Life in the North

To say that life in the north is hard, does not even begin to describe it. Americans, myself included, define hardships as losing hundreds, or thousands of dollars in the stock market, paying too much for medical care, going without our favorite drink to make our grocery budget, and making ends meet so we can repair our car. Yet, we forget that it is only our wealth that causes those 'hardships.' Have we ever been thankful that we had hundreds or thousands to lose? Do we consider ourselves privileged to even have a hospital in our town? How about the fact that we have aisles of beverages at each and every one of the millions of grocery stores in our country? Vehicles - all I'll say is that to own an imported car in Ethiopia, you have to pay 150% sales tax.

In northern Ethiopia, people walk for days to sell one log at the market, so that maybe they can buy some food. As soon as a child can walk, they carry something. Soon, they begin carrying loads of firewood home and to the market. We were in Lalibela and a surrounding village for market day. We saw people walk the long, long road up the mountain.

The market in Lalibela had cloth, tailors ready to make dresses, vegetables, grain, wood, and kitchen pots.

Everyone was rather perplexed by this roaring machine and most chose to go well around.

In the northern climate, they get 3 months of rain, in a good year. While we were there we saw huge, dry, river beds. We were told that people farm here, yet we cannot even begin to imagine how they grow anything for the 9 months they don't get rain. Most of the soil is depleted due to centuries of erosion on the steep mountain sides.

Famine hits the northern area first. In the south, there is abundant and fertile farmland. We traveled on mostly paved roads, and saw NGO's all over the place. The north did not seem to receive nearly the amount of aid that the south gets.

The mountainous landscape was absolutely beautiful. It is difficult to reconcile the beauty and pain it causes.

The traditional housing in the north is a Tukul . . . a two-story stone hut. However, in the countryside, people live in smaller huts.

We drove past this oasis of a well on the way to Yemrehane Christos. Everyone was cleaning up before entering the market.

Emotionally, the trip to Yemrehane Christos was the hardest of my life. I've never seen poverty on such a level as this. It was clear that there were few travelers in this area, as the roads were all gravel, the cattle VERY skittish, and the dogs crazy about a car passing. It felt wrong that we, young, rich Americans, were able to just drive on through this area just to visit a pretty church. Thankfully, we learned and saw a lot more than a pretty church and hopefully, someday we will be able to give back. In the meantime, it has definitely shaped how we view life.

Think for a moment of your typical trip to church on a Sunday morning. Surely it involves a car ride, rushing to be on time, getting dressed nicely (or at least making sure you don't stink), and a paved parking lot filled with nice cars and (mostly) good looking people. As I compare ours with our walk up to this church, I'm humbled and thankful for all that we have. As we hiked up the steep path to the church, we passed a mentally retarded boy sitting at a bridge with his hand out. As Joseph put the equivalent of 50 cents in his open palm, the boy grabbed his hand and kissed it while shouting for joy. He tried to run after us, but couldn't. Then we met a blind woman tapping her way down the steps. Close behind her was a woman, crippled in the legs, crawling down on her hands. Then, another blind woman, eyes completely white, sitting in a corner along the path. Each of these women cried when Joseph handed them a few cents or a dollar. Suddenly all kinds of stories in the Bible took on a whole new meaning.

Peoples' needs were evident and public. In America people still have needs, they are just hidden behind a perfect facade and oftentimes difficult to find. Here they were staring us in the face. We walked passed one house that simply had "FOOD" painted on the side of it - it wasn't a restaurant. We stopped in this woman's store and bought some candleholders and a necklace.

In this area it is common for girls to be married off at the age of 8, just for necessity. One of the best things for boys to do is work for the church. Beginning at age 5, they are sent to priests' school to study the holy books, learn the ancient language and prayers. They receive food and shelter and when they become old enough to be deacons, they earn a small amount of money. We met a number of these boys outside of Yemrehane Christos. Our guide, Yosef, was talking with them and knew many of them. The tallest boy below was the best student in his class at a 'local' (by that we mean over the mountain) school. He had to drop out because he could not afford any supplies - things like pens and paper. The others were very excited to talk with Yosef and very happy to see us. They ran circles around us all the way down the mountain and sheepishly asked for the water bottle I was carrying. I gave it to the smallest of them and he was quite happy to have won the prize.

After this intense trip, we drove back to our hotel. The contrast between the countryside and our hotel is intense, but we were happy to have a sanctuary from all that we had just witnessed. How could we be so blessed - to have seen and met these people and yet return to this?