How to say goodbye . . .

I don’t know.  But I must.  My flight leaves in 6 hours.  In 6 hours my life will be so completely, unfathomably different.  Not better or worse, really, just so different.  I pass crowds of people walking in the late afternoon sun, past women carrying heavy loads of wood on their backs, past bananas and tomatoes and carrots by the roadside, past huge trucks barreling by, past piles of sticks and rocks and rubble, past brilliant flowers and laughing children.  And I think, “This is my home . . . how can I leave my home?”

I long for a better home, my true home, the home of no goodbyes.

paradox (and sheep wat)

The paradox of life happens every day, but I don’t always notice it.  Tonight, I was laughing with friends and team members over Balderdash (and fond Bomgaars house memories), weird dreams, and Monty Python.  Just a few minutes later, I walked into my house and the pungent smell of simmering sheep wat filled my head.
This is my life, has been my life for nearly two years.  In less than three weeks, this reality will be replaced by a far different one that will at the same time be strange and familiar.  I don’t know how to prepare for that kind of transition.  I don’t like sheep wat, but I’m not sure how to live without its presence in my life.
But somehow over the next days I must say goodbye—to minibuses and honking traffic, to dodging donkeys and goats and Isuzu trucks, to being yelled at on the street and being greeted with warm hugs and kisses, to injera and sweet macchiatos, to my friends, my staff, and the project beneficiaries.  It’s an impossible task, and I’m not sure I have the strength to do it well.
Yet as I struggle through the pain of goodbyes, I have been given great joy.  Yesterday at the project office we had a clinic day with the Baltimore team.  Through the course of the day, the four random kids who are all inexpressibly precious to me came by.  I got to hold Deborah in my arms, and we swayed in the crisp morning sunshine.  Abel called for me, holding tightly to my hand as we slowly walked to the candy bag.  Fozia came and smiled her charming toothless smile as she waited on the steps.  Alemayehu brought his young-teenager attitude that covered over his little-boy heart; he let me hug him and put eye drops in; and in the sparkle of his dark eyes I was filled up to overflowing.
So tonight I’m peaceful.  I’m sad about the goodbyes, but I’m glad for the joy I have.
I’m going to smell like sheep wat in the morning.

I’m going to post again . . .

Someday.
There’s a lot in life I wish to do Someday; I only hope I remember to live on the days I’m still waiting for Someday.
Life has been incredibly busy and very draining the past weeks.  It seems as though my mind is constantly wrestling with TB, or grad school, or suffering, or health insurance, or HIV training courses, or buying a car, or sick beneficiaries . . . my heart is struggling to be in this world, to know how to leave this one for that one, and to do it all while living today and hoping for Someday to come soon.  I’m not doing it well and feel more often than not that I’m just going to fall to pieces.  My world is not changing little bits at a time; no, my life, my home, my place—everything is going to be uprooted and then I will have the painful process of finding fresh dirt to plant in again.  Sometimes I can’t wait to get on that plane and head back across the ocean; other times, though, I can’t fathom leaving and I beg for these last 26 days to last a lifetime.  This is my life, and I am leaving it.  I don’t doubt there are good things ahead of me, and I’m looking forward to so many sweet things about life over there—but the future doesn’t take away the sorrow of what is now.  And now I need to learn how to say goodbye, so long, I love you.
Someday, oh, Someday, there will be wholeness. There will no more leaving, no more wrenching of hearts, no more fear over the unknowns, no more tears to be wiped away by soft white nettellas.
Someday.

Story end

It’s 10:15pm and after 15 hours away from the house I’m just settling onto my bed for a dinner of Teddy Bear cookies and a banana (and I teach nutrition??).  Perhaps going to the gym at 8:45 wasn’t the greatest idea for sleeping, but I needed to run.  Just now, I came home through the dark, rough, florescent-lit streets of Addis.  The last few mini-buses full of people bumped along beside my taxi as I listened to a peppy, squeaky cassette of 80s pop.  Ghana was winning the Africa Cup game last I checked, the price of fuel and taxi prices went up this weekend, I’m going to finish my grad school applications this week, 12 year old Beniam should get his cast off tomorrow, work is busy with numerous different projects going on, I wish Skype worked, I wish the phone line in my house worked, I don’t know where I’m going to live when I go back to the US, tonight I met a new friend I wish I’d met 6 months ago, I need to call 5 people tomorrow to catch up . . . and my mind won’t slow down.  I don’t want it to, really, because then reality will hit me hard.
We lost another beneficiary this weekend.  I’m not surprised, but I am distressed, sad, frustrated, angry.  I know that we accomplish a lot in the project, and I’m grateful for all the wonderful changes I see in people’s lives.  But we still lose people.  I’m tired of death—here in Ethiopia, back in the US, in hundreds of other places around the world right now.
The mellow strains of Over the Rhine fill my head,

And it’s strange to see your story end
How I hate to see your story end
It’s so sad to see your story end.

My Sunday in Addis

Is today the day?  I wonder . . .
I’m tired after a full-on (as my Aussie friend puts it) two weeks.  The team from Chattanooga came and went, I’ve spent pretty much every spare minute working on grad school applications, and now I’ve acquired a cold accompanied by laryngitis.  I’ve spent most of today in fleece, with many cups of lemon tea.  I keep having to remind myself that I’m supposed to be polishing my essays, when what I really want to do is just finish one of the five books I’m reading.
So, it’s no surprise that I wonder if today should be the day I twist the cap off of my very last Diet Coke.  It’s been residing at the back of my fridge for awhile now, waiting for a very bad, no-good, horrible day when I really, really need that familiar burning sweetness.  But, I decided today is not the day.  I’m feeling more rested and not quite so desperate, and besides, with my impaired taste buds I wouldn’t fully appreciate those 12 oz of goodness!  Instead, I settle on indulging in one of my three bags of microwave popcorn, made possible by my housemate’s microwave.
Time to cook half the bag of popcorn (the other half apparently disappeared into Orville’s mouth): 6 minutes.  Six loooooong minutes!

On my mind

I had a lot to say, and I tend to be long-winded (verbose, loquacious, or garrulous—maybe I did learn something from all that GRE cramming after all!). The following is not in chronological order, but thought order. I know, that can be bothersome to OCD people (myself included☺).

From Washington DC, Tuesday night
B46 is going to Atlanta. I just passed by the gate as I went in search of Starbucks to warm me up from my cold, cramped, airport-seat nap. It hurt a little to see Atlanta up on the screen—Atlanta is close to that other life of mine, to friends and family and church and community and Wal-Mart and Christmas and comfort. But I’m not at B46. My gate is B45, and it’s going to Frankfurt. This way of life, this saying, “I live in East Africa” is normal now, but it doesn’t really get easier. When I’m in Ethiopia, I wish for things in the US. And when I am in the US, I long for my work and life and staff and patients in Ethiopia. I suppose this could come across as discontentment, but I don’t really think that’s the case. I deeply love both of my lives and am grateful for the privilege of living them. My restlessness, then, must come from something else—the almost inexpressible longing for the otherness of a world we don’t have yet. Some days I’m far too weak and frail to even want to press on to that world, and maybe today is one of them. If someone in B46 wanted to trade with me, I’d be tempted to take up his offer. But it wouldn’t make me happy. I know that, even though I wish I didn’t have to right now. So I’ll keep sitting here (freezing) in my seat, and I’ll board the plane, and I’ll go back to the place that, for now, is my appointed home.

Adjusting may not be so easy . . .
The other day I was driving down Ridgewood road in Jackson—a nice, 4-lane road through mainly residential areas. Up ahead, a man with a leaf blower stepped from the curb into the road. I just saw him out of the corner of my eye, and my mind quickly reacted “Swerve!! There’s a donkey in the road!!”
Yeah. I had to remind myself (out loud) that in this country there are NOT donkeys in the middle of city roads. Adjusting, I thought, will hold its challenges when I return in March.

Waiting Rooms and Weddings
This is the reason my 12 days in the States flew by. I arrived in Jackson on a Wednesday night, and flew out at 6am the next morning for Texas. I was able to spend three days with my mom, some of my extended family, and most importantly my grandmother. While I was there, my Oma would usually wake up when we urged her to, and while she was not speaking more than a word here and there, she would raise her eyebrows and follow the conversation. When she said, “I love you” to me, all the hassle and frustration and questions with coming back faded away. She has a long road ahead of her, and my family is weary—that makes it hard to leave again, but I know that she is in the hands of our ever-gracious Father. While in Jackson, I caught up with friends, celebrated an early Christmas with my family, shopped, collected medications and supplies for the project, worked on grad applications, and slept very little. It’s crazy and exhausting to have been here for such a short trip, especially when there are so many people I wanted to see or talk but didn’t have time to connect with. But it was worth it, so worth it.

It was such a joy to be at my friend’s wedding, and to share such good times with my group of close (but now very scattered) college friends.

I think I’ll live off the joy of those times for weeks to come☺

My favorite photo of Peter and Bethany that I randomly shot as they were leaving the reception (in the rain):-)

From Germany, Wednesday morning
Now I’m in the Frankfurt airport, and my beef with T-mobile continues. They don’t like me, so I can’t get online—that’s a little frustrating, because one last chance at high-speed wireless would be really nice. On the flight here, a new realization struck me: Lufthansa Airlines wants to make me fat. I chose the pasta over turkey and dressing, thinking the pasta had the chance to be more innocuous. But it was so much better than anticipated—I had tortellini in a marina and cheese sauce, fresh bread and butter, and Asian-inspired steamed cold vegetables (I know that sounds like it doesn’t go with pasta, but it did). After I finished all of that, I speared the grapes out of the fruit cup. The last piece of fruit looked like a chunk of cantaloupe. I heartily bit into it, only to realize it was cheddar cheese! Good, rich, smooth, perfect cheddar cheese. I was already full, but I just couldn’t pass it up. When I finished that, I tasted the dessert (which I’m always wary of on airplanes)—Mmmm. Chewy, rich brownie, real whipped cream, and a strawberry. Like I said, Lufthansa wants to make me fat. And apparently I am just fine with that idea.

Looking ahead
So now–to go back, to finish well. That’s a daunting task for me to face. I know these next months may well be some of my hardest in Addis, partly because some good friends are no longer around, partly because I will be beginning to think about transitioning back to life in the US. I want, though, to be really focused and use this time well. I don’t know how to do that, just that I should, I must. All of life is our race, and there’s never a time we are allowed to quit. But within that race I think there are sections where we have to really concentrate, speed up, not stop too early. This is that time for me. I can’t imagine that my days in Ethiopia will be over after March, but I know that this season will be. It will be a busy time, as we have two teams coming, the TB project to complete, and the Kolfe work to truly get off the ground now. I know that while it will be a hard few months, it will fly by. And then I’ll be sitting in this airport again wondering how the time could possibly be over, wondering how I could leave this life in Ethiopia.

And I’m definitely back, Friday morning
This morning I was riding the public transport minibus in to the project. Taking advantage of the fact that I had a good seat and it wasn’t crowded, I was reading the Economist to wile away the time (yeah, so I already stick out like a sore thumb—why not read and drink my thermos of tea on the way?!). So there I am, reading and bouncing along, when I notice a ROACH on my Economist. A roach. And not a small one. Those of you who know me well know that I hate roaches, probably more than any other creature. They make me eeeek like a sissy girl. So my natural reaction was to EEEEEK out on the minibus, but by some force deep within I managed to remain calm. I turned the magazine over and started flicking the roach to the floor, and eventually he got the message. Then, of course, I had to wonder where the roach came from in the first place. I glanced up, only to wonder how many more could potentially fall on me from the aged vinyl ceiling. Ugh. Not a thought to dwell on. So I kept reading about the 2008 US elections, and after awhile thought maybe living in Africa wasn’t so bad after all.

 

We ran, we finished . . . we will keep running

Sunday was the Great Ethiopian Run, the largest open road race in Africa (whatever that means)–as in, 33,000 people this time around. It was a gorgeous day–sunny, blue, breezy, and mild.   The yellow t-shirt-clad crowd was friendly, and the excitement was fun to be a part of. My coworkers Derek and Danny ran as well. The joyous part of the event, though, was that Jerusalem, one of the project beneficiaries, ran as well! Her story is a testament to grace–when the project staff first met her, she was incredibly sick and bedridden. But now, she works full time for the project, cares for HIV+ kids, takes night classes, and has finished a 10k run! Crossing the finish line with her was an unforgettable moment. I got to laugh with Jerusalem at disease, fear, and death and proclaim that there is a different way–a way of hope, redemption, and LIFE.

Doro wat, or chicken “stew” is the special holiday dish here (much like our turkey). Derek wanted some before he leaves, so our friend/cook/clothes-washer Mimi made a big pot of it. On Tuesday we had a doro wat party at the office and all feasted☺ Geta came by the office in the afternoon and hung out for a couple of hours. Here she is cracking up at Derek’s scary face. Yesterday we finished the community health worker training that’s been going for almost 3 weeks! Here they are having training out in the sunshine. Really, we just had so many things going on at one time that we had to maximize space on the project compound! The case manager training is going well, and after this week we might get a short reprieve from trading teaching assignments around!

And FINALLY—we are starting the TB project today! It’s been a loooong time in coming, but everything is finally set. I have a stack of consent forms on my desk, and the patients are coming.

I can’t believe I’ll be in the US two weeks from now. I can’t believe I’ll be back here three weeks from now. The past few weeks have been very busy, but I have a feeling the next few are going to be even crazier. Ahhh. Breathe. Life is good—I tend to forget that in the craziness

Brrrrr

It’s supposed to get down to 28 degrees tonight.  Good thing I ran this morning, when it was only mid-30s.  It’s a little crazy that I may have a cooler Thanksgiving than my family will in Texas!

I think Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  I’m not dreading it as much this year as last, and as long as I don’t endure a successful mugging, there’s no way this Thanksgiving can sink as low as the last one.  I’m looking forward to it–I’m going to take a 1/2 day off work and act like it’s a holiday . . . and then we are going to eat.  A lot.  I was joking that we needed some American football on tape to make the day real.  Seriously, I love this holiday and am blessed to have a family that gets what it is really about.  I’m sad that I’m missing the what is probably the final Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle’s house (they are moving).  There are so many memories wrapped up in their big old house–from Saturday morning donuts to sawdust pies on the wide front porch to the circle of family singing and laughing in the living room on Thanksgiving.  Since I can’t be there, I’ll send my best wishes–may all you poker players have a straight face.

Life has been busy.  Work is busy, and in some senses it never ends, because the need never ends.  That’s exhausting.  But not nearly as exhausting as it must be to fight every day to stay alive and feed your kids and stay warm in your tin house when it’s 28 degrees and you only have one blanket.  We are taking in new beneficiaries and transferring our stabilized ones; the first brings a fresh pain at seeing  poverty and sickness and desperation, and the latter joy that there can be restoration and hope.   I’m deep into grad school applications, which is quickly becoming my current least-favorite activity.   I want to wake up and have them over.  Or at least good internet so I can get more done more quickly!

And that’s my life.  Stay warm.

Dave and Busters . . . from Dallas to Addis!

I think everyone in this country owns a couple of t-shirts that were born in the USA.  Mostly they are from places like D.C., LA, and major NFL teams.  Today, though, I saw a guy wearing a “Dave and Busters, Dallas” t-shirt!  I did a bit of a double take, and then just started to laugh.  Dave and Busters—an extravagant place to have fun—juxtaposed with the slums of Addis was kind of a mind-boggling contrast.
In other news . . . this week we have started community health worker training.  Our EPTs (Expert Patient Trainers—all beneficiaries who have been trained by the World Health Organization) are the future community health workers; using a combination of WHO materials and staff experience, we are teaching them how to be the ones to counsel and care for other HIV+ patients.  There are 15 EPTs in the training group; as I looked out over their attentive faces today, I was struck by how amazing all of their stories are!  It’s exciting to be at the point with another great group of beneficiaries, and to think what an immense help they will be to a health care system that is increasingly burdened by HIV/AIDS.  And it’s exciting to think about these people having the skills and experience to qualify them for good jobs in health facilities!  This really demonstrates the heart of what the project wants to do—find people who are destitute, very sick, and unable to provide for their families; and then to support them and their families back to a stable life.  It doesn’t always happen this way, and too often we are overwhelmed by the disease, poverty, and death that just won’t be beaten.  Thus, it’s with even greater joy that we get to share in these stories of the ones who have, in essence, driven back the death-invader.
Tomorrow night, Jim leaves to head back to life in the US.  It’s going to be a transition for everyone—both for him and those of us who are here.  I don’t like transitions (though I doubt any honest person really does), but am glad that Jim’s heading down the path that has been set before him.
My desk is piled high with papers—lab results, training materials, schedules, receipts, drug interaction reports, TB research papers . . . I should work on that!

Hope you all have a peaceful week!

Another week is speeding by (oh, and Happy Halloween–or whatever you call this day!)

Over the weekend I started typing a post I was going to title something like “Ears and Vegetables”, not because they go together, but because they were both a part of my week!  Last week I think I saw the inner parts of more ears than in the prior two months combined.  Everyone seemed to have complaints—pain, hearing loss, itching, burning . . . I cleaned a couple of ears out, but I didn’t get anything fun out of them!! ☺ On Saturday I set out to buy fresh produce.  I miss some foods that just aren’t available here (diet coke, fajitas, and cottage cheese to name a few!), but I also really enjoy all the cheap fresh fruits and vegetables that are readily available in Addis. I bought spinach, tomatoes, cucumbers, leeks, lettuce, pineapple, bananas, bell peppers, and cilantro—and then had to get it all home while crammed into a public transport “minibus”!

But now it’s into another week and I’ve moved past all the ears and veggies☺ My coworker Alemu, who is the main nurse at the Lideta project site, is at the Bole site this week.  So, most of his crazy busyness will fall on me, Derek, and whoever is around to translate!  It’s at these times that I most wish I could speak Amharic fluently!  The past couple of days have been full of seeing patients, making home visits, inventorying the pharmacy, preparing to teach community health workers, wishing the TB proposal would get approved soon, and watching Friends.  Ha, the last is definitely not a part of my work activities, but it does provide a much-needed mental break from everything else.  Before I first came to Ethiopia, my good friend Michelle (who spent awhile in Africa as well) said that my laptop would become my “home entertainment system”!  How right she was!  I feel immensely blessed to be living now, in the era of computers and phones and internet (even though it’s horribly slow!).  I’ve got another post in my mind, because I want to take you with me on the home visits I did yesterday.  I can’t find the words yet, but I hope to soon.

So, for a cheery ending to what has been a beautiful day here in Ethiopia, I will share with you my latest joke.  I realize some of the humor will be lost on you, but hopefully the sheer absurdity of it will still make you laugh!
Q: How does a donkey cross the Ring Road?? (the most modern road in the country, I think—it’s a 4 lane divided highway complete with guardrails and a couple of overpasses that encircles most of the city).
A: Well, of course!  It climbs up the steps, trots across, and clambers down the PEDESTRIAN CROSSWALK over the Ring Road!!!
This scene made me stare in almost disbelief when I first saw it; I had never considered how animals could cross the road with the cement barriers and guardrails.  It’s even more fun when there are multiple donkeys, they have 5 ft wide packs on their backs, and they are trying to get past all the people walking and the beggars sitting along the crosswalk!