Thursday 11 October
So another day in paradise.
I awakened around 0600, hit the snooze button twice, and climbed out of
my web-enshrouded cocoon (a white canopy suspended from the ceiling swathed
over the bed).
Got a shower – thank goodness for hot water! Not a forceful stream, but refreshing
nonetheless! Enjoyed the 20 minute walk from the Bonga guest house to town, stopping here and there to photograph people and sights,
enjoying the filtered rays of sunlight through the tall green trees and the
various scents along the path. A woman
carrying a bundle of sticks strode alongside me for quite some time—she had her
burden, and I had mine: a bulging heavy black backpack. Schoolchildren vied for my attention, giving
‘high 5s”, posing for pictures, giggling as they “dared” greet me with “hello”
and “how are you?” I stopped at the only
place in town that serves machiatto (which I discovered was made with powdered
milk (at least at that location)—but still quite tasty) and ran into one of our course participants,
Sharew. He invited me to share a table
with him, and I learned that he was first a nurse at the Bonga hospital before
becoming a health officer and relocated to a more rural post (by the
government) 2 years ago. Very good
natured man. He paid for my coffee, and
we walked to the government building together for our day ahead.
And I am finally sitting down after a very full day – it is
2200, and I’m just in from gazing at the clear night sky—the northern cross,
Sagittarius, and shooting stars within view, crickets chirping, dogs howling,
donkeys braying, and distant voices singing make up the background music. I’m thinking to myself, “Is it possible that
I wrote the short paragraphs above today?!?”
Wow! What a very full day indeed!!
After a very full three days of teaching ALSO w/ our 5 instructor candidates from Jimma, I cannot be more pleased with how the Instructor Course
turned out. We had 17 students attend,
and how they blossomed over the course of the day, which included 4 highly
interactive workshops, complete with “role play.” They really hammed it up, acting various
forms of difficult learners—the “overachiever/know it all,” the “unprepared
one,” the “angry/argumentative learner,” and the “disinterested learner.” I’m not kidding you, some of the quietest
students played their parts so well that I spontaneously broke into
laughter—which spurred them to join in!
We had such fun learning to cope with different learning styles, manage
small groups, and give meaningful feedback in a relatively short amount of
time. And I just had to smile when I heard Mara tell Sharon, “and when the student told
me ‘it was good,’ I asked her, ‘what was good about it?’” J And when a student would say to me, “it was nice,” finally
continue by saying (in response to my expectant gaze), “…because he/she did
such and such.” Such joy in these small
but memorable interactions. I am blessed
indeed to be a small part of their life journeys. We culminated the course with a few words from
the zonal health official and handing out certificates, CDs with course
materials, and a taste from home: Jelly Bellys. J
And a group photo, of course. Three of
the top instructor candidates (one health officer, two clinical nurses) agreed
to help teach the BLSO course we will conduct over the next two days. Speaking of which, I need to go prepare for
the work groups I’m facilitating…
But first a quick glimpse into our evening—we drove to the
“suburbs” of Bonga to the head of a road that leads to a river. Specifically, a location where hippos are
known to reside. It was dusk when we
started, and somehow the sun took an accelerated path to the other side of the
world. We could see dimly when we
arrived at the river that there would be no hippo sighting tonight. But we did see evidence of hippo tracks and
crushed grass where a hippo might have lain.
Worth the effort and always enjoy the opportunity to walk, especially
with the night air filled with the sweet scent of what I call “trumpet
flowers.” I’ll have to look into their
official name but the custom is for people to put bunches of these fragrant
flowers on the fenceposts to alert passersby that the owners sell “tej,” or
honey wine. Dinner was at a local spot,
where we enjoyed beyaynet for the second time today (lunch was at another local
spot and was quite tasty), good conversation, team toasts—Sharon and Mara
depart tomorrow morning—and planning for the weekend ahead.
‘Nite.
Friday and Saturday, Bonga: BLSO!
We said good-bye to Sharon last night and good-bye to Mara
early this morning (Dawit arrived at 6:15 this morning to pick her up), as they
head to Addis via Jimma and then back to the US Saturday night. They will be missed greatly!!
Wow. The last PeaceCare course!!
We anticipated 20-24 health extension workers (HEWs), but this was not
to be—we had 14 registrants, and frankly, I think it was the perfect number. We
were able to consolidate some of the sessions into larger lectures without (I
hope) compromising the quality of the course, and we were able to keep the
teacher:student ratio at 1:4 to 1:5 for most of the workstations and 1:7 for
two of the workstations. The instructor
candidates were instrumental in the success of the course, not surprisingly. The HEWs were a fairly shy bunch, but attentive
and engaged in the hands-on practice.
Several told us that they’d never had training like this before, and
they hope they will have other such practical training in the future. These courageous women (there were only
women) were selected for HEW training (or they might have responded to a
government posting) after completing the 10th grade. I believe they receive one year of training
in a variety of health topics before they are assigned to remote locations,
sometimes 1-5 hours from the nearest health post. At the end of the course, I queried some of
them regarding future aspirations. Not
surprisingly, some of the sharper students shared their dream of becoming a nurse
or midwife of health officer. I
encouraged them to pursue their dreams and to consider returning to their
current posts, armed with more skills and capabilities to help women (and men
and children) in their area. We
emphasized the power they hold in their hands—to stop the major cause of postpartum
hemorrhage (and leading cause of maternal death in Ethiopia), uterine atony,
with bimanual massage. We discussed the
importance of using our senses to assess and treat patients, particularly in
resource-limited settings: eyes to see, ears to hear, hands to touch and
intervene, mouths to speak words of comfort and call for help as needed. What a true privilege to teach these
women. The fact that they all passed the
group practical testing without any problems contrasted with the <50%
initial pass rate for the written exam.
Needless to say, I took the time to “remediate” them through direct
questioning and clarifications so that 100% of the students successfully
completed the course, with a stamped and signed certificate to prove it.
Friday night was a very special evening—Andrew and Faith
Hoskins, with their beautiful daughters Alea and Emry, drove to Bonga from
Chiri/Lalmba to spend the night with us at the guest house and enjoy a
“homecooked” meal together with the gang.
Well, the power had been out all day (we’ve learned to flexible by now,
with variable availability of the projector, etc...thank goodness for relatively
long battery lives on our personal computers/Macs!), and the guest house was no
exception. I walked there at dusk, to be
greeted by candlelight, Dawit and Milkiyas sautéing carrots and onions on a
charcoal hot-plate on the porch; Ellie (another PCV who works 3 hours south),
Andrew, and Faith chopping vegies and preparing food in the kitchen and front
room; and Mike tending to a fire which provided warmth and a beautiful
glow. We enjoyed stir-fried vegetables
and rice around a table lit with 3 flickering candles and two headlamps. We laughed, told stories, and laughed some
more. It is an evening I won’t soon
forget.
And now Jeff and I are once again in Chiri—with Andrew and
Faith and Alea and Emry. We arrived
around 4pm, got settled, and went our separate ways for the afternoon. Faith had time to read. Jeff and Andrew got their “guy time” on a
long walk, and I explored some of the wooded trails meandering through Chiri,
off the main roads. I was essentially
solo until I came upon a cow…and a young boy.
As soon as he saw me, he somehow alerted his friends of my presence…and
soon I was surrounded by at least half a dozen happy, friendly, energetic
children who were more than eager to be photographed. They scampered along with me for at least a
mile, perhaps more, shouting my name, posing this way and that to be
photographed. More and more children
joined us. One boy in particular would
go ahead of me, hoping for me to capture him in multiple shots. Another boy, a teenager, practiced his
English with me—“I go to school.” “That
is a cow.” Seme-mano? Masai. Etame.
Mehret. And many others. Along a
wide road of red packed dirt, we passed a father and his son standing at the
welcoming arch in front of their home.
The boy wanted to join in with the crowd of kids, and his father joined
us, too. He walked just a short distance
in front of me, as if to serve as my guide or protector. I imagine he was really there to be with his
son, perhaps 8 or 9 years old (although no other parents seemed to be concerned
about the whereabouts of their children!), but I was touched nonetheless. We walked along together on that red dirt
road, across a stream, through a quaint neighborhood, until we got to the main
road to town. There he left me to
navigate my way back to Lalmba—no problem. I’d driven on that road now twice
before, and it was easy to find my way.
We enjoyed a “normal” family evening—Jeff and Andrew
prepared rice and curried vegetables for dinner, along with a fresh green salad
w/ zesty lemon dressing. I did the
dishes while Faith got the girls to bed and Jeff strummed Andrew’s guitar. Once again Jeff, Andrew, and Faith enjoyed
playing Settlers of Catan while I journaled and viewed my now 2700+
photographs, then we played “catch phrase,” a game similar to Taboo provoking
much laughter and a good competitive spirit.
Faith and I enjoyed a conversation about our faith, mutual respect for
John Piper & his far-reaching ministry (desiringGod.org podcasts in
Ethiopia!), parenting, and God’s goodness and grace. How the Lord has provided for me and our team
again and again and again. Whom shall I
fear? For surely Thou art with me,
through valleys and moutaintops, between tukuls and health centers, amidst
believers and seekers and agnostics, all the days of my life.
Sunday—travel
Dawit arrived at Lalmba a bit ahead of schedule to take us
back to Jimma via Bonga. A quick
farewell to the Hoskins—complete with family photographs, of course—then on the
road we went. Clouds nestled in the
valley below like whipped cream melting atop a hot brownie sundae. Reminded me a bit of Haleakala. We made a quick stop at Coffeeland to finish
last minute business and say goodbye to John, met Adianez along the road to
Mike’s (she and Chuck ran together through a wooded hilly area), and made an
even quicker stop by Mike’s to bid him farewell. He and John have just over 5 weeks left in
country—what an experience for them, and I’m certain amazing impact they’ve had
on countless lives, mostly in ways that they will likely never know. Praying for them as they transition back to
the States and the culture shock they are sure to encounter.
On the way to Bonga, Dawit told me he wasn’t comfortable
delivering my excess bags to me in Addis due to the multiple checkpoints
between Jimma and Addis. In its attempt
to control contraband accumulation and sales, the government stops cars coming
into Addis for material goods. No more
than 2 kg of coffee are allowed to be in anyone’s possession at one time,
unless a licensed merchant. Because he
would be transporting medical “equipment” (two mannequins, a pair of forceps,
vacuums, etc), and would be travelling alone without an official letter
authorizing him to have such goods in his possession, he was understandably
nervous about making it through the checkpoints without the bags being
confiscated (and he perhaps suffering some unwanted consequence). So, I bit my lip and braced myself for a
heavy fine for the excess luggage at the airport (in sum, I had my beast of a
black backpack, vibrant green duffel bag, two mannequins stuffed in an extra
large duffle bag, and two rolling duffels—one with my personal belongings and
the other with nothing but teaching materials).
Imagine my surprise when the hefty sum was 320 birr—approximately
$18. How the Lord provides, esp as I am
running low on birr!
The propeller “Bombadier” plane took off without event after
waiting over two hours in the modest Jimma airport lobby. Security – if you can call it that – was a
flashback to perhaps the 70s or 80s in the US.
A simple metal detector, attendants going through our carry-on luggage
by hand (no xray)—“that’s candy, that’s a converter, those are my clothes, pack
of pens, towel, that’s a battery,”—“turn on your camera”—“that’s ok”, and we
were through security. We touched down
in Arba Minch to exchange passengers, then finally en route to Addis, arriving
40 minutes later than scheduled due to the detour. There was no problem getting our luggage,
wheeling it down the ramp to the parking lot to find a vibrant Amenti there to
greet us. Jeff took his chances and
stayed behind at the airport (after calling earlier to confirm seats
available—at unknown cost—on a flight to Dulles that night). He sent me a gleeful text message letting me
know that he was able to change his flight from Tuesday to Sunday at no
charge! And he later called me to
explain further, “the guy was so nice…there were so many people waiting in
line, yet he simply told me to follow this woman, and I was personally escorted
to the proper area without having to stay in line.” I told him that God was looking out for
him. Indeed.
Amenti and I had a fairly uneventful drive to the Red Cross
Guest House, which had no record of my reservation. Seems that the woman Amenti communicated with
failed to pass the details along to whomever keeps the books. As the Lord would have it, there was room for
me and a suite available for the Zubers’ Monday arrival. All good.
We then headed to “Habesha 2000,” a cultural restaurant featuring
traditional Ethiopian food, music, and dancing.
Oh my word! The ride there was
the scariest driving experience I’ve ever had!!! The streets were abuzz with masses of people,
all ages, but mainly young people, celebrating Ethiopia’s soccer victory—bringing
Ethiopia one step closer to the coveted Africa cup!! It was a happy throng, with cars honking,
people shouting, lighting long matchsticks, climbing on vans, filling
truckbeds, running through the traffic, taking up entire lanes of the highway,
banging on our doors…I did pray for safety, and the Lord heard my prayer. It took nearly an hour of waiting and weaving
and too-close-for-comfort proximity to other vehicles before we made our
destination. Never was I happier to get
to dinner! And it was worth the wait and
the effort—yummy food, great entertainment and a glimpse into different
regional dancing styles.
Monday, 15 Oct.
Hit the pillow like a rock and slept like a baby until
awakened by newly-arrived guests around 0230.
They kept me awake for thirty minutes with their early morning chatter
and settling in but after a time I dozed again til the alarm rang at 6. Delightfully hot shower, a little yoga before
breakfast, then toast w/ honey & peanut butter served with buna w/ hot milk
and sugar filled me up quite nicely. Surprise! Wi-fi access at the guest house afforded me
an opportunity to quickly check email and send a message home. Amenti’s driver friend Antene arrived just
passed 9 to bring me to the Project Mercy office, where I found Deme composing
a letter, and I met Ato Solomon. Feels good to be here, windows open, trees
swaying in response to the gentle breeze, birds chirping merrily, and me
attempting to make progress on the trip report.
God is good.
Deme told me I look tired.
How to take that? I suppose I am,
between interrupted sleep last night and cumulative days of being “on”. After working in the office for awhile, I was
invited to take a nap in a bedroom upstairs in Marta & Deme’s home. “Next time,” he says, “you’ll stay here.” Sounds good to me. So now I sit in a comfortable bedroom,
MacBook plugged in and music from my iPhone playing in the background, and I’ve
just been served a thermos of buna in a white Lenox mug w/ butterflies -- exactly the same as mugs I have in my own kitchen in Vacaville. Just like home. I’m amused and thankful.
