Stories from Addis Ababa

After some productive and touching meetings, Liz left yesterday. I am sad she is gone. I look forward to receiving Nondini and Ryan. There is still plenty of opportunities for preparing and meeting more nice people. I am including below some descriptions of the humble people we were fortunate enough to meet with.

Perhaps through collaboration with them and the kind people at Serving in Mission (SIM), we shall offer some value here.

With warmth:

-John

PS – We share only one initial for the first names to protect privacy.

--- Begin touching stories ---

A.

A. lives in a small home the size of a walk-in closet, with a tin roof, and scraps of plastic tile laid on a dirt floor. She has three grandsons from her daughter. Her daughter passed away from AIDS in her home. This saddens her so much, that she avoids staying in the house other than at night to sleep. She and her grandson cried while sharing about the loss of her daughter with us. To our eyes she looks fairly thin and tired.

While waiting to join a support group, A. now receives support from the government, her relatives and a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) called Serving-In-Mission to help raise her grandchildren. She brightened while discussing her grandson’s interest in soccer.

T.

T. is a young woman with one son and no husband. She was very sick for a long time, and with Anti-Retro-Viral (ARVs) she feels much better. Her house was a small walk-in closet, perhaps the size of a normal toilet stall in an American restroom. She lives next to a public restroom, so the smell of urine perforates her home. The strong smell something that brings her sadness.

Aside from the strong smell, her neighborhood felt warm and she said everyone treats her with kindness. She smiled warmly while discussing her seven year old son and seemed to enjoy fiddling with the volume on her radio as we spoke -- so much light in her deep brown eyes, as she spoke.

B.

B. lives in a large room, by comparison with others. Her home is sponsored by the government and she pays a fraction of the cost others with humble income must pay. The wait to gain such quarters is long, and the roof leaks in the rain. Along with the rain, the government keeps saying they will move her to another home. B. displays a wise and socially astute personality. She smiles and looks deep into our eyes when speaking. And has a knack for bringing laughter to the room. On her forehead, above her eyes she displays a large scare from some harsh rash, perhaps shingles that she had prior to receiving Anti-Retro-Virals. Unlike some, she carries the mark of this opportunistic disease associated with HIV. She believes her husband got the disease from sharing fingernail clippers with someone else who was positive. (Clearly he must have gotten HIV from some other means).

During the rainy season her roof leaks and her husband died due to AIDS. The extra money allowed by living in government housing seems to help B. with some basic amenities. She has a phone, and even a small TV. She talks proudly of her smart grandson who likes to take things apart and fix them.

A.

A. has a beautiful one year old baby girl, who smiles warmly at everyone who passes. She lives in another closet size room that she rents for a sizeable sum among this population (150 birr). She cannot afford furniture, so she borrows some from friends. When she was very sick with HIV/AIDS she had to give her ten year old son to her sister to care for. Now she is trying to get government sponsorship to bring her son back to live with her. She is ashamed that she is not married, and hides her HIV positive status from her neighbors to avoid stigmatism.

Like her daughter, A. emanates a certain peace naturally, and sitting in her home with packing foam for insulation, a sense of tranquil trickles outward.