Wednesday, March 12, 2008
He said, "Yes!"
Silas, the dad of the Sifuna kids, agreed without any objection to join the alcohol rehab program that'll start tomorrow in Ilula. That's a huge answer to prayer! Yeah God!
Before and After
Just thought to post a new photo of the Sifuna kids, and one from the first day I got to visit them last July. Their dad will be challenged tomorrow to join our AA program that starts this week, Thursday. Please join me in praying that Silas will indeed be willing to join the program! Mama Chiri will be taking care of the children during the time when Silas will be in rehab. I should be able to let you know by Thursday if he's in or not!
Sights and Sounds of Kipkaren Tonight
Tonight, after dinner, I walked over to greet the kids. I was very thankful that I had remembered my torch (translate: that's a flashlight in British English), 'cause the moon was but a sliver in the sky. I wouldn't've been able to see the bumpy road at all, had it not been for my light. Not that I've not walked the road in the pitch dark before. It just goes much slower then, especially in the parts where I know the potholes are. :)
It seemed like crickets, frogs and a plethora of other bugs were going at it tonight, singing their hearts out. I could even hear the river. Across the river, on the hill, neighbors were burning their field, preparing it for planting new maize soon. Both the sounds and this sight reminded me of but a month or so ago when you could hear emergency cries throughout the village, and it wasn't fields burning but homes.
Most of the older kids were in evening study hall, so it was just the young 'uns in their rooms. "Hodi?" I'd call at every room. "Karibu, Adele!" they'd shout and get up from the table in the center of the room where they were reading.
The kids here pronounce my name funny, so to imagine their little helium voices, you've got to say it like they do: Ah-tel!
And then, one by one, they'd give me hugs.
"Habari zenu?" (How are all of you?)
"Mzuri!" (Fine!)
"Habari ya shule?" (How's school?)
"Mzuri!"
And so on and so forth. You have to ask about everything. School. Your brothers and sisters. The dorm parents. Their exams. Then bring greetings. From their friends at Ilula, especially. Their little faces lit up every time I told the different room that their brothers and sisters in llula send greetings, that they've been praying for them, that they miss them. And that I've missed them, too.
"Even us, we've missed you," they'd say.
But unlike at Ilula where the kids are much more used to me and tend to ask a million questions (this past weekend's questions included "Why is Israel attacking Palestine?" "How does inflation work?" "What's the smallest country in Africa?" "When are the Kipkaren kids coming to visit us?" "When will you be coming back to see us?" "Will we see a movie then?" "Can we see the Bushmen movie again?" "Where were all your classmates from?" "Is there a war in Angola?" "Have you been to Angola yet?" "How long can the South African president be in office before he has to retire?"), the Kipkaren kids wait for me to ask them questions.
It could simply be that the bigger kids who can actually hold a decent conversation in English are usually at study hall when I go to visit, and since my conversational Swahili is more limited than their English, we don't usually visit too long.
"Welcome again," they'd say when I leave. "Karibu tena!"
It seems like such a futile practise, really, just popping in for a while, chatting about their homework, looking at their test papers, giving out hugs, but every mom I ran into afterwards was telling me, "The kids told me you came to visit. They are so excited." I guess it's the mere fact that someone not in their direct family circle cares enough to come and say good-night, to come and give out hugs.
Ziporah, one of the moms I ran into, invited me in for chai. I promised to come back later in the week as I had already told Emily that I'll come for chai. I want to go and visit with Ziporah. She told me briefly about life the past 2 months, about her family having lost their homes in our area, about how painful it is to walk past where her mom used to live and see only the charred remains of their home, to see neighbors wearing her brothers' clothing...
Later, after chai at Emily's, I pop my head into the last home to say good-night. The older kids are still at school. It's shortly before 9. "What are you going to do now, Adele?" one kid asks.
"I'm going to study," I explain. The little ones giggle. They cannot imagine me having to study at night. (And really, I do have to read at least a few chapters from one of my texts tonight. Just wanted to be sure to write an update first.)
When I walk back home, the stars starting to fill the sky from horizon to horizon, it is with a song of praise in my heart for these little ones, for little Dennis who wanted to read me every word on his test page in his raspy voice, for Rooney who giggled when I recognized him in the dark, for Eulita who just about knocked me over she ran so fast to hug my legs.
For a long time, I didn't want these kids to get too close, to take the space in my heart of my kids in Ilula. But more and more I realize that there truly is space for all of them. All 200.
It seemed like crickets, frogs and a plethora of other bugs were going at it tonight, singing their hearts out. I could even hear the river. Across the river, on the hill, neighbors were burning their field, preparing it for planting new maize soon. Both the sounds and this sight reminded me of but a month or so ago when you could hear emergency cries throughout the village, and it wasn't fields burning but homes.
Most of the older kids were in evening study hall, so it was just the young 'uns in their rooms. "Hodi?" I'd call at every room. "Karibu, Adele!" they'd shout and get up from the table in the center of the room where they were reading.
The kids here pronounce my name funny, so to imagine their little helium voices, you've got to say it like they do: Ah-tel!
And then, one by one, they'd give me hugs.
"Habari zenu?" (How are all of you?)
"Mzuri!" (Fine!)
"Habari ya shule?" (How's school?)
"Mzuri!"
And so on and so forth. You have to ask about everything. School. Your brothers and sisters. The dorm parents. Their exams. Then bring greetings. From their friends at Ilula, especially. Their little faces lit up every time I told the different room that their brothers and sisters in llula send greetings, that they've been praying for them, that they miss them. And that I've missed them, too.
"Even us, we've missed you," they'd say.
But unlike at Ilula where the kids are much more used to me and tend to ask a million questions (this past weekend's questions included "Why is Israel attacking Palestine?" "How does inflation work?" "What's the smallest country in Africa?" "When are the Kipkaren kids coming to visit us?" "When will you be coming back to see us?" "Will we see a movie then?" "Can we see the Bushmen movie again?" "Where were all your classmates from?" "Is there a war in Angola?" "Have you been to Angola yet?" "How long can the South African president be in office before he has to retire?"), the Kipkaren kids wait for me to ask them questions.
It could simply be that the bigger kids who can actually hold a decent conversation in English are usually at study hall when I go to visit, and since my conversational Swahili is more limited than their English, we don't usually visit too long.
"Welcome again," they'd say when I leave. "Karibu tena!"
It seems like such a futile practise, really, just popping in for a while, chatting about their homework, looking at their test papers, giving out hugs, but every mom I ran into afterwards was telling me, "The kids told me you came to visit. They are so excited." I guess it's the mere fact that someone not in their direct family circle cares enough to come and say good-night, to come and give out hugs.
Ziporah, one of the moms I ran into, invited me in for chai. I promised to come back later in the week as I had already told Emily that I'll come for chai. I want to go and visit with Ziporah. She told me briefly about life the past 2 months, about her family having lost their homes in our area, about how painful it is to walk past where her mom used to live and see only the charred remains of their home, to see neighbors wearing her brothers' clothing...
Later, after chai at Emily's, I pop my head into the last home to say good-night. The older kids are still at school. It's shortly before 9. "What are you going to do now, Adele?" one kid asks.
"I'm going to study," I explain. The little ones giggle. They cannot imagine me having to study at night. (And really, I do have to read at least a few chapters from one of my texts tonight. Just wanted to be sure to write an update first.)
When I walk back home, the stars starting to fill the sky from horizon to horizon, it is with a song of praise in my heart for these little ones, for little Dennis who wanted to read me every word on his test page in his raspy voice, for Rooney who giggled when I recognized him in the dark, for Eulita who just about knocked me over she ran so fast to hug my legs.
For a long time, I didn't want these kids to get too close, to take the space in my heart of my kids in Ilula. But more and more I realize that there truly is space for all of them. All 200.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Merry Christmas?
Well, it sort of feels like Christmas here. I took two colleagues to town today to run some errands, and when I stopped by our (new) office in town, there was a whole stack of Christmas mail waiting for me! I had received some Christmas cards before going to Ethiopia, but today, I received more cards and Christmas letters, all of which had gotten lost in the post-election violence craziness.
Since people are still greeting one another with "Happy New Year!" around here, getting Christmas mail shouldn't be unusual.
Since people are still greeting one another with "Happy New Year!" around here, getting Christmas mail shouldn't be unusual.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Highs and Lows from the Past Two Days
- (H) Being back in the Eldoret area, in my own car!
- (L) Being weary of the young guys on the side of the road, wondering if they were part of the mobs that burned down homes, cars, and chased away neighbors.
- (L) Seeing several homes and businesses in the Ilula neighborhood burned to the ground.
- (H) Seeing the kids! I stopped by the Sifunas' home first to greet them, and then went to Ilula. I hadn't seen those kids since their Christmas party. They came running, shouting "Adele! Adele!" when I pulled into the Ilula compound.
- (H) Giving and receiving hundred-some hugs! Each and every child came to hug me.
- (L) Not seeing little Kanmau... I found out later that he's down with toncillitis, and was able to go and see him today.
- (H) Seeing many of the staff. They're amazing people, really. The night watchmen came to my house to greet me and announced joyfully, "Happy New Year, Adele!" Due to the post-election violence, many people are really celebrating now for the first time that it's a new year...
- (H) Having dinner at the Ronos' home.
- (L) Hearing from them some of the details of all that had transpired around the Ilula area...
- (H) Catching up with Don and Amy by phone.
- (L) Waking up to terrible winds blowing for what seemed like hours throughout the night! And since this is the height of the dry season, the dust finds its way into everything. My counters, plates, cups, everything was covered in a thin layer of red dust this morning. Yes, yes, the windows were closed.
- (H) Hearing the kids sing worship songs at the top of their lungs during Sunday school.
- (L) Seeing the kids' faces when they realized I was really leaving again for Kipkaren...
- (L) Seeing more of the devastation in the neighborhood and all along the way to Kipkaren.
- (H) Seeing friends and neighbors at Kipkaren.
- (H) Being welcomed home by Flannel. She's not the most affectionate cat around, but she literally came to sit with her front paws on my feet as if to say, "Don't go away again!"
- (H) Getting all my stuff unpacked and my new picture hung.
- (H) Having incredible chicken parmesan with rice and crunchy green beans at William and Michelle's house.
- (H) Getting to bed at a decent hour. Or so I hope, at least.
- (L) Having issues trying to post photos along with this entry. Click on the pictures on the right to see some photos from Ilula.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Some favorite photos from Ethiopia
To see more photos from Ethiopia, click on the photos to the right.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Deep thoughts by Adele
Here's my profound thought for the day: I just don't get how anyone can use a bathroom, finish a roll of TP, and not replace it with a new roll. Even when there's a whole little row of new rolls dangling right next to them. Really. What blows my mind even more is when someone actually takes out one of those new little rolls, uses it, and carefully balances it on top of the TP dispenser.
C'mon!
I know: It's things like these that force some couples to get serious counseling. Honestly though. Why would you not replace the TP? (I'll refrain from commenting on what side I believe should be facing you. Or then again, I might as well, since I brought it up. I never used to think twice about which side a roll should face. Till a very particular colleague in a former workplace pointed out to possibly the entire department one day that it's obvious that the end should dangle on the FRONT of the roll, so you'd unroll it towards you, not away from you since it simply makes more sense that way. And since then, I actually make a point of inserting new rolls with the end facing outward. Not that it really matters, I think. It's a random, acquired habit.)
In case you're wondering, this is far from one of my major pet peeves. It's just something I wonder about every time I'm in someplace like the missionary guest house in Nairobi.
Deep thoughts, I know. My head cold is keeping me from thinking more profound thoughts today.
C'mon!
I know: It's things like these that force some couples to get serious counseling. Honestly though. Why would you not replace the TP? (I'll refrain from commenting on what side I believe should be facing you. Or then again, I might as well, since I brought it up. I never used to think twice about which side a roll should face. Till a very particular colleague in a former workplace pointed out to possibly the entire department one day that it's obvious that the end should dangle on the FRONT of the roll, so you'd unroll it towards you, not away from you since it simply makes more sense that way. And since then, I actually make a point of inserting new rolls with the end facing outward. Not that it really matters, I think. It's a random, acquired habit.)
In case you're wondering, this is far from one of my major pet peeves. It's just something I wonder about every time I'm in someplace like the missionary guest house in Nairobi.
Deep thoughts, I know. My head cold is keeping me from thinking more profound thoughts today.
Here's the Deal
Below are the details of the power-sharing deal signed by the government and opposition last week. It's hard to believe that getting both parties to agree to these eight points cost the country so dearly.
- The post of prime minister will be created, with the holder having the authority to co-ordinate and supervise the execution of government functions.
- The prime minister will be an elected member of parliament and the parliamentary leader of the largest party in the National Assembly, or of a coalition if the largest party does not command a majority in parliament.
- Two deputy prime ministers to be appointed, one to be nominated by each member of the coalition.
- The prime minister and deputy prime ministers can only be removed if the National Assembly passes a motion of no-confidence with a majority vote.
- A cabinet to consist of a president, vice-president, prime minister, two deputy prime ministers and other ministers.
- The removal of a minister of the coalition will be subject to consultation and agreement in writing by the leaders.
- The composition of the coalition government will at all times take into account the principle of portfolio balance, and reflect the parties' relative parliamentary strengths.
- The coalition will be dissolved if the current parliament is dissolved; or if the parties agree in writing; or if one coalition partner withdraws from the coalition.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Oh, the joys of international travel
I've flown Ethiopian Airlines (ET) six times in my life. Of this rather small sampling of their services, I've not been impressed. They have yet to prove to me that they are capable of having an on-time departure.
This morning's flight to Nairobi was rather comical, quite honestly. The check-in area was semi-chaotic. There was a group of 30-some cyclists on the same flight as I. They are riding from Cairo to Cape Town, but are skipping Kenya due to the unrest. So they rode to the border, bussed back to Addis, and are flying to Arusha. (Some are taking a detour to Uganda, or Lalibela.)
Either way, they can't be the reason for the chaos. They're just ordinary passengers, like I am. Their bikes were being carted by road, so that didn't cause a delay. But every so often, an ET official steps up and calls all the passengers going to such-and-such a place to urgently step up. When it came to "Passengers to Nairobi/Kilimanjaro," the guy's eyes just grew big when he saw that there were still several of us in line.
We finally made it through check-in, headed through customs and then upstairs, falling in line for the second X-ray, one at the gate. This took ages, and soon enough, a semi-frantic officer was walking up and down again, calling, "Passengers to Nairobi/Kilimanjaro?!" He then diverted us through a different gate (1A) to ours (1), but soon we were all herded back to 1A again, downstairs, and told to form one line. (Except, you cannot get roughly 250 people to form a single line in a small room.)
And then ensued a huge argument. One group of ground staff were confronting a second group for bringing us down too early. (By then, however, it was already past boarding time.) Their fight continued for a good 20 minutes easily, until they herded us onto busses, carted us off to a plane on the other side of the runway, where we sat again for another 15 minutes or so.
When the captain finally addressed us, he didn't even find it necessary to apologize for the delay and any inconvenience it may have caused. C'est la vie, right?
Fortunately, I didn't have a connecting flight. I really wasn't in a terrible hurry. Just wanted to get to my destination for today: a colleague's home in Nairobi.
But first, I had to
a) find both pieces of checked luggage (one piece, the one with my toiletries and my books in), seemed to have been left behind in the rush of getting out of Addis, or it wasn't unloaded from the plane and was en route to Kilimanjaro. They promised it would be here tonight. (Which it isn't. They're hoping it will be on tomorrow's flight. I'm REALLY hoping it is on that flight. All my clean clothes are in there!)
b) go to the British Airways office to follow up on a damaged luggage claim from 11 months ago. For the past just-less-than-a-year, BA has been telling me, "Come back next time." But praise God for the supervisor I got to talk to today. She apologized for the delay in getting my luggage back to me and asked me to go and purchase a new bag and bring her the receipt tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, my other piece of luggage will have made it from Addis, well rested and possibly fluent in Amharic.
All that to say: It's good to be back in Kenya. There's a definite change in atmosphere here! But my taxi driver on the ride from the airport was quick to tell me, "It would be difficult to trust our neighbors again! In fact, we were very ready for war last week!"
I'm working on a follow-up project for class in the city this week, after which I'll be returning to the village. I especially look forward to seeing the kids in Ilula. It has been far too long since I've seen them. My heart truly longs to sit with them and hear their stories, to hear what they felt, to pray with them, and to laugh with them.
It's good to be back, though some uncertainty about the way toward healing in Kenya still lingers.
P.S. A day later and I have my second piece of luggage back (it had indeed stayed on for perhaps a massage in Addis), and I got a debit card from BA today for the cost of a new piece of luggage. Nice. Very nice.
This morning's flight to Nairobi was rather comical, quite honestly. The check-in area was semi-chaotic. There was a group of 30-some cyclists on the same flight as I. They are riding from Cairo to Cape Town, but are skipping Kenya due to the unrest. So they rode to the border, bussed back to Addis, and are flying to Arusha. (Some are taking a detour to Uganda, or Lalibela.)
Either way, they can't be the reason for the chaos. They're just ordinary passengers, like I am. Their bikes were being carted by road, so that didn't cause a delay. But every so often, an ET official steps up and calls all the passengers going to such-and-such a place to urgently step up. When it came to "Passengers to Nairobi/Kilimanjaro," the guy's eyes just grew big when he saw that there were still several of us in line.
We finally made it through check-in, headed through customs and then upstairs, falling in line for the second X-ray, one at the gate. This took ages, and soon enough, a semi-frantic officer was walking up and down again, calling, "Passengers to Nairobi/Kilimanjaro?!" He then diverted us through a different gate (1A) to ours (1), but soon we were all herded back to 1A again, downstairs, and told to form one line. (Except, you cannot get roughly 250 people to form a single line in a small room.)
And then ensued a huge argument. One group of ground staff were confronting a second group for bringing us down too early. (By then, however, it was already past boarding time.) Their fight continued for a good 20 minutes easily, until they herded us onto busses, carted us off to a plane on the other side of the runway, where we sat again for another 15 minutes or so.
When the captain finally addressed us, he didn't even find it necessary to apologize for the delay and any inconvenience it may have caused. C'est la vie, right?
Fortunately, I didn't have a connecting flight. I really wasn't in a terrible hurry. Just wanted to get to my destination for today: a colleague's home in Nairobi.
But first, I had to
a) find both pieces of checked luggage (one piece, the one with my toiletries and my books in), seemed to have been left behind in the rush of getting out of Addis, or it wasn't unloaded from the plane and was en route to Kilimanjaro. They promised it would be here tonight. (Which it isn't. They're hoping it will be on tomorrow's flight. I'm REALLY hoping it is on that flight. All my clean clothes are in there!)
b) go to the British Airways office to follow up on a damaged luggage claim from 11 months ago. For the past just-less-than-a-year, BA has been telling me, "Come back next time." But praise God for the supervisor I got to talk to today. She apologized for the delay in getting my luggage back to me and asked me to go and purchase a new bag and bring her the receipt tomorrow. Hopefully, by then, my other piece of luggage will have made it from Addis, well rested and possibly fluent in Amharic.
All that to say: It's good to be back in Kenya. There's a definite change in atmosphere here! But my taxi driver on the ride from the airport was quick to tell me, "It would be difficult to trust our neighbors again! In fact, we were very ready for war last week!"
I'm working on a follow-up project for class in the city this week, after which I'll be returning to the village. I especially look forward to seeing the kids in Ilula. It has been far too long since I've seen them. My heart truly longs to sit with them and hear their stories, to hear what they felt, to pray with them, and to laugh with them.
It's good to be back, though some uncertainty about the way toward healing in Kenya still lingers.
P.S. A day later and I have my second piece of luggage back (it had indeed stayed on for perhaps a massage in Addis), and I got a debit card from BA today for the cost of a new piece of luggage. Nice. Very nice.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
News from Lalibela, Ethiopia
I've been having the hardest time connecting the past few days.
But here, in the little town of Lalibela, deep in the heart of the Ethiopian highlands, I finally succeeded to connect to Blogger!
Here's the news:
Thursday
I’m still shaken up. This morning, the taxi Bethany and I were in hit a pedestrian. The guy was going at least 40mph (60kmph) at the time. And like all taxis here seem to do, he kept squeezing through really tight spaces at high speed. He was going down a straight road (Equatorial Guinea Drive, I believe) and seemed to decide he could squeeze between a truck on the left and the pedestrian who walked on the road, just off the sidewalk.
But he couldn’t.
It’s one of those really, really bizarre moments when you think, What’s this guy doing? But you can’t get it out soon enough.
So with the corner of the little blue Lada we were in, we hit her! The whole car shook. The driver came to a screeching halt, still smiling, and ran to get the girl. He was literally carrying her holding on to her breasts as handles (!!!), half dragging her. And still smiling!
As I’m sitting there, he’s pushing her into the back seat, telling Bethany and I we cannot get out! But we did. He had to get her to the hospital! He seemed more concerned to get the fare from us than to care for the girl. We paid him and urged him to get to the hospital. The side view mirror was busted. The front corner of the car was dented. The insulation from the window was ripped out.
As we walked the last 200 yards or so to the hotel to meet the group, Bethany and I prayed for the perhaps teenage girl, that she would be OK. And that the man and women who jumped in the cab with her would fight for the girl! They seemed adamant not to let the cabbie get away with the accident. I heard them mention “police” several time while talking Amharic.
I keep wondering about the girl, though. Does she have internal bleeding? Will the cabbie pay for her bills? How’s this accident going to affect the rest of her life? Her right arm and leg HAD to have been shattered! God, help her!
We spent some time in class yesterday talking about justice. How do we live justice daily. Personally. As families. Businesspeople. Educated individuals. NGOs.
And so, as we’re heading out to visit a monastery, the sight of the young teenage girl haunts me. The anguishing pain was all over her face… Was getting out of the car the right thing to do? Is that “living justice”? If it weren’t for the fact that several Amharic-speaking eyewitnesses jumped into the cab to help, we would’ve gone with her to the hospital. But as foreigners, we would’ve been in the way.
Still, it bugs me that we don’t know how the girl is. It’s hard.
On a different note: We went to visit the Archbishop of the Catholic Church yesterday. He’s a delightful man with a heart for uniting the Trinitarian churches of Ethiopia (as in, the churches who believe in God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.) He urged us to visit the Missionaries of Charity, which we did. However, it’s very, very awkward walking into a ward filled with men in uniform pj’s and be told, “And this room is the men with TB…” None of us felt comfortable with being tourists of other people’s suffering. So Ray (our prof) politely explained that we love what they are doing, but we need to go because we’re late for our next appointment, which we truly were.
Oh, about Kenya. If you’ve read the news, you’d know that today’s mass protests were called off, that 200 youth militia were arrested in Kitale (not too far from where I live), that Kibaki finally agreed to creating a Prime Minister position for Odinga. How exactly it will work, I don’t know yet. But things are looking up.
Class is officially over, and little by little, the students are leaving. Tomorrow morning, I’ll fly to Lalibela for a 2-day visit before returning to Nairobi. Lalibela is famous for its rock-hewn churches dating to the 13th century. I look forward to time alone with God in places where people have been worshiping him for centuries.
I will only be able to blog again after my trip to Lalibela.
Till then,
SALAAM!
Last Sunday
It's been a very, very good experience. An eye-opening one in terms of urban issues and ministry. Today, we were supposed to visit 6 churches, but due to getting stuck in a church parking lot behind other vehicles, we ended up just visiting 5. Everything from an Ethiopian Orthodox Church in the morning (where, by the way, you're not allowed in if you've had intercourse in the past 48 hours, or if you're having your period) to a Pentecostal church, a Lutheran and an international evangelical church. Huge differences, not only in the style of worship & liturgy, but also in the type of people they attract.
Our class is made up of a fascinating bunch of people. There are 3 students from the US (2 of whom are the only other ladies in the program), and then one guy from each of the following countries: Angola, Malawi, Kenya, Ghana, Sierra Leone, Nigeria. And then 2 guys from Ethiopia.
Yesterday, we drove for 13 hours (seriously!) to see the Nile River Gorge. Actually, it was about 6 hours there, and then we turned around immediately. We weren't even allowed to get out of the bus to walk across the bridge over the Nile. We made the mistake of taking photos of the bridge (as well as the grand one they're constructing right next to it), but the military came and insisted we had to erase the pictures. I don't get it. Anyway. We turned around, drove 4 hours to a monastery (Dobre Libanos) where monks stay in mountain caves, but by then I it was too late to visit the caves, so we saw yet another church. And then drove back to Addis.
Had a good time visiting in the bus, though, especially the last 2 hours when we were really, really tired. The 3 American students plus the program coordinator and the other Kenyan guy and I were having a blast, singing songs, playing "two truths and a lie" and so on. Just fun stuff. The only American guy (other than our professor) is African American, and a pastor at that. He was getting us to sing songs the African American way. Much fun was had. At least by us.
Want to get home early and get some good rest before we head into yet another packed week. Hopefully I'll get to upload a photo or two tomorrow. Will try my best.
My mind's turning from all I'm learning, and with the thought of how things are in Kenya right now…
Back to Today
So, since I didn't think I'd come to Ethiopia anytime soon again, I decided to take a 2-day trip to Lalibela, to see the famous rock churches. Saw 6 of the 11 yesterday, and in the evening, decided to go out with the group I connected with an have some tej (honey wine). It's not good, by the way. I had hardly had a few sips when I decided to head home. On foot, since it's so safe. Over rock roads built hundreds of years ago. Crawled into bed at maybe 9 pm, just to wake up several times in the night. It was either the tej or something I had eaten earlier in the day, but I didn't feel good at all. Still don't. I've taken some meds and decided to stay in this morning.
If I feel better by the afternoon, I'll walk around the Saturday market. And very, very early tomorrow morning, I'll head back to St. George's (look it up on Wikipedia) and see a celebration. People will start gathering there at midnight tonight to start with chants. Should be interesting.
**
I'll connect again on Monday, when I'm back in Nairobi.
But here, in the little town of Lalibela, deep in the heart of the Ethiopian highlands, I finally succeeded to connect to Blogger!
Here's the news:
Thursday
I’m still shaken up. This morning, the taxi Bethany and I were in hit a pedestrian. The guy was going at least 40mph (60kmph) at the time. And like all taxis here seem to do, he kept squeezing through really tight spaces at high speed. He was going down a straight road (Equatorial Guinea Drive, I believe) and seemed to decide he could squeeze between a truck on the left and the pedestrian who walked on the road, just off the sidewalk.
But he couldn’t.
It’s one of those really, really bizarre moments when you think, What’s this guy doing? But you can’t get it out soon enough.
So with the corner of the little blue Lada we were in, we hit her! The whole car shook. The driver came to a screeching halt, still smiling, and ran to get the girl. He was literally carrying her holding on to her breasts as handles (!!!), half dragging her. And still smiling!
As I’m sitting there, he’s pushing her into the back seat, telling Bethany and I we cannot get out! But we did. He had to get her to the hospital! He seemed more concerned to get the fare from us than to care for the girl. We paid him and urged him to get to the hospital. The side view mirror was busted. The front corner of the car was dented. The insulation from the window was ripped out.
As we walked the last 200 yards or so to the hotel to meet the group, Bethany and I prayed for the perhaps teenage girl, that she would be OK. And that the man and women who jumped in the cab with her would fight for the girl! They seemed adamant not to let the cabbie get away with the accident. I heard them mention “police” several time while talking Amharic.
I keep wondering about the girl, though. Does she have internal bleeding? Will the cabbie pay for her bills? How’s this accident going to affect the rest of her life? Her right arm and leg HAD to have been shattered! God, help her!
We spent some time in class yesterday talking about justice. How do we live justice daily. Personally. As families. Businesspeople. Educated individuals. NGOs.
And so, as we’re heading out to visit a monastery, the sight of the young teenage girl haunts me. The anguishing pain was all over her face… Was getting out of the car the right thing to do? Is that “living justice”? If it weren’t for the fact that several Amharic-speaking eyewitnesses jumped into the cab to help, we would’ve gone with her to the hospital. But as foreigners, we would’ve been in the way.
Still, it bugs me that we don’t know how the girl is. It’s hard.
On a different note: We went to visit the Archbishop of the Catholic Church yesterday. He’s a delightful man with a heart for uniting the Trinitarian churches of Ethiopia (as in, the churches who believe in God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.) He urged us to visit the Missionaries of Charity, which we did. However, it’s very, very awkward walking into a ward filled with men in uniform pj’s and be told, “And this room is the men with TB…” None of us felt comfortable with being tourists of other people’s suffering. So Ray (our prof) politely explained that we love what they are doing, but we need to go because we’re late for our next appointment, which we truly were.
Oh, about Kenya. If you’ve read the news, you’d know that today’s mass protests were called off, that 200 youth militia were arrested in Kitale (not too far from where I live), that Kibaki finally agreed to creating a Prime Minister position for Odinga. How exactly it will work, I don’t know yet. But things are looking up.
Class is officially over, and little by little, the students are leaving. Tomorrow morning, I’ll fly to Lalibela for a 2-day visit before returning to Nairobi. Lalibela is famous for its rock-hewn churches dating to the 13th century. I look forward to time alone with God in places where people have been worshiping him for centuries.
I will only be able to blog again after my trip to Lalibela.
Till then,
SALAAM!
Last Sunday
It's been a very, very good experience. An eye-opening one in terms of urban issues and ministry. Today, we were supposed to visit 6 churches, but due to getting stuck in a church parking lot behind other vehicles, we ended up just visiting 5. Everything from an Ethiopian Orthodox Church in the morning (where, by the way, you're not allowed in if you've had intercourse in the past 48 hours, or if you're having your period) to a Pentecostal church, a Lutheran and an international evangelical church. Huge differences, not only in the style of worship & liturgy, but also in the type of people they attract.
Our class is made up of a fascinating bunch of people. There are 3 students from the US (2 of whom are the only other ladies in the program), and then one guy from each of the following countries: Angola, Malawi, Kenya, Ghana, Sierra Leone, Nigeria. And then 2 guys from Ethiopia.
Yesterday, we drove for 13 hours (seriously!) to see the Nile River Gorge. Actually, it was about 6 hours there, and then we turned around immediately. We weren't even allowed to get out of the bus to walk across the bridge over the Nile. We made the mistake of taking photos of the bridge (as well as the grand one they're constructing right next to it), but the military came and insisted we had to erase the pictures. I don't get it. Anyway. We turned around, drove 4 hours to a monastery (Dobre Libanos) where monks stay in mountain caves, but by then I it was too late to visit the caves, so we saw yet another church. And then drove back to Addis.
Had a good time visiting in the bus, though, especially the last 2 hours when we were really, really tired. The 3 American students plus the program coordinator and the other Kenyan guy and I were having a blast, singing songs, playing "two truths and a lie" and so on. Just fun stuff. The only American guy (other than our professor) is African American, and a pastor at that. He was getting us to sing songs the African American way. Much fun was had. At least by us.
Want to get home early and get some good rest before we head into yet another packed week. Hopefully I'll get to upload a photo or two tomorrow. Will try my best.
My mind's turning from all I'm learning, and with the thought of how things are in Kenya right now…
Back to Today
So, since I didn't think I'd come to Ethiopia anytime soon again, I decided to take a 2-day trip to Lalibela, to see the famous rock churches. Saw 6 of the 11 yesterday, and in the evening, decided to go out with the group I connected with an have some tej (honey wine). It's not good, by the way. I had hardly had a few sips when I decided to head home. On foot, since it's so safe. Over rock roads built hundreds of years ago. Crawled into bed at maybe 9 pm, just to wake up several times in the night. It was either the tej or something I had eaten earlier in the day, but I didn't feel good at all. Still don't. I've taken some meds and decided to stay in this morning.
If I feel better by the afternoon, I'll walk around the Saturday market. And very, very early tomorrow morning, I'll head back to St. George's (look it up on Wikipedia) and see a celebration. People will start gathering there at midnight tonight to start with chants. Should be interesting.
**
I'll connect again on Monday, when I'm back in Nairobi.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)