Lalmba has been blessed with a new volunteer! Art Pekun, a supremely talented documentary filmmaker from Virginia, travelled to Africa with Jeff last month to help tell the Lalmba story. This is the first of hopefully many videos that Art will produce so that you, our supporters, will see more clearly the people we serve and how we strive to empower them with good health care, education, and opportunities to be self-reliant. We hope you enjoy the video.

Thank you, Art!

‘People may believe what they wish. People may say what they wish. Nevertheless, we do possess the sacred Tabot, that is to say the Ark of the Covenant, and I am its guardian…’ Ethiopian Orthodox Priest  ~ Graham Hancock, The Sign and the Seal

In the brief moment this photo was made, a calm and loving caress of mother and son was captured. But it’s the bookend storms of raw emotion that are fixed in my memory – a boy writhing in agony, a worried mother, and a doctor hard at work.  We don’t see that here – his pain nor its source.  We don’t see his deformed and infected foot, and we don’t see the nervous doctor, scalpel in hand, a surgical incision draining the wound.

But in this millisecond of time and life when I captured this image, there was only serenity, a gift of love, and evidence of ancient faith – the ever-present Ethiopian Cross strung from the boy’s neck.

(Spoiler alert:  An offer to own your own Ethiopian cross necklace below!)

Ethiopia’s ties to Biblical scripture are ancient. King Solomon, son of King David, married Ethiopia’s Queen of Sheba, who gave birth to Emperor Menelik.  And with that union the Solomonic dynasty and Judaism arrived in Ethiopia (around 1000BC), and later Christianity in the first century A.D. Ethiopians assert the Ark of the Covenant came to Ethiopia about 3000 years ago, and today, it is guarded by an Ethiopian Orthodox priest in Axum… or so the story goes.  Some westerners doubt the story, but I believe it. Why shouldn’t I? I’ve been convinced by their faith. I have witnessed their faith heal tragic wounds, and return laughter to places of anguish.

In Ethiopia, the cross is omnipresent, worn and sometimes tattooed on people everywhere, as a constant reminder to be faithful and to protect against evil.

The Ethiopian Cross is different from the Latin Cross; it’s boxy design represents the Ark, while maintaining the classical shape of the Cross. Together, they are the old and the new covenants.

All of it I find enchanting: the history and mythology of Ethiopia, the nobility of such ancestry and culture, and I consider the hope it must bring to someone who otherwise has nothing.

I’m not alone in knowing the enchantment of an exotic culture and its ancient customs. Any westerner of humble heart and kind ambition who has walked a foreign land, made friends and shared in treasured rituals, is marked by those experiences.

Gloria Gieseke Curtis is one of those westerners with a unique history of African service that’s as long as Lalmba’s 53 years!  She was in one of the first few Peace Corps groups, 1963-1965, stationed in Ethiopia and Eritrea, 2 years after the Peace Corps was founded by President Kennedy.She was in Ethiopia on that tragic day when Kennedy was assassinated.  She remembers the “shock and horror” of processing those feelings so far from home. She remembers the outpouring of sympathy from Ethiopians, and how Emperor Haile Salassie instituted 3 days of national mourning. Every citizen wore a black arm band in solidarity.

Those gestures of unity were heartfelt, and comforted a group of young Americans who were very far from home, and perhaps a little frightened. Gloria learned from that outpouring that there is harmony in grief, strength in unity, and that she now had a larger purpose to her mission in Africa.

Gloria says, “Everything good that has happened to me in my adult life is related to my Peace Corps experience in Ethiopia.”

One of the “good” things that happened to Gloria was a job managing an African Arts import company, which was owned by an Ethiopian woman. Working there, Gloria learned the art of jewelry making and the Ethiopian aesthetic.  African jewelry is never just ornamental; there’s significance in each piece.   The hopes and prayers of the maker are woven into the design, and the cohesion of texture and color is a harmonious blessing for the wearer.

Today Gloria has blessed Lalmba with a gift of 25 exquisitely beaded necklaces, each adorned with an Ethiopian cross. They’re stunningly beautiful with an ancient elegance that feels as regal as the culture that inspired the designs.

Each one is handmade by Gloria and comes with a matching set of earrings.

Would you or someone special in your life like one of your own?  Be one of the first 25 people to donate $100 to Lalmba.

(The 12 earliest mail-in postmarks and the first 13 online donors)

Tell us you want a necklace, and we’ll send you one of Gloria’s masterpieces.  Each one is unique.

Be sure to note ‘necklace’ on your donation.

Donate Today

Be one of the first to get one of Gloria's necklaces.

or via check in the mail:

1000 Corey Street, Longmont, Co. 80501

Thank you, Gloria, for your unique gift to support Lalmba’s work in your beloved Ethiopia!

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Volunteer experiences like Gloria’s change a person in ways that a typical African safari can’t offer.  Lalmba volunteers David and Wanda McLure, who served in Matoso 16 years ago, recently returned as consultants, and the positive changes they saw in the community were inspiring.  If you ever ponder whether Lalmba truly has an impact on rural communities, read Dave and Wanda’s reflections on their return to their beloved Matoso:

Dave McLure

16 years ago, Wanda and I landed in Matoso village, Kenya to begin a 2-year stint with Lalmba.   At age 50, we were ready for an African adventure and the opportunity to “give something back” after an easy middle class American life (so far).

It was hard. The heat, the lake flies, the isolation, the poverty, the sickness, the HIV death sentence for so many all around us, made life hard.   But the rewards were great as well: The opportunity to treat and cure a child sick with malaria or suffering from malnutrition, to start and build a home based orphan care program (RCAR), to treat more than 100 patients per day at our 2 clinics who had no other viable options for health care – these things all mattered, and it felt good to be a part of it.

Wanda McLure

The ancient philosopher who said that ‘change is the only certain thing in this world’ hit the nail on the head. Returning to Matoso 16 years after a very intensive 2 years embedded at the clinics, I am observing a lot of change.  Today almost everyone is wearing some kind of footwear, very few bare and well-calloused feet; almost everyone is wearing street clothing whether store bought or made locally by the [tailors]; most babies are wearing a cloth diaper vs the bare bottoms of yesteryear.  Many fewer malnourished babies and children are appearing at Matoso Clinic.  Bicycles have been replaced by motorbikes (piki piki) making travel so much easier and faster; it’s not unusual to see 4-5 persons on a single motorbike!

The most gratifying change is to see the change in the bodies of the people walking about. [We used to see] skeletal figures, bodies covered with tumors, persons with massive dehydration from chronic diarrhea, and bodies with extensive fungal rashes. These are no longer common. The Ministry of Health, with foreign assistance, has devised a very tight protocol for identifying and treating people diagnosed with HIV, which reaches even to an area as remote as Matoso.

Change!  Hope!  A better future!  

How beautiful to see Lalmba’s part in it!

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Do you remember the exciting offer last year, for a round-trip ticket to Kenya to stay at Hugh and Marty’s lovely villa along Lake Victoria? The lucky winners of that trip were Craig Fournier and Jane Difley.  Craig is a long-time Lalmba supporter from Boulder.  Craig and Jane enjoyed a week savoring the sunsets along the lake, meeting the community and Lalmba’s staff in this poor rural community of Matoso.  They also became fans of Kenya’s Tusker beer (no refrigeration necessary)!  Craig shares his impressions of visiting Lalmba’s children’s home which cares for 40 AIDS orphans.

Craig Fournier

We arrived at 12 noon to the Ongoro children’s home near the Lalmba clinic. A quick tour of the separate boys’ and girls’ dormitories, each housing 20 children, showed us neat and austere bunk beds with 3 or 4 children to a room. Each bed was equipped with a mosquito net. The children’s clothes were very minimal but included the obligatory school uniform. Next we were treated to a music and dance performance that was very endearing and charming. Then each child introduced himself or herself. The most striking introduction was a 14-year-old girl who stated that she wanted to become an airline pilot. The great news was that she had a lofty dream. For without a dream, what can we become? We were left wondering if she had ever flown in an airplane, had any idea of what a pilot does or what it takes to become a pilot. We don’t know if this dream is attainable or not. However, I would not want to underestimate this young woman!   Maybe she will never become an airline pilot, but she can’t go far wrong by aiming high.  Without Lalmba she would undoubtedly never even have thought of such a goal.

AIDS in Kenya has wiped out the middle aged mothers and fathers in Kenya. This may not be news to you, but to see an orphanage of children who parents have died of this disease, brought the point home to us. What remains is overburdened extended families and sometimes no families at all. These children in the Ongoro Children’s home have lost their parents.  At Lalmba’s home, the children have a safe place to stay, adequate food, clothing and health care. Approximately half the children are HIV positive. As long as they keep taking medicine for this, they can be expected to lead normal lives.

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Do you remember the story of Posy a few newsletters ago, the little girl with epilepsy in Ethiopia who was abandoned by her family?  We received this letter from one of our young supporters, 9-year-old Joseph McLaughlin of Arlington, Virginia, after he read Posy’s story.

The tender hearted care and compassion from one child to another across the ocean touches us deeply.   May we all approach the suffering of our fellow man with such simple and heartfelt love.

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DON’T FORGET!

by Jeff James

Thorn bushes fortified with vines fenced the compound, a homestead once occupied by a vibrant and strong Luo family.  Standing as corner posts like castle sentries, jacaranda trees adorned in purple blossoms radiate harmony and distract from recent memories of death.  The shells of vacated houses lay heaped in broken piles around the courtyard, like figurative burial mounds, cluttering the grounds and serving as grim reminders that a tragedy has occurred; one that could have been prevented, perhaps.

But one house remains standing.  With 4 mud walls, 10 feet across and 6 feet tall, capped with a rusted tin roof, this is the home of Gladys Onyango, a grandmother well over 80 years old with 11 beautiful grandchildren (9 pictured), ages 6 to 15, all of whom are orphans.

When we arrived, Gladys was resting in her plastic chair under the eaves of the roof, a cool sliver of respite from the mid-day sun.  A cluster of children played in the dry earth, kicking a soccer ball made of plastic bags and string. A few chickens pecked about the dirt in search of a tasty insect. When Gladys saw us pull up in the Land Cruiser, she picked up her chair, nodded at us, and ducked under the roof, disappearing into the darkness of her home. The children stopped playing and followed her inside. This was their home too, and we had been officially welcomed.

It was a poorly lit house with a shiny dirt floor polished smooth by bare feet and daily sweeping. It was tidy. Crudely made benches lined one wall, and baskets and pans hung from the ceiling in the corners, displayed like utilitarian artwork, unintentional yet inspired.  In the middle of the house, a wall divided the sleeping from the living quarters.  I stood there, peering into the dark room of slumber and tried to imagine how 12 people could sleep in a space so small.  I imagined a heap of bodies, comfortably intertwined, feeling safe, loved, and dreaming of happier days, days before the family shattered.  Life can explode sometimes, but our desire to love and connect will always reveal a path back to wholeness.

All the adults sat down, and the children stood around.  We shared our stories and a sobering cup of conversation. Tea would have been offered, were there any, but you see, Gladys is the sole guardian of these children, having lost her family:  3 sons, their 6 wives, her husband and 2 sister wives, to AIDS.  Polygamy no doubt contributes to the spread of HIV here, but there are hopeful signs that monogamy is becoming the norm among a younger generation of Luo.

Food for the Onyango family is scarce, and the children are often hungry.  With her age, the responsibility of providing for 11 children is more than Gladys can handle. Farming and pulling fishing nets from the lake had been her life’s work, but now it’s difficult. All of the children help, sharing the burden of responsibility, but they are also all in school — a blessing and a mark of pride for the Onyango clan.  Everyone knows that education can bring liberation; in every impoverished community there’s a legend of the smart one who got away.  The Onyango kids have a chance, not an easy one, for their path out of poverty has many obstacles.

Lalmba helps Gladys and her grandchildren by providing some basic assistance, and a community center where they can turn for support. The children are enrolled in Lalmba’s children’s program, and receive school support, health care, and supplemental nutrition. The services are basic, but they are lifesaving and empowering.   Gladys’ grandchildren have heard the inspirational stories of former Lalmba orphans, real legends, to inspire them with a sense of purpose and hope. (See “Gift of Hope” below)

If one searches long enough through a rubbish heap, a treasure will be found. That treasure gives hope, and sometimes it’s just the catalyst one needs to rebuild life.  And so, I think, from those broken homes, those mounds of despair that clutter the Onyango homestead, a castle should be built, and within it, a happy, intact family should live.  And “from the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring; renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

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Romeo Rodriguez, Chiri Health Center Project Director, enjoys his time at the Chiri Children’s Home.

Reflections From a Lalmba Volunteer

by Romeo Rodriguez

I have been a volunteer in other countries including Uganda and my own Guatemala, and there is always that feeling of wanting to do all you can and more for the people, and always that sense of fulfillment at the end of the day, even after a rough day.  Working in Lalmba-Chiri Health Center has been no different and also a significant enriching and growing experience.  Not only because of the length of my stay in rural Ethiopia but for the tremendous impact that Lalmba has had in Chiri and the whole area, and all the challenges that have been there and that are implicit to the job.  Those could be from making tough decisions when dealing with local health authorities, or local staff, to having to drive a patient at 4:00 am to Bonga Hospital, when our driver is unreachable, or picking up a delivering mother with complications from one of the surrounding villages.

My heart beats fast as the woman screams and I’m not sure whether to drive faster or slower over the bumpy roads of our area.  Sometimes it happens that the woman begins labor in the middle of the journey and I have to stop.  Then the time seems to run slowly as I worry about the health of both mother and baby.  But thanks to our wonderful staff, the accompanying nurse attends her well and then we proceed to the health center with an extra healthy passenger.

Sometimes after the end of regular working hours I like to go down to the Children’s Home where they always make me smile and laugh, especially the little ones when they run to greet me.  I think they like me and I’m so glad because I truly love them.  I dream about their future, about the dreams of their own and I know that the good memories of growing together with everything they need and with the love and care of their home in Chiri will remain with them forever.

It often happens that when I walk in Chiri or even Bonga town I hear people murmuring “Lalmba” and it makes me think about the many different stories I have heard from people who have been saved or cured at the health center, or how they’ve been supported through other Lalmba programs.  And then I think about Hugh and Marty.  I wonder if they dreamed about having this great impact in different ways for so many people in Africa.  And I feel honored and grateful for having the chance to do my small contribution to this program, for growing and learning together with local and expatriate staff, and for being part of this family and this wonderful story; not just a story of aid but the story of love that is Lalmba.

Romeo and Tafesse have made a great team running Lalmba Ethiopia.

Romeo’s 2-year term with Lalmba ends in January 2017.  His quiet, strong model of leadership has allowed him to make lifelong friends in the community while also making difficult decisions on a daily basis.  We have been blessed to have him in this role, and we are dusting off a space for him in the Lalmba Hall of Fame.

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Gift of Hope:  

A Letter from a former Lalmba orphan

by Kenneth O. Odida

The four years after the death of my father seemed a lifetime! I still look back and wonder how I managed to wade through successfully. I was only a 6-year-old innocent soul, hardly understood a thing.

At the time Lalmba came into my life, my education had reached a dead end. I was only in class four, and my grandmother, with whom I stayed, already could not afford to pay my school fees. The fee wasn’t much though, only about $3 a year. I remember the school principal allowing me to stay in class when others who couldn’t pay their fees were sent home. I did not know for how long he was going to excuse me from paying fees.

One thing I thank God for is the gift of hope. Despite the challenges we faced at home, I always remained at the top of my class. The big dreams my father inculcated in me just wouldn’t go away. Staying with my grandmother, we would often go without food. We didn’t have soap to do our washing nor have a proper bath. At some point, my friends at school would tease me that I was the dirtiest of all. And we would laugh about it, because they too were not clean.

Although my mom had passed on three years earlier when I was 3, it was dad’s death that brought me face-to-face with hardship. Somehow, he had managed to seal the hole left by my mom’s death. He would walk me to school before leaving for work, a rare thing for village kids those days.

I joined Lalmba’s Ongoro Children’s Home in August 1999; I was in class 4 then. At last I had gotten a home where food was not a problem, and clothing not a challenge. With my basic needs taken care of, I could now concentrate on my studies. I used my time at Ongoro to shape my future. I would occasionally be the translator when western volunteers came to work. It was a rare opportunity to interact with educated people from other countries and cultures.

I worked hard and finished grade 8 in a first position, and then proceeded to high school, fully sponsored by Lalmba. In a few years’ time, I would start my undergraduate course in pharmacy and finally become a man in the society. All of my accomplishments are courtesy of Lalmba, and Hugh Downey’s noble idea.

The Downeys are old people now, aging gracefully in their Nyagiribe home in Kenya. But their little work in Africa has had tremendous impact on my life, and on lives of many others. Today, I work for the government of Kenya as a hospital pharmacist. I graduated with a PharmD in December 2013, and plan to enroll for MPH (Masters in Public Health) pretty soon. I’m so glad that Lalmba supported me to exploit my gift of hope and turn my life around!

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PICTURE THIS:  

Sights from our African Journeys

by Jeff James

Evance Chieng dreams of going to college. The honor of being the first in his family to do so is a bragging right few in his community can boast. His grandmother, Rujina Abusa, reminds him often how proud his parents would be (had they survived the HIV epidemic) of his success.  Thinking of them, and his grandmother who has suffered the loss of 6 children to the same disease, encourages him to work harder. Her smile and determination inspire him to persevere.

This year is a critical year for Evance.  He is in 8^th grade, and will graduate from Lalmba’s children’s program at the end of this year.  Unless he qualifies for one of our coveted scholarships for secondary or trade school, his scholastic career ends soon. Fishing is his backup plan. It’s the practical path that most young men choose from this lakeside community.

Knowing the odds are slim and the competition steep, Evance seems unconcerned.  He believes with all his heart that this time next year he will begin high school.

Sadly, less than 10% of the children in our program are able to continue with formal education beyond 8^th grade.  Why is that?  Well, mainly it’s the prohibitive cost for families living on less than a dollar a day.  School fees are not even a consideration. Primary education costs about $40 per year, and secondary school is about $300 per year, way out of reach!  Scholarships are few.  Evance and 100 other 8^th graders will compete for Lalmba’s 30 coveted scholarships.  30 is not a magical number; it’s simply what we can afford, as we focus on primary education for almost 1000 younger students.  We’d love to provide a scholarship to high school for each child who qualifies.

In fact, when I was there in January, our Children’s Director in Kenya introduced me to 8 students who qualified for a Lalmba scholarship, but because their test scores were marginally lower than their peers, Lalmba did not have scholarship budget for them.  I felt for those 8 students. They are smart children, ambitious in their hopes, tireless in their work.  It would be unjust to extinguish their dream so soon, I thought, tossing them to labor on the lake before they’ve had a real chance to break away and heal their families, families trapped in a cycle of perpetual poverty.

We have to make some very difficult decisions sometimes in this work; decisions that could have generational ramifications for a family. We’re a small organization with limited resources, and we take pride in our philosophy of doing the most good with little. But for these 8 kids, we made the decision to increase our fundraising by $2400 for the next 4 years and give them the opportunity to change the course of their lives. That’s a commitment I feel good about making.

High school in America is an opportunity we take for granted. It’s a birthright in our minds. But for these kids, a high school education is a rare opportunity. And if given the chance, not a lesson will be squandered, nor a class missed. These students know what’s at stake.

When we told them that they would, after all, receive a scholarship, a breathless silence filled the room, and then it lit up with unbridled joy!  If the energy of happiness could be harnessed and sold to the highest bidder, that moment would have been worth a billion dollars, and our perpetual budget woes would be over. But happiness’s value is not monetary; it’s more meaningful than that.  And although the moment was fleeting, a sense of hope now shines prominently in their minds. The family story can be altered; a happy ending is once again possible.

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As we begin a new year setting new goals, we want to keep you, our generous supporters, informed.

In 2015 our operating budget was $552,000, and we raised about $565,000.  It was the most financially healthy year for Lalmba since 2008. Because of that and because of your generosity last year, we were able to increase funding to our microloan program by $10,000, helping more needy families start small businesses to get on the path to independence.  And, of course, with our addition of scholarships for these 8 deserving kids, our budget this year is $565,000, to the dollar of what we raised last year. How’s that for running a lean, sustainable program?

Please keep us in your prayers and help us when you’re able to fulfill our mission of providing hope through opportunity.

Or, you can use PayPal to make a donation by clicking the below link:

By Jeff James

When I saw the tears fall in great drops upon the table, creating craters of dust and dark marks on the stained wood, I knew I had asked the wrong question. I wanted to know if she remembered the day her father walked her from her home in the lowlands of southwestern Ethiopia to the highland rainforests of Chiri, and then left her there, alone. Forever.

She remembered, and her tears told the whole story. There were no further details necessary. Posy’s life, all 9 years of it, has been a tragic series of abandonment.

Posy was born to the nomadic, warrior tribe of the Menit people, pastoralists roaming the lower Omo river valley.  Around the age of 5 or 6 Posy suffered her first epileptic seizure. As a result, her siblings were no longer allowed to play with her, and she was forced to sleep outside. Her parents were concerned that a curse may have been put upon their family.

The frequency of her seizures increased, and her parents determined there must be evil at work. I’ve heard horror stories of epileptics thrown into rivers to drown or be devoured by crocodiles, or tied to a tree and left to die. But Posy’s family had compassion for her and chose to leave her in a bustling town with a fistful of money (about $5), a hundred of miles from her home, and among people whose language she didn’t speak.  She was 7 years old then, and by the grace of God, that town was Chiri.

Her money lasted but a few days and the nights were cold and scary. But one afternoon, while Posy was begging in the street, mercy showed her face.  Posy met a woman who took pity on her and offered a job fetching water and cleaning. In exchange for service, Posy received one meal a day and a corner inside to sleep. But then another seizure gripped her, terrifying the woman.

The woman was convinced that what she witnessed was nothing short of evil, and evil was not welcome in her home. And so Posy returned to the streets to beg.

Eventually Posy met a nurse who understood epilepsy, and who offered her servant work in exchange for food, but not shelter. She could sleep in the yard or in the cow shed. But Posy’s seizures continued and one day, while cooking over an open fire, she convulsed and toppled right into it.  She couldn’t extract herself until the tremors ended, and by then, her burns were severe. The nurse cleaned and dressed her wounds as best she could and sent her to rest under a shade tree. After a few days, however, her wounds became terribly infected and the smell of burned flesh irritated the nurse. It was an intolerable odor. And so, yet again, Posy was sent away with nothing but the shredded clothes that clung to her body, and a fever that shook her to the core.

She was found by a Lalmba employee, lying in a ditch, confused, and close to death. She was admitted into our hospital where her burns were treated, she was cleaned and given high doses of antibiotics. But the damage was bad, really bad, and surgery was needed to restore use of her arm. The infection needed advanced care that we couldn’t provide. We took her to the Missionaries of Charity in Addis Ababa, truly a place where saints flock to cure and comfort the sick and dying. It was her best hope of surviving, and after 4 months of surgery and recovery, she healed perfectly.  She’s badly scarred, but she is strong and able-bodied. The sisters sent her back to Chiri, a town where she had no home, no family, and only one friend, Lalmba.

A home she found in Lalmba’s orphanage, and at the age of 9, she will begin the 1^st grade in just a couple of weeks. She has a bed inside a house with windows and doors and a roof that doesn’t leak, and on her bed she has Tweety Bird sheets. She wakes up to breakfast and a routine that values education and hard work, and accepts her for who she is. And yet, I know, when she closes her eyes at night, she imagines her next step, when all this goodness is over and the bed once again is the street. She can’t possibly believe the horrors are gone; life can’t be that good. But it is, by the grace of God, it is. Posy, through a tragic path, a perilous route, found safety and shelter in a home that will never expel her, one that will nourish her with love and acceptance.  It’s too soon for her to believe it’s real; but I looked into her tear-filled eyes, and I held her scarred hand, and I promised her, this home, this family of orphans and castoffs, is just like her, and like them, she will never be sent away.

That is a promise I intend to keep.

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Understanding Poverty

By Hillary James

The students in Dr. Colleen Fenno’s freshman writing class at Concordia University in Wisconsin haven’t thought much about world poverty before.  Colleen, a Lalmba supporter, partners with Lalmba each semester to give her students a first-hand education in what it means to be one of the millions living in extreme poverty.  Each semester Hillary skypes with the students to tell them about Lalmba’s work in Africa.  Colleen then asks her students to perform one task in solidarity—either washing their clothes by hand for 2 days, carrying 10 pounds on their head for 1 mile, or eating only rice and beans for 48 hours—-then write about it. Below are some of the comments from her students after their experience:

“Although I already knew I was fortunate just to live in the United States, this walk further imprinted in my mind just how lucky I am. Unlike those in developing countries I wasn’t walking for my survival, but instead for a college class. I am not only fortunate enough not to have to walk to get my water, but I also am able to attend college. This is more than most people would even dream of in a developing country.”

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“So, I picked out the clothes I wore from Friday and Saturday and brought it back up with me to wash by hand. As I walked back up to the bathroom on my floor I stopped in my room to grab dish soap.  I scrubbed my clothes and rung out the soap. Afterwards, I walked back to my room and decided to hang my clothes by the window to dry. Later that night, I flipped them over so the other side could dry.  It took me a while to wash what I wore from the past two days, and I got water all over myself. Doing this challenge helped me realize I should not take simple things, like washer and  dryer machines, laundry detergent (Tide pods), and fabric softener, for granted.

Before completing this challenge, I complained about having to walk down two flights of stairs just to get to the laundry room.  

 Now I know that I am lucky that I am able and fortunate enough to walk those stairs and throw my clothes in a machine that will clean my clothes for me. Manually washing clothes and having to find a spot to place them to dry was not simple. “Living below the line” helped me realize so many things I take for granted, and I am glad that I was challenged with this experience.“

 

 

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A New Partner in Health

By Hillary James

It is hard for us to fathom the hardship for the sick in Ethiopia to reach adequate medical care.  Agaro Bushi, a tiny village 4 hours’ walk from Lalmba’s health center, is a place without electricity, water, or an adequate road to reach the outside world.  A health clinic there was started by Ruth Brogini, the wife of the former Swiss ambassador to Ethiopia and the director of an organization called SAED (www.saedetiopia.org). Since its inception, the clinic has been a first stop for the sick.  If the illness is significant, the patient must travel the 4 hours by mule to reach Lalmba’s Chiri Health Center.  There are several river crossings, one with a single log acting as a bridge, and harrowing hills with steep slopes.

Ruth has been struggling to keep the clinic open, challenged by her inability to manage from Switzerland.  Last year, Lalmba partnered with Ruth to provide the oversight for the clinic with weekly visits from Lalmba’s volunteers in Chiri, while SAED provides the funding, and a new ambulance for Lalmba’s use.  When the road is too bad for a vehicle, we strap medicines and equipment onto mules’ backs to carry them to Agaro Bushi.

The last time I visited Agaro Bushi, a woman 34 weeks pregnant came to the clinic saying she had not felt her baby move for some days.  Susan Botarelli, our expat public health director, realized the baby had died and the woman would require a transfer to a hospital.  The woman’s husband arranged for a mule, and he and his brother walked alongside the patient up and down mud-slick roads, across precarious creek crossings, 4 hours until we reached Lalmba’s vehicle.  The woman stoically lay down in the back of the Land Cruiser for the bumpy ride to Chiri, knowing all along that her almost full-term baby was most certainly dead.  Her husband stroked her face, whispering reassurances as they spent the day trying to reach medical care.  I will always remember her strength in the face of despair, and her stoicism in the arduous journey to reach our clinic.  Without Lalmba’s involvement, Ruth had considered closing the clinic, given its remoteness and the difficulties in managing it.  Lalmba’s expertise in managing rural African health clinics now has a new opportunity to provide good primary health care to a very needy population! We are so pleased to have a new partner in doing what we do best, being a source of health for those in the world who need it most.

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Sights from our African Journeys

 

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