Travel Log for Ethiopia and Jordan

August 30-Sept. 11, 2006

These entries are more like overviews and less musings. The musings will come, I suspect as Ethiopia in particular settles into me, and I realize some things that I hardly had the ability to see or understand on the surface. Meanwhile, I hope this helps in letting you engage in our journey, and feel and see a little of what we experienced. My greatest loss was not having a computer and email along the way to record these thoughts daily. I don’t know how the old adventurers did it with just paper and ink.

ETHIOPIA Overview

Before this trip, Ethiopia could have been Uganda or Kenya, just Africa somewhere. How would I have known the difference? A little Internet, some beach reading on vacation, and we began to picture the horn of Africa and Ethiopia in particular. This unique nation is not only separate from its neighbors but is alone in its history and identity.

They say that Ethiopia is "old, old beyond all imaginings". Some say this is where man himself originates. Who can say? It is here that the bones of "Lucy", an ancient suggested human ancestor, were found. Records of civilization pertaining to Ethiopia date back to between 4,000 or 5,000 years ago. Pharaohs traded for myrrh with Ethiopia. India traded for Ivory. It was a powerful realm in the ancient world known as, Axum. The Axumite people spoke a Semitic language called Ge’ez, which is related to Hebrew and Arabic and is the oldest language still in use in Africa. The Bible was translated into Ge’ez between the 4^th and 6^th centuries AD and like Latin for Roman Catholic’s, it remains the religious language of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Homer refers to "the blameless Ethiopians" in Book I of the Iliad and the Bible tells of the legendary Queen of Sheba’s visit to King Solomon. Ethiopians believe their ancient Queen became the consort of Solomon and that the birth of their son Menelik, founded the Ethiopian dynasty. The Bible is not clear on this legend but there is a historic Jewish community in Ethiopia called the Falashas, who were only recently proven by DNA testing to be, in fact, Jewish. Because of their isolation from the rest of the world the Falasha had thought of themselves as the only Hebrew people alive and the last remnant of Israel.

The Axumite kingdom converted to Christianity early making Ethiopia one of the oldest Christian countries in the world, Christianity becoming the official creed early in the 4^th century. As the Church became institutionalized, it came to own a great deal of land, monasteries, as well as ecclesiastical schools. Like the ruling aristocracy it became part of a feudal system where the rich owned all the land and the common people worked it much like European serfs or American sharecroppers. This feudal system survived intact until the latter half of the 20th century and in fact even today, individuals cannot own land.

By the 16^th c. Islamic invasions weakened the once glorious kingdom. However, the more modern empire of Menelek II kept Ethiopia from becoming a European colony into the 20^th c., another historic claim of this unique country. Under the Government of Haille Salaisse, who was restored to his throne following WW II’s Italian invasion, the Ethiopians attempted to modernize but it wasn’t enough. Civil war with what is now the Nation of Eritrea began and the stage was set for Ethiopia’s entry into the 21^st c. Ethiopia never overcame its outdated feudal system and a military/communist coup overthrew the Emperor. Sometime around 1974 a new Communist Government called the "Derg" took control. The civil war lasted almost 20 years until the Derg were finally ousted in the early 90’s. It had been a disaster. Millions died, and the world viewed the worst famines of modern times, ineptly watching the helpless nation die. Repression, church closures and forced tribal relocations and famine were this nation’s reality during this time. The new leadership of Tigre, a powerful minority from the northern part of the country took control and rules today. It is still a repressive regime made from the fierce Guerilla warriors who, though great warriors are not trained or skilled at governing country. The majority of the population is fearful of their current rulers and their heavy-handed government. Many resent these "newcomers" to Ethiopia’s political reality.

Today Ethiopia suffers the consequences of hundreds of years of decline and its poor equipping to enter the millennium. The poverty is unrelenting and ever present, and while the tourist shops are filled with icons of its former glory and cultural diversity, there is no real industry and very few jobs. On every street, in every small dirty alley and passage into its communities are voluminous masses of the poor trying to find some means of subsistence. Joblessness is rampant, even those with college educations have trouble finding work and those of the elite who graduate with masters and even doctoral degrees, are often under employed or jobless.

The city of Addis Ababa has a population of between 4,500,000 and 6,000,000 est. Physically the city is 98% slums, which house well over 85% of its inhabitants. Most people don’t actually stay in their homes during the day as what passes for housing are just 6’ x 10’ mud and stick huts that must accommodate an entire family. They have dirt floors and ceilings with open sewers and electricity is limited to one 40-watt light bulb. There is no heating and during the heat of summer they must be stifling. Life must be lived where you can breathe and see, all of which is nearly impossible in these shelters.

I went through this history a bit because even though Ethiopia was Christianized so long ago, and was once so proud and ambitious it has been reduced to one of the poorest countries on earth. The AIDs epidemic is rampant, and there are reportedly 5,000,000 orphans. The drugs to treat Aids are now available but there is not enough medical personal trained to administer them. Often people just do not understand their disease and stop taking their medications. Ignorance of basic medical realities is wide spread. Drugs are like magic to them and they do not comprehend how they work. We met an older man who complained loudly that he had a pain in his leg and the stupid doctors would only give him a shot in his butt. "His butt did not hurt", he said. "Why wouldn’t they give him a shot in his leg?" It is a land of NGO’s, corruption in the government and slow economic gains. The rural areas report ongoing suffering, often not unlike the images you have seen in the media the past 25 years. To the west of the country are five massive Sudanese refugee camps, to the east is the anarchy of Somalia.

Though we learned of the famous rock hewn churches of Lalibella to the North or the most fantastic and distinctive tribes of the south, we could not visit any of these as they are remote and travel is very arduous. Instead we visited with lepers and prostitutes, rich and religious, ex-patriot missionaries, indigenous religious /social workers and church planters, foreign NGO's and the educated elite of the country. Many of these later are trying to make their way through life and struggling with the demands of the Gospel on them and for their people. Of the natural citizens we met many very courageous people. Wayne told Sarah from the beginning that it felt like we were walking among giants, Christians who have been tempered and tried by the fires of war, persecution and imprisonment. Men who had only enough money in their pocket to buy a few oranges yet would walk for days in order to preach the Gospel in a remote village. We met with families in those little huts who shared their coffee with us, but also dined in the best restaurants and were waited on in elegant surroundings. The poverty, though extreme and far beyond what we encounter here in the inner city, was familiar and did not shake us. It was as though we could see our own people here and observe their strength. Perhaps it was again the presence of Jesus that God’s Word has told us so much about that is always in the eyes of the unfortunate and forsaken, and which we have come to see so often. The poor of Addis Ababa still smile and show very little anger. It is undoubtedly in part a resignation with their pain, but also something else, some kind of inner strength imparted by their culture. They scheme and manipulate, even steal and cheat in order to live, but there is still that gleam of something healthy in the back of their eyes or in their faces that you can’t help but be attracted to. Sarah, Wayne and I would often comment to each other, "doesn’t he remind you of so and so" or doesn’t that group of little girls remind you of our fifth graders. To our surprise we felt very at home and were not daunted by the extremes. You cannot help feeling pity, but it was not our overriding emotion as much as recognition and love for everyone we encountered. As odd as this may sound, Addis did not feel strange to us, but rather it was strangely familiar.

We traveled with Alan and Becky Andrews, the U.S. President of Navigators who were intentionally visiting their team in Addis. The Navigator presence in Addis has its own unique history, which has spread the gospel of the kingdom through one-one discipleship and small groups. Though not historically a mission to the poor, these disciples of Jesus have found themselves reinventing some of the old core principles to holistically build disciples of Jesus. What they lack in the knowledge of the theological foundations for such work they make up for with Kingdom hearts that cry out for their people’s pain and a physical stamina that is truly awesome to observe. It is the nature of the Kingdom that wealth and education are not requirements to be an Ambassador for God. It is natural and just that His Kingdom is to be announced by His ambassadors, in all its glory, even to the leper who weaves cloth with hands that no longer have fingers and whose face is disfigured by their disease.

We arrived after a grueling 36-hour series of flights with long layovers. It was 2 A.M. when we got to the SIM guesthouse, a lodge like accommodation providing housing for missionaries and their visitors. We never asked but it seemed to be 50-70 years old. SIM is a well-known protestant missionary org. that has been serving in Ethiopia for over 100 years. Many of the Navigator team has historical connections to SIM.

At night in the dark, all you experience is the magical opening of a huge metal gate at the city street into an enclosed compound. It seemed strange that the multiple guards were still awake; later we realized even modest homes have gates and guards. Guarding compounds is an entry-level job.

What you do, is open the gate (like a human garage door opener). None of us had slept much during the 36 hours, we read, visited, watched a movie … our sleeping pills didn’t seem to work. The rooms at the SIM guesthouse were old fashioned, as if eras of missionaries and African mementos had collided. We slept as best we could in the unfamiliar beds and rooms, with unfamiliar smells.

Though our preplanned schedule didn’t begin until one-ish, it was still apparent to us that we were going to hit the ground running, jet lag or no. Our hosts had a lot for us to see.

Friday   

My memories of the early part of the day are only now coming back with help because of jet lag. Tsige came to pick us up and lead us through the day’s schedule.

Tsige is the team leader in Ethiopia for the Navigators. She is a lovely looking, 30 something, poised and accomplished woman. She was part of the original student group of maybe 17 years ago. She is from a well known Ethiopian Christian (Mennonite) family, whose legacy stretches into powerful places. Tsige is faced with leading her team of capable leaders in a nation of overwhelming poverty and through her we were going to see and experience the particular things the Navigator team is engaged in among the poorest of the poor. This was Alan’s particular thrust and why we went to Addis. Somehow, by seeing and getting to know the people on the team, digesting and working out thoughts, Alan was hopeful he could find the ways in which the Nav work in Ethiopia among the poor could inform the whole of the Nav organization regarding God’s heart as well as methodology.

Tsige introduced us first to Befkadu with whom we would later spend a great deal of time. He is a pseudo Navigator, a little loosely connected to the org. loving their principles, but connected here and there to some other things. He’s small, 27 and wonderfully unusual. He walks among the poor daily, almost like a free spirit. But he has goals, is driven, and funny. A young Christian with a mixture of doctrine pulled from diverse places, he is beautifully connected to some solid core values that put him head and shoulders above persons much older than him. We liked him right away, and felt like he would love us back here.

Jumping into our transport van with built in driver, we got acquainted with our wheels that would take us everywhere all week. Befkadu works in two places almost every week and these would be our first stops. He has two associates, Amanda, a New Zealander who has been in Ethiopia for quite a few years, not a Christian but attracted to his relationship approach, and Muliken, a growing Christian who grew up with some stability but like everyone else, also poverty. We picked them up at the home base for the Nav. Ministries, Bete Emnet. I never saw all of the buildings, just a few small offices and I spotted a small kitchen. Their kid’s ministry happens in a small causeway between two of the buildings.

Our visits that day were to two work environments, or what we would call cottage industries. These employed "ex-lepers". Leprosy is curable these days, but lepers still live segregated lives. Muliken explained to us how the stigma of leprosy is more in the person than just the ways in which society treats them. The disease becomes their identity and they see themselves as outcast and unclean. Most of them have never lead productive lives "out" in the community.

The first cottage type work set up was in a small house with a muddy walk and some stepping stones and a small garden that I would have been proud to own. The front of the house was small anticipating the inside, small also. One room had only enough room for one loom and only a little light in the ceiling that didn’t work. The larger room was set up, anticipating visitors, with all the workers working around the edges of the room, possibly 15 or so, sharing the circumference with a few tables that had their handiwork displayed. They hoped we were going to buy some things, which we gladly did. The work the women were doing was embroidery. This is a traditional Ethiopian handicraft. They embroidered on white, hand woven cotton cloth, which they have made entirely from scratch, even spinning their own yarn, also traditional. They used unique cultural designs on pillowcases, tablecloths, etc. They sell it for a very meager price. The concept is to develop self-sufficiency and some skills. The house is in a neighborhood where many of these ex-lepers live, giving them the chance to get out and about as regular people in their community, and reestablishing their own inner identities.

My Latino brothers and sisters have taught me to greet each one in the room, so I set about shaking hands around the semi-circle. I didn’t think for a moment that ex-lepers might be uncomfortable with physical contact. Muliken later told me that he had a great hurdle with these women at first, shaking his hand. They had been stigmatized for so long it scared them to touch others. They were willing to touch me. I was grateful.

Popcorn is a cheap food and, since it is considered improper to serve coffee without something to eat, we would be served popcorn and coffee just about everywhere we went among the poor. In each household the coffee is first roasted in a pan and then ground in a pestle and mortar. Both it and the popcorn are cooked over a coal or kerosene stove.

One of the women who has demonstrated some managerial skills, wrote us our receipts, took our money and gave us exact change. She is young. Some of the older women were more withdrawn and seemed detached. There was a definite sense of appreciation at having guests, and we thought a great deal of joy in watching us buy their beautiful products.

The second location though an old leper colony, was a new relationship for the team. From what I could understand, this massive compound was built outside the city years ago as a hospital for lepers. Today a few of its old buildings contain some cottage work environments, looms, crocheting and embroidery. The relational environment of the small house was missing here. Also, the old segregation where ex-lepers are isolated from the larger community is still very evident here. The government has built newer buildings for the clinic and these older ones are now used for the work. No one would supposedly want these buildings as they all fear Leprosy. The team is building relationships with both the management and patients, pursuing the goal of increasing the marketing of their goods, hoping more influence will follow. Their products are very beautiful, yet the work is poorly managed. The workers aren’t paid much. Befkadu is committed to seeing change happen in this old-fashioned ex-leper environment.

We invited Befkadu to have dinner with us and heard more of his story. Asking him for dinner meant a night with friends instead of home alone, yet a night of public transportation late at night. I tried to pause inside and wonder about this indigenous leader’s everyday life serving the poorest of the poor in Addis. For dinner we had a funny casserole that seemed out of place in Ethiopia, one of the effects of missionary compound existence.

Saturday

My journal entries express a bit of a detour from the larger group, as Wayne and I used this time to be with my new friend Aila Tasse, a country leader who I met at the Bakke Graduate School last January. We are in the same cohort and began a friendship in class, hoping that some day we might do some work together but never suspecting I would be in his city, in just six months. The rest of the team would see the children’s ministry to street kids called "People in Need" ministry. Sarah loved it, felt right at home. (I’ll let her tell this part of the day.)

Aila took us to see his office, classrooms and places where his staff operate out of, the only part of the work you can see physically. We were ushered first into his office, sparse but comfortable, and right behind his desk is a map of the world. On top of that map is our Neighborhood Ministries calendar, which he and his staff pray over all the time. I was so humbled, so grateful, considering the massive work he and his staff do. He trains and mentors indigenous church planters among unreached people groups in southern Ethiopia and northern Kenya, so he travels a lot. (There are currently over 46 different groups who have emerged under their work). He also sets up leadership training for key leaders in strategic places in Addis and all over the country, running a seminary and Bible school with a great deal of innovations. His heart is to move these pastors from a traditional itinerary to more of a wholistic model, which he knows is a great paradigm shift. He is a significant leader in a nation where the church is very segregated from each other. There are many obstacles to carrying for the least and the lost in Addis, whether they are Muslim Orthodox or protestant. Aila himself is a Muslim convert. Wayne and I loved our time with him. He agreed to be with us through the week as much as he could, leaving his dear wife who would have loved to join us, but her next baby was due just about any day. We think he was born the day we left for Jordan.

[One of the questions I kept asking the Lord was whether or not we are supposed to help Aila and Turu (his wife) with their work in training children’s workers from indigenous churches reach neighborhood kids, here in Addis and elsewhere. They are requesting this.]

Wayne and I hurried through lunch with Aila to meet the team of children’s workers and the rest of the Nav team for another lunch in an out of the way restaurant on top of what looked like an apartment building. There was no sign, so it was a little like going to a roaring twenties speak easy, you had to know it was there and take the anonymous elevator to the top floor and then poof, it opens onto a restaurant. It is American in its comfort and boasts a sign that gives a discount to missionaries and NGO’s. A lot of the team ordered pizza, but you could have also ordered a hamburger and fries or a club sandwich. We hurried, only to be the first ones there, no one noticed.

After lunch, Muliken asked if I would say something to their team, some of whom spoke a little English. Since I hadn’t been with them at the kid’s event, I could only assume that the older leaders had a similar feeling about the young and upcoming leaders from the program who were with us. They seemed to feel about them as we feel about Lilian, Miguel or Tanya. So, I first asked the little leaders if they could express how proud they were of the kids for performing for the guests. They acted funny, as if they were thinking, "you should have seen how squirmy they were, or how loud, or how they embarrassed us." I was reading between the lines, getting little feed back. But then I addressed the older leaders about the young ones at the table. "Aren’t you proud of them", I said, how you have invested in them over the years, how they are growing to love Jesus and walk upright, how much hope they give you to stay at it, to not give up. They seemed to track a little better. Everywhere I had been so far, only our own work was my reference point, and I clung to it hoping we weren’t too much different from others who were taking similar risks at rescuing street kids.

Lunch over, we were on to the next thing, a meeting with the women of the Nav team at Amsala’s house. In just a few days I would fall in love with her, but today I hardly knew people’s names. These women had requested time with Becky, to ask her questions about balancing ministry and family, ministry and career, things you might ask in the states. Becky was a little prepared, (we were always second-guessing ourselves), we didn’t want to assume anything. So instead of talking about balance in a one, two, three, step by step … she made the brilliant decision of telling her story. She shared about the most painful time in their lives and finding God to be sovereign and her calling to be solid. Alan shared his side, a few questions opened it up for Wayne and I to add a few thoughts, and we just got acquainted. It was hard to tell what exchange was going on, but I think there was some trust being established and some hearts being knit together. Later, some women left and the husbands of the ones staying came, food arrived and it was an Ethiopian potluck. Soon, we had the first of the ever present, injera, or Ethiopian bread, which is really sour in taste and spongy, like a really wet and eggy pancake, but thin like a crepe and rolled up. From this meal onward, we had injera multiple times a day, with all the things you eat injera with.

I remember a maid working in the kitchen and hardly coming out, Amsala’s’ two beautiful and fun children, a young babysitter friend of the family who was wearing braces and hardly had an Ethiopian accent, Wayne getting to know Marcos, their campus minister, taking pictures of the group. This was the Navigator leadership team, and we were learning their names, pretty much.

Sunday

Oh, I forgot to mention breakfast at the SIM’s house. If you are going to have a meal there, you must sign up the night before on a list. Then you are expected to be there, each person gets a napkin ring with your assigned number on it, and if you don’t show up the cook is quite frustrated with you. He is dear, wants to give you too much to eat, and runs a tight ship. Ethiopian and an English speaker, I had to wonder who taught him such structure. I was the most disobedient to the breakfast schedule, but finally got into the routine so as not to have to face him later in the day. "Are you sick", he said to me more than once. Only once was I really sick, and he genuinely felt sad for my migraines. We learned to love his breakfasts, often calling it the best meal of the day.

So after breakfast, Tsige arrived to get us off to church. The navigator ministry grew to need a worshipping fellowship years ago, and began a worship service there at the SIM guesthouse’s small worship room. We were going to attend the ex-patriot service held in their new facility, which had grown out of this small group. It was strange driving into this very modern and American looking campus. It was fancy inside and out, really lovely in its architecture. All at once the conflicting feelings began, only to intensify when the service, songs, liturgy, references, concepts, all of it were a transplant from something anywhere in suburban America. The worship leader was a white female, and the pastor a white male, both American. After the church we met many NGO’s, I met the lead staff for Food for the Hungry, all the Nav staff are leadership here, Aila and his wife attend, more her, he is out of town most Sundays. We found out that the neighborhood kids aren’t allowed to come on Sundays, they are suspected of stuff. Outside the gates were slums, but outside every gate is a slum. Struggling … Alan gave Wayne, Sarah and I permission to attend a second service, outside in the community run by one of the pastors in Aila’s training program. This pastor has quite a few churches under him, in a newly forming denomination, and is committed to indigenous churches where the leadership live in the community they serve. They are experimenting with wholistic outreaches from their churches. We drove down an alley like road with cars parked on one side and people walking on the other. It didn’t look like the alley led to anything but Aila knew where he was going. We got to the end of the parked cars, only to find out that there was no room to park his truck and we had arrived at the gate into the church. The only thing that I could describe that I’ve seen like this was a time when I walked through a tent entrance right into the circus, a one ring circus where the outside is really close to the inside. So we got out of Aila’s truck, waiting outside the "tent" entrance until somehow magically we were allowed in. Meanwhile, the walkers were walking right through the entrance. Aila parked his car and then waited with us some more for our turn to get to go in. What must have been happening was a clearing of front row seats so we could sit next to men who would be our translators. We were guests of honor, it turns out, though we were unexpected. The worship space had two perpendicular sections packed in, seats going way back in both directions, both facing a stage. It was a tent, lots of different coverings making the tent top. The posts were wooden, the ground a little wet from the last rain. We sat in chairs, really close together. Though you knew it was a tent, as the service began, it felt more like a big room, but cozier. The service was all in Amharic, and the worship team, all in the same green button down shirt, were leading this huge congregation in a rocking, catchy Amharic chorus. We liked it right away. Amharic worship is beautiful. Aila worried it would be too emotional, but it was simply heart breaking, because it was so genuine. It was really the church we hoped to find that Sunday morning. My translator turned out to be the President of all their congregations. At first I thought he was just a young exuberant disciple. How old can this guy be? I thought. But he loves Jesus, the Word and apparently every one of his congregations. He is committed it turns out to the poor in each of the neighborhoods they serve. He has some cool projects. A side note; Wayne talked to Aila about this experience later in the week. He asked him why the members of this church didn’t seem to give Aila any deference or act toward him as they did to their elders and pastors. Aila basically responded, "These men are my disciples. I have trained them and they know me, but the church is theirs and the congregation knows them as their leadership, not me." Aila is a true teacher and discipler of men. He is building the God’s Kingdom not his own. We had to leave early to get back to the other church on time, they were serving another potluck for us. More injera.

Afterwards, Alan gave a great talk on missional transformational communities. It was a good, but long day. I was starting to have the first of my daily migraines. This one I caught early, I wouldn’t the next day.

We had a little time to shop that afternoon. Aila, Wayne, Sarah and I wanted to get out into the neighborhood and shop a bit. Aila knew where I could pick up a shirt for Ian, one I had seen Muliken wear. It was the first time out of the gates on our own. I was starting to feel like we weren’t allowed outside the gates, forever confined to the van. That van would be how we would see Addis if we didn’t just take things into our own hands and walk out those gates.

It was rainy, not too bad, as it is almost the end of rainy season there, still it rained almost every afternoon. You know that Wayne needs a new hip, right? Anyway, he was always willing to walk, but the steep hill we were about to descend was going to be a killer. He walked all over Addis with a new cane that helped, but it was still pretty painful.

We had little to no street kid experience, and so took pictures with kids, of kids, gave into their begging, had fun with them, and kind of wore Aila out with all our pandering to their pandering. We shopped a little and made it back on time. All of these little ones are skilled beggars and can put on the saddest faces or make you laugh, anything to get even a little money from you. They have quotas to fill if their families are going to have enough to eat or pay their rent. Still, it was good to be on the streets with vendors, people walking, teens talking, ladies selling small trinkets on blankets, the life of Addis going on all around. We were spotted clearly as tourists and Americans, easy marks. We knew we needed to learn street cred here, at least enough to last a week outside the gate.

We had dinner with Aila in another very nice out of the way authentic Ethiopian restaurant. We talked deep into the night about mission, the kingdom and his heart.

Monday

The Andrew’s daughter has been sponsoring a child through Compassion International from of all places, Addis Ababa. Compassion sets up visits for their sponsors to the child you are sponsoring, and takes you to their village, gives guidelines of what you can and can’t bring, and gives you a great day with your child. It was a very exciting opportunity for the Andrews that regularly see this child’s photo on their daughter’s refrigerator.

The Compassion van picked us up after our large breakfast and off we went to the furthest outside of town we had been so far. Twenty-five kilometers outside of Addis is the village where eight year old Mister lives and where her school is. Compassion sponsors just 250 children in each village area to go to school, gives school supplies, uniforms, and pays the school fees. They have 250 projects in Ethiopia. The Compassion organization is really sophisticated, and is exclusively about child sponsorships. For a village to qualify as a potential Compassion site, it must have a church strong enough to carry the partnership responsibilities. The children who are selected have to be the poorest of the poor, and the criteria are exact, as everyone is poor in these villages, as far as any of us could tell. Only one child in every family is allowed to be sponsored and that child is sponsored through their young adult years. The logic is that this child will help the rest of their family as their stability grows. Each Compassion project is connected to a local evangelical church in the community that gives space in their building for the school and program resources. The staff of the compassion project are selected from the sponsoring church.

Once we pulled up, Mister greeted the Andrews right away calling them Grandma and Grandpa. She was all dressed up. Her friends, also all dressed up, gathered around her in a circle and did a fun dance, obviously honoring her, this special little girl with visitors all to herself. It was delightful. They had a few dances like this and we watched this little girl, honored, like it was her quincienera.

We were ushered into the main office type area, the school’s main staff area, and settled into the presentation of how Compassion projects work, and this school’s achievements. There were outcome charts on every wall, and Mister had just won a spiritual achievement award by saying verses and things like that. There are academic outcomes, medical outcomes, spiritual outcomes, etc. We were served popcorn and coffee, and some breads or pastries. Wayne and I had two duffels of school supplies and toys with us for this Compassion visit. The kids from outside watched through the screen door as we unpacked everything. This visit felt like Christmas.

Everywhere we went we asked questions. There were a lot of questions here. Why only one child per family, how is a child selected, how are churches discovered for the projects, how does this project bring transformation to a community, how are things better now that the project is here. How big is the community? I can’t possibly remember every question. The guide we had did a great job, and you can tell, treating visitors well is a high priority for Compassion.

The next stop was to Mister’s home in her village. It was a little drive. Compassion’s criterion is that the children have to be selected within a maximum fifteen minute walk for the mother from the village to the school. Driving into Mister’s village was challenging as every road is dirt, and worn out. The road was adequate until we reached her most immediate neighborhood. We drove into it as far as we could and then had to stop and walk the rest of the way. We passed goats and children. There were big baskets of lentils drying in the sun. The houses were really huts, wooden with mud filling and small. Like little mud/straw condominiums next to each other but, so small it is more like mud boxes the size of two refrigerator boxes next to each other resembling an apartment. A whole family lives in one, with no place for a kitchen, no bathroom, no space really, just for a bed and some boxes upright to store your few belongings and a wall for displaying a few items, like a watch which is the clock.

We got to Mister’s box mud house. We entered the opening to three houses, all alcoved together, the little door to her house was opened by her beautiful young mother in a brand new dress, with hair up in a matching cloth. Her little house looked immaculate; we imagined all her friends helped with the beauty. We couldn’t all go in at once so gently took turns sitting on the one bed as she made us popcorn and coffee. We visited through our guide, interpreter. Mister wouldn’t sit next to her mom. She was acting important, and I made up how she was feeling, embarrassed of her surroundings, her mother, her life. Her mother seemed not to notice, trying to serve her guests graciously. The neighbors were so interested in what was happening. I took a lot of pictures of them, because there wasn’t any room anymore inside. I found out that the neighbor mother had lost her husband to Yellow Fever just three years previously, but both her children were still in school. Her teen-aged daughter was beautiful, and they all seemed hopeful, not angry or sullen. I was fascinated by this sweet family, and wanted to come back and see them. They reminded me of someone I knew here, each one, and I think they sensed I liked them.

It was time to go; the guide interpreter wouldn’t let us eat the popcorn and drink the coffee here. I’m sure it has something to do with the rules, but he may have been concerned for our health. The sewers run along side the street and are open. In the rainy season they are fairly clean but you can imagine what they are like when the summer’s sun heats up. When we left we were trying to picture the things we didn’t see. Where does the water in the village come from? Where does everyone buy groceries? Does that woman really have goats in her house? What is wrong with that little sick baby in the middle of the dirt path road? What do people do for work and so on … I wanted to asset map this village, and then bring Kids Club there. These villages have about 5,000 or so residents. And they are everywhere.

My migraine was getting bad and we were traveling back to Addis, and to the Compassion headquarters to see the operation. It was quite a tour. The work of getting kids sponsored and keeping up the correspondence between sponsor and child requires a huge organization. We were seeing all of the Ethiopian work. They were glad to see a sponsorship family, these sponsors are almost all from the U.S. and we could imagine how infrequently a sponsor travels this far to see their child.