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Meberate is a beautiful young woman who lives in Tigray, Kileteawlalu wreda, Tabya Agulae, which has infrastructure like tap water and electricity. She was married at the age of 14 and gave birth at 15. After five days of prolonged labour, she delivered at home and developed fistula. At that time, sheknow nothing about fistula and did not know how to share this problem with her parents. Meberate lived with fistula for four months, experiencing partial paralysis in her legs. After a long four months, her family encouraged her to go to the Mekelle Hamline Hospitla where she received her first treatment on the journey to cure her fistula.
While stuggling with the embarrassment of fistula, Meberate felt guilty, unlucky, and like she had been curesed. She said “I cried and ask to God, why did I become likes this? What did I do?” Unlike many young women who develop fistula, Meberat's husband was beside her through the entire process. He encourages her every day and takes care of her needs. Her relatives and community have also been a major support throughout this difficult time.
“Life after surgery is very pretty! I planned to lead my life properly and my husband becomes very happy and passionate, my relatives and the community wishes me best and welcomed me” she said. She was screened by Mekelle Hamline Fistula Hospital to join Healing Hands of Joy. She is very happy and feels lucky to train with HHOJ for one month.
Meberate now has her own corrugated metal home and 2 hectors of land for agriculture. She has her own business raising four chickens and one ox. Meberate is currently in grade 6.
We are so blessed to have been able to work with Mebertae and see her life be transformed. We cannot wait to see what the Lord has in store for her and her husband.
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A few weeks ago Anne Kronschnabl and friend Liz began a journey to Ethiopia as part of their MBA at Columbia Business School. HHOJ had the privilege of working alongside them in Ethiopia. In the next couple of weeks Anne will be sharing a bit of her experience and beautiful pictures from the journey. Stay tuned to experience Ethiopia through the eyes of young American woman!
Our week started in Addis Abeba, the capital of Ethiopia, with a some early morning meetings. Our main objective was to figure out if silk worm keeping would be a potential source of income for the fistula survivors in the Tigray region where Healing Hands of Joy is active. We visited Sabahar (http://sabahar.com) and had a great conversation with the owner and founder Kathy on what it takes to take care of silk worms (castor plant leaves that need to be fed 4 times a day, etc.). Apart from lots of traffic and broken cars in the middle of the street we did not see a lot of Addis and were very happy to be on a plane to the North to Mekelle.
We arrived in the evening and visited the Center of HHoJ where they train 10 fistula survivors each month to become so called Safe Motherhood Ambassadors or short SMAs. These SMAs educate pregnant women in their villages to deliver safely in a health center or hospital in order to avoid complications at birth and with that obstetric fistula.
The women were excited to meet us and we all got at least 3 kisses from each woman on our cheeks, if not more. The next day over a coffee ceremony each woman shared her personal story of how she got fistula, what the implications were on her life (for example many women were divorced by their husbands) and when she had surgery to cure her fistula. Needless to say it was very moving what these women have had to endure during their lives.
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Ethiopian Joy Trip: Day Three
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Day three – “Fistula is Not a Curse”
At our screening of the film, “Fistula is Not a Curse” there were at least 500 people from the village – about 150 children and teens and 350 men and women. 
Two Safe Motherhood Ambassadors were there to talk to the village. There was almost a full moon brightening the otherwise pitch-black village square. How can I begin to describe the scene? Close your eyes and picture a long and winding dusty road. Add several larger rocks that your driver will have to veer around every 5 seconds or so. You are in a Land Cruiser in the dusty, hot-sunned, windy and arid landscape of the outer Gheralta Mountains, and you are moving for 15 seconds of this trip on top of the paved roads that are dotted every 3 seconds by men or women or goats or donkeys carrying loads. You can see miles of rocky and dusty landscape scattered with long-horned smaller Ethiopian cows and there are rock and mud and tin structures that people inhabit thrown into the mix.
Spend just 15 seconds of your imagination there, the sun beating down on your vehicle, the reddish dust, so fine, blowing into your vehicle through the barely opened window, and miles and miles of land before you, coming in waves along the paved road. Then, veer off of that paved road, lean into a dried dirt, dusty, rocky road rife with potholes, hugged by makeshift structures every half-mile, just big enough for one hot, weary traveler dressed in the Tigray headscarf and longish fabric and rubbery sandals bought at a market 25 miles away to fit. You take the ride up and down hills that rock the vehicle back and forth, this way and that, and you careen suddenly into places where children from 2 years old to 14 surround your vehicle. The kids are asking you to give them things, some having perfecting a form of sign language that says, pleadingly, “pretty please”, and this is all done with such a sweet smile. The children, you might sense, are more happy to see you and greet you and have some fun with you than really end up with some object in hand. Others might stand by and just stare. Not all want their pictures taken.
You might feel awesome that you are receiving such a welcome; you might feel the guilt of having so much more because you start to look around and take it in: living out in this heat and rock must be hard; you might just settle into the experience and relax. You alight from the vehicle and take another view: children underfoot, rocks underfoot, cows within 10 feet and sun.
We were on our way to visit Birhan, an exemplary Safe Motherhood Ambassador, who lives in a remote village (see above picture). This village is comprised of brick and mud huts that are constructed in a circular shape. Most of the dwellings have a stack of hay on top of them, and there is generally a hand-built, stone wall that creates a compound for each family, keeping some animals in, keeping some out - creating a sense of space. There is often another, smaller circular structure outside of the hut, which houses a cooking space to make Injera, the local bread staple.
Birhan’s hut, her home, is about a half-mile walk up a windy, steep hill path. There is hearty, snaggly brush here and there and a couple of trees about. The walk up the hillside provides vistas that elicit pause. Here is a new view of the mountains, the village homes below and their accompanying farms. Birhan has a little plot of land beside her hut. She cooks outside of the main structure and has sheep that live inside of her home when they are not grazing. She has one daughter who is about 3 years old, and stays strictly by her side, pinching little fingers around her mother’s dress, staring at the foreigners that have come for this visit.
Berhan explains (through a translator from HHOJ) how each part of her home functions, how long it takes to go fetch water, how long it takes to reach pregnant mamas that she goes to visit as part of her volunteer work to eradicate fistula. She squints and shyly smiles in the beating sun as we breathe her reality in: the hillside walk to home, the animal care, the walks that must be taken to see other women, the hardships of farming in arid conditions, the hay eaten by livestock, no cell phone, no electricity, no running water, and the nearest health center at least 5-6 miles away.
Holley Blackwell
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Ethiopian Joy Trip: Day Two
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Day 2 - Addis Ababa to Mekelle
The Ethiopian calendar tells us that this is the year 2005.
A 5:15 a.m. start to a city already awake and the sun beginning to rise over men and women dressed in white. Jackie says that she heard horns calling people to church. We took a plane from Addis Ababa to Mekelle, flying above an ochre, green, brown mountainous landscape dotted by villages clearly remote from much else (how would women get to health centers or hospitals from these remote places that hardly boast a road beyond footpaths?). The questions have begun to churn for sure.
The further north we fly, the greater the mountains, some cut open by gorges, painted by rivers of brown and gray-blue. Some of the mountains come to an abrupt plateau where settlers have cleared landscape for growing crops and building structures. Some have planted trees to create a little oasis. The mountains are clearly dry with light vegetation. This landscape goes on and on for miles, village after village and mountain after mountain; people living on the edge of paradise that sits on the edge of another dry paradise.
The women in our group are eager to meet the Safe Motherhood Ambassadors later today: Berhan, Behafta, Lemlem, Kiros, Lemlem, Kiros, Kindehafti, and Abebu. We look at their pictures and try to memorize their names.
From above, Mekelle seems to be built on a grid with some diagonal streets and traffic circles (which were frequent in Addis Ababa). We land in an accelerated, brake-pumping thud. We take a little bus up winding streets into the city of Mekelle, passing hordes of donkeys, students, Mekelle University, billboards, people waiting and walking along the streets, a charcoal market followed by a wood market (fuel), a paved road followed by a dirt road followed by a cobblestone road. We check into the Hotel Axum. This hotel provides lodging and meeting space for the professional population and foreigners. There is a bike race happening outside and a huge crowd of men is gathered, cheering for bikers whizzing by in spandex outfits and aerodynamic helmets. Someone is shouting through loudspeakers. Our group moves through the crowd to walk down the peaceful side street lane that leads us to our place of worship for this Sunday. The road is cobblestone and there are a few flowery trees that create a sense of sweetness and calm against our high-energy travel to Mekelle this morning: the rituals of packing, taking a bus, checking into an airport, taking a plane, leaving the plane, finding luggage, carting luggage, getting it into a van, traveling new roads, arriving at a hotel, unloading luggage, checking in, finding our hotel rooms, unpacking, getting dressed for a new outing, finding a quick cup of coffee or bottle of water in a makeshift dining area adjacent to the lobby, and emerging from the hotel in a content and eager group, excited by our day’s agenda and possibilities. Yes, the calm street that takes us beyond our hotel and towards the church is just the respite that we need to transition from forward-moving travelers to being there.
We turn right into the stone gate of the church and are greeted by a few smiling children and adults. There is a little yard and what seems to be an elevated chicken coop. The sun is beating into the glints of the children’s eyes. Allison leads us into the worship hall where music is moving the worshipers on their feet. There is a synthesizer keyboardist, and five men and women in white and red, satin choir robes, each holding a microphone and singing sometimes harmoniously and sometimes in call and response. The worshipers are praying and moving and there is enough room towards the front of the congregation for most of our team to sit on two wooden pews. We remain standing, swaying, dancing, and praying in musical worship for several minutes, a prolonged relaxing into God through song.
The church provides a translator so that the pastor’s message is spoken first in Tigray and then in English. Allison is asked to come before the congregation and give a few words of thanks and explanation about Healing Hands of Joy. I notice how at ease she is before this crowd and how her message comes out clearly and with gratitude. She seems gifted at educating people on the spot while not creating a sense of being pedantic. This definitely puts me at ease, and I sense that others are, too.
We walk back to the hotel and prepare to visit the Healing Hands of Joy Center for the first time. In the van on the way to the center, the group is chatty and excited. We are asking questions about the city and snapping pictures from the windows of the van. We ease across town and take a few paved and a couple of dirt roads until we come to a sign for Healing Hands of Joy by which our host is well pleased. Apparently the sign is newly erected. We reach the center’s front gate and are greeted by a uniformed guard who Allison calls by name and hugs warmly. When we enter the threshold all of the Safe Motherhood Ambassadors (SMAs) are waiting there for us with roses, cheers, and handfuls of popcorn that are gently showered on us among the “leyleyleyleyley” sounds coming from the women. The mutual exchange of greetings, hugs, kisses, lasts for a beautiful duration in which we just abide. The ladies are dressed in identical print dresses with gauzy scarves in white or pastels. We are ushered inside and introduced to staff members and other guests before being treated to amazing, homemade, Ethiopian cuisine.
We take several hours to introduce ourselves to the current class of SMAs and to hear their stories and insights. The translators are tireless. What generally takes 15 minutes in a small group back home takes hours because of the intent interest that we have in one another, the desire to share testimony of how God has worked in our lives, and the need to have more understanding about maternal health in Ethiopia and in the United States.
We are energized by the delicious coffee shared with us through a coffee ceremony and through the palpable presence of the Holy Spirit with us at that time: no rush, no demands; a simple sharing of hearts and minds between women of different cultures and shared hopes and pain. Our group has planned time for foot washing with the SMAs, and Jackie reads from the New Testament (which is translated) before we start. She says, "Today we are going to wash feet because Jesus did" John 13. It is rather difficult to explain what transpired within the first hours that we spent at Healing Hands of Joy. Some of the women in our group said that they could feel the Holy Spirit there with us. Some discussed the amazing bonds that were formed notwithstanding the language differences. All of us agreed that the meeting was powerful and amazing. There were plenty of tears and plenty of laughter. Some things that the Safe Motherhood Ambassadors said:
"Every training at HHOJ makes me an all-round ambassador. I came here by the will of God. I wish all my sisters welcome. I am happy that you are coming here to visit us."
"I now support many pregnant women near my village. This training helps a lot of women in our region to have natural delivery and to know about fistula."
"Let's make our dream true by working together."
"For sure I am proud to be an ambassador and take the responsibility on my shoulders!"
"The awareness in our community is increasing. I look forward to eradicating fistula in my community!"
Some things said by us, the visitors from the United States:
"My heart knows part of your suffering. God heals. God restores. God wants abundance and you are in the process of having a more abundant life."
"Love changes things, and it takes time. But you can do it."
"God is with the brokenhearted and will turn sadness into joy."
"We came here to meet you to see how we can help you when we return home."
At night we begin an impromptu session of brainstorming and fact-finding: who is doing what and how and with what resources? We talked about the Tigray region's history and culture, adoption, AIDS, the Church, and, of course, how Healing Hands of Joy will be successful at eradicating fistula. The wheels are turning...
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Ethiopian Joy Trip: Day One
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Guest blogger Holley Blackwell is a doula, beekeeper, consultant, and writer living in Chicago, Illinois. She joined in the Healing Hands of Joy spring 2013 Ethiopia trip because of her enthusiasm for Healing Hands of Joy’s programs and innovations. She will be posting periodically and retroactively.
Day One in Addis Ababa (Jackie Renwick, Kim Wilkerson, and H. Blackwell arrive to meet Kay Norris, Susan Rankin, Frannie Martin, Linda Ayers, and Allison Shigo, HHOJ Founder)
First, there were 7,100 miles to cover… The flight from DC took us to heights of over 35,000 feet, over 500 mph ground speed, trans-Atlantic crossing, south of the Mediterranean Sea, near Tripoli, Italy, Egypt, and across 7,100 miles of earth. We noticed several families on the flight who were traveling with adopted children and who were studying the Holy Bible openly. The green and yellow interiors of the plane warranted commentary. The service was consistent as we dreamed of reaching Africa and repeatedly checked the monitors for our flight path and duration. When we reached Ethiopia in the wee hours of March 23, we took note that the landscape is much more mountainous than we had previously thought and viewed on maps. Someone said, 39 minutes before landing in Addis, “It’s not every day that you see the sun coming up in Ethiopia.” True. But we saw it. Jackie, Kim, and Holley arrived at Bole International Airport in Addis Ababa around 7 a.m. and were met by Allison, who had come to retrieve the luggage of the “Charlotte Women” (Kay, Susan, Frannie, and Linda). The Charlotte Women (from Charlotte, North Carolina) had arrived the day before. The group met at the Harmony Hotel and prepared for our first meeting across town by taking cat naps and freshening up. We took a van ride in heavy, dusty traffic, eyeing green and yellow tin fence siding, men and women darting across streets in scarves, skirts, long-legged pants, donkeys, vendors, mannequins in front of shops propped-up by rocks and standing in mud, eucalyptus rods used as scaffolding, etc. There is no shortage of people watching in Addis, and I notice that we are a chatty bunch, which will serve us well in supporting one another. Pastor Solomon led a devotional before lunch at the Hilton Hotel, where many foreigners congregate to network and relax. His work includes a food program for homeless children, most who squat areas illegally and are HIV positive. He feeds about 75 children per day. Pastor Solomon mentions that many people want to see big miracles but that “without a mission there are no miracles.” We were amused to see a swimming pool in the shape of the St. Georges cross and artwork for sale in a shop within the hotel while discussing the notions of finding a need on this earth and putting oneself right in the middle of that need, which is exactly what Healing Hands of Joy has done with Allison’s leadership. We then visited the Hamlin Fistula Hospital of “A Walk to Beautiful” fame, and were able to meet with Dr. Catherine Hamlin, who at 89 years old and with sparkling blue eyes, continues to innovate and plan toward a more comprehensive care of women who face the plight of fistula. She has hired a new CEO to manage the Fistula Hospital and its 5 other sites and midwifery school. His name is Martin, from Ireland, and it is clear that his goals are to improve the services for women by working with government and non-governmental organizations. This seems to be the way in Ethiopia, as it is with projects around the globe that focus on Development: strategic networking, planning, implementation, and, if you are so fortunate, prayer and surrender to be led by spirit in the moment of things.
Allison – our fearless leader – has given us a cursory lesson on some of Tigray region’s history and some of its current organizations that are helpful partners in the Safe Mother Ambassador Program of HHOJ – the Community Development Army and the Women’s Association of Tigray. Other organizations that have a visible presence are World Vision, UNICEF, and IntraHealth. There are ideas brewing among our group about small enterprises that might influence the SMAs and others: small manufacturing, small distribution. It is important to take notice of other businesses, projects, and innovations that are currently functioning nearby. We went to visit a small business that focuses on silk production and spinning, cotton blend textiles, and gifts. The owner’s name is Kathy and her business is set amongst terraced gardens with lush trees, flowers, and small pools. There are stone walkways leading from the silkworm and storage rooms, spinning rooms, and gift shop. The area is, like the Hamlin Fistula Hospital, an oasis of gardens within the sprawling city, given over to beauty and wonderfully peaceful in contrast to the hustle and bustle of the streets. As a group we had dinner with Dr. Tim and his wife, Muriel, and we were also very fortunate to meet with Allison, whose husband is working with women’s health in an OB/GYN practice in a southern portion of the country, teaching doctors how to perform complex surgery through a program called PACT. Today I felt very much like a tourist: sketches of people and places, moments being captured and quickly let go for the new sights and sounds, lots of new names and faces, and eagerly awaiting our meeting with the women of Healing Hands of Joy, which will happen on Day Two. Jackie and I were memorizing the faces of the Safe Motherhood Ambassador’s on the airplane, and I heard that the Charlotte women have come bearing many supplies for the newest graduating class of the Safe Motherhood Ambassador program. We are all looking forward to going deeper and becoming more immersed in the answers to the reasons that have brought us all here. I feel that we are all here for very different reasons, and I wonder about the intersections of those. In the meantime, I hope that my dreams are filled with the dust, women and men of the Addis streets, the colors of storefronts, and the sound of the birds that punctuate the city in quiet places.
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