I was feeling a little down after last week's hospital visit, so I thought I'd focus on something more positive. There is so much wrong in the world right now, so much incomprehension that I need to hold onto something that makes me feel good. So I thought about listing out all the things that I have done in my life so far that I am proud of. Here's one from the list. I might add to it over time.
Trip to Ethiopia, 1994
Following my graduation I was a little lost in direction. My partner at the time contacted the Missionaries of Charity in London to ask about voluntary work. At the time a lot of young people were heading over to Calcutta, with Mother Theresa still actively working there. However the Sisters suggested Ethiopia as an option, which received little attention. So off to Addis Ababa we went!
In the time I worked there I experienced so much. From helping wash laundry, to feeding the patients, to cleaning, to washing. The children were wonderful. It was a real community and I am very proud to have worked there. These people had nothing yet the Sisters ensured that they kept their dignity.
We worked in the Addis Ababa compound first, right in the midst of the city. Outside the compound life was so very basic. Kids on street corners begging, simple stacks of tomatoes for sale on the filthy ground upon shreds of cloth.
And the rain, which came at 2pm every day, lasting until 4. But Addis is such a sprawling city, whether it be lunch at the Blue Tops restaurant (a haven of Western food for when we were fed up of eating injera) near to where the fabled Lucy's remains were kept, or else the enormous Mercato market city, which went on for miles and miles.
Then, following an overnight train journey to the east of the City, we arrived in Dire Dawa - an Orientalist's dream: sandy, roaming camels, abundance of khat. There the compound was much larger. One morning we were awoken by lots of people outside our room, which was a small brick-built hut, equipped with a simple fan (assuming electricity) to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Sleepily I opened the front door to be startled by a mass of hundreds of people, all queuing for cooking oil, right outside our hut! The Sisters were giving it away in gallons - the only caveat being that recepticles must be provided. Most were holding rusty tin cans with them and were able to scoop out a litre or two from the enormous vats. We started helping, and with the sun beating down it wasn't long before my arm was soaked in oil and burning quite nicely. One or two only possessed plastic bags and had to be turned away. The event took all day. I was covered in oil from head to toe by the end of it.
Another time in the compound, the Sisters decided that they wanted to go to market for the purchase of a cow. We accompanied them in one of the ubiquitous blue mini buses into the local countryside where they were set to barter for the said purchase. We were told to be discreet so as not to permit the inflation of the price. However unbeknown to me, a crowd had started gathering and an agitated man carrying a very large machete approached us aggressively. There then followed an argument in Amharic whereby one of the Sisters - Sister Michael - shouted at him and he, thankfully, skulked off, thankfully leaving us intact. We bought the cow, naming him Geoffrey and took him back down the hill and into the compound. Over the next few days we visited Geoffrey until the time of his slaughter, at dawn. There followed a feast, with all the children singing and dancing as the meat was roasted and we partook of the flesh, which I have to say was tough and flavourless.
I take my hat off to the Sisters in both compounds for their dedication and hard work in looking after the ill and the orphans. It's over twenty years now since they were there but I still have great memories of those wonderful ladies, in particular Sister Michael, who took us under her wing. I'm proud of them all for what they did for the local community and feel inspired that I can perhaps be a better person for my experiences there.
Trip to Ethiopia, 1994
Following my graduation I was a little lost in direction. My partner at the time contacted the Missionaries of Charity in London to ask about voluntary work. At the time a lot of young people were heading over to Calcutta, with Mother Theresa still actively working there. However the Sisters suggested Ethiopia as an option, which received little attention. So off to Addis Ababa we went!
In the time I worked there I experienced so much. From helping wash laundry, to feeding the patients, to cleaning, to washing. The children were wonderful. It was a real community and I am very proud to have worked there. These people had nothing yet the Sisters ensured that they kept their dignity.
We worked in the Addis Ababa compound first, right in the midst of the city. Outside the compound life was so very basic. Kids on street corners begging, simple stacks of tomatoes for sale on the filthy ground upon shreds of cloth.
Then, following an overnight train journey to the east of the City, we arrived in Dire Dawa - an Orientalist's dream: sandy, roaming camels, abundance of khat. There the compound was much larger. One morning we were awoken by lots of people outside our room, which was a small brick-built hut, equipped with a simple fan (assuming electricity) to keep the mosquitoes at bay. Sleepily I opened the front door to be startled by a mass of hundreds of people, all queuing for cooking oil, right outside our hut! The Sisters were giving it away in gallons - the only caveat being that recepticles must be provided. Most were holding rusty tin cans with them and were able to scoop out a litre or two from the enormous vats. We started helping, and with the sun beating down it wasn't long before my arm was soaked in oil and burning quite nicely. One or two only possessed plastic bags and had to be turned away. The event took all day. I was covered in oil from head to toe by the end of it.
Another time in the compound, the Sisters decided that they wanted to go to market for the purchase of a cow. We accompanied them in one of the ubiquitous blue mini buses into the local countryside where they were set to barter for the said purchase. We were told to be discreet so as not to permit the inflation of the price. However unbeknown to me, a crowd had started gathering and an agitated man carrying a very large machete approached us aggressively. There then followed an argument in Amharic whereby one of the Sisters - Sister Michael - shouted at him and he, thankfully, skulked off, thankfully leaving us intact. We bought the cow, naming him Geoffrey and took him back down the hill and into the compound. Over the next few days we visited Geoffrey until the time of his slaughter, at dawn. There followed a feast, with all the children singing and dancing as the meat was roasted and we partook of the flesh, which I have to say was tough and flavourless.
I take my hat off to the Sisters in both compounds for their dedication and hard work in looking after the ill and the orphans. It's over twenty years now since they were there but I still have great memories of those wonderful ladies, in particular Sister Michael, who took us under her wing. I'm proud of them all for what they did for the local community and feel inspired that I can perhaps be a better person for my experiences there.
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