December 29th-30th, 2008

Yesterday, we went to church. Nathan, Mike and Amy's oldest son, tried to prepare me or scare me by telling me that the church service can last up to four hours. I picured the mud walled building, the African sun beating down heating the place up, and the smell of sweat and barebare (the spice used in a lot of the cooking here that seems to come out of your pores after you eat it), and I really had to get myself psyched up for it. It turned out to be really neat. The pastor stood up with another man and gave his sermon in Armheric while the other man translated it into the Oromo language and would translate key parts into English for us, since we were visiting. We sang, and since there were no hymnals, the pastor would sing a line, and we would repeat it until we knew it. Heather thought it was pretty amazing that Pastor Ben told the EXACT same story that Mulatu (the Pastor) told in his sermon about two boats. Ethiopians as a group come across so approachable that Heather told Mulatu that she had heard the story at chapel in school, and Mulatu thought that was worth a big hug. The service lasted only about an hour and a half, and I was surprised that the language barrier didn't take away from it at all. It was really interesting to be a part of their worship service. We walked home for lunch and to regroup for the afternoon.

After lunch, I went to the House of Hope and took Gonolle (the very sick baby) out for a walk and to feed her. As I was walking, I noticed that her hair was kind of gross and decided to go to Amy's and have her help me lean the baby back into the sink to wash her hair. As we did this, we noticed that there was some kind of lice in her hair so Amy and I had to take her outside and cut all of her baby hair off. We washed her hair again and I attempted to feed her. She is continuing to have the GI problems and her skin is so dehydrated, it just hangs on her body. Her ribs protrude like the pictures you see in National Geographic. It is somewhat surreal to be here. I guess because I have seen those pictures so many times, to actually hold that baby in your arms, see her gazing up at you, and feeding her…it’s difficult to put into words how intense it is. While I was out with Ganolle, the kids all went swimming. I went down to the lake when I returned home, and they were in the midst of a huge mud fight, throwing mud at each other at point blank range. Disgusting. On the way home, Anna tripped and fell face first into cow manure. She wasn’t nearly as upset about it as I would have been. I guess she’s getting used to life in Africa.

On Monday morning, just our family walked up to the school at the invitation of another missionary named Joan, who teaches English there. We sat in on the classes of a fourth grade and a fifth grade. The Ethiopian children are quite fascinated with us for some reason, and will reach out to touch our arms as if they had never seen a “faringi” (foreigner). During the class they stared at us and would collapse on their desks in laugher when we waved or said hello. They are a joyful bunch…with all of their health problems, food shortages, and otherwise difficult lives filled daily with life and death, it amazes me how bright their smiles are. We met a teacher who has hopes of going on to become an “evangelist.” He is incredibly sharp with excellent English and has been on my mind a lot since I met him. We saw him walking back from the soccer field with a bunch of kids later. The teachers told us about their courses of study, and how, although education is very important, often times kids disappear for weeks or months to care for sick family members or plough fields or harvest crops. Priorities rule here and these needs pop up frequently in their daily lives. The school, although an SIM (Serving in Missions) school, are short on text books, short on supplies, and we watched as 6 children shared a book some trying to read upside down. These classes had about 35-40 kids, but the first grade classes had 78 children in it (at one time!!). The school lives week to week for the money they need to operate.

In the afternoon, Tex and I took a motorcycle ride around the camp together and looked around. We stopped at a tree house that is about 40 feet up with a super-long ladder (40 rungs to be exact). We climbed up there and sat quietly as seven Spider monkeys, oblivious to our presence, flew back and forth among the branches of the very tree in which we sat (okay, I was slightly nervous when they were chattering that they were going to come attack us, I’ll admit it). Some of the time, we were actually above them. I have amazing pictures from the experience. The view of the lake and the mountains was beautiful and it brings back to my crowded, unorganized mind how confusing Africa is. So filled with beauty and simplicity of living and so filled with heartbreak and hopelessness. It is very difficult to wrap my brain around. I have lied in bed and tried to come up with how to respond when people ask how our trip was, and as of yet, I have no simple answer. The teacher/missionary, Joan Smith said that she viewed her first trip here like her mother’s recipe book, so much jammed into it that until she could get home and go through each memory and try to process it, there is no accurate answer. We arrived home to the news that they wanted me to come up to the Clinic, since I had an interest in Ganolle. She had taken a turn for the worse, and she was being examined and given a medicine to see if that helped with the diarrhea. Unsure of why she is unable to kick this illness. They suspected some internal issue or possibly Tuberculosis, as this often produces failure to thrive. They gave her the medicine, and we would wait to see how she was in the morning.