I am sitting at Paul’s office desk, looking out the window across the verdant valley of Gimbie. A cheerful robin-chat is voraciously nibbling at an avocado still attached to one of the trees in the foreground. The gray sky is threatening to break with thunderclaps at any moment. It is not the thunder which makes these tropical storms so loud, however; it is the raindrops pounding the tin roof that are deafening.
It is the end of our second week here at the hospital. Face by face, we are beginning to learn the names and personalities of staff. Foreign pronunciations are slightly more familiar upon the tongue. We rattle off names such as Tsegaye, Ayelleuch, and Endgedai with pride. We quiz each other regularly on the phrases needed for exchanging pleasantries in the hospital hallway. Hopefully, we will be able to begin language lessons with an instructor sometime next week.
The knowledge of our presence has begun to disseminate throughout the village. Yesterday we received three requests for financial support within the space of a few hours. One of the pleas rent our hearts. A single mother, paralyzed in both legs, is unable to work and provide food for her three small children. According to reliable sources at the hospital, the two previous administrators supplied the woman with a monthly stipend. We would of course love to help her too. However, rather than simply give her handouts (and thus encourage her children to develop a dependant attitude), we would prefer to find some means in which she could support herself: a handcraft or manual trade. Please be praying for us as we explore options. Also, feel free to offer suggestions! I’m sure there are many more women like her in the area.
Ethiopia is currently suffering from high grain prices. Food is much more expensive now than it has ever been in the past, and many people are complaining of hunger. Paul and I are trying to be cautious with how much we allow our cook to spend at the market. Thankfully, mangos are still quite cheap. On Tuesday, we purchased 16 mangos for a total of 5 birr (roughly 50 US cents). We are still trying to adjust to eating them at the proper, Ethiopian stage of ripeness: the mango must be still quite green inside, and should crunch like an apple when you take a bite. We are nearly converted. The nice thing about eating them at this stage is that there is much less of a need for flossing afterwards.
We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers,
Petra and Paul