Wednesday, July 30, 2014

After all I did for YOU!!

I should have been able to tell already by the man in front of me in the queue that this visit to the Transport office was not going to be fun.  Though I couldn’t understand all that he said, I knew from the few words I could understand and his body language that he was letting the lady behind the glass window know about how frustrating the lack of directions and instructions in this office was for him.  Him! The Amharic speaking and reading returnee from Canada.  I was a non-Amharic reading person from New Zealand and all I knew was which window to go to.  I did know though that I could pick up from where he was and asked him to help me get through this gruelling process of acquiring an Ethiopian drivers licence. 

This was not my first visit to the office.  I had been before- a couple of times on information seeking trips with Amharic speakers who at that time gave me some non-conclusive advice.  At that time there was no New Zealand Embassy and authentications were required from them to get our local licences stamped and authenticated as real.  So New Zealand was not even on “the list” of acceptable licences.  I found out later that New Zealanders up until that point had to go to the British Embassy to get our licences authenticated.  Apparently, one of the most expensive Embassies to get stamps from!

I waited.  We don’t have a car, so there was no point in hurrying to get a licence.  I knew the New Zealand Embassy was in the pipelines and our Ambassador had been elected at that point so I delayed the licence process.

Can I just say that again though.  We don’t have a car.  Since the time our first son was born, we bought our first car.  It was 1998 and it was a Toyota Mirage that we bought for 800NZD.  It didn’t take long to save for that car but it was the best thing we could have done with 800NZD.  Asaua had made a pact with himself that when he had a family, that they would never ride public transport.  That was for poor people, he had decided.  And we would at least be able to afford a car.  Back then, petrol was 79c a liter.  For a long time.  That wasn’t hard to do.  To fill up a tank on $20 was not something I never remember complaining about.  It was cheap and we knew it.  We would take advantage of it and go for long drives to the lake on the other side of town (the one thing I missed about living on the North Shore).  Even when we upgraded to the Ford Econovan 12 seater to fit some kids in to take to church, we would load it up with youth and take them for late night swims at our leisure.  This was a leisure that seized once the twins came along and the van downgraded to a people mover and filled up a lot faster with our family taking up most of the room – then all of the room as no.4 and no.5 children came along.

That people mover, we sold for 1000NZD when we left New Zealand.  It helped to move THESE people (us) to Ethiopia.  That was almost three years ago and so for three years we have had no car.  Imagine living without a car.  There’s not the freedom of being able to drive at your own given time at your own given pace.  We have others driving for us in various shapes and forms- all adding to the adventure of life here.  Yet we have no privacy.  If we go anywhere, people know.  People stop and stare and say what they please if unrestrained by common courtesy.  As our daughters develop into beautiful young women, the tendency for men to stare and make innuendos becomes more common.  There’s also the added amount of time it takes to walk to the bus station, wait on the bajaj driver to come from the other side of town that really turns what should be a ten minute trip into a two hour trip.  Then there’s the uncomfortable, undignifying positions you can get into when squashing yourself into a minibus that should seat ten, and you’re the twentieth person to get in.  Or really from the fourteenth on it can get pretty revealing.  In New Zealand we would say, “Oh Novis!”

So this year, we are really, really praying and believing for a car.  We can’t afford to buy one, even if hire purchase was an option as would be possible in New Zealand.  Our support would not accommodate the payments we would have to make on ANY vehicle.  The main reason being that private vehicles in Ethiopia incur a 200% tax.  So that Toyota Estima we sold in New Zealand for $1000 and was probably more likely valued at $5000 would sell here for $15000.  No less for sure.  We can only DREAM of owning such a car here now.  But we are believing for something.  For God to pull through on what WE can’t do, but we know HE can...  For safety, for time, for privacy.  We not only WANT a car, WE NEED a car!!

So as we pray for a car, we are asking a God who created SPACE before He filled it with STARS.  He created land before He filled it with land dwelling creatures.  He is in the business of capacity building so WE need to get a licence in our household so God can supply that licence to drive with a car!! And as I am the only one game enough (or desperate enough) to drive on these roads, I started the process of getting my licence. 

It meant I had to go to our Embassy at the Hilton Hotel in Addis Ababa on one day.  Go to the Foreign Affairs office on another day.  Then go with my documents to this Transport on THIS day.  Almost a month after the last two visits.  Not even sure if I had everything I needed STILL I asked the lady behind the fourth window I was directed to, to check what I had to see if I had everything I needed.  Pushing through a couple of other men, after standing  there in front of her for about twenty minutes, (that MAY OR MAY NOT BE  an exaggeration) I asked that she please just look at my folder. 

Kindly, she obliged then stumbled across my photocopied licence with the stamps I had acquired and paid for from both the previously mentioned offices.  “New Zealand?” she said then promptly went to check “the list”.  This “list” had all the Embassies that they accepted authentications from.  Before they didn’t have it because we had no Embassy, but now that we had one, and our Embassy workers had gained their licences through this process, I was sure that she would come back at me with a grin and a “oh, here it is, yes we have that Embassy on our list!” in Amharic.

Maybe I went there with too high an expectation.  I had told my kids as I left home that morning, that IF (thinking that an IF would be a WHEN) I would come back with my licence that we would celebrate at dinner time.  Maybe I was being unrealistic from the get go.  I mean after all our experiences with government systems and procedures here, there is more likely a rejection and come back with additional papers, than an immediate acceptance.

So the busy lady behind the computer, standing in front of the glass that extended out to the department behind her with hundreds of people (mainly men) waiting in the cold of Addis Ababa’s morning frost, stared back up from the list. 

“No New Zealand”.  “What?” I asked.  “What’s New Zealand?” She repeated as if to say, she doesn’t even know if the country exists.  Stunned at her response and not knowing what to do, I asked what embassy I should go to.  She shrugged her shoulders and went back to her previous file.  “So you’re not even going to help me?!” My last statement was ignored and I walked away.  Her words ringing in my ears.  Our friends had dropped me off at the office so I left with no one to talk to and no credit on my phone to call anyone to debrief (or rant about) my current situation.

I found myself conjuring up a “could have been conversation” in my head.  The one I always have with myself AFTER the fact of the matter has past and it’s too late to respond.  But this time, it went something like this:

What’s New Zealand?! New Zealand is a country so far away that it took us 24 hours in the air to get here.  It’s the country that’s so full of beauty, the tourism industry is it’s second biggest grossing industry.  It’s a country that holds the people we love so dearly and that often tempts our return with it’s conveniences and comforts that we used to take for granted.  It’s the country that I have had a licence to drive in for almost twenty years!! AND It’s a country that me, my husband and five children left to come and help YOUR people and YOU won’t even help ME!”

My mind had stepped over the boundaries of my own limitations.  “After all I did for you!” is not a part of my life’s philosophy and something that I always have to measure my intentions against.  Maybe it’s the FEAR of holding THIS against someone that was being reflected back on me.  It's so easy when we do something for someone, to think they owe us something in return.  But this is not the way of the Kingdom. 

When working with people, we shouldn’t hold our own sacrifices against THEM.  Jesus never did.  His sacrifice on the cross didn’t necessitate our obedience or loyalty.  That’s our choice that He has given us the freedom to choose. 

“After I all I did for you” conjures up a sense of entitlement.  I am entitled to your loyalty, your reciprocation of my actions, your affection, because I did THIS for YOU!  The thing is that even though we SEE the people we seek to serve, the person we are doing this FOR is for the One who has called us. 

“For what we proclaim is not ourselves but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as servants for Jesus’ sake.  For God who said “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.  2 Cor 4:5-7

We are but the jars of clay that God has chosen to use as His hands and feet to the beautiful people of Africa.  Jesus emptied himself to come here to earth, so how minute is it to leave our country, to come to this one?  It’s nothing.  In fact, its just our "reasonable service."  (Romans 12:1) It's not even the above and beyond.  And it’s not for that lady behind the desk, or the ladies we work with, it’s for the King of our hearts who loves us so dearly, that He compels us to share His Love with those who may not know it.

As I left the Transport office in my raging thoughts, I went to buy a phone card to top up my phone so I could call my husband.  The man who sold me the phone card was blind.  He had a small stall out at the busy intersection that hosted the Transport office and main road that joined Addis Ababa to the Southern cities of Ethiopia.  Even without the ability to see, he pulled out a 50birr card and then 50birr worth of 10birr bills to change for my 100birr.  “You are so clever” I said to him in Amharic.  “I am,” he replies, “I can run around with my friends and run my business”.  He didn’t let his disability get in the way of him using his ABILITIES to make a life for himself.  Encouraged by his determination, I smiled and went back into a taxi full of 17 people on the 30 kilometer rocky road home.  Ready to come back another day.  




Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Our Selam and her journey back to find her family.. Shared with her permission

Among the nineteen ladies who came to our first drop in time, she was the one who stood out.  As we questioned those women who had all come off the street of Zion Church about their background and personal details, SHE was the one who stopped the flow of shallow retorts.  

She 
          went 
                      deep. 


Already at the enquiry of her age, we started to question her surety. “22 years” said her baby face. Then as we asked where she was from, an upset arose among the ladies.  As she started to cry, one of the other ladies explained what was really going on.  She could not remember where she was from because she had been taken away from her family at an age where children take for granted where they live and familiar surroundings are just named HOME. 

Selam was not her given name but this was a name she had acquired on the street.  She had been desperately waiting to be rescued for years from this life but knew no other way out.  Until the Great Rescuer came along.  Selam attended all our drop in sessions then the subsequent one on ones, and she was the one who made the biggest upset when we delayed the moving in to the house.  She was desperate for change- not wanting to wait even one week longer!  She was the one I spoke about on Valentines Day.  She was the first to ASK to be taken to church and the most familiar with the Christian songs, yet her story sung the songs of heart break. 

She remembered that her house was near a Livestock market and she remembered her mother’s name.  Yet all other details were still blurry to her.  She knew what region she was from and what religion her family practiced but to decipher what city she could go to find her family was near impossible. 

Recently, she went on a trip with one of our staff to try and find the family she so longed to reconnect with. The family she dreamed of when all her friends were called by theirs and the family she was unjustly taken from at such a young age.  Wogayu, one of our staff had a mother in the same region and she had begun some investigation of which direction they could head.  After coming up with a destination and a budget of time and money they needed to reach there, with our support and prayers, we decided to send them off.

Friday the 13th was the day Selam and Wogayu left to go on a search for the family that Selam had been taken from many years ago.  From 9am to 10:30 they went to Nazaret, Wogayu’s home town- the place where she once worked on the streets and then had been restored after entering the Ellilta Women at Risk program ten years ago.  Now the home to her Beltena spice business that successfully runs each Saturday during the week by her and throughout the week by her son. 

They set out on a seven hour bus trip down South past Asela to a town called Robel.  Here, tired from their journey and aware of the little sunlight they still had left in the day, they began their search and they started by asking an old lady from the Orthodox Church.  Some of the people there started to help them by taking them around. They started asking people on the road around the city if anyone knew this lady who had birthed Selam.  A first name was all she had. 

That night they found someone who claimed to know Selam’s mother.  Not only did the lady she claimed to be her mother have the same name as Selam’s, but the sister had the same name as well.  The heartbreak came, however, when she told them that the mother had died.  So they went on a search for the daughter to get some more information; the whole while nervous and unsure of what this discovery would reveal.  Upon the finding of her daughter, they also discovered they were Gurage (another tribe far from where Selam was searching) so Selam was relieved that this couldn’t have in fact been her family. 

From 6am they started looking the next day at the market.  They paid a lady 50birr to help them find her.  This lady said she knew a lady by the same name as Selams mother but it was the wrong lady.  She did however come across a familiar face- they found a man in the market who Selam recognized from her childhood.  She excitedly approached this merchant at the market, expecting to have her excitement reciprocated but he didn’t show any recognition of Selam.  Discouraged, they went away and found his son who was willing to help them out, yet with no leads. 

That night, for the second time, they found another lady who claimed to be her mother. This lady had also had her daughter taken when she was five or six and she had the same name as Selam’s mother, but after some questioning, they found out that she wasn’t.  This hopelessness Selam had experienced, was a hopelessness that plagued many other people in rural Ethiopia.  The taking of young girls to do the work of others in more urban settings.

After a restless morning, they went to rest in a hotel reception area and were propositioned by some men looking for a “good time”.  Wogayu was sure to let them know that they were not for sale and that they were women of God.  A great role model for Selam who may not have known how to approach such a situation so fresh off the streets.

Another encounter they had was when they were trying to find a place to have Jebena Buna (the traditional Ethiopian coffee).  They ended up at the neighbour of one place they were directed to where the man inside (an Orthodox priest none the less) was one of Selam’s old customers.  Unaware of their arrival, his wife and children had gathered to make coffee for them.  He sat there trying to hide his face.  He was an onion farmer who had often come to the market in Debre Zeit to sell his produce.  As the Red Light district and Zion Church are both located near the market, often the farmers and merchants who come from the rural areas are the regular customers of these women.  During harvest season they make their homes in with these women and pay meagre prices for bed and services rendered by the prostitutes on the street.

Sunday they went onto the next city where Wogayu’s relative lived- a familiar face and comfortable place to stay was to be a breath of fresh air from the so far discouraging attempts they were making.  He knew the Mayor of the neighbouring city called Dixus so he called him to see if he knew of Selam’s mother and wanted to know if she was there.  A light at the end of the tunnel came as he confirmed that he did in fact know her mom and he encouraged them to come by taxi and meet him at the bus station. 

On their journey, the Mayor had informed Selam’s family about the call he had received and they all started making their way to the bus station.  When Selam arrived she was met by her family- Her mom, wailing and fallen down in unbelief at the return of her daughter- her pregnant sister who fainted at the sight of her long lost sister and her brothers who had missed out the opportunity to enjoy the playful moments of their childhood along with their long lost sister.   A sister they had all assumed was dead. 

Her mother questioned her about personal events that only Selam (or Zerfe as they knew her) would know- what was her nickname, who were the brothers that used to sneak money away from their mom’s purse, also what was the thing she used to drink a lot as a child.  Once she answered them all correctly, she knew this was in fact her daughter.  She also confirmed Selam’s age- she is in fact only 17 years old.  (Needless to say WE are not surprised.)

They heard stories of what happened after Selam had been taken.  She wasn’t the only one who had been taken.  Her neighbour had taken Selam along with her own sister.  The whole village went on a search to find the couple who had done this awful thing.  They would never find them.  They had taken Selam and her sister up North far away from where they lived.  Here this lady sold her sister off to another man while she kept Selam, tortured her, sexually abused her and bound her hand and feet in a dark room.  Every now and then she was sent out to purchase things at the market or shop.  On her travels one day she heard a group gathered singing in one place and she entered.  It was a group of Christians singing praises to their God and worshipping him and speaking of His grace.  She befriended a girl there who would often take her in.  This was her saving grace, even though it meant she would return home late and suffer punishment for it. 

At one stage, this ladies father came to warn her about the wrong she was doing, but the lady, stubborn and evil, planned to kill her father the next day.  Her neighbour, having caught wind of her plans, called her father to have coffee with her and pleaded with him to escape. 

The one who became her owner, also owned a business at the market that caused her to go out and buy and sell in different cities.  One time when Selam was left at home by herself with her husband, he took advantage of her.  He brutally raped her to the point that her dress stained red with the blood that represented the unwillingness of her body for such an act.  Once again, the neighbour lady saw Selam and knew what her outcome would be if this evil lady had come back to find her in this state-knowing that she had been the object of her husband’s affection.  She told Selam to flee for her life and gave her some money to get her to the next town. 

Still only about 9 years old, Selam found herself on the street with nowhere to go.  A nice Christian bajaj driver, took her in to his home and kept her there with his family for two years until he started experiencing domestic difficulties and Selam found herself once again out on the road.  With no education, and nowhere to go, Selam travelled to Addis Ababa and was encouraged by another girl to start working the streets.  Here she would be able to earn an income that would at least keep her alive.  Already accustomed to drinking at a young age, Selam would drink to drown the sorrows that held captive her young and precious soul.

Meanwhile, her family reported, that a couple of years later, the thieving neighbours who had taken Selam from them had indeed returned.  The lady was thrown in Jail but she insisted that she still had Selam safe and sound in another city so she paid 10000birr (the equivalent of around 1000USD at that time) bail to be released from the cells yet she never returned. 


Pictured, Selam with her family and friends before she was taken.  She was eight years old at the time of her disappearance and much loved by her family.  Her disappearance caused her mother to have a nervous breakdown.  Her father had already died


Her family are Orthodox but also practice idol worship and did so in front of Selam.  They also started to drink alcohol while Selam and Wogayu opted for soft drinks.  Selam shared what had happened in her life since her disappearance- including her life in prostitution, the birth and death of her baby as a consequence of her lifestyle and then her rescue from it through our rehabilitation project. She told them all about her life at the Hope House and all the people involved so that her family understood that it wasn’t just Wogayu who had played a part in her life change, not just one person or even a program- but in fact God who had done all this for her.

They were amazed at her new found life and said that they had never heard of people helping people like we had helped them and Selam.  They said that it was a good religion, we are good people and perhaps the religion she had now found was one they had never heard about.  

Wogayu also reported of the demonic possession of Selams mother.  This demon manifested at their meeting.  He was talking to Selam and asking her “why did you leave? You left our “horse” and she was all nervous.” It also went onto ask why she brought Wogayu and why she is praying against them? They said they are good spirits and not evil so she should leave them alone.  Wogayu was in the background praying the whole time and covering Selam with the blood of Jesus. 

Selam also found out she has an older brother in Nazaret and that in fact Wogayu knew this brother- without knowing there was any relation.  He and another brother also plan to come and visit Selam in Debre Zeit.  They came home rejoicing and sick.  All the crying gave them headaches and the sleepless nights too.  God was surely with them and although it was challenging in the beginning, the final result was sweet. 

Just this last week, Selams mother called and asked her to pray for her.  She said that she doesn't want to worship these false gods any more.  That she needs what Selam has and she still deeply misses Selam.  Please continue to pray for this family and for the ripple effects of what this reunion will mean. 

For all of those who have believed in us and enabled us to help bring healing to these women.  WE can't express how thankful we are.  God bless you all.