Sunglasses and Tippy Taps

Sunglasses and Tippy Taps

While we were in that same village of Mino Geltie giving Uree the wheelchair, we had another fun thing happen. I had brought along some sunglasses donated by our friends Adele and Francois (Thanks, Atlas in Africa) I offered a pair to a Hamer women who looked at them suspiciously, then let me put them on her face. A big smile lit up her face! Then, ALL the women wanted a pair!  It was so much fun, and I’m sure you will agree that these are some pretty ‘hip’ Hamer women now!

Last October, our two visitors from America (Jen and Lauren) came with us to Turmi and conducted a Health and Sanitation training session for about 30 Hamer women in Mino Geltie. They taught some basic sanitation ideas like hand washing with soap and water.

They also built a Tippy Tap to demonstrate how they can sparingly use their precious water and still wash hands properly. If you don’t know what a Tippy Tap is, go to our website and check it out. www.projectethiopia.net

Anyway, while on this last trip to bring out the wheelchair, I checked up the women to see if any of them had followed through on the previous training. I was happy to see that 5 of them had already built their own Tippy Taps next to their houses. They proudly showed them off to me and told me that their families now used them regularly, but unfortunately, now there is no soap available in the market. So they are using wood ash and water. Next time I am bringing several boxes of soap for them!

Wheelchair for Uree

Wheelchair for Uree 

Last year I put out a request on FB asking if someone could buy a wheelchair for a boy named Uree. He lives in a very remote Hamer village called Mino Geltie. This boy uses his arms to drag himself through the dirt to get to where he wants to go. He is also mildly retarded. No one cares for this boy so the evangelist Cheneke and his family take care of him. After posting my request on FB within hours someone offered to buy the chair. (Thanks, Andreason family!) The chair was purchased from Tanzania- a rugged, rural designed chair especially for the bush. However, when it came time to ship it to Ethiopia, we found out that the shipping cost was misquoted and was actually $400USD  . So I again put out a call for help and my friend Jana and her sunday school class (Thanks, Flint Baptist Church) responded with the shipping costs. The chair was then flown to Addis Ababa where it sat in the customs office for one month due to a clerical error. My friends in Addis, Bob and Betty, were to pick the chair up from customs and hold it for me until I could make the 9 hr. journey up to Addis. Unfortunately, Ethiopia does not recognize nicknames and since my friends names are actually Robert and Bethel, they would not release the chair. Betty made numerous trips to them trying to get the chair released, standing in lines for hours each time, making phone calls-to no avail. Finally, I was able to come to Addis and Betty and I went to do battle with Ethiopian bureaucracy! Eight hours later and several ‘interventions from God’  we had the chair!  It really was a miracle that we got it at all. We ‘just happened’ to bump into a customs employee who suggested we try another way. We found the offices closed but one light was still on, so we barged in and found the head of customs still in his office. He listened to our plight (and my tears!) and wrote us a letter to release the chair! After paying for ‘storage’ of the chair for that month, we loaded up the precious chair and were on our way!

So last sunday we drove the 9 hours down to Turmi for the Big Event- Uree gets his chair!

We pulled into the remote village where he lives and Uree came dragging himself out to greet us. I wish I could describe the smile on his face when he saw that chair! He just beamed!! The villagers all gathered around and were curious and also genuinely happy that he had this wonderful new chair. It had taken almost 6 months to get this chair to Uree, but it was worth every minute of frustration and aggravation as we watched him roll himself around the yard, smiling all the while.

What a great day that was- I am putting some video and photos on FB and this blog so you can see for yourself the good things that can happen when people care enough to try and help each other. I hope you feel the joy-because you are partners with us in all this-Tom and I are only the hands and the feet- we are your representatives over here in the bush.

You all made this happen!  God bless you all........

Nomadic Conference April 1-4 2012

Nomadic Conference       April 1-4 2012

Recently I had the privilege to attend a conference at Lake Babagoya in northern Ethiopia. I say ‘privilege’  because Dr. Malcolm Hunter was the conference leader and spending several days with this guy truly is a privilege. Dr. Hunter has devoted his life to the nomadic peoples of the world- the lost and forgotten ones of this planet. ‘Settled people’ or those who live in villages or towns, are the first and sometimes only people who receive the gospel message. The same goes for financial aid- whether from foreign governments or their own. But nobody goes after the poorest of the poor-those who travel with their animals in search of grazing land-the nomadic pastoralists. 

I admit, I never gave them a second thought before coming to ethiopia-I don’t even think I knew they really existed anymore. But they do- and there are millions of them- in Africa, Mongolia, Pakistan, and many other places in the world.

And they are all people just like us- with families and a social organization, with dreams and ambitions and a sense of humor--in short, they are people, too!

So here are some things I learned about this important and mainly forgotten people group:

Nomads have no land security. They do not have a paper title to any land. Therefore, they are constantly being challenged as to where they graze. If a rival tribe attacks them they will try and flee to escape having their animals taken from them. So they are always on the move- with no permanent dwelling places. Nomads do not make their wealth from planting  crops.Their wealth is ‘on the hoof’ - derived from their animals, only. 

There are 3 types of nomads:

• nomadic pastoralists- they herd their animals, follow the rainfall
• hunter-gatherers- live in forests, eat berries,honey and wildlife
• service nomads- move around offering their skill as blacksmiths,tanners, ferriers, etc..

Nomads are resourceful and flexible- they will do whatever is necessary to survive. When the rains are sparse, some of the nomads will go live in towns so as not to strain their meager water source that they have for the animals and people. Then, when the rains return or increase, they will go back to their people and be reunited with families.

So there is a continual ‘urban ebb and flow’ to areas. ‘Range management’ is another term I learned. The wise old men of the tribe make the decision as to how long this particular source of water will last. When must they begin to move the herd to another source of water? This is a matter of experience gained over generations--they know what time of year a particular spring of water will surface and where. Malcolm told a poignant story of a year that was particularly dry. He happened to be at the Weyto river (in the southern omo region of ethiopia) one day, when many herds of desperately thirsty cattle and men started arriving. They had traveled for days with no water- desperate to reach the Weyto and quench their thirst. But the river was dry!  Malcolm said he will never forget the looks of despair on the mens faces when he saw their hope disappear. Death was now certain for all their cattle-all their wealth- even some of the people as well. I had never given rain much thought when I lived in the US. Rain was always more of an inconvenience to my plans than anything else. But that was before I moved to Ethiopia. Now I know that for many people, their very survival depends on rain. Funny how a change in my location can have such a change in my outlook on things. Now when the rain comes, I say along with my ethiopian friends, “Thank you Jesus!”.

Hospitality is a major part of their lifestyle. Anyone wandering through is welcomed into their homes for food and rest. If a mans’ herd is decimated by disaster or disease, the other nomads will each give from their own herds to re-stock him. Nomads share and care for each other- this is their own particular brand of social security as well. They know they will be taken care of by the tribe.

Malcolm made the comment that Jesus was a nomad!  I never really thought about it like that- but Jesus was always on the move. He never had a home to settle down into. He went from place to place talking to people. Jesus was all about relationships. He took the time to live and eat and tell stories among the people where He was. He developed friendships with them. We should learn from His example. Jesus didn’t say “come to my church- we have a really big building” or “Come to my Bible study group- we have coffee and donuts too!”   He said, simply, “Follow Me”. Another way to look at it is that when Jesus said follow me, that implies that He is always on the move ahead of us. He is leading- we are following- at least thats the way it SHOULD be! (sometimes, well....actually many times, WE tend to lead......!) But wherever we go, or whatever we are involved in-Jesus has already been there ahead of us. Nothing that happens to us is out of His knowledge or care. We should take great comfort in that truth--and get up and get moving!

We also discussed ways that we can be sensitive to the different way that nomads will begin to build their church. As one nomad told Malcolm-” we nomads will not be interested in your church unless we can take it on the back of our camels”.  So it is senseless to build a permanent stone type of building for these people. They must be allowed to develop their church based on relationships rather than real estate. So a humble and sensitive heart is what is necessary for future nomadic missionaries. They must let the nomads themselves define their church and gently walk alongside them and help.

A word about these pictures from Babagoya. The early missionaries built this place. It was their own little shangri-la--an escape from the harshness of the lands in which they ministered. In those days, travel was prohibitive and they could not afford to take a ship back to England or Australia or wherever they came from for furlough. And yet they needed some rest from their labors.....we all do from time to time. So they built this place on the shores of Lake Babagoya. Planting many trees and flowers, building little cabins and pathways...bit by bit they transformed it into the lush little hideaway it now is.

Thank you to all those early pioneers who had the foresight to do that! I was able to rest and reap the benefit of their labors.

Markus and me

Markus and me

Markus is 10 years old and lives by himself on the streets. His mother died years ago. His father lives in a distant city. He has no one. He survives by shining shoes. He is a mischievious kid-with a ready smile--and I think he is a bit of a rascal--he must be pretty resourceful in order to survive on his own....

We met on the busy streets of Arba Minch. We always draw a crowd especially when driving my bajaj-Tom likes to scare the little kids by motioning to them and encouraging them to come closer to him and then he yells Argghh!! at them. They usually scream but laugh as they run away.  Once he did it to a young boy (Markus) who even though he was startled and jumped- he was a good sport about it. What was funny though was that a few days later as Tom was driving the bajaj down the street Markus jumped out at TOM and yelled Argghh!!  We’ve been friends ever since!

Whenever I drive into town, Markus would find me within minutes. He speaks absolutely no english except “ Yes”.  A typical conversation goes something like this: “Markus how are you today?” Yes. “Markus, can you watch my bajaj today?” Yes. “Markus, can you do brain surgery?” Yes. 

So communication between us  is difficult- it has taken several different people to translate and get what little information I do know out of him.

  So I started asking him to be my guard- my zebunya- while I did my shopping in the market. He loves to sit in the bajaj and feel important- and when I take him with me as I do my errands he never misses an opportunity to shout out at his friends as we pass them on the streets. Sometimes I drive fast and zig zag all over the road and he laughs and laughs. 

One day, I was sitting in a cafe trying to access the internet on my computer. Markus hailed me from the street and gestured he wanted to sit in my bajaj. I gave him the OK and he happily piled his shoe shine kit into the bajaj and took his place as ‘guard’.

I went back to work on the computer. Suddenly I heard a commotion out by the bajaj and saw a man hitting Markus with a stick! A crowd had gathered and I went charging out there shouting to leave him alone! Markus was standing his ground but crying and

I got between him and the man and grabbed my own stick that I keep in the bajaj and told the man that Markus was my zebunya and he was supposed to be there and he should be ashamed of himself hitting a small boy etc...Of course who knows if he understood english but my actions were pretty clear I think! Anyway, Markus was pointing to his bottom and he pulled down his ragged little shorts and I gasped-

there was a jagged gash on his buttock and three crooked stitches. Obviously this had happened a few days ago but the man unknowingly had hit him there with his stick and that was why he was crying so much! I immediately put Markus into the bajaj and took him to the hospital. The doctor told me that the wound was already infected and so he couldn’t stitch the wound up and all we could do was to give him some penicillin and try to keep the wound clean and bandaged. Apparently there had been a fight and someone had cut him with a knife. He had one of his shoeshine buddies try and stitch him up with some coarse thread. Poor little guy......no mother to soothe him or take care of him.

In Ethiopia the clinics and hospitals do not have any medicine on the premises. It is the patients responsibility to go get the medicine at a pharmacy and bring it back to the doctor to administer. So I went to get the penicillin and syringes. The nurse explained to Markus what she was going to do- made more complicated by the fact that his mother language is not Amharic but Gamo ( a different tribe) The government has declared Amharic the national language, but since there are 82 different tribal languages in Ethiopia- it is taking a while before the population has one central language.

Anyway, she gave him a shot of penicillin and told him he would be feeling much better now.

Then, the unthinkable happened! Unknown to anyone, Markus was allergic to penicillin- he started  having a reaction. The nurse recognized what was happening and got him back up on the table and gave him the antidote injection. Meantime, I was holding him down and saying ‘wodeshallo’ (I love you) over and over and praying “Dear God, dont let me have just killed this little boy!”

He recovered and then began a week long course of him going to the clinic every day to have his wound and bandage cleaned and changed. Of course I had to go buy the bandages and bring them to the clinic first. Then he had to take some antibiotic pills every few hours. Well, that posed a problem because he had no pockets to keep his medicine in. He only had one pair of raggedy shorts and a torn tshirt. So off we went to the market to buy him a pair of pants with pockets! His eyes lit up over a pair of jeans and a matching jacket-he pleaded with his big brown eyes and his cute little smile- so how could I say no after all that he had been through? The little rascal grinned and strutted around in his new duds. 

So everyday I would drive to town and check to see if he had gone to the clinic to have the bandage changed. From that time on he started calling me ‘mommy’ and whenever he would catch sight of me he would run up grinning calling me mommy and hug me and kiss me.  I guess I am his mommy now. I dont mind at all.

In fact, it is so hard not to take him home with me, but I know that would not be a good thing for him. For one thing, there is the language barrier- and also if he gets to live in ‘disneyland’  for a while, what happens when we leave someday-and he is forced to go back to the streets? That wouldn’t be fair to him....so I am praying that a particular family I know of here will take him in. They are a wonderful Christian family and Markus needs a mother and father who can speak his language and teach him things- somone who can love him and comfort and encourage him.....so my hopes are leaning in that direction. Already I have orchestrated several ‘chance’ meetings between them and they seem to like each other. Next week we are having dinner at their house to introduce him to where they live. Then we will approach Markus with the idea of him living with them. 

I hope that the idea of belonging to a family will outweigh the freedom he has of being on his own. Maybe it is too late for him to function in a family setting? I hope not...he deserves to be a little boy for a while and let a family take care of him for a change.

Please pray for him and that he will be willing to try this arrangement.

grace through trials.....

I'm not sure how to categorize this post or how to title it. Something happened last week that Tom and I will never forget. Wednesday morning, a farenji (foreigner) friend of ours phoned Tom sobbing and crying.."Tom-come now-come quick- my son is dead." We jumped into our pickup truck and sped down to his farm, not knowing what we would find. A heart attack maybe? A tractor accident? We prayed that whatever it was, that we would be a source of comfort to our friend. But we were completely unprepared for what we saw. His son (age 29) was dead of a gunshot wound to the head. We arrived before the police did. We saw his body, leaning over his lap with his hands tucked in his lap. Sitting on the edge of his bed. Blood everywhere. Was it murder or suicide? No one seemed to know. The father paced around outside, chain smoking and eyes brimming with tears- asking the inevitable question: "why?"  When the police arrived, they respectfully approached the house and tentatively opened the door. As they peered inside, they all burst into tears and cried unashamedly. That surprised me. But I realized that that is the way that Ethiopians show compassion for others' sorrow. Even the police. There were around 70 farm employees squatting in groups around the house, speaking quietly, some crying. He was well liked by them all. The police did their investigation-taking fingerprints and removing the bed and even a wall as evidence. I felt like I was watching an episode of CSI. But there were no easy answers- to some it looked like a murder that was made to look like a suicide.....who knows?
But then our friend asked us to transport the body to Addis Ababa( the only place in the country that can do an autopsy on a foreigner)  So we loaded his body in a wooden box and began the 9 hr drive to the capital. A car filled with policemen followed us and we drove through the night, arriving in Addis at 3 am
at the morgue. Another experience I will never forget. I won't describe what we saw there. It was too sad for words. And then the sister arrived from Italy- more tears as she saw her brother lying on the morgue table......
I don't know why we were a part of all this- I only know that living in Ethiopia has offered us challenges that we never could have anticipated. And only Jesus can give us the strength and the grace to cope with it and to see it through........please pray for this devastated family.....

Joy and Sorrow....

Many days my heart is filled with joy- especially when it comes to the little babies I get ‘to love on’ here. Some of you have sent beautiful, ‘gently worn’ baby clothes and shoes and I have had the joy of passing them out. The mothers grab the new clothes to their breasts and shriek with joy and say “thank you Jesus” over and over. Then they hurridly pull off the rags their baby is wearing and put on the clean new clothes. They are so proud of them! Such darling little babies-all of them! 

But other days are much harder. Yesterday was one of them.

I took our friend Asfaw to the local hospital to get treatment for his eyes. When I came out of the clinic I noticed there was a group of people gathered around next to my bajaj.

I went to investigate and there I found a small, still bundle in a mans’ arms. It was a dead child- probably only three years old. Snakebit. They had brought the child to the hospital from their rural village, but it died before they arrived. The mother was sitting in the dirt-crying and moaning-her friends holding her in their arms. The father, with vacant eyes-holding his dead child in his arms. My heart broke for them.....life is so hard here.

At times, I can hardly bear how they live. What can I do?  I cried with them and hugged them and offered what small words of comfort I know in Amharic. I gave them money to hire a truck to take them and their child back to their village for burial. I gave them some bottles of water for their sad journey. All I can hope is that whatever amount of compassion that Jesus put in my heart for them, was felt by them-and that they would know that there is a Comforter who loves them like no other. I don’t know how some people live who have no hope of Heaven. How they can live, believing that this life is all there is.......Please keep this family and others like them in your thoughts and prayers- for strength to endure this hard life they face---and also offer up thanksgiving to God who has blessed you with the life you have.

From 'buckboard to rocketship!' Our brand new truck!!

This has been a big day for us. Today we got our brand new Toyota Land Cruiser pick up truck.
 Thanks to the generosity of an anonymous donor, and the many prayers offered up for our traveling safety- we are now riding in a safe, dependable vehicle that will be able to take us anywhere!
All we can do is give praise to our awesome God for taking care of us!!  When we have told our story to the other missionaries staying here in Addis at the SIM Guesthouse- they just marvel and say "praise the Lord". I mean, what else IS there to say? A man that we have never met-who doesn't know us, only about us- wanted to help. He can't go to Ethiopia himself- but he loves God enough to want to help in His Kingdom work. So he sent us a check- a BIG check. With no strings attached. No craving for  recognition, no bronze plaque with his name on it.......wow.
But he is wrong about one thing, though.  He IS in Ethiopia after all,  because whatever we do through Project Ethiopia couldn't have been done without his help.
So, whoever you are- I hope you know how much we appreciate you, and we promise to be good stewards of this gift you have entrusted with us.

And to all of the rest of you who are faithful to pray for us, and follow our FaceBook page and read our blog---thank you so much and may God bless you all !