Dec. 21, 2011
Hello everyone,
Just waking up: day 4 in Addis Ababa. We have spent the past two days meeting the beneficiaries of MIC. It’s been a wonderful past few days, getting to better know the two families we’ve been giving money to, hearing their stories of loss and love, assessing their needs for the future.
The first woman we met was Alem. She lives in a dark, dank room with crumbling mud walls, one cot (that she sleeps on with her younger daughter), two chairs and a jumble of pots and baskets. She was lovely, vibrant smile, light eyes, hospitable. The abridged version: abused by her husband, she eventually left him. She has grown a painful infection in her kidney, but the state hospital won’t treat her or give her a referral to see a specialist. Now she’s a domestic slave, making 100 birr p/week ($17), which isn’t enough to pay her rent—900 birr p/month, ($50). This is the lowest rate to pay, which is why many live on the streets. Her monthly expenses (food, rent, school fees) are around $200/mo and she brings in $68/mo. The fallout in this is going hungry or being kicked out of her shanty by her slumlord, which would land her back on the street, begging. She has three kids—one son (age 19) in Gov’t School, one daughter (age 20) in the army (very dangerous and lowly here—more women opt for prostitution than the army) and one in 4th grade. Her 4th grader makes all A’s in school and all three of her children are her pride and joy. When we ask her if she has dreams the only thing she says is to have better future for her children. She needs to get on an antibiotic for her infection, and purchase an injera machine to generate revenue.
Beneficiary number two: Adiem. Her story is heartbreaking. She was pregnant with her third child and her husband made her get an abortion. She got HIV from the abortion procedure and her husband, disgusted with her, left. She went to school to do hair but now with HIV, nobody will hire her. Her situation seems hopeless: her slumlord won’t let her make injera because of the smoke it produces for the neighbors. She’s very talented at making baskets but no one will buy them from her because of her HIV status. Basket making involves needles and possibly pricking herself. She was once a very striking woman and now her face is filled with boils and pocks. Also, she’s in denial of her HIV status and desperately needs counseling as she is depressed and rarely leaves her home, which is hardly a home! She is also a very skilled at crochet and the three of us commissioned her to make us 12 dishtowels that we designed, which was fun. Her face lit up with the possibility of work for fair payment. Her hope for generating income is to have a small business of selling tomatoes and onions on the street. We are hoping to help this be a profitable business for her. Also, we are working with Feven to design pillow covers that the women could make and sell to foreigners.
Relief: rehabilitation: development: this is our three step approach in the aid we’ll be offering our beneficiaries. We are hopeful that with the help of our community we can help these two families create better futures for their children. They are incredibly grateful for the prayers and financial support we have offered thus far. We all shared tears in the gratitude exchange. As we move into the development stage of our project we’ll continue to add families.
There’s so much more to tell. Soooo many funny things, tender exchanges and Ethiopian goodness. I think this quote by Feven sums up the Ethiopian attitude that we’ve all come to love, admire and long to emulate: “When I loose something I just take a deep breath. If I don’t find it, I just leave it there.”
Peace and love,
Angela
PS: Sending this from a few days ago. Getting on the internet has proved to be quite challenging!
Hello everyone,
Just waking up: day 4 in Addis Ababa. We have spent the past two days meeting the beneficiaries of MIC. It’s been a wonderful past few days, getting to better know the two families we’ve been giving money to, hearing their stories of loss and love, assessing their needs for the future.
The first woman we met was Alem. She lives in a dark, dank room with crumbling mud walls, one cot (that she sleeps on with her younger daughter), two chairs and a jumble of pots and baskets. She was lovely, vibrant smile, light eyes, hospitable. The abridged version: abused by her husband, she eventually left him. She has grown a painful infection in her kidney, but the state hospital won’t treat her or give her a referral to see a specialist. Now she’s a domestic slave, making 100 birr p/week ($17), which isn’t enough to pay her rent—900 birr p/month, ($50). This is the lowest rate to pay, which is why many live on the streets. Her monthly expenses (food, rent, school fees) are around $200/mo and she brings in $68/mo. The fallout in this is going hungry or being kicked out of her shanty by her slumlord, which would land her back on the street, begging. She has three kids—one son (age 19) in Gov’t School, one daughter (age 20) in the army (very dangerous and lowly here—more women opt for prostitution than the army) and one in 4th grade. Her 4th grader makes all A’s in school and all three of her children are her pride and joy. When we ask her if she has dreams the only thing she says is to have better future for her children. She needs to get on an antibiotic for her infection, and purchase an injera machine to generate revenue.
Beneficiary number two: Adiem. Her story is heartbreaking. She was pregnant with her third child and her husband made her get an abortion. She got HIV from the abortion procedure and her husband, disgusted with her, left. She went to school to do hair but now with HIV, nobody will hire her. Her situation seems hopeless: her slumlord won’t let her make injera because of the smoke it produces for the neighbors. She’s very talented at making baskets but no one will buy them from her because of her HIV status. Basket making involves needles and possibly pricking herself. She was once a very striking woman and now her face is filled with boils and pocks. Also, she’s in denial of her HIV status and desperately needs counseling as she is depressed and rarely leaves her home, which is hardly a home! She is also a very skilled at crochet and the three of us commissioned her to make us 12 dishtowels that we designed, which was fun. Her face lit up with the possibility of work for fair payment. Her hope for generating income is to have a small business of selling tomatoes and onions on the street. We are hoping to help this be a profitable business for her. Also, we are working with Feven to design pillow covers that the women could make and sell to foreigners.
Relief: rehabilitation: development: this is our three step approach in the aid we’ll be offering our beneficiaries. We are hopeful that with the help of our community we can help these two families create better futures for their children. They are incredibly grateful for the prayers and financial support we have offered thus far. We all shared tears in the gratitude exchange. As we move into the development stage of our project we’ll continue to add families.
There’s so much more to tell. Soooo many funny things, tender exchanges and Ethiopian goodness. I think this quote by Feven sums up the Ethiopian attitude that we’ve all come to love, admire and long to emulate: “When I loose something I just take a deep breath. If I don’t find it, I just leave it there.”
Peace and love,
Angela
PS: Sending this from a few days ago. Getting on the internet has proved to be quite challenging!
