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.

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.








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.



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.