Originally written May 24, 2009 at 1:45 am Addis Ababa time
It feels like a flash back in time to the night Abebe drove me to the airport the last time I left. I don’t really know how I feel. Glad to be going home in a way, sad to be leaving so many who have been so kind to me, mostly just exhausted—unable to express to others my gratitude, to know how best to meet their bittersweet feelings. In a way, the saying goodbye, the parting, is not exactly the difficult thing, it’s the knowing how to say it that is.
This morning, I missed the kids and teachers coming in to school at 8. Partly, it was a calculated miss. Partly, I was just hungry and wanted breakfast. I wanted to avoid the “this is the last time I’ll see you” ceremony, although I did want to see them, especially the children, again. But I slipped out with just hugs for my friends Ejigayehu, the handicraft teacher, Sigue, our very special head cook, and Bizunesh, the 8th grader (graduate now) who helps Sigue in the kitchen.
Tariku, a teacher at the school, had arranged with the principal for me to interview some students. They had compiled an extremely thorough list of some 50 children with special talents, financial, social, and health-related challenges, and those at the top of their class. Tariku reviewed the entire list with me, which took two hours and was very redundant. I chose 16 children to interview on film, and spent some time out on the playground trying to track these children. These kids are amazing.
Two boys and a younger girl (my family structure) belong to a very poor family in which both parents are HIV positive. Their happy, effervescent demeanor belies the tragedy in their lives. These children shine. Another, Fikru, is 17 years old and only in the fourth grade. I was shocked to see practically a full-grown man walk in the room to be interviewed. He comes from a far-away rural area where schooling was not available for him. He awaits a heart operation this summer.
Temesgal and Alemayo are two brothers who live on the compound. Dr. Fekede says they are just about the hardest working people at the place. They are both in eighth grade now, although Temesgal is several years younger than his brother…but this guy is so intelligent. He cares for the animals during the day and stays up late studying. He served as my translator on the playground; his English is far better than that of any other student, even among the eighth graders. Talking to him is almost like talking to an adult, and when I see him on the compound he gives me the brightest, most intelligent smile and returns my wave. I asked him how he felt about his upcoming final examination, on which his future educational prospects are almost entirely based, and he said, “I don’t feel any way. I’ve studied hard and prepared, and I will take the test, and hopefully I will pass it.”
Getting to know the members of the community better has definitely been the highlight of my time here this time. One day, Bizunesh took me for a walk, and I got out into Kalaa’la and the surrounding villages. The homes are made of mud with thatched or corrugated iron roofs. I was amazed how far rural village life extends, even so close to the city. We walked to the local Orthodox church, removed our shoes, and had a look. Then, we were offered bread and honey water to drink. We walked over the hills and into the next village, onto a bridge that runs over a river that is dry now, as the rainy season is just about to start. Then, we saw some other workers on their way back to Kalaa’la, and joined them to go home. Bizunesh took me to her home and her mother was just putting the finishing touches on a gorgeous and very large brightly-colored basket. We found some young Kalaa’la boys playing marbles nearby, and filmed them before heading back to the Learning Village.
Now, I sit in the gate alone, waiting for my flight to board, and collect…not so much my thoughts, I’m not ready for that, but just my mind. I focus on the trip home. I think back to the last time I sat here, waiting to go home for my Aunt’s funeral. I’m surrouned by people, from all over the world, but in these few moments, I’m totally isolated; no Ethiopian cell phone, my American cell phone doesn’t work. I sit in this liminal space and feel the strangeness of the oncoming transition. You never quite know how these experiences will change you, or what parts of them will prove "sticky." So, I just collect my experiences with me, along with my laptop, my new coffee pot, and my presence of mind, and--literally as I finish this sentence--head to the line of passengers waiting to board our flight, heading home.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
My Day with Abebe (email written to my family June 1)
So, I've had an exciting couple of days. Yesterday I was given Abebe
(our driver) and free will to have him take me all over town wherever I wanted to go. I scoured the guide book and came up with all the things that sounded most interesting to me. Incidentally, although Abebe has been a tour guide in Addis for many years, they were all new adventures for him as well.
First was Ato Basket Shop, because my mom had especially requested I bring her home "one of those neat baskets."
"The best place in town for baskets," according to Lonely Planet, and
also "just west of the City's Center." Well it turns out to be in a
Suburb outside of Addis and took us an hour to find, asking around. No
one had heard of it. Finally we found a tiny basket shop and I
thought, well if this is it, it's a little disappointing but I might
as well just be satisfied with this because I don't want to stress Abebe
out. Well, it’s a good thing Abebe asked, because the young man there said we were looking for his father's shop and told us how to get there. It was in
a residential area surrounded by these huge houses. We never would have found it. But there it was, and a big sign that said "Ato Basket Shop."
And it was well worth it. The selection was amazing, and I bought
gorgeous baskets for gifts, then went next door and bought the equipment for having coffee ceramonies (ceramic pot and stove).
Next, we went to the Ethnographic musem at Addis Ababa University (It was nice to see the campus; I love the idea of prestigious capital city universities in developing countries, like UNAM in Mexico.) It was so fascinating. Ethiopia is incredibly diverse; a land of 90 languages and countless ethnic groups, each with its own set of cultural traditions, history, and beliefs. There was information about many of these groups, and the whole first floor of the museum was arranged according to the human life cycle: folk tales in the childhood section, then initiation rites, then most of the material (regarding beliefs, diet, weaponry, traditions, etc.) in the section for adulthood, then a section about death, including views of the afterlife and burial practices.
I read everything, devouring the information on every wall. ..poor Abebe. He was so patient and accomodating all day...he didn't know where any of the places I wanted to go were, we had to ask around.
But everything was so interesting. For example, in one tribe, they have a
rite of passage ritual where they line up 15-30 buffalo, and then the
young men have to run along the backs of the buffalo, from one back to
the next all the way down the line. Then, they repeat the whole thing 3 or 4
times in a row. If they fall, they get teased by all the women. If
they succeed, the girls that are suitable marriage partners for him
hand him whips and beg him to beat them. The more they beg, the more
it shows their interest in him. Once he completes the rite of
passage, until he marries, he serves as like a mentor for other boys
who need to pass it.
After the museum, I wanted to see Piazza, the section of town that is an artifact of the Italian occupation. I hadn’t realized how much of Addis I still hadn’t seen. We couldn't find the first restaurant I wanted, so we tried the second, and it was closed, so he just took me to a place he knew.
Next i wanted to get coffee at the place in Piazza reputed to have the best coffee in Addis. It required a little bit of backtracking, and I could tell didn't really want to take the time to find yet another place he hadn’t known about. I think he didn't understand why I wouldn't just have coffee at
the restaurant, but when I told him I really wanted to go, true to Abebe’s soft-hearted character and eagerness to please, he gladly relented.
IT WAS SOOO WORTH IT! BEST CUP OF COFFEE IN MY LIFE. It was like
a really good cup of Peet's coffee times 5 on the flavors and aroma.
The place was called Tomoca. The Italians taught the
Ethiopians how to brew their coffee, already the best
in the world (coffee is native to Ethiopia), to maximize the taste. It was amazing.
(By the way, Abebe loved it too, and took me back two more times—once on the way to Merkato the next day, and again on my last day in Ethiopia, to share it with me. I had to remind him several times the name of the place. “Dani,” he would ask, “what is the place for coffee called? TO- MA- CO ??” When he remembered, we would laugh and say in a funny voice, “TO – MO- CA!!!!”)
After Tomoca, As if my itinerary wasn’t unusual enough for Abebe, I told him I wanted to go to Addisu Filwoha Hot Springs. It's a hotel where Ethiopians go, for day spa activities. Abebe told me it's just for washing, I think he
didn't really see why I would want to go somewhere just to wash. Well, when we got there, it was really confusing. He came in with me and we were trying to figure out what I could do. There were all these
different outdoor/indoor sections scattered around the building. They didn't have like a "menu" or anything in English, and no one really spoke English. I was the only white person there, and Abebe's English is not that good either. I was nervous about trying a massage. Massages can be awkward for me when they're, too soft or too hard on the wrong
spots, or I’m not comfortable with the masseuse, or can’t communicate, or I’m expected to be naked with a male masseuse. Too many unknowns. So I decided to order the "Sauna Bath." (equivalent to about $2.50).
Imagine: I get a key, put a deposit down for that, and the lady leads me into a little bathroom complex: lockers, showers, a place to sit, a toilet area and a sauna. A stray cockroach scurries across the tiled walls here and
there. I am joined by 5 Ethiopian women, big and small; we are all
wearing only panties. They are nice to me; a few of the young ones
know a bit of English. We go into the sauna. They are
rubbing themselves and these black pieces of dead skin are coagulating
on their skin, like if your hands are dirty and you put Elmer's glue
on them and rub them together. I try doing the same but they say I
don't need it because I'm Farangi (white). We go out, and shower. I wonder if they're finishing, and think I might want a little more of the
sauna. But no, they go back and forth, sitting on the benches outside
to cool down in between, and I am thinking "any minute now, we should
be finished." Finally, maybe an hour later, I ask one of them if she
is finishing up. No, she says, she stays 2 and a half or 3 hours! I
am worried about Abebe waiting, so I leave early, even though the ladies
say I have more time. Abebe told me I was probably in
there for an hour and a half; it was hard to tell. But he
seemed glad that I came out when I did; the guard had told him I could
be in there for another hour or so.
So that was my exciting day with Abebe, and then today I went to the
home of one of the ladies who works here. She lives right outside the
school, in Ka'laala. It was my first time walking around the village and seeing the inside of a home, so that was exciting for me. From the outside,
it looks like just a thatched roof mud hut, Africa style. But inside,
they have tv, electricity, no running water, but couches...it's pretty
nice. Her husband is a character. He said he is
Emperor Haile Selassie's grand nephew, and that he knows
7 languages. He does seem to know Arabic pretty well. He has a big
yellow truck (think: semi) and often drives to Sudan, or Djibouti,
etc. hauling exports and imports. He is half Somalian. They have a 4
month old daughter, she is calm and content as can be, a cute little
thing. Her name is "Maya," which in Amharic means "Mirror," the
significance of that being that she looks like her parents (when they
see her, they see themselves.) They honored me with
a coffee ceremony and compelled me to eat with them (my second lunch, tough fatty meat, it was kind of hard for me, but I did force myself to eat
a bit).
TOMORROW I'm going to Merkato! Reputed to be the largest market in
Africa (by some). Should be another adventure!
Love u kindly,
Dani
(our driver) and free will to have him take me all over town wherever I wanted to go. I scoured the guide book and came up with all the things that sounded most interesting to me. Incidentally, although Abebe has been a tour guide in Addis for many years, they were all new adventures for him as well.
First was Ato Basket Shop, because my mom had especially requested I bring her home "one of those neat baskets."
"The best place in town for baskets," according to Lonely Planet, and
also "just west of the City's Center." Well it turns out to be in a
Suburb outside of Addis and took us an hour to find, asking around. No
one had heard of it. Finally we found a tiny basket shop and I
thought, well if this is it, it's a little disappointing but I might
as well just be satisfied with this because I don't want to stress Abebe
out. Well, it’s a good thing Abebe asked, because the young man there said we were looking for his father's shop and told us how to get there. It was in
a residential area surrounded by these huge houses. We never would have found it. But there it was, and a big sign that said "Ato Basket Shop."
And it was well worth it. The selection was amazing, and I bought
gorgeous baskets for gifts, then went next door and bought the equipment for having coffee ceramonies (ceramic pot and stove).
Next, we went to the Ethnographic musem at Addis Ababa University (It was nice to see the campus; I love the idea of prestigious capital city universities in developing countries, like UNAM in Mexico.) It was so fascinating. Ethiopia is incredibly diverse; a land of 90 languages and countless ethnic groups, each with its own set of cultural traditions, history, and beliefs. There was information about many of these groups, and the whole first floor of the museum was arranged according to the human life cycle: folk tales in the childhood section, then initiation rites, then most of the material (regarding beliefs, diet, weaponry, traditions, etc.) in the section for adulthood, then a section about death, including views of the afterlife and burial practices.
I read everything, devouring the information on every wall. ..poor Abebe. He was so patient and accomodating all day...he didn't know where any of the places I wanted to go were, we had to ask around.
But everything was so interesting. For example, in one tribe, they have a
rite of passage ritual where they line up 15-30 buffalo, and then the
young men have to run along the backs of the buffalo, from one back to
the next all the way down the line. Then, they repeat the whole thing 3 or 4
times in a row. If they fall, they get teased by all the women. If
they succeed, the girls that are suitable marriage partners for him
hand him whips and beg him to beat them. The more they beg, the more
it shows their interest in him. Once he completes the rite of
passage, until he marries, he serves as like a mentor for other boys
who need to pass it.
After the museum, I wanted to see Piazza, the section of town that is an artifact of the Italian occupation. I hadn’t realized how much of Addis I still hadn’t seen. We couldn't find the first restaurant I wanted, so we tried the second, and it was closed, so he just took me to a place he knew.
Next i wanted to get coffee at the place in Piazza reputed to have the best coffee in Addis. It required a little bit of backtracking, and I could tell didn't really want to take the time to find yet another place he hadn’t known about. I think he didn't understand why I wouldn't just have coffee at
the restaurant, but when I told him I really wanted to go, true to Abebe’s soft-hearted character and eagerness to please, he gladly relented.
IT WAS SOOO WORTH IT! BEST CUP OF COFFEE IN MY LIFE. It was like
a really good cup of Peet's coffee times 5 on the flavors and aroma.
The place was called Tomoca. The Italians taught the
Ethiopians how to brew their coffee, already the best
in the world (coffee is native to Ethiopia), to maximize the taste. It was amazing.
(By the way, Abebe loved it too, and took me back two more times—once on the way to Merkato the next day, and again on my last day in Ethiopia, to share it with me. I had to remind him several times the name of the place. “Dani,” he would ask, “what is the place for coffee called? TO- MA- CO ??” When he remembered, we would laugh and say in a funny voice, “TO – MO- CA!!!!”)
After Tomoca, As if my itinerary wasn’t unusual enough for Abebe, I told him I wanted to go to Addisu Filwoha Hot Springs. It's a hotel where Ethiopians go, for day spa activities. Abebe told me it's just for washing, I think he
didn't really see why I would want to go somewhere just to wash. Well, when we got there, it was really confusing. He came in with me and we were trying to figure out what I could do. There were all these
different outdoor/indoor sections scattered around the building. They didn't have like a "menu" or anything in English, and no one really spoke English. I was the only white person there, and Abebe's English is not that good either. I was nervous about trying a massage. Massages can be awkward for me when they're, too soft or too hard on the wrong
spots, or I’m not comfortable with the masseuse, or can’t communicate, or I’m expected to be naked with a male masseuse. Too many unknowns. So I decided to order the "Sauna Bath." (equivalent to about $2.50).
Imagine: I get a key, put a deposit down for that, and the lady leads me into a little bathroom complex: lockers, showers, a place to sit, a toilet area and a sauna. A stray cockroach scurries across the tiled walls here and
there. I am joined by 5 Ethiopian women, big and small; we are all
wearing only panties. They are nice to me; a few of the young ones
know a bit of English. We go into the sauna. They are
rubbing themselves and these black pieces of dead skin are coagulating
on their skin, like if your hands are dirty and you put Elmer's glue
on them and rub them together. I try doing the same but they say I
don't need it because I'm Farangi (white). We go out, and shower. I wonder if they're finishing, and think I might want a little more of the
sauna. But no, they go back and forth, sitting on the benches outside
to cool down in between, and I am thinking "any minute now, we should
be finished." Finally, maybe an hour later, I ask one of them if she
is finishing up. No, she says, she stays 2 and a half or 3 hours! I
am worried about Abebe waiting, so I leave early, even though the ladies
say I have more time. Abebe told me I was probably in
there for an hour and a half; it was hard to tell. But he
seemed glad that I came out when I did; the guard had told him I could
be in there for another hour or so.
So that was my exciting day with Abebe, and then today I went to the
home of one of the ladies who works here. She lives right outside the
school, in Ka'laala. It was my first time walking around the village and seeing the inside of a home, so that was exciting for me. From the outside,
it looks like just a thatched roof mud hut, Africa style. But inside,
they have tv, electricity, no running water, but couches...it's pretty
nice. Her husband is a character. He said he is
Emperor Haile Selassie's grand nephew, and that he knows
7 languages. He does seem to know Arabic pretty well. He has a big
yellow truck (think: semi) and often drives to Sudan, or Djibouti,
etc. hauling exports and imports. He is half Somalian. They have a 4
month old daughter, she is calm and content as can be, a cute little
thing. Her name is "Maya," which in Amharic means "Mirror," the
significance of that being that she looks like her parents (when they
see her, they see themselves.) They honored me with
a coffee ceremony and compelled me to eat with them (my second lunch, tough fatty meat, it was kind of hard for me, but I did force myself to eat
a bit).
TOMORROW I'm going to Merkato! Reputed to be the largest market in
Africa (by some). Should be another adventure!
Love u kindly,
Dani
Stories from Iris (continued)
Here is another story written by Happy Room Visionary Iris Landa, about our time in Dembi Dollo. (Note: this posting should appear before "Children of the Learning Village.")
Samaroo
Samaroo is a village about 8 k from Dembi Dollo. It takes half an hour to travel there by vehicle. Sisters Genet and Tsehay spend 3 days a week in Samaroo attending to programs to help the poor in that community.
Sister Genet is in charge of the kindergarten and feeding center. At this center, they feed the children a good meal every day. It may be the only meal some of them get for the day. There are about 130 children in 3 different classrooms. Sister Genet is very energetic and passionate about helping all the children. Her face just lights up when she talks about her children and the school. After we painted the Sisters' Center at Dembi Dollo, she had the empty paint buckets cleaned and was so thrilled to have the kindergarten children plant seeds. The plants had sprouted and were already growing when we left.
Over a year ago, Sister Genet asked me if we could paint the feeding center with bright colored animals and make another Happy Room. This time, the concrete floor in the center was finished, so she told me "We are waiting for you"!! When we arrived at the school, the beautiful children were singing "We Are Waiting for You!!!" They had flowers for us and we felt so loved.
The room was quite large but with a team of creative helpers we were able to finish an amazing project in two and half days.
Stephanie, the 18 year old volunteer from Gimbie Adventist Hospital, did all the drawings. She also helped with the painting.
Sister Evelyn was my joyful surprise!! Much to my amazement, she painted the giraffe's and monkeys with such care and clean lines. And, she did so with laughter and happiness.
She kept talking about what she would name her animals. Yes, the name would be Graffey for the large giraffe, and OH!! Abba Tesfaye for the larger monkey. The two little monkeys were named SB for Stephanie Barlow and DH for Danielle Huffaker. Both young women had climbed the large Banyan tree at Dembi Dollo and stared at monkeys. Sister Evelyn had never painted before, but you would never know that after seeing her precise work.
I had a picture of African animals at a water hole. Sister Genet insisted on having a water hole for the animals. Wonder of wonders!! By mixing two paint colors and gasoline, I was able to achieve a beautiful water effect. That became the centerpiece of all the paintings of many different kinds of animals.
Sisters Genet and Tsehay as well as Danielle all helped with the painting.
When finished, I knew it was the most beautiful room that we had done.
One day, during break time for one of the kindergarten classes, they all flocked into the room. As there were many oil-based paints in the center of the room, I was trying to be careful that they did not go near them.
Then, Danielle gathered them around her at one end of the room. With a radiant smiling face, she pointed to each animal, naming each animal as they proceeded around the room and repeated the names after her. They were beaming just as much as she was. Yes, another moment of grace!! I just had to stand back and take pictures.
Friday lunch was a special event. Sister Genet came up with two surprise vegetarian dishes. She had seen onion rings in Addis Ababa, and so did her delicious version. She also made little spinach balls that were so tasty. Sister Tsehay was on cloud nine - she just could not contain herself... she had to blurt out that they had made ice cream for Friday night dinner -- Stephanie's last night with us.
Friday afternoon was time for celebration. Ethiopians are so very grateful, they always shower us with gifts and set aside time for a grand celebration. There were guests.
The children had practiced special songs to perform for us. They were accompanied by the most beautiful little girl playing the drum, who just captivated our attention.
Toy monkeys and balloons hung from the beams. The traditional coffee ceremony was so beautiful. They had made a large round loaf of bread which Stephanie, Danielle and I cut.
A boy read out in perfect English a wonderful tribute and expressed gratitude for the incredible paintings.
Each of us was given lovely soft traditional Ethiopian white scarves.
Yes, another one of those occasions when you feel like you are flying high and again, you could not possibly be any happier.
I received a letter and pictures from Sister Genet last week.
She mentioned:
"I want to tell you that the painting in our feeding center is attractive and the children are eating their meal there. The first day when I see them eating their lunch I can tell you that all are excited to have lunch they even forgot to eat just watching, talking and pointing their fingers to the pictures and talking."
Once again, Thanks be to God for the privilege we had to transform this feeding center for the children way out in the western region of Ethiopia!
Love and blessings.
Iris
Samaroo
Samaroo is a village about 8 k from Dembi Dollo. It takes half an hour to travel there by vehicle. Sisters Genet and Tsehay spend 3 days a week in Samaroo attending to programs to help the poor in that community.
Sister Genet is in charge of the kindergarten and feeding center. At this center, they feed the children a good meal every day. It may be the only meal some of them get for the day. There are about 130 children in 3 different classrooms. Sister Genet is very energetic and passionate about helping all the children. Her face just lights up when she talks about her children and the school. After we painted the Sisters' Center at Dembi Dollo, she had the empty paint buckets cleaned and was so thrilled to have the kindergarten children plant seeds. The plants had sprouted and were already growing when we left.
Over a year ago, Sister Genet asked me if we could paint the feeding center with bright colored animals and make another Happy Room. This time, the concrete floor in the center was finished, so she told me "We are waiting for you"!! When we arrived at the school, the beautiful children were singing "We Are Waiting for You!!!" They had flowers for us and we felt so loved.
The room was quite large but with a team of creative helpers we were able to finish an amazing project in two and half days.
Stephanie, the 18 year old volunteer from Gimbie Adventist Hospital, did all the drawings. She also helped with the painting.
Sister Evelyn was my joyful surprise!! Much to my amazement, she painted the giraffe's and monkeys with such care and clean lines. And, she did so with laughter and happiness.
She kept talking about what she would name her animals. Yes, the name would be Graffey for the large giraffe, and OH!! Abba Tesfaye for the larger monkey. The two little monkeys were named SB for Stephanie Barlow and DH for Danielle Huffaker. Both young women had climbed the large Banyan tree at Dembi Dollo and stared at monkeys. Sister Evelyn had never painted before, but you would never know that after seeing her precise work.
I had a picture of African animals at a water hole. Sister Genet insisted on having a water hole for the animals. Wonder of wonders!! By mixing two paint colors and gasoline, I was able to achieve a beautiful water effect. That became the centerpiece of all the paintings of many different kinds of animals.
Sisters Genet and Tsehay as well as Danielle all helped with the painting.
When finished, I knew it was the most beautiful room that we had done.
One day, during break time for one of the kindergarten classes, they all flocked into the room. As there were many oil-based paints in the center of the room, I was trying to be careful that they did not go near them.
Then, Danielle gathered them around her at one end of the room. With a radiant smiling face, she pointed to each animal, naming each animal as they proceeded around the room and repeated the names after her. They were beaming just as much as she was. Yes, another moment of grace!! I just had to stand back and take pictures.
Friday lunch was a special event. Sister Genet came up with two surprise vegetarian dishes. She had seen onion rings in Addis Ababa, and so did her delicious version. She also made little spinach balls that were so tasty. Sister Tsehay was on cloud nine - she just could not contain herself... she had to blurt out that they had made ice cream for Friday night dinner -- Stephanie's last night with us.
Friday afternoon was time for celebration. Ethiopians are so very grateful, they always shower us with gifts and set aside time for a grand celebration. There were guests.
The children had practiced special songs to perform for us. They were accompanied by the most beautiful little girl playing the drum, who just captivated our attention.
Toy monkeys and balloons hung from the beams. The traditional coffee ceremony was so beautiful. They had made a large round loaf of bread which Stephanie, Danielle and I cut.
A boy read out in perfect English a wonderful tribute and expressed gratitude for the incredible paintings.
Each of us was given lovely soft traditional Ethiopian white scarves.
Yes, another one of those occasions when you feel like you are flying high and again, you could not possibly be any happier.
I received a letter and pictures from Sister Genet last week.
She mentioned:
"I want to tell you that the painting in our feeding center is attractive and the children are eating their meal there. The first day when I see them eating their lunch I can tell you that all are excited to have lunch they even forgot to eat just watching, talking and pointing their fingers to the pictures and talking."
Once again, Thanks be to God for the privilege we had to transform this feeding center for the children way out in the western region of Ethiopia!
Love and blessings.
Iris
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Children of the Learning Village
Originally Written 5/30/09, this post should appear after "Stories from Iris, cont." because it's about the Learning Village, not Dembi Dollo.
It seems in every school campus or community center, there are those children of employees who grow up knowing that they are the true owners of the place. In many ways, they’re right. These kids know the ins and outs of the compound like no other, because they don’t only interact with the space simply as a place of work, or even just a “residence.” Theirs is such an intimate relationship with that place that it could almost be called an embodied one—they know the mud, the flies, the climbing trees, the buildings, the hiding spots, and the faces as extensions of play, learning, and their own life histories. They don’t have a relationship to the space, they are a part of it.
Stefanos and “China” are the sons of Solomon, our head maintenance man. They have a home here on campus. Stefanos leads the other kids, and shows his sense of ownership and empowerment as he struts around campus, indicating the names of the buildings, and leading the rest of the group.
Mesky is older than Stefanos, but she doesn’t live here. Her mother is Sigue, our cook. Mesky doesn’t even go to school here, in fact, not til next year anyway (grade 4). Yet while in some ways she is an outsider, she is comfortable within the metaphorical inside of the Learning Village, the residential life here. From the moment I met Mesky, as shy as she was, I caught a little twinkle in her eye that hinted at a subdued sassiness. More often than not, Mesky is quiet. But when she speaks, her entire face comes alive. She’s never afraid to stand up to the boys, or put them in their place. When they burst out with improvised kung fu, she kicks right back. While we walk, she gestures to the boys, saying “not easy.” I say, “yes, difficult!” and teach her how to say “crazy boys!” When I want to walk aimlessly around the Learning Village, she is my willing sidekick.
As we walk, Stefanos indicates to me the “milk house” and “flowers” (greenhouse). His younger brother, dubbed “China” by the community, lags behind.
Grabbing the heads of flowers from nearby bushes and, clenching them in his fist, he runs to catch up, presenting the colorful ones to me. The white ones are his to eat as he skips away. You can’t quite put a finger on that kid. That’s cuz he’s sorta cat-like, with a dog craziness though. He doesn’t exactly want to bond with you, he just kind of wants to entertain you. But even that he could give or take. He’s gonna go along doing his crazy thing whether or not you’re paying any attention. But you can’t help but watch; his face is flickering with a million emotions a minute, and it makes you wonder if you were ever that care-free and uninhibited.
The Jonathan to China’s David is Tomoo, nephew (adopted son) of Germa, the “Evangelist,” or campus chaplain. The chemistry of China and Tomoo’s bond is simple: Tomoo likes China because he makes him laugh, and China likes Tomoo because he lets him shine. Plus, if you grow up together on campus, it’s a given that you’ll be friends. That’s why I kind of wonder if Tomoo’s intense shyness has anything to do with growing up in China’s shadow.
One of my first encounters with Tomoo was back in November when I was here, as I sat in the kitchen for company while Sigue and the girls were cooking on a night with no electricity. I must have been in there a full twenty minutes before I noticed a little boy with big eyes and long, curly eyelashes sitting in the corner of the small room, in the dark. Not a peep had escaped him. As the minutes passed, Tomoo just sat and sat, watching quietly. He doesn’t even respond much when you try to engage him. The most you can get out of him is a shy, sweet smile as he averts his gaze. As I get to know him, I realize that Tomoo is totally comfortable going crazy within the security of his crazy playmates; but as soon as he feels your eyes making him the center of your attention, he quickly restrains himself.
And then there is Makdas. Let’s not forget about her. Her father is a guard. Despite the fact that she doesn’t actually live here, while it took all the
others a little while to warm up to me, Makdas was there demanding my time and attention on day one. She’s a beautiful little girl who seems to already have discovered her abilities to charm and get her way. She’s also exceedingly bright, feisty, and quick-witted. And very small.
“How are you Makdas?” Dr. Fekede asked one day. Makdas replied
using an evasive Amharic locution usually heard only from adults, which translates roughly into, “My health is in keeping.”
Another time, Dr. Fekede asked her if he could take her picture. As he
looked around for a proper spot, she asked him what he was waiting for. “I’m looking for some flowers,” Dr. Fekede said. Promptly, Makdas pointed out (with just a touch of satisfied condescension), “Looking for flowers?? There are flowers here, flowers here, flowers there, flowers here, and flowers everywhere!”
When Makdas wants you to read to her, she says assertively “You,
read!” Makdas is always in control, and I’m amazed at how many simple English words Makdas has absorbed in her first grade education in order to perfect the art of making her needs known to Farangis (foreigners).
So when Stephanie told me about a cute, spunky little girl she had met
at the Learning Village, I knew right away that it was Makdas. (pictures confirmed this conjecture).
This colorful guild; Stefanos, “China,” Tomoo, Mesky, and Makdas—and a few others who come and go as they please—romp around the place they own with the uncanny ability to wave a stick and create playthings with whatever can be found. A tree branch raised above the ground with two more sticks supporting it at each end (I’m not sure of its original purpose, portable fence?) is transformed into a gymnast’s balancing beam. The skeleton of a bucket-less old wheelbarrow is the perfect thing for pushing each other around in. And the kids engage these “toys” with such grace as to make them just the perfect thing for the job. It begs the question of why we buy toys for our kids. These children don’t need anything but each other, and their place. The world is ripe for the picking.
It seems in every school campus or community center, there are those children of employees who grow up knowing that they are the true owners of the place. In many ways, they’re right. These kids know the ins and outs of the compound like no other, because they don’t only interact with the space simply as a place of work, or even just a “residence.” Theirs is such an intimate relationship with that place that it could almost be called an embodied one—they know the mud, the flies, the climbing trees, the buildings, the hiding spots, and the faces as extensions of play, learning, and their own life histories. They don’t have a relationship to the space, they are a part of it.
Stefanos and “China” are the sons of Solomon, our head maintenance man. They have a home here on campus. Stefanos leads the other kids, and shows his sense of ownership and empowerment as he struts around campus, indicating the names of the buildings, and leading the rest of the group.
Mesky is older than Stefanos, but she doesn’t live here. Her mother is Sigue, our cook. Mesky doesn’t even go to school here, in fact, not til next year anyway (grade 4). Yet while in some ways she is an outsider, she is comfortable within the metaphorical inside of the Learning Village, the residential life here. From the moment I met Mesky, as shy as she was, I caught a little twinkle in her eye that hinted at a subdued sassiness. More often than not, Mesky is quiet. But when she speaks, her entire face comes alive. She’s never afraid to stand up to the boys, or put them in their place. When they burst out with improvised kung fu, she kicks right back. While we walk, she gestures to the boys, saying “not easy.” I say, “yes, difficult!” and teach her how to say “crazy boys!” When I want to walk aimlessly around the Learning Village, she is my willing sidekick.
As we walk, Stefanos indicates to me the “milk house” and “flowers” (greenhouse). His younger brother, dubbed “China” by the community, lags behind.
Grabbing the heads of flowers from nearby bushes and, clenching them in his fist, he runs to catch up, presenting the colorful ones to me. The white ones are his to eat as he skips away. You can’t quite put a finger on that kid. That’s cuz he’s sorta cat-like, with a dog craziness though. He doesn’t exactly want to bond with you, he just kind of wants to entertain you. But even that he could give or take. He’s gonna go along doing his crazy thing whether or not you’re paying any attention. But you can’t help but watch; his face is flickering with a million emotions a minute, and it makes you wonder if you were ever that care-free and uninhibited. 
The Jonathan to China’s David is Tomoo, nephew (adopted son) of Germa, the “Evangelist,” or campus chaplain. The chemistry of China and Tomoo’s bond is simple: Tomoo likes China because he makes him laugh, and China likes Tomoo because he lets him shine. Plus, if you grow up together on campus, it’s a given that you’ll be friends. That’s why I kind of wonder if Tomoo’s intense shyness has anything to do with growing up in China’s shadow.
One of my first encounters with Tomoo was back in November when I was here, as I sat in the kitchen for company while Sigue and the girls were cooking on a night with no electricity. I must have been in there a full twenty minutes before I noticed a little boy with big eyes and long, curly eyelashes sitting in the corner of the small room, in the dark. Not a peep had escaped him. As the minutes passed, Tomoo just sat and sat, watching quietly. He doesn’t even respond much when you try to engage him. The most you can get out of him is a shy, sweet smile as he averts his gaze. As I get to know him, I realize that Tomoo is totally comfortable going crazy within the security of his crazy playmates; but as soon as he feels your eyes making him the center of your attention, he quickly restrains himself.
And then there is Makdas. Let’s not forget about her. Her father is a guard. Despite the fact that she doesn’t actually live here, while it took all the
others a little while to warm up to me, Makdas was there demanding my time and attention on day one. She’s a beautiful little girl who seems to already have discovered her abilities to charm and get her way. She’s also exceedingly bright, feisty, and quick-witted. And very small.
“How are you Makdas?” Dr. Fekede asked one day. Makdas replied
using an evasive Amharic locution usually heard only from adults, which translates roughly into, “My health is in keeping.”
Another time, Dr. Fekede asked her if he could take her picture. As he
looked around for a proper spot, she asked him what he was waiting for. “I’m looking for some flowers,” Dr. Fekede said. Promptly, Makdas pointed out (with just a touch of satisfied condescension), “Looking for flowers?? There are flowers here, flowers here, flowers there, flowers here, and flowers everywhere!”
When Makdas wants you to read to her, she says assertively “You,
read!” Makdas is always in control, and I’m amazed at how many simple English words Makdas has absorbed in her first grade education in order to perfect the art of making her needs known to Farangis (foreigners).
So when Stephanie told me about a cute, spunky little girl she had metat the Learning Village, I knew right away that it was Makdas. (pictures confirmed this conjecture).
This colorful guild; Stefanos, “China,” Tomoo, Mesky, and Makdas—and a few others who come and go as they please—romp around the place they own with the uncanny ability to wave a stick and create playthings with whatever can be found. A tree branch raised above the ground with two more sticks supporting it at each end (I’m not sure of its original purpose, portable fence?) is transformed into a gymnast’s balancing beam. The skeleton of a bucket-less old wheelbarrow is the perfect thing for pushing each other around in. And the kids engage these “toys” with such grace as to make them just the perfect thing for the job. It begs the question of why we buy toys for our kids. These children don’t need anything but each other, and their place. The world is ripe for the picking.
Stories from Iris
Stories from Ethiopia:
Excerpted from an email Happy Room Visionary Iris Landa wrote to her sister about our time in the Dembi Dollo region of Ethiopia.
Kelkecha.
Kelkecha is a district of Dembi Dollo. The town of Dembi Dollo is in the western region of Ethiopia - out toward the Sudan border.
Last November, I went to the new kindergarten out on the top of a hill at Kelkecha. We painted happy rooms and a rainbow with children out the front. We gave out jumpers to each of the children. They had been knitted on machines by the disabled women. The children were so excited, and I had such a fun time with them.
This time, we returned to Kelkecha with polo shirts for each child.
They were so happy to see me and we did some of the fun games I had taught them. I also took out about 50 stuffed animal toys and about 60 little toy metal cars/vehicles that a 10 year old boy had given to me. When we opened the large plastic buckets and they saw the stuffed animals, they smiled. Then when they were shown the little moving cars they went wild with excitement.
Abba Tesfaye handed them out and then we were on the floor racing the cars around. They had never seen moving toys and of course there are no cars out there... only 4-wheel vehicles.
The childrens' excitement could not be contained.
When we left, the children were kissing my arms and holding onto me with such big happy smiles. I just love those children way out there in the middle of nowhere.
Since I was there last November, there have been visitors to Dembi Dollo and Kelkecha is now on the tour. They told me that people from Malta, Holland and Philadelphia visited the school and were just so excited to see beautiful paintings at the happy school. Everyone takes lots of pictures and say that they will do happy rooms when they return home. For me, I could not be happier to know that this little school is like a beacon of light that will transform other places on the earth.
Danka Women's Center
We stay with the Daughters of Charity at Danka. Danka is like a suburb of Dembi Dollo.
Next to the sisters' community is a small house - one main room and 2 smaller rooms off to the side.
Last November, Sister Tsehay (Sister Sunshine) showed me this run down neglected place and said that she is renting it for a women's center. It obviously needed to be made happy. They had set up a little store in the front side room; it supports several women who work there. They also have morning tea and make little breads. The main room was terribly dark. Well, we painted the room a light cream color and then painted the story of Ruth. Each of the paintings is almost life-size.
There is Naomi and Ruth hugging each other, Orpah waiving good bye, Ruth bending down collecting sheaves of grain, Boaz, the rich gentleman with a bright blue cloak and white embroidery, and finally, the older Naomi holding baby Obed.
Outside, we painted flowers on one side of the front, and on the other side, Danka Women's Center in English and Oromo Language. On the side wall is a rainbow and sun.
.JPG)
The amazing part of this project was the reactions of the people who came by the center. The young men were just as enthusiastic and thrilled as the women. Children sat on the chairs outside and looked in bright-eyed wonder at what was being painted. Everyone who looked inside the main room had big smiles.
One day, I was outside putting tape to paint the lower part. Three women came and stood on the verandah watching me. One was a thin little old lady who was leaning on a stick, the other 2 were middle aged. I gave them a big smile and they just looked blank and sad at me. Then they went inside. I followed a few minutes later. They were smiling and talking excitedly and when they saw me, they bowed and shook my hands and looked so very happy.
When they had a coffee ceremony as the final celebration at the center, there were several very poor women there who use the center. Abba told them the story of Ruth in the Bible and they all cried. When we were leaving,I hugged each of the women. It was so moving. They held onto me and hugged me so tightly and shed many tears and pointed to heaven. They talked to me, and of course I could not understand a word they were saying, but I knew in my heart what this transformed happy women's center meant to them. Their gratitude is way beyond what we experience in the west.
.JPG)
As I look back at that experience, I am in awe of how a meaningful happy place transforms the community. I am so very grateful to God for the privilege of having so much joy and happiness in the work that I am doing.
Excerpted from an email Happy Room Visionary Iris Landa wrote to her sister about our time in the Dembi Dollo region of Ethiopia.
Kelkecha.
Kelkecha is a district of Dembi Dollo. The town of Dembi Dollo is in the western region of Ethiopia - out toward the Sudan border.
Last November, I went to the new kindergarten out on the top of a hill at Kelkecha. We painted happy rooms and a rainbow with children out the front. We gave out jumpers to each of the children. They had been knitted on machines by the disabled women. The children were so excited, and I had such a fun time with them.
This time, we returned to Kelkecha with polo shirts for each child.
They were so happy to see me and we did some of the fun games I had taught them. I also took out about 50 stuffed animal toys and about 60 little toy metal cars/vehicles that a 10 year old boy had given to me. When we opened the large plastic buckets and they saw the stuffed animals, they smiled. Then when they were shown the little moving cars they went wild with excitement.
Abba Tesfaye handed them out and then we were on the floor racing the cars around. They had never seen moving toys and of course there are no cars out there... only 4-wheel vehicles.
The childrens' excitement could not be contained.
When we left, the children were kissing my arms and holding onto me with such big happy smiles. I just love those children way out there in the middle of nowhere.
Since I was there last November, there have been visitors to Dembi Dollo and Kelkecha is now on the tour. They told me that people from Malta, Holland and Philadelphia visited the school and were just so excited to see beautiful paintings at the happy school. Everyone takes lots of pictures and say that they will do happy rooms when they return home. For me, I could not be happier to know that this little school is like a beacon of light that will transform other places on the earth.
Danka Women's Center
We stay with the Daughters of Charity at Danka. Danka is like a suburb of Dembi Dollo.
Next to the sisters' community is a small house - one main room and 2 smaller rooms off to the side.
Last November, Sister Tsehay (Sister Sunshine) showed me this run down neglected place and said that she is renting it for a women's center. It obviously needed to be made happy. They had set up a little store in the front side room; it supports several women who work there. They also have morning tea and make little breads. The main room was terribly dark. Well, we painted the room a light cream color and then painted the story of Ruth. Each of the paintings is almost life-size.
There is Naomi and Ruth hugging each other, Orpah waiving good bye, Ruth bending down collecting sheaves of grain, Boaz, the rich gentleman with a bright blue cloak and white embroidery, and finally, the older Naomi holding baby Obed.
Outside, we painted flowers on one side of the front, and on the other side, Danka Women's Center in English and Oromo Language. On the side wall is a rainbow and sun.
.JPG)
The amazing part of this project was the reactions of the people who came by the center. The young men were just as enthusiastic and thrilled as the women. Children sat on the chairs outside and looked in bright-eyed wonder at what was being painted. Everyone who looked inside the main room had big smiles.
One day, I was outside putting tape to paint the lower part. Three women came and stood on the verandah watching me. One was a thin little old lady who was leaning on a stick, the other 2 were middle aged. I gave them a big smile and they just looked blank and sad at me. Then they went inside. I followed a few minutes later. They were smiling and talking excitedly and when they saw me, they bowed and shook my hands and looked so very happy.
When they had a coffee ceremony as the final celebration at the center, there were several very poor women there who use the center. Abba told them the story of Ruth in the Bible and they all cried. When we were leaving,I hugged each of the women. It was so moving. They held onto me and hugged me so tightly and shed many tears and pointed to heaven. They talked to me, and of course I could not understand a word they were saying, but I knew in my heart what this transformed happy women's center meant to them. Their gratitude is way beyond what we experience in the west.
.JPG)
As I look back at that experience, I am in awe of how a meaningful happy place transforms the community. I am so very grateful to God for the privilege of having so much joy and happiness in the work that I am doing.
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