I am somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Africa. “The bush”, they call it. It has proven more appealing than it sounds. Endless rolling fields and the occasional ridge of a mountain rising to meet the open sky. Little clusters of circle-shaped huts sit here and there as homes. Horse drawn carts carry families over dirt roads. Donkeys and oxen fill the fresh cut fields that are strewn with hay bails. Barbwire is weaved between tall wooden poles for fences.
Everyone is either shaking hands with great smiles or hugging. It seems the trees from the Lion King have been plucked from the movie and planted all around me, and I have never…. ever…. seen the sun or moon so large as they are in their rising and falling among these horizons. An African sunset is far from any competition. Though, the same can be said for the moonrise here. Each evening the sun soaks into a deep red before disappearing.
Welcome to Ethiopia, where the coffee never stops flowing and light pollution is nonexistent. This month I find myself far from anything but African country side. I happen to be living on property with about 24 small orphan children whom I get to play with and love on each day.
They are our first mission while here and we spend days playing soccer, teaching English lessons, and having dance parties and movie nights with them. Christmas is in the first week of January in Africa, so we even got to celebrate a second time with crafts and a skit.
Asside from the children, the first two weeks of my mornings here were filled with watering apple orchards and cutting fields of tall hay by hand with sicles (all the while keeping an eye out for the more than occasional pile of hyoena dung). Each day we set out to the field to squat and slice at the dry grass in the morning hours, piling it up as we went. The field gets cut once a year. These hay stacks will be stored away until the rainy season hits and then will be used to feed the oxen.
For the last two weeks, I have rotated from grass to dirt. At the back of the property we work brick production. Most of our time during this is spent shoveling through mound after mound of rocks. You can see the whole process in my upcoming blog, “How It’s Made: Bricks”.
The elevation here is high and offers my nose a new sunburn every day. The air is dry, nights are a crisp 40 degrees, and there is a constant breeze blowing. All in all, Africa’s outdoors have proved to be pretty thearapudic. I have not seen this many stars since I left that North Carolina mountain top that I call home. Not to mention, these kids are precious.
There’s little Senna…
Zaritu…
Tariku and Tirune…
and Keeso… just to name a few.
The day we left these sweet kids tried to stop us with a road block they made in the driveway. It can be hard to love people wholeheartedly and then leave each month. These kids will hold a special place in our hearts forever. Some of you donated personal money to me when I asked for it to be able to help myself and bless others. Some of that money went into a pot this month to purchase all of these kids new shoes. A big thank you to you for helping to make that possible. If any of you are interested in supporting one of these children financially for $25-$40 a month, please contact me!
I am now in Rwanda, but will be releasing the rest of my blogs from Ethiopia soon. Thank you for your continued love and support from all the little lion cubs and I.
