I Love Donkey Hotee!
When I got to Ethiopia I was thrilled to see lots and lots of donkeys! For those of you familiar with my personal affection for donkeys, fostered over the years by the drive past Potts Farm every day on my way to/from Lincoln in Loudoun, (a moment of silence for Donkey Hotee) you can imagine my joy, “Look at all the donkeys!”
‘Donkey Heaven!’ I thought. Until within a few hours of being in Ethiopia I saw donkeys get punched in the head, struggle under ginormous loads, get kicked in the butt, swatted with sticks and whips, and chug up and down rocky roads/hills pulling loaded wooden carts. And then I thought, ‘Yipes, maybe this is where all the bad donkeys get sent when they die.’
November 6, 2008
ZEET
Fact: I do not have a mirror here.
Fact: Ethiopians have flawless skin.
Fact: Evidently 28 year-olds can still get acne.
I became aware of fact number 3 four days ago with the FIRST instance of the following question and accompanying gesture – “Arin, what is it?” Inquisitor’s index finger points to his/her own cheek. I mirror the action and manage to feel a bump on my face. I think, ‘Wonderful. I have a zit.’ So I say, “A zit.” “Zeet?” “Yes, zit. Z-I-T.” I spell it. “Oh.” (beat) “What is zeet?” I think, ‘How do you answer this question for someone who has no frame of reference for this?’ “Err…Uhh… White people get zits on their faces when their faces are dirty” seemed like a more appropriate reply than, “Well, you see all these dots on our skin? These are called pores in English. POOOORZ. Sometimes a pore or pores will get infected. IN-FEC-TED. We call this a ‘zit’ in English. This is embarrassing for a person. Thank you for calling attention to this enormous zit on my face. I really appreciate it, seeing as how I have no mirror.”
I would like to point out that the 1st person to ask me this question was a 35-ish year old father of two, the head administrator at the Project Mercy Hospital. Monday brought the first instance of this question. It has occurred at least five times since, from the likes of a principal, English teacher, HIV/AIDS counselor, and also from several students. Yesterday came a variation to the question: “Arin, what is this and this?” accompanied by index finger to cheek as well as temple area. Again, I mirrored. ‘Mmm, it seems I now have 2 zits.’ “A zit.” “Zeet?”…..
November 7, 2008
If Only the Doing Were Simple and Happy Birthday, Steve.
Ryan bought me the book, Mountains Beyond Mountains and sent it to me in Switzerland. This is the story all about how my life got flip-turned upside down… Oh wait, no this is the story of a man named Paul Farmer, an American doctor who was gripped by the suffering in Haiti and made it his life’s work to bring better health care and a higher quality of life to thousands who suffer there. I’m midway through the book, so I do not know how it ends yet – but I do know that his work in Haiti ignited in him a passion to make TB history in impoverished places around the world.
I love this book.
There is one theme in particular that is resonating with me right now. Farmer talks about how when he got to Haiti, he observed an attitude in Haitian doctors that was resigned to the untreated treatable disease and needless deaths that characterized Haitian health care. I mean, of course they were resigned to it. What else did they know? Also, he mentions the Haitian doctors’ attitudes toward the poorest of the poor in Haiti, wanting to require them to pay for medical treatment. From Farmer’s perspective, he abhorred the notion that those with no money and no viable opportunities for income would be shunned for inability to pay for medical treatment… especially when they would die, for instance, without a blood transfusion. (Such a simple thing in developed countries).
There is a 9 year old boy here at school, he has no shoes – walks a significance distance to/from school over rocky terrain and every day farms with his father. Every day this week he has come to find a ferange (white person) at school during morning break to doctor a nasty cut on his index finger. We have Band-Aids and antiseptic, so kids come to us for these things. I felt uneasy because this cut (more like a gash) really looked infected and as though it needed stitches. So finally yesterday I figured I would ask the Headmaster if I could walk him to the hospital a mile up the road and have it looked at. No problem, obviously this is the normal and correct thing to do, right? (I mean, he’s a 9 year old). The Headmaster, a LOVELY man, said no. He said that the boy’s parents should take him and it was not the school’s responsibility. Now, technically, I see his point. I really do. This sets an inefficient precedent. He would have to do this for ALL the students. But I was pretty convinced. So I pushed the point and begged. And he reluctantly said, “Just this once.”
See the crazy thing is that the hospital is run by the same org that runs the school. Look, I was willing to shell out 5 birr (.50 cents in American dollars) of my personal funds to get this kid’s finger looked at. To me, that is the moral imperative. And I am not hating on Getachew, here (the Headmaster). I get his reluctance. He was adamant when I returned that the boy’s parents come to school and personally thank me. But I’m like, “Oh goll-ly. That is everything contrary to the point.” I hope he doesn’t get a hold of them (plus, I cannot imagine they have a telephone in their mud hut?) because I am not all about some Ethiopian couple, that cannot afford to shoe-shod their children having to humble themselves before a white foreigner for taking their kid to the doctor. But there is a quote from the book. I’m feelin’ ya, Paul Farmer.
“White liberals were always saying ‘things aren’t that black and white.’ But some things are plenty black and white – Areas of Moral Clarity… AMC’s – these were situations, rare in the world, where what ought to be done seemed perfectly clear. But the doing was always complicated, always difficult.”
If only the doing were simple.
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