Friday morning began with a yummy breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs. And at that, we were off and running. We had a full agenda.
Our first stop was at Jemo. We had an appointment with the care center staff, and we were hoping to inventory some materials and make a plan for the work we had been asked to do with the children the following day.
Driving into the neighborhood was surreal. It was so good to be back. It was also shocking. Everything was the same, and at the same time, everything was different.
Korah, the dump ground that you drive past as you approach Jemo, is totally transformed. There is no longer garbage being deposited there. In its place is a large Chinese funded power plant. No people live there. The mounds of trash which were once crawling with people are now smoldering silently. There is no longer a stink. (More on both the good and bad of that later in the week.)
The neighborhood surrounding Jemo Care Point seems more alive than before. The air is more optimistic. The streets are now cobblestone. People wave as we drive in, rather than stare with suspicion. There is livestock everywhere.
And then the children.
Oh, I adore the children.
They were waiting at the gate to greet us.
At first glance I recognize none of them. That fact hurt my heart.
Kristen and I entered the office and begin the tedious task of inventory. Brenna, Grant, and Sierra stayed outside and played with the children who lingered there. Most were in school, but a few were too young to go or were off for the day. I enjoyed the giggles while we worked.
Inventory went as well as could be expected. The language barrier was thick. Though the staff has some English, conversation is difficult. We used more gestures than words. Though I had hoped to ask some questions and gather some specific information, I quickly gave up - realizing that any information gathering was futile without a translator.
We completed out inventory as quickly as we could and then headed to another meeting at a nearby school. The school we visited is called Abune Bacillios. It is a government school that services children of both the Korah and the Jemo neighborhoods. It boasts attendance of more than 4000 students in grades K to 5.
Some of the classrooms were in long one story buildings like the brown one above.
This yellow and green building housed the staff offices and lunch area.
These are old water taps that the funds raised for the Jemo Care Point helped to repair.
This HUGE four story building housed the bulk of the classrooms.
The children waved hello when they saw us walking around the grounds.
Here is another view of the school grounds.
Average class size is 60 students. Classrooms are small. Very small.
I was able to ask quite a few questions about education in Ethiopia. Here are some things I learned:
1. Children in Ethiopia are required by law to go to school. This law is beginning to be enforced in the city. Education is a financial strain on families. Their children must have uniforms and school supplies, not to mention a packed lunch. It is a big burden for many families though they do desire education for their children. In the country, this law is not able to be enforced at all. (I would question just how enforced it is in the city as well. I saw many children of school age on the streets - but I am happy to hear there is a push in the direction of education.)
2. Children have to pass exams at the end of each school year in order to go to the next grade. The teachers write the exams - but they must meet national standards. It did not sound like Ethiopians are hesitant about holding back students.
3. Children take and must pass standardized exams in grades 8, 10, and 12. In grade 8 if they do not pass, they can repeat the grade. If they do not pass the exam in grade 10, they are done with school. The score they receive on their grade 12 exam determines their college/job future. The students with poorest scores will go to trade schools. The students with median scores will go to university for engineering. Because the government has deemed engineering as the most important skill needed to advance the country, it has mandated that most of its students will be educated in that area. The best and brightest students will go to university and study medicine and law. Though University is free, the students have to work for a certain amount of time to repay the government's investment in them.
4. By grade 9 all classes are taught in English, save their Amharic class. Children start learning English as soon as they start school.
The Kindergarten students are kept in a separate - but connected, compound. They have bright, cheery, yet over-crowded classrooms.
This small room houses 60 students, taught by two teachers.
Their playground.
It looks shabby - but there was NO equipment at the older kids' compound. My guess is the little ones enjoy this thoroughly.
These water taps are on the outside of the Kindergarten building. They too were paid for with Jemo funds - if I have all my facts straight.
This is the nap room. All Kindergarten students nap. I was impressed by the cleanliness of the area. Plastic was covering the dirt floor, and it was swept clean. Mattresses lined the walls.
This bathroom facility was just completed. It was funded by Jemo and Children's Hope Chest. It has running water, and it was perfectly clean.
It does not have flushing toilets.
However, with four stalls on both the boys and girls side of the building and a hand washing station on the exterior, it is by far the nicest bathroom facility I saw in the area.
Jemo sponsors and supporters, please know the school is very grateful and proud of this building. There is a plaque on it that denotes your contribution.
After we toured the Kindergarten compound, we were walked into yet another gated area. It housed a barn and a bakery. It is part of a government called "Ethiopia Initiative."
Inside the bard were 8-10 clean, mild-mannered, and well-fed milk cows. The milk the cows provide is used as snack for the Kindergarten children. The calves are sold, or kept to replace older ones. In the bakery, bread is made daily as well. Each Kindergartner receives a bun and a glass of milk before nap time. This has helped the children grow and learn, as nutrition is a big problem for these impoverished little ones.
I was totally impressed with this project.
As we were leaving the school, it was lunch time. An aid organization has begun a small feeding program. Parents and teachers helped them to identify the neediest children, and this organization has begun preparing them lunch daily. This is greatly needed and appreciated. Many more children come to school hungry each day, but the school is very appreciative that SOME are now being helped.
Jemo sponsors, if the uniform looks familiar, your sponsored son or daughter may attend this school. Several of the children we sponsor do.
I left this school feeling encouraged. While there is much work needed, there is also good work going on. The principal seemed to be a good, caring, and hard-working man. The teachers I saw were eagerly doing their best. The government is focusing more and more on education. Change is happening. Perhaps it is slow, but it is happening.
And yet, oppression is thick. When we left the school, a momma with a baby tied to her back had cornered Sierra. She was trying to hand her baby over to Sierra, desperately asking for help. . .
There is much work yet to be done.
We left the school, headed back to the guest house for lunch, loaded up the children's gifts and headed back to Jemo for home visits.
Now, I confess, I was up most of the night worrying about home visits. I saved money for three years so that I could fly all the way to Ethiopia to meet the parents of the children we love. My prayer was that feelings would cover the gaps in language, that my love for each of them and our bond of "motherhood" would be all we needed. After meeting with Jemo staff, I knew that ONLY God could make these bonds happen. Language was going to be a HUGE barrier as the staff was just not fluent enough to cover the gap. Before we left, my girls and I prayed that He would reign and love would win, In Jesus name.
When we drove up to the care center, two of our kids were waiting at the gate. We had never met either one of them - but it was clear they knew we were there for them. They were waiting, but not outgoing. They did not race forward with hugs and kisses, instead they remained in the background with shy smiles. We shook their hands hello in the customary way, and we went inside the compound to find the staff.
The staff was waiting and very happy that our driver would be available to take us from home to home. Fikru and Dibora, our sponsored son and daughter who were already at the compound, happily climbed into our stuffy van. A ride in a vehicle is a rare treat. Fikru was clearly happy to be inside.
Our first stop was at the home of Dibora. She and her mother shyly allowed us entrance. A space had been prepared for us to sit. The benches were recently cleaned and the dirt floor swept. Dibora sat near us, but was certainly unsure. Her momma sat on the floor in the front of the room.
I took the baby doll we had purchased for Dibora out of her backpack filled with gifts and gave it to her to hold. I also removed the photo book we had made. It had photos of our family and photos that Chad and my mom had snapped of Dibora last summer. We looked through it together.
I attempted to share my heart a bit through the help of the Jemo staff. It was not overly successful.
The home felt sad. Oppressive. And it was very warm.
At the end of the visit, I asked if there was anything Dibora or her mother would like to ask about our family.
With her eyes to the floor, Dibora's momma started talking. She explained that she was 7 months pregnant. She would be unable to work soon, and because of a missing document, Dibora was attending a private school. The school fees were more than she could bear, and it was not possible for Dibora to switch to the free government school midterm even if the document could be found. Could we pay the fees?
UMMMMM. It was a awkward moment.
Certainly Chad and I were willing to pay the fees, but we could not just hand her the cash. It needed to be checked out by CHC staff. Was the story true? Would the funds be appropriately used? How could the document be recreated so that this financial burden did not continue? Even if I wanted to hand her the money (which trust me, at that moment I did!) it was not following CHC protocol.
I did my best to explain that through the staff, promising to be her advocate, and left.
It was not a dreamy visit - but I am thankful for it. It gave me first hand knowledge into Dibora's life and the climate of her home. I was also able to advocate for her and her mom. I did receive news in the last several days that her school fees would be covered. They only amounted to $62 and it was an expense that the Jemo budget could cover.
How humbling is that? $62 was oppressive. $62.
We drove around the neighborhood for a bit, until we got close to the home of Ayalew.
As we filed out of the van, the Ethiopian women grabbed the bag of teff. They were totally opposed to me helping to carry it. I had to laugh a bit. I am certain I was physically stronger and would have had an easier time heaving the bag up the hill, but that was not to be.
Seeing the home of Ayalew was exciting. I HAD met Ayalew when we were there n 2014. I was excited to see him again. He had grown taller. His skin looked healthy and his eyes shiny and happy.
His momma graciously welcomed us.
Homes, like businesses, are part of a compound. Inside a fenced and gated area, several homes are located. In the center of the compound, a cooking area is shared. There are often clothes strung on lines drying throughout the compound. As we walked through, all talking ceased. Some neighbors came to greet us, others watched with curiosity.
There was a loom inside the home, but it was not used by any of the family. A neighbor used their space to do his work.
Present at our visit were Ayalew's mom - who looked stern but felt warm and loving. Ayalew's older sister and his younger sister. His dad was away at work.
Ayalew enjoyed out photos. Even more, he enjoyed the miniature pieces of construction equipment I tucked into his bag. I tried to explain that I chose those because Chad uses them in his work - but I have no idea if that was translated appropriately.
I left his home feeling peaceful.
It was a good visit. He is clearly loved. And his momma was clearly OK with me loving him, too.
Ayalew lives at the very top of the mountain. The view from outside his gate is beautiful.
Our next stop was the home of Serawit. She is the oldest child we sponsor at Jemo, and it was her home visit that my heart longed for most. She is old enough to wonder. And I wanted to answer her questions!
We were very warmly received at her home. They had chairs and benches set up, and coffee waiting. I could immediately feel that they were happy we were there.
Serawit's momma and her four year old little brother sat on the floor near the brewing coffee. He clearly loved his momma, and she her son. Serawit sat next to me. I could feel her joy in our arrival. Also her nervousness.
Her dad worked on a loom behind us. He enjoyed the visit, but continued quietly working until coffee was served.
Their home had two rooms - one for living and working, and one for sleeping. They had a small side table which held a black and white TV. They were clearly proud of it because they had it turned on for our benefit. It was a space filled with quiet love.
At the home of Serawit, I decided to take out both her photo book and the most frivolous, and yet significant gift, I had purchased for her. As I prayed about what to bring a girl who was just about to blossom into a woman, a necklace kept entering my thoughts. A necklace is far from necessary - but I wanted her to have something grown up and special. Something that communicated her worth to me and my love to her. So - I bought her a little heart shaped necklace that said "I love you" inside it. Though I was worried that it would be taken from her and sold, causing her heartache, I decided to place it on her neck, and crown her the princess she in in my heart.
Placing it on her was a most precious moment. When I opened the box and showed her the necklace, this very quiet girl gasped and said, "I'm so excited!" Everyone in the room beamed as I clasped it around her neck. Rather than looking upset, her momma looked proud and touched. It was a very precious moment.
As Serawit sat at my side, she eagerly tried to converse in English. She responded with her own age, the age of her brother, and several other questions without needing a translator. She was so pleased. As was I.
When I asked what she hopes to be when she grows up she proudly said, "I want to be a pilot!"
Her family laughed with pride. Their love was tangible. Their acceptance of their daughter and mine complete.
We shared delicious coffee, hugs, and a group photo before we left.
And they insisted on thanking us for the things we do to help them. Serawit also volunteered to show me where she keeps my letters. I promised to write again soon and send the photos from our visit. I hugged her tight and told her, "I love you." To which she responded with a big smile and said, "I love you!"
As Sierra hugged her good-bye she asked for a twinning photo, since they both have heart necklaces. These daughters of mine take my breath away. I feel so very blessed.
As we left the compound, I caught a glimpse of Serawit quietly grabbing her backpack filled with gifts and begin to open them. I hope they pleased her as much as they pleased me as I shopped for them!
Next we went to Fikrus' home. This sweet, smiley five year old was sitting in the van this entire time. He was sweaty but not about to give up his chance to have all the kids in the neighborhood see him inside a VAN. He proudly lead us into his compound and into his home.
Once inside, they had a surprise for us.
He had a brand new baby sister! She was only five weeks old. His momma, Martha, proudly handed her to me. I was honored and thrilled to kiss her beautiful cheeks. Martha smiled proudly.
Martha was a very special lady. She exuded joy and was quick to share it. She laughed often. Smiled with her entire soul. She was precious.
She delighted in the photo book we brought.
When she saw the photo of Jamison and Fikru taken last summer she squealed, "Jamison!!!!!" and proceeded to give the page about 15 kissed.
Chad was "ababa" and only received a kiss or two. Ababa seems to be a term of endearment for older men, he is not sure how he feels bout being crowned "ababa" but if he had seen her joy, love, and admiration, he would be thrilled with the title.
When she got to the photo of herself and Fikru she screamed, covered her face, and laughed and laughed. Who knows it may be the first photo she has seen of herself?
Her younger sister, who is seated next to her, giggled with glee as well.
One of the things I had brought for Fikru was a suit coat that Joshua once wore. It was in near perfect condition, and I thought it would please Fikru's momma. I was correct. She cackled proudly when I took in from the pack. It makes my heart happy to know he will wear it!
Fikru was much happier with the toys than the suit coat!
This was and is a precious, precious home. It is filled to overflowing with joy, love, and music (they had a radio proudly displayed and playing). It was a visit I will treasure always.
During this visit, more than any other, I felt the Lord answering my prayer. Martha and I did not share words, but motherhood was all the language we needed.
I feel so honored to be a small part of their family.
(Fikru, however, would have preferred I send the men to visit! He was sweet and welcoming - but the outgoing imp Jamison describes was not present. He is clearly a man's man!)
Our final visit was to the home of Yedidiya.
When the guys were there Yedidiya was so scared. I have been praying for her to become strong and courageous in the Lord for months. And I had feared that our visit would be scary rather than a blessing to her.
When we arrived, we had to climb the dirt face of the mountain to get to her door. All of the other homes had cobblestone to their doors, but not this one. The path was littered with garbage, and filth, including a couple of used condoms. Yedidiya and several other small children were near the top, waiting shyly.
As we started up the mountain, a young beautiful girl ran down and took the teff from the hands of the Jemo staff ladies who were translating for us. She bounded up the mountain, carrying it as if it were nothing.
When we got to the top, we discovered she was Yedidiya's mother.
She was clearly overjoyed and curious about our visit. She was all smiles. She knew a few English words and used each of them with us with pride. We complimented her, and she said, "I want to learn!"
I made sure that Yedidiya sat near her momma, hoping to make her a bit more comfortable. I handed her her baby, and her mom was so pleased.
I showed them the photos, and her mom was thrilled.
At this home, it was the mom, not the child that we encouraged. Yedidiya's mom was smart, eager, and energetic. Though she was living in the most oppressive poverty of the five home we visited, she seemed to have the most potential. She was the woman that I felt if she were given a chance she would soar. I don't know how to set her free - but I will be praying the Lord opens doors for her. She was special.
As we concluded our visit with a group photo, Yedidiya's mom explained to her "That is also your mother and your sister and your other sister."
We feel beyond honored to be a part of her family.
Though she was too scared to give kisses or waves (much to the disdain of her momma) I did catch a glimpse of this tiny one examining her baby as we left. I think she liked it!
And that was all the thanks I needed.
When we returned to the guest house, the sun was setting over the mountain.
It was a beautiful end to a beautiful day.
In truth, it was not everything I had hoped and dreamed of - and yet it was.
Specific questions were not answered, but the main goal was reached. I saw, hugged, and prayed for each family. I felt the environments of their homes. I made myself real. (I think it is important for them to know me a bit. I am a part of their children's lives, and thus they have a right to know me. I know I like to know the people who are influencing my kids.) I now have a better idea how to pray for each child and every family.
Though it was not a day of shared language, it was a day of shared love.
Thank you Jesus.
