Dembidolo

In Dembidolo, I feel closer to the third-world scare stories, which were always just abstractions to me before. “Oh, isn’t it sad that somewhere without a name, someone without a face, lives like that.” Those stories are still abstractions to me, but on the bones of our nameless protagonists just a bit of flesh is beginning to appear.

On the first day of class (jewelry production), each woman tells me her story. Bule is a widow with 6 children. She is able-bodied and educated (until tenth grade), but cannot find work. Baretu cannot work at all, she is a small person who suffers greatly from hernias. She cannot even afford to buy soap to wash her clothes in. If it weren’t for the sisters, who found her and paid for her operation in Addis, she would be dead. Sister Tsehay gives her a few dollars a month, and she survives. She wipes her eyes as she speaks, and I reach across the table to take her hand and meet her gaze. Mitike also has medical problems, with her kidneys. She’s ok when she drinks water, but when her kidneys improve, she forgets and they flare up again. The expressiveness of her face and hands as she speaks lends to her endearing and breathtaking beauty. Each woman ends her introduction by thanking me profusely for coming all this way to provide them with an opportunity to improve their lives. They have many, many children to feed and are very, very grateful.

Tareke lives here with 16 other girls. She is a 13 year here who, because of a learning disability or very low IQ, has not been able to pass the 1st grade. An infection from Polio left her unable to walk, but the sisters helped her obtain an operation and now she walks with a leg brace. She had a difficult time with the pattern--getting each safety pin on in the right direction. But after I sat with her, (and reduced the pins she was working with to one color, to simplify), she picked up on it quickly and was so happy whenever I encouraged her.

There are four Sisters who live in this compound. Sister Tsehay, or Sister Sunshine, is in charge of the Women’s programs, including microfinance, soap-making, knitting, agriculture, a local shop, and now, the jewelry program. I am training her and Samuel, the accountant, to continue after I leave. The women’s center is a small building next door to the compound, with a patio, a small shop front, and a room for gathering, in which we are painting the story of Ruth. Sister Sunshine’s personality fits her name. She is large and full of compassion, love, and excitement. Her Meyers-Briggs type is ESFP.

Sister Genet, the other young sister, is in charge of all the children’s programs and the 17 girls—rescued from the bondages of their previous lives—who live in the “hostel” at the compound. She also directs the Kindergarten program and Feeding Center at Sameroo, a nearby community outside of the town, where we are painting a happy room full of bright colors and happy animals. She is quiet and responsible, but she giggles incessantly with Sister Tsehay whenever something funny comes up, and declares at times that she is too excited to eat. Her type is the ISFJ.

Sister Tsigue is a nurse in charge of the clinic. Looking at her, you might not know it, but like the other two sisters, her native tongue is Amharic. Since the local language is Oromifa, she uses a translator. To me, she looks Filipina. I found out recently that her father was a part of the Italian military in Ethiopia. When he left Ethiopia, the people of her community refused to let him take her and her brother along to Italy, throwing stones until he relented. But because of her skin, she was rejected by her people as she grew up. She hates to be called farangi, white person. She is Ethiopian through and through. Sister Tsigue will tell you all about how the clinic works, how they combat elephantiasis, goiter, HIV, and other common problems in the region, and how they help the poor no matter how much they can or cannot pay. She is a caretaker, and will make sure that you are fed and have all your needs met. Her type is ISTJ or ISFJ.

Sister Evelyn actually is Filipina. Since she is really a foreigner, she leaves the handling of the programs that help the people directly to the other sisters. She oversees everything, and keeps in touch with all the former volunteers and donors from abroad. She is full of joy, sings spontaneously, and loves animals and natural remedies. She is incredibly bright and seems to know about everything, and I enjoy asking her questions about what things are like here. Her type is the ISFP.


Highlights of Dembidolo:
-The Banyan tree behind the compound, which is HUGE, bigger than my house, and FULL OF MONKEYS. Stephanie and I climbed it, getting a full 40 feet off the ground (she got even higher). I was terrified, in a good way. The curious monkeys slowly got closer and closer, one coming within just a few feet of me.

-Painting the Story of Ruth in the Women’s Center, the Sisters’ courtyard (garden theme), and a jungle-full of animals at the feeding center for malnourished children in Sameroo.

-Beading with Abba (Father) Tesfaye and the Sisters on our patio in the courtyard.

-Being hugged by the girls who live at the hostel here, who cling to us and say “Thank you,” “I love you,” and “I appreciate you,” with such sincerity that you melt.

-Taking brightly-colored sweaters, handmade by women from the community in Sister Tsehay’s knitting group, to a kindergarten class in a very poor community (Dule), where the children could not afford uniforms. They did the hokey-pokey for us. Iris Landa put in an order for 110 sweaters ($4 per sweater for another uniform-less kindergarten class, which also helps the women who make the sweaters earn a livelihood.

-Seeing the seeds I bought (9 packets for a dollar at the 99 cent store!) distributed among the sisters and Abba Tesfaye, and sprouting already in Abba’s field, at the Women’s Center, and, best of all, in little used paint buckets planted by the Sameroo children, who are taught agricultural skills in conjunction with the feeding program, so that they are not reliant on handouts forever. It’s an edible schoolyard.