knowing I have a return flight is what makes it easy. Still, I know it will also be a massive shock because I’ll finally see the disparity of wealth in this world. Hopefully, when I return I will keep a passion for the poor and a heart full of gratitude for what I possess.

(For an update about our trip to Bahir Dar - see previous post below)

Day 117: Our Trip to Bahir Dar

Two weekends ago our group took a four-day trip to Bahir Dar in the north part of Ethiopia. I thought the south was beautiful, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything more spectacular than the views we had on our drive up. Eight of us rented a van and hired a driver for the weekend getaway. It was a much better deal than taking the forenji priced flight and missing out on the sights. We left at 5:00 AM (well, when we finally loaded up it was 5:45 AM) on Thursday morning geared up for the 10 hour drive. We drove over Entoto mountain just north of Addis and were soon in the country side. For the first 230 km the road was paved and offered an incredible view of bright, grassy fields and rugged mountains. Now that the rainy season is over the land is lush and green. Yellow meskel flowers that bloom in September dot the hillsides.

Leaving that early in the morning the sun shone bright and glistened over the misty fields and streams. Smoke billowed from the huts as people began their day with a cup of coffee. Children dressed in uniforms and carrying books headed in the direction of school and herders took their livestock to graze. We drove past people, often young children, carrying jugs to be filled with milk and water. Many people flagged their hand at us hoping for a ride in the direction of the next town. Aside from the road we were traveling on there was nothing, but natural splendor as far as the eye could see. I felt like a spectator traveling through another time and place.




On the road to Bahir Dar. Entering the gorge. Fields of green.

A few hours into it we stopped for coffee. Anytime we slowed in a town people would stop and stare at the spectacle of a van full of white people. Sometimes we felt like caged animals in a circus. Soon we had reached the hardest part of our drive...the Blue Nile Gorge. This is the part I had anticipated with trepidation for it is known for treacherous road conditions. We reached the start of it and realized just how vast it was. One guide book compared it to the Grand Canyon and I don’t think it’s that far off base. Knowing we were about to drive through it was something we had to prepare for. We took pictures along the way admiring our driver’s skills and giving up on any form of relaxation until it was over. 2 ½ hours later we had made it across the river to the other side and were back on paved road. It was amazing. The rest of the trip was pretty much the same. The sunset was incredible creating a view that pictures or words cannot capture. Finally, a short 13 hours after the start of our trip, we were in the lobby of the Summerland Hotel.

Bahir Dar sits on the southern shore of Lake Tana, the largest lake in Ethiopia. It is a tropical town with temperate weather conditions. The streets are lined with palm trees. The lake contains several islands home to ancient monasteries. On our first day we slept in and did our own thing until lunch. I went on a jog toward the “boardwalk” leading to the shore of the lake. Apparently, I stumbled onto a bathing area although I didn’t notice it until we were on a boat the next day. I had wondered why I was the only female around. (Those are the types of culturally sensitive situations you have to look out for.)

In the afternoon a connection hooked us up with a local tour guide who accompanied us to the Blue Nile Falls. It is the start of the Blue Nile River which is a source of the Nile. This is one of the sights I had hoped to see when in Ethiopia for the falls are comparable to Victoria Falls in Africa. Unfortunately, due to a hydro-powered plant the falls are not quite as spectacular as they used to be. It was still quite amazing. We hiked up a hill across from the falls. From there we had an awesome view of the massive flow of water. Cows grazed in the surrounding fields and children gave impressive spiels trying to sell handmade goods around this natural tourist attraction. We decided to hike another hour to get closer to the falls. This involved crossing a stream with the assistance from some of the locals. It made for a great adventure. The sun was setting and casting a golden light on everything. I really find it hard to describe how beautiful everything was. We got to the bottom of the falls and carefully climbed across the slippery rocks to stand as close as possible and let the mist spray our faces. Then we had to turn around and walk quickly to the top of the falls where we would catch the last boat crossing the river.


Crossing the Blue Nile by foot. The Blue Nile Falls.



The sun shining at dusk. Crossing the Blue Nile by boat at sunset.

On Saturday we got up early to meet our guide in the lobby. Then we rented a boat to go see some of the monasteries. Our boat was not very big and we sat facing each other on benches along the sides. It took an hour to cross to the peninsula where one of the monasteries from the 14th century is located. That took another hike through jungle-like vegetation including wild coffee. The church is a circular building made of vertically lined sticks. Inside are impressive paintings depicting biblical stories and historic tales. Old monks sat under a tree reading peacefully while we walked around and took photos. Some of them looked like they could have been as old as the church itself.

I found it very moving to be there. I met one little boy who is a deacon; he is only twelve. He is studying to become a priest. As I looked at the ancient relics and religious icons I realized the devotion the keepers of that monastery had. Some people found it disturbing that we should pay to be near the presence of God and I agree, but at the same time I was in awe of the self-denying faith that the priests possess. I was extremely grateful that for hundreds of years people have sacrificed their own personal desires to faithfully preserve God’s word and create a place for peaceful worship.

On our boat ride back we spotted a hippo. They aren’t normally visible in the lake so that was a major bonus.

Day 89

Yesterday, I had a pretty traumatic experience. In the morning Pat and I decided to go to Sidist Kilo to work at Mother Teresa’s hospital for the sick and the dying destitute. While we were on the taxi at one of the stops our minibus hit a little street boy. We hadn’t moved very much, but the impact still made the most horrifying sound. For a split second I froze in shock until the boy’s screams snapped me back to reality. People didn’t react as I thought they would. At first the spectators just stood over him, and all of the passengers on our bus sat there stoically as if we were simply waiting for more to get on. The guy taking the money for our cab stood in the doorway looking down as if the whole problem was a nuisance. I couldn’t move to see how badly he was injured so I was trying to judge by people’s faces – his cries were enough to tell me everything was not okay. Nothing matched up and the confusion sent me into a pretty emotional state. Finally the boy was lifted by some men into our bus and placed on the floor next to our seat. He wasn’t bleeding, but he was holding his leg, and his face was wrenched with pain. I tried to hold back my own tears, but I was angry and sad. I felt helpless and mad that this boy, who has it bad enough, would find himself in such a painful and scary situation. He looked about nine years old, dirty and dressed in rags. The fact that he’s hanging around the taxi stop tells me he’s a street kid left to fend for himself. Going through something like that is hard enough, but it’s worse when you don’t have anyone to care for you. As I sat there waiting for the outcome I covered my face and prayed; I wanted to be anywhere but in that situation. The suffering of that boy was too real, and for some reason I felt guilty that I was a passenger on the bus. The driver and his coworker continued the route, while the boy sat there crying. I finally turned to the people behind us and asked if they spoke English. They did, and I explained that we were on our way to the hospital. So once everyone got off, Pat and I took them to Mother Teresa’s open wound clinic. When we got there I examined the boy’s leg. He was trying to be so strong and thankfully it didn’t look like his leg was broken. When the head sister came out I explained what happened. Since it was a result of a dispute she said they were not allowed to treat him and that it would have to be taken care of at a government hospital. I could tell she was sorry she couldn’t do more, but it didn’t make things better. I realized I had to let it go and hope that the driver would do the right thing and take him to a hospital where he could at least get some pain medicine. At that point it was too late to volunteer at the hospital so Pat and I turned around and went back home. The rest of the day I noticed every street kid that we passed. One little boy in rags climbed a short barbed wire fence, walked to a grassy area in the middle of town and squatted to go to the bathroom. His pants were too baggy to really stay on. No one was with him.

It was hard for me to do anything “normal” after that. All I could think about is the injured boy and his loneliness. I went to Mother Teresa’s in Asco that afternoon and held the babies. Some of them are really getting big. I can see their personalities develop and how they are more aware of things around them. Yared, the baby that I have fallen in love with was not there again. He is back in the sick room. I found him in the very last crib sucking on a bottle of special formula. When I came up to the side of the crib he got a sparkle in his eye, pulled the bottle out of his mouth and lifted it to me. Then he pulled it away quickly and smiled. He has developed a coy humor. He also loves to be held, but he doesn’t cry or beg like the other babies do. He is very gentle and sweet. Whenever I hold him he just lays his head on my shoulder and looks out the window. His eyes squint in a slight smile when he is at ease. That sick room is home to a constant rotation of orphaned and abandoned babies with HIV. Some are only days old and left for dead in the streets. The nurses and sisters love them and bring them back to health to the best of their ability. Sister Maria took me around one day and told me each one’s story without looking at a single chart. Some of them are so tiny and malnourished that they just lay and groan. Sister Maria is their mother and provider. One time when I was there a nurse gave me an oxygen machine and asked me to administer it to one of the sickly babies. This was progress from the oxygen tubes he had been breathing from. Yesterday another baby was propped up on a crib and handed the breathing machine. She sat there and gave herself the treatment. An Israeli woman noticed my shock and confirmed that a normal child would not be able to do that.

Day 85: Transitioning

I am exactly one month behind on my journal. To shed light on what’s really been going on I must first be honest about my own thoughts and feelings. Things have been moving at their typical pace – slow on bad days and time warp speed on the good ones. Bad days are not triggered by any external circumstances, but rather my own state of mind. These days are not predominant by any means, but they have become more frequent as I’ve searched for direction in how my remaining time should be spent. As I question my purpose, I get bogged down with doubt and discouragement. I start to wonder if four months is really enough. I ask God what I am supposed to do when I return to the States, but instead of listening I let my own ideas cloud my head. Then I am disappointed in myself when I realize these thoughts have affected my attitude. Because of my worries a whole day is wasted.

This internal monologue has been going on since summer school let out. My life is once again a see-saw of indecision. As I try to make a decision on how I should spend my last two months I realize I don’t have to go back in November. Some of the things I would do require I stay longer. Given that choice to make, I’ve complicated things by worrying about tomorrow and the next day. In my heart I desire more than anything to follow God’s will, but I don’t think there is a right or wrong decision as long as God is given control. I don’t know what I’m looking for or how I expect God to answer, so living with this big question mark has been frustrating. There are days when I feel certain I should stay longer and take on more responsibilities and then the rational side compels me to stick with the original plan and go back to America to get a job. These choices are coupled with so many competing factors: missing family, the rewards of serving, the approaching deadline for grad school applications, a depleted savings account, etc. I guess I am cursed with two equally appealing options. Even though my current plan is to stay until December things are not set in stone - fears of making a resolute decision and the consequences that will follow hold me back. To make matters worse I can’t even rely on my emotions to make a decision because they are constantly changing. Now that I have been here longer I’ve experienced a more intense range of emotions. One day I am filled with exhilaration and the next I feel total weariness. One thing is certain, whenever I am at Destiny with Hareg and Yonatin I know I could stay indefinitely. Their resolve to improve the school inspires me on a daily basis.

That being said, the past month has revealed to me a more in-depth perspective of what Cherokee is doing and how it fits in the bigger picture of international development. With a new group here and a slower work week due to the millennium holiday I’ve gotten a chance to spend more time at other NGO’s. The opportunities to serve are endless; we’ve been in contact with numerous organizations that are making a major impact on the lives of the poor. Even though Cherokee Gives Back is still defining what it looks like on the ground I think it has been very successful in partnering with some of the most successful NGO’s in Addis. We have a network of entities that range from the essential relief efforts for orphans and street kids as well as projects in job creation, health care, and education. All are critical for obtaining sustainability in an emerging nation.

But before I touch on all of that I must backtrack to my last week of school. School ended on August 30th. Seven weeks passed by faster than I had anticipated. I developed a close bond with my students in the final weeks and started to dread the end. I also felt the pressure to make sure they had learned something worthwhile. The Friday before our last week I offered the class the option of doing a group project. They took a vote and decided to write a script and then perform it in front of the school on the last day. Seemed simple enough. On Monday we assigned roles and started the script writing. They decided on a rendition of Cinderella. Then Tuesday we continued to work on the script, but with English as a second language it was hard to keep all 27 kids focused on writing a dialogue. In the end, the kids did not get the final script until Wednesday and the performance was scheduled for Thursday. A sinking feeling came over me as I realized I was a terrible director and playwright. As we rehearsed the skit in the nursery I could see disaster written all over it. I tried to let go of my desire for perfection and settle for something short of failure. It was fun to watch them try to convey the proper emotion in their lines. The older kids had been given the major parts and they gave the littler kids more confidence. Their shyness melted away and by our final rehearsal they seemed to be really into it. As Wednesday came to an end I tried to offer my final pleas for line memorization and prayed that the scenes would at least be acted out in the right order.


My summer school kids on the last day of school.

On Thursday I left the house extra early to purchase donuts and cakes for my class. Most of them came to school early. We ate the treats and then the six older students read to the class the Millennium essays they had prepared. Hareg came for the presentations and offered constructive criticism. They did a great job. Then we assembled and rehearsed Cinderella (Ethiopian style) on our make-shift stage. The nursery has a curtain dividing the nap area from the rest of the room which provided the backdrop. I was stunned to find that all of them had memorized their lines in one night. It was a miracle. I was so proud of them. After two rehearsals the audience of younger students assembled in rows of tiny chairs.


The primary students at Destiny Academy and captive audience.

Then the play began and it went off without a hitch even spurring laughter at the appropriate moments. I had underestimated my students; and I fell in love with each one of them.


Cinderella: Trying on the "glass slipper."

When the play was over the class took a bow and then awards were presented to the top students of each class.


My students take a bow after their performance of Cinderella.

I hated choosing only two after the effort all of them had just shown, but I selected one boy and one girl. Adi because she made a 100% on every test and Mesfin because he had gone from the one complaining on the first day to being a proven leader and role model in his effort and participation. Then Namuna got everyone’s attention and gave a speech on behalf my class thanking me for being their teacher. Some of them were crying. They presented me with a purse and matching scarf and a cute pair of shoes which fit perfectly. I knew they had planned something because for the past week there had been snickering and the collection of money each morning. I cry at their sweet gesture even now. I know how little they could afford. When that was over school was dismissed, but I asked my students to meet in class before they left. I had written each one of them a note in their journal and gave them pencils. Then I asked if they wanted to finish “School Story,” the book we had been reading together in class. All of them said yes. When that was finished I hugged them all good-bye and many of them couldn’t hold back tears. It broke my heart, but it was also the most special gift they gave me. Since they are too old to go to Destiny during the school year I won’t see most of them ever again. But, every once in awhile I’ll see one of them hanging around the school. Natnael, the one who had struggled so much with reading, ran up to me the other day and just stood in front of me smiling. He couldn’t respond to many of my questions, but there is definitely an improvement in his confidence. I was so happy to see him.

School ended and then the first arrivals of our new group from Cherokee came on Tuesday. But I’ll have to continue later…it’s time for me to substitute teach at Destiny.

Day 71: Happy New Year!

Last night I got to party like it was 1999 because in Ethiopia it was. Today is the New Year and the start of a new millennium for Ethiopia. It’s funny to think I’m now one of the few people on earth who has lived to see the coming of two millennium new years! It was a pretty typical new year’s eve with people taking off work to be with family and friends, the town decorated with festive lights, and everyone staying out til midnight, but for a country with so many problems and yet so much potential it was more than just a party.

Witnessing the excitement building up to this momentous occasion has been an experience in and of itself. The millennium has been the talk of the town escaping no one’s thoughts; it has been on the minds of the street kids to the highest officials in the land. Everyone has been planning for it for months and the celebrations will continue throughout the year. The expectations have ranged from complete indifference to predicting widespread change. I have heard stories of the poor thinking that the government is going to eliminate their debt and everyone in the country will suddenly be rich. Those are the sad tales of a nation filled with lost and helpless people. It has been interesting to hear observations that are so readily given. People have had mixed opinions about the occasion, but all are alike in recognizing it as a big deal.

You can’t deny its influence as roads are being torn up and multi-million dollar stadiums are erected for this one festive night. But government officials and event organizers would argue that it is more than just one night. Tens of thousands were expected to return to Addis for the celebration. As our latest guests arrived at the airport reporters hounded them asking if they were here for the millennium. In the past few months the city has been working round the clock. The Chinese, known for their low-cost, fast-paced labor, have been contracted to repair all the roads and complete most of the construction sites throughout the city. The construction has made transportation a bear. The government has worked hard to turn its image as political prisoners were released and public initiatives such as tree planting were implemented. The homeless are being removed from the city and relocated to the country and meat laced with poison has been laid out to eradicate the stray dogs. All of these things are an attempt to show the world that Ethiopia is ready to be looked at differently.

I remember when I celebrated my first millennium new year. I was a senior in high school and my class had been dubbed the “class of the millennium.” All of our talk centered on the ominous possibilities of Y2K. For me, it was just a bigger excuse to have a party and then life moved on. The only adjustment was writing the date differently. In any case, the approaching New Year forces a reflection on the past and present and creates anticipation for the future. It’s as if for one day history stops writing and offers you a chance to pen a draft of the coming chapters. Here there has been an underlying consciousness of that fact. It weighs heavily on every concerned citizen. This burden is under girded by a determination to close a door on the past, to start a new chapter in history – one without poverty, famine, and war.

It’s hard to tell what the majority opinion is, but I think the skeptics realize that for change to happen it must happen from within. It can’t be mandated through a government program. I think it is admirable for the country to unite in an effort to lift itself out of “developing” status. However, the New Year is just another day until someone makes the choice to change his ways. And for a country with nearly half its population of 77 million malnourished it also requires the compassion of others.

As I walked to work yesterday, I could feel a difference and slight shift in the mood from the past few months. It was as if the whole city was on the verge of a huge reality check – a hush and heavy disappointment looms. The beggars and homeless were nowhere to be seen – they’d been swept under a rug. But they’ll be back. It is sad. I was frustrated by the short-sightedness of sweeping the streets for one night. Hope has wrongly been placed on the temporal solutions of men with more money than the nation’s GDP. Valuable energy and resources have been wasted on band aids that do nothing to heal the suffering of the millions living in this country.

The reality check for most is that life is going to go on. The exterior may have been different for a time, but overall, the hardships or the privileges that define one’s life will remain the status quo. I’m just hoping the pressure to improve the standard of living will remain at the forefront of everyone’s mind.

For one night there was a celebration and people forgot that today brings with it a new millennium that has yet to be written. Last night we gathered in the streets and shouted “melcom millennium!” to each other. And Sheik Mohammed al-Amoudi put on an impressive fireworks display for all to see. Few people get to have a once in a lifetime experience twice, but those of us who were in Addis last night managed to defy logic.

Historic Background:
Ethiopia is the only country in the world to still follow the Julian calendar which is seven years behind the Gregorian calendar that the western world follows. The New Year typically falls on September 11, but this is a leap year so today is actually the New Year. Ethiopia is also unique in that it has a 13 month calendar that consists of 12 30-day months and one 5 day month. Their slogan is “13 months of sunshine,” which is a bold-faced lie! They also follow time differently from the rest of the world. What we consider 7:00 AM is actually 1:00 AM Ethiopian time.

Related Articles:
http://africa.reuters.com/world/news/usnL11910980.html
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/west/chi-ethiopia12sep12,1,7350619.story

A Student's Perspective:
In light of the approaching millennium I asked some of my older students to write an essay about it. Here are a few excerpts (unedited). This one was written by Namuna:

The country Ethiopia is prepared itself to colorfully celebrate the millennium; the current New Year goes special to all Ethiopians. During the Ethiopian New Year, the government, the people & friends of Ethiopian would make great preparation to colorfully marking the up coming Ethiopian Millennium.
It brings hope.....The history of the country which has been colored by wars & famine, would be reversed as the Ethiopian millennium torch beams across the nation. The celebration has different uses for the country like economically, historically,...
• From 30 generations the one can have the chance to celebrate the millennium.
• In the last 1000 year they are good things like the civilizations and others, and they are also bad things. We encourage the good things & we change the mistake parts. We learn from the mistake parts and we welcome the new millennium.
• Every world knows that Ethiopia is under poverty, famine, war, .but for the coming millennium we have to leave this thing as a passed history & we have to join our hand to make Ethiopia developing or developed country.
• The governments do the following works to the country for the millennium.
1Planting tree seedlings using Aforestation & teach the others about reforestation.
2.Working & teaching the young's about HIV aids.
3.Girls are half part of the society. So, teaching or changing the opinion of the peoples& obeying the right of girls, children's& others... They are also lots of things to do for the millennium.
The peoples can get some information from radio, television, newspaper, website, magazine, newsletter, &teater places.
Ethiopia is the origin of human being, civilization & Ethiopia is Africa's oldest independent country. a part from a five-year occupation by Mussolini's Italy, it has never been colinised,but the nation is better know for its periodic droughts and famines, its long civil conflict with Eritrea. We change these things in the coming millennium.

OUR DIFFERENT IS OUR BEAUTY&OUR STRENGTH.
REPORTED BY NAMUNA DEREJE.

This one is by Ruth:

Ethiopia invite some musician from foreign country like mike Madonna etc but in my idea Ethiopian people must not spend
Millennium by only dancing because they must think new idea for the year for example in my idea last year
1 . if some one is back by knowledge he\she must be get education in the millennium and every body must be educated person.
2 .If the country is not developing country they should be developing country.

Living Under a Bridge

I haven’t detailed what we did on Watt’s last night in Addis. Of course he made sure it would be an interesting one. He decided to pursue a conversation with the homeless people in our area. They sleep under the overpass where we get a taxi each morning. When darkness came we ventured out with Mastewal and Abraham to the streets. We live in a wealthy neighborhood (relatively speaking), but all of the compounds are protected by high walls blocking any light that could illuminate our path. Though our walk was covered in darkness the streets were still active with the people who have nowhere else to go.

As Watt and Mastewal spoke with a man that is a permanent fixture under the bridge I noticed a woman lying on some tarps watching us intently. I walked over to her and asked Abraham to translate. She was very sick, but inviting. She even moved so I could sit on the tarp with her as if I had entered her living room. Meanwhile, people stared at us wondering what these foreigners were doing. It was difficult for her to talk because of a cough, but as I inquired of her situation she told us that she had left her home when her husband died during the famine. When she said this I didn’t think it could be possible because the famine she was referring to was over twenty years ago. Twenty years ago this woman lost her husband and her livelihood, probably before I was even born, and brought her two kids to make her home under a bridge. She has been living there ever since. The comparison between her life and mine over the course of 25 years is appalling. I found it incomprehensible that a person could live this way for so long…by choice. At the time her son was two years old. Now he is 25 and very sick. He had a job, but became too sick to work. She pointed to a box made of corrugated tin and said he was sleeping inside. Her daughter was working as a housekeeper, but it seems has lost that job too. I tried to process how she could have allowed life to continue down such a hopeless path. Even as I looked at her I could tell she had strength in her eyes, obviously it had gotten her this far. Why didn’t she use it to provide a better life for her family? Surely twenty years ago she would have been even more capable of doing so.

Imagine, living your life under a bridge. For most in the West it is something we can’t even wrap our mind around. The situation is not feasible with all of the protective structures set up by our society. But here in Addis the nightmare is a reality to nearly 90,000 human beings. Imagine. Life day in and day out on a cold, wet, dirty street. People pass by you going to work, a family, a destination of their choice because they can afford to. The matter of a few hundred dollars differentiates between a life on the streets and a life in a shelter. But is that the only difference? Or is it a matter of will? I’ve struggled over that question as I ask God how I should treat the countless beggars on the street. He would expect me to love them, but what does love look like in a situation like this?

I’ve dealt with feelings of pity and anger toward mothers that hold babies in their arms and beg in the streets. They are exploiting their children and perpetuating the vicious cycle of poverty by raising their kids in the street. But is it their choice? Obviously, it’s impossible for me to know their situations so I try not to judge, but as Habtamu has expressed with much passion there are other options. If a woman cannot provide for her child there are orphanages. Every time I am driving with Habtamu on Bole Road to and from the airport we get hounded by children begging in the streets. It’s particularly bad at night. They pick Bole Road because that is the “rich” area of town and more people are in cars rather than mini buses. At the intersections they come and put their hands in the window begging for money or asking you to purchase some tissues or gum for less than 10 cents. Haptamu explained that he gets angry because many of the kids are forced to work by their parents. Instead of going to school they are working towards a life of poverty. It is my heartfelt desire to see these children cross the bridge of opportunity instead of living under it…to see their future holding more hope than a birr dropped by a stranger. Hopefully, my time here will enable me to make that a reality for some of these street kids. No one deserves this kind of life whether they bring it upon themselves or not.

Day 59: Catching up

Asni returned today and she made fresh banana bread! My period of seclusion is coming to an end. I realized after double checking the dates that I was actually going to go three weeks without any housemates and more critically: without Asni’s cooking. Her leftovers lasted the remainder of the first week and then I had to cook for myself. I am completely inept at cooking. As Molly Ringwald said in a movie, “I’m the type that burns water.” On my first night alone I realized that I was not the only one that was going to starve. Chilo intuitively became restless when the house emptied and for the first two days would not leave my side. He even ventured into the house which is a no no. Finally I think he realized that I was not going to be an adequate source of food and came to terms with a shrinking stomach. I haven’t starved. Hareg makes me join her family for lunch after class everyday and then dinner consists of soup and salad or a sandwich.

It would be tiresome to try to chronicle everything I’ve done over the last three weeks. Even though the time seems to have passed a lot slower with everyone gone, I have been quite busy. Before I was completely on my own I took the remainder of the group to Alert Hospital. Alert is a hospital for people with leprosy. From what I know of the disease it affects the nervous system to where people lose all feeling of their fingers and limbs. One sign of the disease is that men will have broad shoulders and women have wider hips. Apparently there is treatment for the disease that will completely heal a person in five years. But it is a very painful disease that many people in Addis suffer from. At the hospital there is a facility for craft making. The patients weave intricate rugs, linens, pillow cases, etc for sale at the hospital’s gift shop. Their work is all done by hand. One old man weaves rugs with just stubs for fingers. He’s living proof of our amazing capacity to endure and overcome. (For pictures click on the link on the right)

Watt’s last day at Destiny was sad of course. Rebecca and Abraham joined us that day. On the way, Watt worked the taxi one last time, but the fun was cut short by the near breakdown of our minibus shortly after we drove off. The vehicle was making the most awful grinding noise; I thought the thing was going to blow up as we screeched down the road. No one on the bus breathed for the next ten minutes until it somehow miraculously started to run again. I was praying so hard that it would come back to life knowing that the driver and his coworker’s livelihood depended on it. You could see them willing it back to operation every time it stalled. At school there was a celebration for Watt during recess and the kids circled around him singing songs and presenting gifts. His pursuit of “awesomeness” is contagious making every kid drawn to him. His departure put a noticeable hush over the school. One day after he had left Hareg said, “It’s amazing how quiet it is now that Watt’s gone!”

The day after Watt left I felt the void of not having his company on the taxis. In Mexico where we always battle to get a taxi I managed to find one without trouble. When I hopped on he said 1 birr. Sometimes the price is one other times it is only 65 cents. We always pay what Habeshas pay. I waited to confirm that he was charging everyone else 65 cents and said “habesha waga affeullegalo.” (I want the Ethiopian price) I was shocked I had remembered that line on my own. A few passengers chuckled in amazement, but the guy would not accept it. He insisted on one birr and I refused. Finally, after a few people talked to him he accepted the 65 cents and apologized in English. When we got to Tor Highloch I gave him the extra 35 cents and said, “ketelo gize Habesha waga affeullegalo. Geub bah? Deuna Deur.” Meaning, “Next time, I want the habesha price. Do you understand? Good night.” He smiled and nodded. I felt such a sense of accomplishment to have an exchange with someone in Amharic.

When I walked out of the airport after dropping off Rebecca I was prepared for my time of independence. I am not afraid to be on my own in this city. In fact, I have so much support from Ethiopian friends that I can’t say that I’m alone. During my four trips to the airport in five days I enjoyed conversing with Habtamu. He is very thoughtful and carries himself with dignity. His perspective on life in Ethiopia adds to my own thought process. He insisted that I call him anytime I was in need of anything or if I just wanted to talk I could call on him to join me for coffee. One morning when I was running late for work and the rain was pouring down I saw him at the bus stop. He had a customer in the car, but insisted that I get in. He took me halfway and explained to the lady in the car that I am like family. She told him in Amharic how impressed she is by Americans’ willingness to travel anywhere in the world to help others. She said we (Ethiopians) won’t even help the suffering in neighboring Somalia. I hadn’t looked at things that way, but she’s right.

Since the house has been under repair I moved to our “outhouse” (as I call it.) It’s separate from the main building and has its own bathroom and three bunk beds. It hasn’t been bad until something fell from the ceiling. I looked up saw a long tail hanging from an opening. Nope, not another mouse. This time it’s a rat. I don’t have words for my disgust, but what can I do? As long as he stays up there and doesn’t come down I’m going to let it be.

At the end of that first week Hareg and I sat down to discuss the to-do list she had made at my urging. So many things were hanging over her head that she was struggling to get anything done. We divided responsibilities and set deadlines. My responsibilities include writing and administering part of the placement exam for newly enrolled students, developing website content, and documenting the student sponsorship program. I am thrilled to be able to help in these areas. The placement exam was a challenge for me. I felt the pressure to develop a test that would accurately determine skill level. We tested in three areas: reading comprehension, grammar, and speaking in English. Only two kids were held back, but for the parents that is very disappointing news because that means paying for an additional year.

My first Sunday alone I went back to IEC. Afterwards, I met Hareg and went to Genet’s house for lunch and a coffee ceremony. Genet is a mother that I am tutoring three days a week. When you are a guest at someone’s house you are treated with the most generous hospitality. Before my plate was empty I was served more and when that was gone I was given another helping. When you run out of injera to scoop up the wat you are given more and if you have leftover injera you’re given more wat. So you have to judge exactly how much you need otherwise the food will keep coming! As we were eating, Genet’s husband’s brother and two sisters arrived and ate with us. Extended families are very close in that way and mealtime is always a family affair done around the table. The meal and coffee took up the entire afternoon, but that is the point.

On another day Hareg asked me to help her interview a new teacher. He’s an older guy with a lot of passion for teaching. He had pushed the interview up because he had already received an acceptance at another school and needed to make a decision. To her joy and surprise he told her what they offered him for a salary and it was half of what she had expected but the right amount she was able to offer. We kind of laughed at his honesty because he probably could have leveraged us for more if he hadn’t told us. Hareg offered him the job and he chose Destiny. Afterwards I went with Mastewal to a Youth With a Mission (YWAM) orphanage in Gofa. The director’s name is Abdissa. He lives at the compound with the orphans. It is a great program. It’s called Mercy Development and it is home to twenty-two street kids. They structure it as a family setting instilling values, communities, and life skills. I’m hoping to be able to spend time with them during free afternoons.

Even on days that I anticipate being relatively uneventful something worth noting happens. For instance, one rainy morning when I didn’t have the time or the energy to fight for a taxi four guys took the initiative to get me a spot. While waiting another man recognized me and asked, “Where are your friends?” I told him, “They all went back to the States.” “But I just saw them last week,” he exclaimed. I was comforted by the fact that someone had noticed. Then sensing that I was growing weary and sick with a cold Hareg took me to a restaurant she had found near the school. It is run by a woman that had lived in the US with her husband for seven years. They decided to come back and try to make a living here. The service and food is outstanding and the price is shockingly low. For drinks, two entrees, bread, and tea the bill was 27 birr the equivalent of $3. Hareg and I were both thrilled to have discovered a new place to eat at a reasonable price.

Last Friday I finally mustered up the energy to face the marcato. Maste went with me of course. Our mission was to find the tire shoe makers that Matt had befriended. I had forgotten the piece of paper that I had written the names and cell numbers and Maste had never been there so it was like searching for a needle in a hay stack. The marcato is so massive and chaotic that you constantly have to keep your bearings and belongings. The only clue I had was a picture on my camera that Matt had taken when we had accidentally swapped memory cards. I was reluctant to pull out my camera because there are thieves lurking everywhere, but it was our only hope. We managed to find someone that recognized the guys and within minutes we were talking to Getachu the tire dealer and Tareeku the tire shoe maker. Theirs is an amazing trade. They make hundreds of pairs of sandals by hand all from used tires and tiny nails. I bought a pair of all five styles for 100 birr which is actually a lot, but I wanted to pay extra since they worked overtime. My feet are so small they didn’t really have a model to work with. They gladly made adjustments until we had a perfect fit. I enjoyed sitting in the alley talking to them; had I seen them without any prior knowledge or introduction I wouldn’t have given them a second thought. In fact, I would have considered them dangerous, but looking past their rugged surface you find friendly, hard-working people. The shoes have different names depending on where you buy them, but they most commonly go by berbasso or moga. I have gotten quite a bit of attention wearing them around town. I’ll hear people go, “berbassos!” as they point and smile. I’m not sure what is spurring this kind of reaction: shock or excitement. Either way, I like them!

Saturday was a beautiful day so I decided to go for a jog. I was hounded by kids on the street. At one point some teenage girls grabbed my arm mid stride. Their grip was so strong and unexpected that it literally swung me around. For a few seconds I couldn’t get them to let go and all they would say is “money, money, give me, give me.” It was really frustrating. Later, I met up with a lady I had met a few weeks earlier named Alice. She is new to Addis here on a Fullbright scholarship to teach journalism at Unity College. She has had a difficult time (as one would imagine) crossing the language barrier to secure a place to live for the next year. It was nice to have a day of sightseeing. We met at Meskel Square and walked to an art gallery called St. George. It probably contains the most expensive pieces in the city and they proudly display a picture of the owner with President Clinton. Afterwards we walked up the hill toward the Sheraton Hotel. It was my first up- close encounter. Here the hotel is the symbol of wealth. This monstrosity sits like a lion on an ant hill. I could barely stand to look at it with its guarded gates and manicured lawns. We continued our walk across the city to an Indian restaurant called Jewel of India. I had been craving Indian food. By the time dinner was over it was dark outside. Being across town I had to brave the taxi system at night for the first time. In Mexico the crowd was so big I succumbed to my apprehensions and contracted a taxi. He charged me 20 birr and then let two other guys tag along for 5 birr. I refused to accept that kind of treatment and told him as I pointed to each guy and then myself, “amist, amist, asser...haya” Roughly meaning 5, 5, and 10 equals 20. He was not happy about this at all, but I insisted and only paid the ten. In the end he still got what he asked for so I think it was fair.

On Sunday I went with Maste to Asco Orphanage. I spent the hours holding the babies giving each one some attention. I adore them; it hurts to see them suffer from HIV. Their bodies are not soft and plump like normal babies. They are stiff and weary. Their breathing is heavy and raspy and many of them are covered with sores and itchy skin. There is one baby I have become attached to because he was described to me as the one that always cries. You can see the sadness in his eyes even when there aren’t tears; my heart breaks for him. Last time I visited he wasn’t in the nursery. I knew it meant he was in the sick room. I prayed and worried over him knowing an illness could end his life. Sunday when I returned he was back. I confirmed that he had been in the sick room. But if he is back in the nursery it means he is better, and even his temperament seems to have improved. For that, I am thankful.

Day 54: Looking at the Problem of Poverty

Up ‘til now I have not really addressed the reason for my coming here: poverty. I guess I have avoided the topic because I am still struggling to process it. The first thing I have realized is that it is much harder to define it when you are dealing with it on a day to day basis. I am reluctant to look at Addis and stamp a label like “crisis” on it. Mainly because of the thoughts and actions that the word typically conjures up: disaster, catastrophe, emergency, calamity. People’s response to a “crisis” is generally knee-jerk and emotionally driven. Here (maybe not everywhere) I have found that you can’t treat the situation as a “crisis.” No doubt the people are poor here, but in most cases they are living. At the core, they have lives just like you and I: family, friends, community, hardships and joys. They have pride and rightfully so, their country is known as the birthplace of civilization. Their culture is rich in tradition, ceremony, and relationships. It’s difficult, then, to come into their world and say, “I’m here to fix the problem.” For them, the “problem” is their life. So, I guess the first thing I’ve learned is how important sensitivity and awareness is.

At a seminar addressing youth and its challenge, Yunatin said, “The way we see the problem can be the problem sometimes.” He means that if we are equipped with the right approach and attitude we can face the challenges, maybe not eliminate them, but we can overcome them. Jesus said, “You will always have the poor among you.” Matthew 26:11 Does He mean ignore them? Of course not, I think His message is clear: there is always going to be a need to help the poor. The key is how we see the problem and therefore, how we respond to the problem. And to me it has become a completely relational matter. I don’t see how we can write a solution in a manual and tell workers to go solve the problem. The real healing is a matter of the heart. I could send money across the ocean to the hungry children in refugee camps, but if there isn’t a caregiver there to give them love what good will it do? What will the children in the orphanages become if no one is there to teach them life values? If no one comes to hold them when they cry? Money is a means to achieving an end, but it is by no means the end.

I asked my kids in class to discuss these two statements (in English of course): “Children are our future” and “Money is the key to happiness.” The students came to an agreement that statement one is true and statement two is false. They believe that since education has become more and more accessible especially to the children living in the countryside there is hope for change in their county. In regards to money, they grappled over it a little longer and the discussion became somewhat heated. All of them sort of lit up at the thoughts of what they would do if they had money, but in the end admitted that there is always a want for more no matter what you have. Ruth, a very bright, soft-spoken girl, said this, “If you have money you can buy a bed, but no sleep. You can buy food, but no appetite, you can buy a home, but not family, you can buy things that make you happy, but not happiness.” Such a profound perspective that is often lost in our money-driven society.

For thirty years or more individuals, NGO’s, and governments have been pouring billions of dollars into countries like Ethiopia and yet the number of hungry children climbs and the AIDS epidemic spreads. Doesn’t it beg the question: What are we missing?

Progress is often hard to measure. It takes time. Too much time it seems. Knowing the number of people, children, that are dying each second because of lack of food or basic care helps to prompt action. But how we act is the difficult part. (I am in no way claiming to have found the perfect solution!)

Those with heart want to act fast because lives are at stake, but when you come to a place like Addis, it gets more complicated than scooping people into an assembly line and giving them food for a day or week. There are degrees of struggle and hardship. There is poverty that is warranted and unwarranted. There are people who desire help and those that don’t. There are some that are making it out of poverty on their own and those that will die if we don’t help. We can’t treat people like statistics. It takes a human touch, a genuine interest to make a difference in someone’s life. That’s why the best programs I have seen here take in no more than 30 street kids at a time. Mother Teresa always said to do what’s in front of you. Do what you can and if everyone would do that imagine what the world would look like.

“Christians NEVER Say Goodbye.”

That is something C.S. Lewis used to say when parting with a dear friend. We just said goodbye to Rachael and Matt. It is getting weird to watch people come and go knowing that I am here until November. But tonight I was thankful I wasn’t the one leaving, which is such a good feeling. My biggest fear was that I would get homesick seeing people go back home. I miss family and friends, but I have no desire to leave. However, I am aware that it has already been 6 weeks and time is flying by faster than I could imagine. Everything carries a much greater value here including time. And time is the thing I can give the most of – I don’t want to see it go to waste. My desire is to look back on this and know that I did everything I could to serve others every minute of every day. So far, I’ve made a good effort, but I can see areas where I’ve maintained a level of comfort. I need to be coming home exhausted. That’s my plan at least.

To get caught up I must mention our Sunday afternoon. We went to a coffee ceremony in Kori which is the leper colony in Addis. It was at the home of Lyston’s adopted son. He is studying in the states, but his mother and siblings still live in Addis. His mother does not speak English, but she has a grace and air about her that requires no words. It was an honor to be in her home and served coffee that she and her daughter made by hand. We even got to take turns grinding the coffee beans. It was some of the best coffee I had ever tasted. They put a kind of spice in it to make it especially sweet. Afterwards we went to a Mediterranean restaurant called Aladdin’s. There were seventeen of us with Jeremy and Reid and another American couple. We shared hummus and ordered kebabs. I haven’t had a bad restaurant experience yet. The food has been great – of course we choose carefully.

Monday, the quilt ladies and Jonathan joined us for lunch after class. We call them the quilt ladies because they are here to teach the orphans at Asco how to make quilts. June and Noreen are expert quilters and managed to bring more than 200 quilts with them. Their skill is such a wonderful gift to pass on to the orphans. Our lunch was their first taste of Habesha food. We took them to the restaurant next to Destiny. Having been there on Friday I was not eager to eat it again, plus it was the day before a fasting day so all they had to serve was injera and kitfo (minced meat). No vegetables. I was not able to stay anyway since I had to tutor. After lunch they toured Destiny. June is also a former librarian so she is going to try to help Destiny get more books. When we were finished we went to a silk factory that produces handmade Ethiopian silk. I was in heaven! This is definitely the place where I am going to buy my scarves. They showed us around the factory – everything is done by hand. Even the dye is organic. It was so fascinating to watch them weave the silk into spools. It was especially cool to have the quilt ladies with us, because June was able to explain the whole process starting with the silk worm. According to June a single worm can produce up to a mile of silk in its lifetime. We got to see some live ones in a basket. There were also some dead ones which had been boiled to separate the silk strands. Matt and Watt ate them. Apparently they are high in protein or something.

Tuesday was Jeremy and Reid’s last day at Destiny. It was so sad to see them off. I loved teaching with them. Since the walls are thin we could always hear each other yelling at our students. We don’t yell often, but the communication barrier does make managing the class more difficult. At one point I could hear Jeremy saying, “We are going back to America tomorrow. Do you want us to remember you being good or bad?” That was supposed to be a terrible threat. I thought it was so funny. The other funny thing is the way we reduce English to its most basic form in order to help the students comprehend. Talking like that all the time is tiring. I find myself doing it with Americans now too. One day when I was explaining to Watt how to get to our house I said something like, “turn when the road becomes no more road.” What is that??

For lunch, Rachael and I went with Hareg and Yunatin to Paradise Café. Delicious burgers and fries were the order of the day. Even Hareg was ready for a break from our usual Habesha restaurant. While we were there Yunatin pointed out the owner of the restaurant, the ambassador of Uganda, and the wife of the speaker of the house. He has connections with everyone! He jokes that he is humble to hang out with us. I love his sense of humor, and Hareg’s too. We get along so well. Now Yuni is in Nepal for a conference. He is always on the road speaking to groups. It’s amazing how they get it all done.

Yesterday, Jonathan went with me and Watt to Destiny. Determined not to settle for ordinary, Watt decided to assist the taxi driver in filling our van. Each mini-bus is run by two guys. One drives while the other sits in the back hollering the destination out the window, collecting people and money. Watt decided to help guy #2. Speaking in Amharic he said he wanted to try his job and began to stand on the sidewalk hollering, “Kera, Gofa, Kera, Gofa, Gofa Camp,” in his best Habesha voice. As if three forenjis didn’t stand out already – it was hilarious. He did a great job. Our van was full in minutes and we were on our way. The bad days are when the vans don’t fill up and the driver refuses to drive until it does. That gets so frustrating.

Following class Jonathan and I ate with Hareg and Yuni at their house. They are always insisting that we eat with them. I love it. It was also a good day in class. In an effort to building reading comprehension I have had my students working in reading groups. They are grouped based on their skill level with the advanced students helping the ones that are struggling. Yesterday, each group was able to give a summary about their book in their own words. I was thrilled – it was the first time they had demonstrated any sort of comprehension without copying from the book.

For our last night with Rachael and Matt we went to a restaurant called The Cottage. It looked just like its name and had an interesting menu of pasta, pizza, goulash, and veal. I played it safe with pasta and salad.

Today, I had the best day of teaching since starting summer school. It started earlier in the week when I attempted to speak Amharic to tell the class that we were switching our off day from Thursday to Friday. They got a kick out of my effort and quickly became the teacher and I the student. The rest of the week I practiced and reminded them that Thursday is test day and not Friday. This morning it got off to a rocky start as Hareg brought in another new student. I had to find two more chairs. As I’ve described before, my class is outside in the library. It has poor lighting and a leaky tarp between us and the roof. I have two large tables and fourteen chairs crammed around each. It is so difficult to get them to keep their hands to themselves and their eyes on their own paper when taking a test. Every test day I know that there are a couple of students that cannot comprehend any of the instructions and I make sure I guide them through the questions. Today I caught one of my accelerated students giving one of them an answer. I called her out on it and then lectured the class (once again) on why cheating is bad. I tried to explain that my only concern is improving English not test scores. I then reminded them that we had three more weeks left and lots to learn. I asked what we could do to help build their speaking skills and they asked to do class discussions. I jumped on it and we began a discussion about the new millennium. Soon I had everyone’s attention and they were eager to explain (some better than others) what the holiday means to them. Ermias, one of my ornery but adorable students, said he sings Hoyahoye. When I inquired what that was they said it is a traditional Ethiopian song sung by boys during the new year to offer blessings and well wishes (kind of like a Christmas carol I guess.) Soon they were singing it to me and banging beats on the tables. One of the boys would make up a verse and the whole class would erupt in screams and laughter and I’d have to get them to translate. It turns out they were singing blessings for me including that I’d get a limo, that I’m covered in gold, and my favorite: I cut the throat of a lion. When I asked what the last one meant Ermias said it meant that I am a hero and have lots of courage. It was incredibly touching. By the time for break we had students from other classes peering through our windows curious by all of the noise.

When class resumed they asked if they could ask me questions. I said yes and proceeded to answer questions about my best friends, family, my “village,” and what I thought of their country. It was the most fun and the best English-building exercise we’ve done yet. Why didn’t I think of it sooner?? Soon after, darkness filled the sky and it became almost impossible to see in the classroom. Then the rain came and it poured harder than I’d ever seen. With a tin roof the noise was impossible to talk over. Since reading was the only exercise that wouldn’t require talking I asked them to pick out a book from the shelves. But that is always total chaos and it was even worse as rain came dripping from the ceiling. When the rain slowed school was let out. I haven’t graded the tests yet, but I don’t care what they reveal. Today we made progress.

Now that Matt is gone I’m in charge until the next group arrives in September. I really have no responsibilities since it’s just me. Tomorrow I cleared the day to be able to help the quilt ladies and Jonathan get everything in that they want to accomplish before they leave. Thankfully Habtamu is the man and he can arrange all the transportation we need. I am going to be making trips to the airport Friday, Saturday, Monday, Tuesday and then I’m on my own. Things are going to get interesting…

Time is Winding Down

Since I last wrote, four more girls in the house have left and four more guests have arrived. But things are going to get real quiet, real fast next Tuesday when the last one leaves and I have the house to myself. When I got here that moment was the thing I dreaded most and now it is here. I think I’m ready for it, but I am going to miss everyone terribly. If I had my choice between a full house with no privacy and an empty one with no company I would choose the noise, but I know that the two weeks will be good. My goal is to surpass Watt in speaking Amharic and to exercise every day. When the house is full of people you don’t want to do anything that doesn’t accommodate the majority, so now I’ll have some time to think about the next 2 ½ months and what that looks like for me personally. I can’t believe that I have been here 6 weeks already. In a blink I am going to be at my half-way point.

The last week was quite busy and flew by in its typical fashion. Monday was Hareg’s first day back at school. Her family has been bombarded by guests coming to grieve with them. I’ve gotten to see what a burden this type of mourning can be on the family. They have had to prepare meals for up to 30 people at a time for the past two weeks. Tenagne, Hareg’s sister, is wearing down and finally expressed her frustration at this aspect of their culture. And yet, they willingly provide and let their grief re-surface every time someone comes by to pay his respects.

That evening Hareg and Yunatin came over to say bye to Bethany, Victoria, Martha, and Page. It was so sad to say goodbye to them and it was a whirlwind departure following our awesome weekend at Lake Langano. I accompanied Matt and them to the airport to learn the ropes since I’ll be responsible for the last few groups to leave this week. It was quite interesting trying to finagle our way past security. Anyone entering the airport has to pass through security and for visitors that means standing in an incredibly long line.

Tuesday night with our group reduced to 7 we decided to eat out rather than wait until the weekend. We went to an Italian restaurant which also served as an art gallery. It was my favorite restaurant yet. The art included a wide variety of paintings featuring the beautiful African culture. Too bad we couldn’t afford anything.

Wednesday I got to go with Yunatin to hear him speak at a college seminar. It was a gathering of top university students throughout the country. Yunatin’s message was on “youth and its challenges.” I was lucky that he gave most of it in English. I enjoyed hearing him talk of the work he is doing with the youth here in Addis. Until then I had not realized how much he is doing. He and Hareg are approaching their vision of helping the youth differently, but both are making such a huge impact.

Thursday was a gorgeous, sunny day. Watt and I managed to leave work early in the afternoon, stopping at the pink coffee shop in Tor Highloch to grab a macchiato. He wasn’t in good spirits until on the taxi ride home he was able to use his amharic to get the cab assistant (the money collector) to cough up the change he owed us. He told the guy his math was as bad as Watt’s amharic. The van burst out laughing. That kind of thing is always touch and go. Even though we’re fighting over pennies the principle of the matter makes it imperative that we demand equal charges. Watt’s triumph actually arrived when we got to Tor Highloch and a boy said, “hello, how are you.” We started to walk right past him until Watt recognized him as the first boy he had taught on the street. A few days prior he had written a few English phrases and given them to the boy to learn. This was just a random kid we met at our bus stop and here he was speaking English! Watt and I were floored. Now Watt has handouts that translate basic phrases from Amharic into English and he is giving them to the street kids. Watt is very passionate about his “street teaching,” and in a city of millions he is quickly becoming a local celebrity. He even claims it’s the reason he didn’t get charged on a taxi one day. I wouldn’t be surprised. After our coffee we went back to the house and changed into our running clothes. Our destination: Total (named after the Total gas station). Our mission: ice cream and exercise. It was a great run even though I need to do a lot more if I want to make a dent in the amount of calories I’ve consumed in cookies thanks to lovely Asni. On the way back a man tried to buy me and Watt almost acquiesced. I’m sure I won’t forget it, but I must also mention the bug that we saw floating in the sky for it was the strangest insect either of us had ever seen (I’m not usually self-conscious about my blog postings, but this may be the lamest one yet, it all seems a bit mundane.)

Anyway, that evening was our traditional taco night…our favorite meal at the Cherokee house. Then Matt and I went to the airport to pick up Jonathan and the “quilt ladies.” All four are guests of Cherokee and staying for less than ten days. I actually made two runs to the airport that night bringing Jonathan back and then returning for the rest. It was good practice and I successfully shimmied past the guards on my own.

Friday, Jonathan, EJ, and Mary joined me and Watt at Destiny. Since it was Jonathan’s first day and because we had so many in our group we decided to take a contract taxi for 30 birr ($3.) By taking a contract we get the minibus to ourselves and are dropped off at Destiny without making any other stops. It was our best car ride in Addis. The driver played old-school American hits such as “Red, Red, Wine” and something by Celine Dion (she is idolized here.) We sang at the top of our lungs the whole ride to work. We even got there in time to play with the kids before classes started. My class had their test and I was thrilled to see that they had improved since last week’s. For lunch we took the group to the Habesha (Ethiopian) restaurant next to the school. Then Yunatin took us to his youth leadership center which is very close to Destiny. It is a very nice house set up as a community dormitory for 12 mentors to live for a year. This is the 7th group to go through this mentor training program. We sat in the conference room and gave our stories and heard how each one had come to be a part of the leadership program. This program falls under an organization that Yunatin helped start called Youth Impact Development Association (YIDA). In it they also run a leadership program for university students, a street dwellers’ program, and an orphanage. (In order to give an accurate depiction of what they are doing I think I’ll reserve further descriptions for a separate post.) Needless to say we enjoyed a long discussion at the center.

Saturday, Mary and I left the house at 7:30 am to go with Jeremy and Reid to the Mother Theresa Hospital for the Sick and the Dying Destitute in Sedist Kilo. On Tuesday and Saturday the hospital has an open wound clinic in which anyone can come and get a wound cleaned and any other medical need addressed. Most of them are treated and given outpatient care, but a few get admitted upon inspection by of one of the head sisters. There were actually too many volunteers there so we couldn't help at the clinic, but one of the social workers showed us around the entire hospital and then we got to assist in the kids with special needs room. It is the same ward I had worked in during my first week. That first visit had been a shock, but this time I was looking forward to being there and loving on those precious boys. Abugayu, the one they have to keep restrained, is now allowed to walk around with a chaperone. That is in large part to Rachael’s time and persistence. We got to assist with feeding time. Lunch was spaghetti and the boy I fed didn’t want to eat. So I had to shove a spoonful in his mouth everytime he screamed which was often enough to give him some nourishment. Jeremy and Reid found my situation humorous, which it was.

Afterwards we picked up a cake and went to Destiny to celebrate Samrawit’s graduation from university. She is one of the teachers at Destiny. The party was in the main part of the school and there was a ton of food prepared. Samrawit was overwhelmed by it all, which was wonderful to see. She definitely deserved the celebration given to her.

I’m still behind a few days, but this is all I can write for now…

Day 26: The Best Weekend Ever

I have never been more eager to "get away" than on Friday after giving my students their first test. I realized that there are several that truly cannot grasp anything I have taught because they cannot read or communicate in English. I felt like I was letting them down and was so ready for the weekend to arrive so that I could regroup and try again on Monday. I couldn't be happier when Habtamu our driver arrived at the school to take us back to the house for our big road trip. Two guys who sometimes teach with Watt and I also came with us. They are from UNC too. So our group had the 11 of us from Cherokee, Jeremy and Reed, and Abraham - 14 in all. Abraham got us a great deal on a small bus which was much more comfortable and roomier than it would have been on a minibus.

We left around 1:00 with very little knowledge of what to expect, but filled with sheer excitement and anticipation of a great adventure. Our group is so fun and full of energy that even though the ride turned out to be three hours longer than expected not a moment was lost on us. Just getting out of the city was a thrill because the air is cleaner and the terrain is beautiful. We descended into the low-lands surrounded by farms and green rolling hills. Our bus ride was the first of many amazing things to happen to us over the course of the weekend. We thought dodging oncoming traffic was living on the edge when all of a sudden one of our tires popped and the bus went careening into the other lane and swiftly swerved onto the side of the road. I was at the very back of the bus at the time and almost landed face first into the back steps. After the initial shock we jumped off the bus and greeted the spectators that had quickly gathered. Locals just appeared out of nowhere...literally, for there was not a village or sign of civilization anywhere. We had hoped we could mingle with the local tribes, but hadn't expected it to come about by flat tire! Child shepherds walked up to us in sheer curiosity and we decided to walk across the field toward a hut. People came from all directions and by the time we had gotten to the middle of the pasture we had a crowd of about 50 just staring and saying hello. It was incredible and so surreal - to be in Africa, in the wide open splendor and visiting with people of such opposite lifestyles as our own. Their reality is survival. Technology is the use of a spear for hunting and a staff for herding. Some of the children didn't even have pants on. But they also have joy and community. If given the choice of my life or theirs I don't doubt that they would chose the latter. Materialism and image complicates things to such an unnecessary degree. There was something so pure and real about how they lived. Still, their lives are so primitive in comparison to what we have. Even Addis felt like a booming metropolis after being in those fields surrounded by villagers and their livestock. We had a great time connecting with them though. Watt and some others showed them a hokey dance, and Rebecca gave them all of the cookies Asni had made for us. An hour later, our tire had been replaced and we were on the road again.

We got to Lake Langano around 6:00 I guess. The view was incredible. The lake is so huge you sometimes can't see all the way across from it. And the trees are massive and just what you would picture of Africa. We just kept saying "we're in Africa!" Finally our bus turned off the main highway and onto a dirt road. This 12 mile haul was incredibly bumpy and at times terrifying as the bus seemed to be driving on two wheels instead of four. We passed by more huts and villagers, occasionally seeing one holding a spear. It was nearing nightfall when we reached the boxcar bridge. This is significant because the bridge was our only gateway to the lake and the bridge was literally a boxcar so our bus could not fit. It was being guarded by men holding spears and AK47s. That didn't bother me as much as the realization that we were going to walk the last four kilometers. Fortunately we had each only packed a book bag, but unfortunately none of us knew where the lodge was located or how to find it. We had no guide or map - just a trail that lead into the dark jungle. I guess we were freaked beyond thinking rationally and just decided to have faith that somewhere out there was our destination and our path would lead to it. (Sidebar: our original plan was to go to Langano for one night and stay at a really nice hotel until we found it would be cheaper to stay at Wenney Eco Lodge for two nights. Seeing as it had taken us 7 hours to get to the lake we were glad we had chosen two nights, but picking a lesser known lodge that appeared to be in the middle of no man's land had yet to be determined.)

I was the only one who had brought a flashlight. It really only came in handy when we had to read the trail markings. The rest of the time the path was lit by the moon. At times it was quite scary. We had the sense of being watched and could see the outlines of huts nearby. Sometimes a villager would stand on the path as we walked by and follow us for a bit. We had no clue what type of animals were lurking on either side of us and we knew that we could startle a snake at any step. Seeing the men with spears had been disconcerting and walking as fast as we could without tripping or falling was our ultimatum. At one point a man asked in broken English where we were headed. We blindly pointed toward Wenney Lodge. He said, "it is here." We stopped for a second and looked around. He was standing in front of four small huts with no electricity or markings. We hesitated and gave each other sideways glances half believing that this was it and then realized he was confused and so were we. We kept walking. Now praying that our lodge was a little more equipped than that and fearing the worst. We knew that if we weren't walking toward our lodge we were probably not going to find it until morning. We were trying not to think about it, but we were wondering what the heck we would do if we could not find the place in the dark. Finally, we reached the sign we had been looking for and entered the gates of Wenney Lodge. The guards were quite perplexed as to how we had managed to get there on foot. We didn't have the stamina to ask if we could have done it differently. We were sweaty, tired, and hungry, but it looked like we had found it. Still all we had in front of us was a one-room wooden "reception" lodge. We looked around but there were no signs of our "bungalows." We were handed keys and the guys and girls were divided into two groups and escorted first to the restaurant. The restaurant was our first good impression. It was a massive open-air shelter with exotic decor and wood furnishings. It was very reassuring and being the only guests we were guaranteed the restaurant would stay open for us. So off we went down another windy trail to our "bungalow." Again we kept our expectations low, but when we stepped inside we were enchanted by the rustic ambiance. Our lodge had two main rooms each containing two double beds and a bathroom with a real toilet, shower, and running water (more than we expected!) Our bathroom even had a tree growing through it which served as our toilet paper holder and hanging over our beds were mosquito nets. We loved it and screamed for joy that we had arrived safely.

Dinner that night was fresh tilapia straight from the lake. We dined and exclaimed over and over again at how amazing our weekend had been and it hadn't even begun! After dinner we crawled into beds enclosed in our nets and immediately wrote in our journals about our adventure - that was until the lodge shut off the generator and we no longer had power. We learned in the morning that the lights only work from 6:00 in the evening until 11:00...hmmm, oh well.

My room set the alarm for 8:00 am but woke at 7:00. We couldn't wait to see everything in daylight. When I got up Rachael and Victoria were already in beach chairs reading by the lake. That first view took my breath away. It was so peaceful and serene. Everything was silent except for the sounds of the birds and the frogs. The water was still and the sky was hazy casting a blue tint over the distant mountains. The tall sea grass bordered the sides of the water. The beach was soft. I sat with them and just sat in awe of my surroundings. I could feel how far from home I was - this place is another planet. I don't know if I have had a closer view of God's divine creation than at that moment. The scene in front of me could have been a painting. I hated to pull myself up from that moment, but breakfast called. As we ate our breakfast the rain began to pour. It was a cold downpour. Our plans for horseback riding seemed to be shot, but the group remained optimistic. Not to be deterred for a moment, the guys decided to play in the rain. They literally put on their swim trunks and ran around barefoot splashing in the floods of rain. Soon all of us had our bathing suits on and were making our way to the lake. Ten or so stole a boat and began to paddle out into the water. It was so spontaneous but it was awesome! We put aside all inhibitions and went wild! The lake was a disgusting mushy feeling under our feet and at any other time I would not have dared walk a foot in it, but I gathered my courage and waded out to the boat. The water was not deep and it was almost warm. After most of them had headed back to shore a few of us lingered and began sloshing the grime from the bottom of the lake at each other. As disgusting as it felt and smelled we still proceeded to smear it all over each other and get pictures to prove that we had gone insane. Then Page came to our rescue and threw us a bottle of shampoo. We figured it wouldn't hurt to bathe in the lake since it was the same water that was coming out of our faucet.

That was our first excursion of the morning and by the time we had worn down the rain had stopped. So we prepared to go on a "trek." That trek turned into a two hour hike through the jungle. Again, one of the most amazing things I've ever done. We weaved through the tropical forest with ancient trees towering above us. Soon we got our first glimpse of the monkeys. If I hadn't felt it yet, that was my confirmation that I had arrived in Africa. Seeing monkeys jumping from the trees - black and white furry ones. As we continued our hike we found some big, brown baboons who were much more intimidating than the others. Every now and then we would pass a villager, and they would stop and stare. Always eager to shake our hand or nod hello. Most of the time they were herding cows, donkeys, and goats. It has become commonplace to pass livestock on the road (or path.) Our guide took us through many narrow pathways and always pointed out an exotic bird or tree. At one point we came across a cemetery of a tribe buried six hundred years ago. It was overgrown by the forest and all that remained were six tiny moss covered tombstones. Then he showed us a tree that spewed a milky liquid when struck open. He urged us to sample it. The taste was like liquid chalk and the texture was very sticky until I tried to wash it off with rain drops and then it felt like silk. We continued on until we reached the hanging vines and everyone took a turn swinging from the trees. We took pictures to capture the moment knowing that this was another capstone to our great adventure. We didn't have to retrace our steps to get back to the lodge and when we reached a clearing we were once again in awe of the beauty of the land and the lake. The flat open space surrounded by the jungle was a sight to be seen. As we walked a parade of villagers passed by. Who knows where they were headed - there isn't anything but the most primitive plots of land for miles. When we got back we were starving.

After lunch we divided into groups for horseback riding. Since there were only five horses we divided into two groups and the rest chose not to ride. Our plan was to have one group go to the waterfall. Then walk on foot to the hippo watching while the horses came back for the second group. Then the rest were going to walk straight to the hippo watching. It was a little unsettling to try to iron out this plan with our guide since his English was not clear, but we just hoped for the best as we had with everything else. The first group headed off while rest of us relaxed and waited our turn. I rode with the second group of five. When we reached our horses I could tell they aren't treated like our horses in Kentucky. And of course our saddles weren't quite the same either. I was given the small horse with a saddle that had one stirrup that was too long for my foot to reach. I also only had a rope for reigns. But we weren't given the liberty of using the reigns on our own. Each of us had to have a guide walk with us down the trail. Most of our guides were young boys. Mine walked barefoot through the rugged terrain. He was very sweet and intent to show me surroundings. I was told that my horse was very dangerous and couldn't be trusted to ride on my own. We were frustrated that we couldn't really ride our horses at a faster pace, but once we got to a clearing they let us run for a bit. It had been so long since I had ridden a horse that I felt certain it was going to end with a crash, but I managed to stay on - one stirrup and all! The most surreal moment was riding into an open pasture within the jungle and being among hundreds of cows, horses, sheep, and villagers. It was a scene right out of a movie. I couldn't believe what I was doing. It was so liberating. We finally rode through the jungle to the waterfall. There we got off our horses and got to take a look. Then we got back on and rode to the water to see the hippos. That part was so much fun because once we could see the rest of our group our guides let us take off on our own. We didn't run full speed but at least we got to ride at a smoother and faster pace than a trot. When we got to the coast we were escorted to the rocks at the very edge and the guides began to call out to the hippos. Within seconds three hippos popped up in the distance. I don't know what sound the men were making, but it piqued the hippos' interest and they were actually coming closer. Incredible. Seeing the hippos in the wild like that was simply incredible. As the sky began to darken with an approaching storm we made our way back to the horses. The first group rode back while the rest of us had to walk. It was actually a nice walk. We had our escorts with spears so we were "safe." (We laughed at how trusting we were with the natives.) One of the boys with a spear apparently hadn't been a part of the horseback riding package and decided to part ways when the evening came to a conclusion; he simply said bye and headed home...into the jungle.

Upon our arrival at the lodge we quickly grabbed showers and headed to dinner. A nice long dinner gave us plenty of time to think back to the last twenty-four hours and realize what an incredible adventure we had had. Words can hardly describe how awesome it was and I can't believe it was just yesterday! It feels as if it were a dream. After dinner we piled into one of the rooms and played guitar and sang praise worship (we managed to haul the guitar with us too.) This morning we got up early, packed, and ate breakfast before we hiked back out the way we came (except this time a shortcut.) When our account was settled we had each spent approximately 900 birr -- $90 for everything: room, transportation, food, excursions. The best money ever spent.

On our way home I predicted that the mouse had been captured. Sure enough, when we got back I heard a scream and the mouse was stuck to the glue trap. Sadly, he was still alive. Matt decided that the most humane way to kill him was to behead him with an axe. Thus ends the saga of the menacing mouse. The perfect ending to a perfect weekend.