A Post From Eliza with Pictures

A Post from Eliza

[a bit of background on Eliza’s post – first as those at Olivet already know,  the students in Benjamin’s 1A class (first graders) called his bluff and took over the classroom.  In the beginning, Benjamin tried sending the trouble makers to the other teachers, but after he saw the resulting corporal punishment, he hadn’t the heart to subject children to such consequences.  Benjamin’s softness was their opening.  From there things disintegrated to each of us having to chaperone the class.  Oddly, Benjamin’s other classes, including another first grade class are going really well – but the 1As needed their own solution:

Eliza: “Can I please teach the 1As by myself?  I can do it!”

Benjamin: “Are you kidding, they will dominate you.”

Eliza: “Please Daddy, Please.”

Daddy:  “No way.  Only if Benjamin, Lily or Sophie can sit in the classroom.”

Eliza: “No – I do not want them in my classroom.  They can sit in the hallway – I will call them if I need help.  Okay?”

Daddy: “No.”

Eliza: “Why not?”

Benjamin: “Because you haven’t read “Lord of the Flies.””]

This month many things have happened to me. I met a group of girls and we have been playing ever since.  I have been presented with many gifts.  The first thing I got was a stuffed animal that said “I love you,” the next thing was a pair of earrings and the last (that I will mention) was a piece of card board that explained the Ethiopia money system.  This I later found out was not a given by the girls I had been playing with so that whole day I was on a wild cow hunt to try to find the true source of the gift.  It is hard to sort out who is who with so many girls here.

I have taken over one of Benjamin classes because he cannot handle them (before I took over he had to have an adult in the room). Nobody else can handle them except for me.  So I just took over. For me they have been little angels that listen to every word I say. Also, I am absolutely sure I don’t care in what way, but I am taking the puppy that lives by our grocery store home.  So far I have had the best time here.  I love how our family laughs a lot more and we are spending more time together not by choice of course, but I like it better that way!  I thought that I would not like it here but it turns out I would like to bring my own family here someday.

Love, Eliza    

[Eliza with her students]

[Eliza adminsiters a test]

[Eliza's grading of some of her tests, she was quizing them to see what they had learned from BEnjamin]

[the puppy who we are not taking home]

Eliza helping Girma improve his English

Eliza feeding some wild life...

Gratitude (and some pictures)

Though we have settled in, the novelty of everything here allows Julie and me to feel somehow more fully “alive;” each Ethiopian day jars the senses enough so that you have to remind yourself of the basics; the basics, that back in Ivy, we skip right over as our minds rush into the day’s worries and the "agendas.”  From the start, the chants and prayers broadcast at five in the morning sometimes sound like the opening scenes of movies set in Tibet.  You lay there in the dark thinking, “Now, where am I?  Oh yeah, Addis Ababa…now where is that? holy cow!  What am I doing?...”

This resetting of the mind each time forces you to reassemble your life starting with the things most important to you – I don’t ever remember waking up at home and thinking, “phew, the children are safe,” certainly not every single day. There are so many things that in their absence we’ve now discovered we were ungrateful for - clean air, plumbing with gas traps, electricity, roads without trash, school buses, printers, dishwashers, water you can drink, laundry machines, ceiling fans, government codes and regulations that are enforced, and the life preserving, glorious, traffic lights.  While here, I have rarely thought about my financial security and how I am going to pay for my children’s college education (still don’t know) – but back home, if you caught me staring into space, that is exactly where my mind would be.

We have all lost weight without thought or effort.  Maybe it is because we walk a lot, and also because food isn’t always within reach of our hands.  The safety of food that is closest is uncertain – no one wants to “go there” again.    

There is also nothing quite like the feeling we had yesterday sitting in a crowded café (the only westerners) enjoying a Coke watching Al Jazera jubilantly report the Muslim’s world uprising in Yemen, Bahrain, Egypt, Jordan…surrounded by women in full burkas and men with their hands spinning through their prayer beads.  “er, check, please. May we please have our check?”

As we were changing buses to get to church, we had to walk through and step over all notions of people sprawled across the transit area in a sort of impromptu eBay in human form.  Many just sat down on the sidewalk with a cloth spread before them.  On that cloth might be one kind of thing piled surprisingly high (like screwdrivers, or hair ties, or old magazines, or batteries, or corn, or nails, or pirated DVDs, or soaps, or shoes, or faucets, or pilfered airline eye shades, or Chinese pencils).  The vendors shout over and over the name of that item in an attempt to attract a buyer.  Interspersed between these piles are sitting blind women with maybe their child bundled on their back, or legless/armless men, or severely disfigured children.  In front of them are also blankets or newspapers with small collections of spare change that passerbys have left. As you avert your eyes from one emblem of tragedy you alight on another, and then another, and out of politeness, you start staring at a pile of stuff that it takes you a second too long to recognize - by then you are caught, forced to contend with the seller (your gaze is a clear buying signal).  No, you are not in need of a cell phone charger; not at this point in time.

No matter where you try to get to, and especially through the city streets, there is this constant crush of humanity, this cacophony, bellowing sorrow and scarcity.  Each person is trying their hardest to eke/scratch out enough for passage to another week's existence. Last week we had several days of heavy rains and it got cold (low 50s).  In our apartment it also rained – in the living room over the light fixture (things got shorted out and we lost power for awhile) – in our bedroom, a little in the hallway – but just eye witnessing what was going on the streets around us made such drips unworthy of comment – even amongst ourselves.  There are whole families living in tiny lean-tos against walls.  When it rains, the ground starts to move, and then soften, and then everything sinks.  On unpaved roads, trucks and busses drop to their floor beds.  Heavy machinery can sink completely.

The street’s sewage that had been dried into odorless and hard clumps wakes up quickly and reminds you what it really is.  It then begins to join everything else in slipping downhill into the rivelets, streams and rivers.  Everything gets wet.  People scootch under balconies, national monuments, parked buses, carts and the rare bridge/overpass.  I thought about taking pictures of some of these sights, but despite opportunities, it rarely feels “right.”  Suffice it to say we’ve seen masses of people, clothed in damp muddy rags, covered in filth, staring at us with the fathomless pitch of night in their eyes.

After the rains, Girma tells us, the street people jump into the overflowing streams to scrounge barefoot and with their bare hands for unripped plastic bags, reusable bottles, redeemable clothing, and bits of metal that the children take to Mercado for salvage.  It may take a day to get a torn piece of gutter across town, but one could get as much as 10 Ethiopian Birr (about 60 cents) for a substantive collection of metal. Each day those with the will to survive somehow do and those who do not are swept from view.

There is no clever way to close this entry.  One might be tempted to cope by waxing philosophical – “well, are we really that different?  I know plenty of people in Charlottesville who, in effect, live lives of “quite desperation” – isn’t sorrow and scarcity what we often stub our lives on as we go out and about with our goings and comings?”  It is probably a sin to even suggest such equations.  Whoever coined the term “embarrassment of riches” was likely pointing at people like us.  I walk these streets hiding a terrible secret from these people.  If it were known by them, I can think of no defense that could persuade them not to throw me off a bridge.  The secret?  I have what they are dying to have, and I am often not thankful.

Did I mention we miss 5 Guys?

A woman and three children live here:

Some traffic shots - too bad they are "stills." You wouldn't believe the choreagraphy among the buses, animals, children and trucks.

Lily learns the Ethiopian Coffee Ceremony

Blind to Danger (random pics at the end)

The other day we were out and about when the van in front of ours came to a screeching halt.  Which meant we came to a screeching halt - coming quite close to a collision.  What emerged into our field of view were three blind men holding hands and using their canes to find their way across the road.  In Ethiopia, if a car injures a pedestrian, then, regardless of circumstance, the driver gets an automatic 15 years in prison.  As there are no sidewalks, the roads are a blend of people, buses, goats, vans, carts, donkeys, cars, and tractor trailers.  Though there are constant near misses, thankfully, we have not seen anyone hurt.

Here people live right up to the edge of mortal danger: Trucks blast past school children who scatter in an attempt to cross a busy road; there are heights without railings, high voltage lines that you can literally bump into.  Generally people seem indifferent to these things until someone gets too close, then they have instant life saving reactions. Foreigners, however, seem to get an extra wide buffer zone.  Either they care more for us, or know that we come from a world that has kept us unaware of how quickly one’s life can end.

Speaking of the blind, we ran into Caesar (the teacher from the school who is blind) doing his errands in the “Piazza” (a busy shopping district). We couldn’t help but be amazed at his courage of going out in such a chaotic city unaccompanied.  But everyone who saw that he was blind made way, advised him of holes, or took his arm when the passage was too complicated to narrate.  Caesar did not appear to think that anyone would ever harm him.  For financial transactions, strangers would take his wallet and get out the right amount of money and then tell him what was left.  His excursions in town seem to us like one, long “trust fall” into the arms of his people.  We were both on the same bus headed back to our neighborhood; though he was getting off a stop before us he took the time to lecture the driver on exactly where to drop the foreingies (us) – Caesar could see we needed help.

Deadly Grasshopper

Lily and Sophie on Tour

Julie Chilling @ Recess

Going Native

The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things

 “Who can discern his errors?  Cleanse me from hidden faults.  Keep your servant from presumptuous sins, let them not rule over me.” Psalm 19:12-13

As previously lamented, this place is exposing our core dysfunction(s) – and it isn’t pretty.  This notion of Grace – a covering for the fallen, has a lot of appeal these days.  Even the introspection (narcissism) is becoming less interesting – a joke really, as if digging for gold in a potted plant.  There is nothing to find except the “desire to find” itself.  Scratching that itch (since most everything else has been tried) seems to be God’s exclusive domain.  God Himself…and where is He?  And what is required in return for the joy of His presence?  These are the questions. 

I either imagine it or God is asking, “Why are you here?”

Er, to serve Jesus.  Ideally, actually see Him or a miracle or something…I want this water that quenches all thirst.  I want rest.  I want to be “good.” I want to have that mountaintop experience.

 “The refining pot is for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.”  Proverbs 17:3

“Okay, we both know I won’t do so well on such a test – so let’s skip it, ok?”

“May you know God and serve Him with a whole heart and with a willing mind; for the Lord searches all hearts and understands every motive behind the thoughts.  If you seek Him, He will be found by you.” 1 Chronicles 28:9

Well, one thing you can discover when you set out to do “good,” is that often it is not only about “serving God” but about, embarrassingly enough, serving yourself – either for the accolades (if such a thing energizes you), or your own sense of self satisfaction that you are “making a difference.”  The motives of our hearts hide all the time – the smarter we are, the more deceitful we can be…as if we could outwit God. 

Jim Plews-Ogan had sent this along with the Olivet letters.  It is an excerpt from Henri Nouwen’s book “The Inner Voice of Love: A Journey Through Anguish to Freedom”

 “Giving yourself to others without expecting anything in return is only possible is only possible when you have fully received.  Every time you discover you expect something in return for what you have giving or are disappointed when nothing comes back to you, you are being made aware that you yourself are not yet fully received.  Only when you know yourself as unconditionally loved – that is fully received - by God, can you give gratuitously.  Giving without wanting anything in return is trusting that all your needs will be provided for by the One who loves you unconditionally.  It is trusting that you do not need to protect your own security but can give yourself completely to the service of others.

Faith is precisely trusting that you who gives gratuitously will receive gratuitously, but not necessarily from the person to whom you gave.  The danger is in pouring yourself out to others in the hope that they will fully receive you.  You will soon feel as if others are walking away with parts of you.  You cannot give yourself to others if you do not own yourself, and you can only truly own yourself when you have been fully received in unconditional love.

A lot of giving and receiving has a violent quality because the givers and receivers act more out of need than out of trust.  What looks like generosity is actually manipulation and what looks like love is really a cry for affection or support.  When you know yourself as fully loved, you will be able to give according to the other’s capacity to receive, and you will be able to receive according to others capacity to give.  You will be grateful to what is given without clinging to it, and joyfully for what you can give without bragging about it.  You will be a free person, free to love.”

I learned this before, but like a dandelion, it keeps growing back. As the hymn goes, “lay your deadly doing down; Down at Jesus' feet. And stand in Him, in Him alone, wondrously complete."

Jesus said, “Come unto me all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

God said, “Be still, and know that I am God.” 

Lent is upon us

So, are there crocodiles there?

Where?

There, where the children are playing.

No, you can not see them there - not now.

I know I can't see them, but are they there?

Yes, of course, the crocodiles are available now.

Available?  What do you mean?  Should we warn those children?

Sometimes yes, the crocodiles are there.

...!

Ethiopia has 13 months in its calendar and the churches here don’t follow our liturgical one, so for the past two Tuesdays, the kids have duped us into believing it was Fat Tuesday.  We’ve had cake and pancakes for dinner twice now (three times counting tonight)- not that we vigorously protested or anything, but still, we had two false starts at preparing ourselves for Lent.  We are looking forward to this Lenten season; hopeful, as ever, that our token sacrifices somehow create enough space in our hearts for God to flood into them – if he, in his sovereignty, decides to.

Here, some days we think we see signs a spiritual springtime is underway.  Other days, the deprivation eclipses everything else.  How these people have the courage to face their days is, at times, an inspiration and other times a complete mystery.  I am pretty sure some of us have privately tallied the days remaining till we can get safely home.  There is so much left to do though; it's overwhelming.

With the exception of Eliza, we are all fasting tomorrow with several very important things on our minds and hearts.

Free Talking with Sophie!

[this notion of "Free Talking with Sophie" was created by one of the teachers here as a reward to good classroom behaviour - this is Sophie's account of one class]

Free talking with Sophie

The 6^th grade classes had a homework assessment where they had to make up questions to ask me. They were practicing their manners and how journalists ask questions. Many of the questions were about what American schools were like. This one girl asked many good and funny questions.

The first question: “If you could be God for a day what would you do?”

The second question: “What hair products do you use?

The third question: “If you lived here would you marry an Ethiopian?”

The fourth question: “What race are you?”

The fifth question: “What has changed you the most?”

 I told the class that America schools are very different from Ethiopian schools.  In America we use text books and have four classes a day. The kids all thought it was weird to have only four classes. Our punishment in America is very different from Ethiopia. I told the class that we have long forms and go to the principal’s office. In their school the teachers smack the kids with their hand or a rope. They told me that American’s punishment is so easy. My response to the first question was if I could be God for one day there would be no war and everyone would be friendly with each other. The hair products I use are shampoo and a deep conditioner. They all laughed when I said this. The third question I told them was that I love Ethiopia but I think I will marry an American. Many of the kids asked me about my race. I told them I was Tan. They didn’t understand what Tan meant so then I just said yeah I’m white. One quiet girl asked me a very good question and it was in my life what has changed me? I told her that being adopted changed my life. It was very hard to explain to them about what being adopted is about. Then someone asked me if I want to go to see my family. I told her “yes” when I am older I want to visit Romania.

Post from Julie...

[these are orphans in Gambella - these are not the Sisters of Mercy children Julie writes about]

The Ethiopians were celebrating the successful expulsion of the Italian Army during the 1940’s, so we enjoyed a day off of school.  Lily and I spent the morning at Mother Teresa’s home.  Last week, we painted with a group of older girls who seemed to enjoy the chance to create.  Today, we focused on the kids ages 2-4.  When we pulled the crayons from our bag, the kids went wild.  Little fights broke out over the scramble to get a piece of paper and crayon. Once we restored a bit of order, we stepped back to watch the children crowding around their 4x4 pieces of paper adding as much color as they could muster onto the paper.  There are about 30 or so kids in this age range.  And while the orphanage is an attractive facility with courtyards and clean rooms, the children are so desperate for attention that they are rather unmanageable.  They’ve had several teachers quit in exasperation.   So far, we’ve only been able to manage being there a couple of hours at a time.  Photos are prohibited at the orphanage.  I wish I could show you their beautiful faces.

The Superior chatted with us a while, explaining that she has been asked to move her ministry into the streets to address those who live challenging lives there.  She explained that her heart is drawn towards those who continue to sin mostly because they have few choices, especially prostitutes as they can’t seem to fully grasp God’s love and forgiveness. There are breakthroughs. They’d brought 14 girls back to their home just last weekend who wanted a way out of that life.  They gave them money for fares home, and a hope that God can restore all things. 

 In my classroom, I’ve been reading Time and Newsweek articles to improve my students’ English skills.  Last week, we read an article about the recent revolutions spurred on by Facebook.  It was an interesting discussion.  I asked my students to make predictions, but cautioned them not to write about Ethiopia as it may be politically insensitive to do so.  The government seems to be doing a respectable job of fostering economic opportunities.  That said, I read a essay today that said (in jest), “I think Ethiopia is next, but don’t tell anyone.  It will be our little secret!!!”

Q: How many Africans can fit into a van?

A: One more.

This notion of sharing limited resources with an unlimited number of people is central to the Anuak people, if not most of Africa.  “Anuak” as a word, means “to share.”  This is one of those classic “paradigm shifts” that wait for Westerners who linger here long enough.  It is like you show up at something that looks and feels like a track meet, so you dutifully line up and wait for the gun.  When the gun goes off you sprint ahead.  About half way around the track you look back because you don’t sense that anyone else is running.  Far behind, you see a mass of Africans moving together as a group – some even carrying others.  No one is left behind and no one is too far ahead.

It was explained to me that generally Westerners value results and Africans value relationships.  For example I am here to get a well restored and a cement block making project going so I naturally get frustrated by the many meals, meetings and discussions about this work when there is no movement towards action – not even a “getting ready to get ready” sensation.  Sometimes I think someone back in the states has gone way out of their way for an elaborate, well orchestrated practical joke – a type of candid camera – that won’t end until I “lose it” and that moment gets televised.

I suppose I am not coming across so well here.  I’m likely interpreted as abrupt and inpatient. I look about the room and see that these people deeply enjoy the presence of one another, and though the material circumstances (on an absolute basis) can be judged to be woeful – you can’t help but envy the friendships (even among the professional rivals) and the good natured, mirthful exchanges about even the most trivial of things.  I am learning how to enjoy just being with people for the sake of nothing else.  If you think about it, what else truly, really matters?

Two weeks ago I found a great “2” block making machine (i.e. it makes 2 cement blocks at a time) well outside of Addis for 28,000 Ethiopian Birr. 

I was ready to buy it.  However the chief back in Gambella had suggested instead that I meet with his brother-in-law who said that he could get us a “4” block machine for 18,000 Birr.  After several days of phone conversations, we finally got to meet this elusive machine yesterday.  We found it at the end of an alley, next to a variety of other items that looked like they had been (at some point in their history) refrigerators, cement mixers, bank safes and possibly even aircraft engines.

Without going into the technical details (it did not have a motor), it was a markedly less sophisticated piece of equipment and, alas, could really only make 2 blocks at a time.  "But you see, if you do the process twice, you will make four block; so in this way it can be considered a a 4 block machine, actually."  Further the price had been misquoted, it was 25,000 Birr.  So we called the other place and set up an appointment for Thursday to go buy it.  They said it will take 4 weeks to get the machine ready but to come for tea and bring a deposit.

When I requested the check from the book keeper here, he asked if I had done a pro-forma evaluating at least three different options.  He further suggested that we convene a meeting to discuss the merits of the three different proposals.  "Jonathan, it is best if you get these proposals submitted in writing."  I didn't hear what else he said as I was preoccupied looking around his office for the hidden camera.