Two Miles, Two Girls

This is a story of Two miles- inspirational the first time walked, but the second time sickening. This is a story of two girls- one very black and white case, the other completely gray. This is a story of my work in Ethiopia.

Kocheche, an orphan girl around the age of 10, was brought to us after her aunt had decided to give her to a man in marriage. Her teacher heard of the blight of the young girl, and immediately brought her to our organization in hopes of finding an escape for her. We graciously accepted her into our orphan program, but we needed to get a signature of release from the family and the chairman of the rural community she was from. We instructed the teacher to take her back and get the correct forms signed, and bring her back the following week.

However, when Monday came around, Kocheche did not return. We tried relentlessly to contact anyone involved in the case, but had no answer. After a few weeks, Aselevich (Director of the Children's Programs) and I decided to go find her ourselves and bring her back to our children-home haven.

The 2 mile downhill hike to the rural village was breathtaking. Being surrounded by such beauty kindles a kind of passion in person for life and goodness and purity. I was even more inspired to rescue this girl from the circumstances she was facing.

When we reached the village, we were directed to the local schoolhouse where Kocheche was attending class. We entered through the small archway formed by a lovely flowering vine and walked down the small path graced with beautiful and dainty flowers as the sun shone through the trees to dapple the path with flecks of light. The sounds of the children's voices could be heard as they repeated in unison the words of the teacher. It was a wonderful place. And I thought, "This must be a perfect place to grow up."

Kocheche was brought to us, along with her aunt and uncle who had arranged her marriage. It was not uncustomary in this particular tribe to be married off young, and the family was meaning no harm to her, but actually trying to provide her with someone who could care for her. They were scared to send her to the "white people", fearing that we would take her back to America. But after explaining the truth of our organization- that the children are raised in an Ethiopian home and given every opportunity available to excel in school in hopes of a brighter future- they gladly gave permission for us to take her back with us. And she gladly came.

As we finished up the paperwork, we were beckoned to come outside. Aselevich and I went out to find a group of 5 other children, some with a small packed bag in their hands. I asked who these children were, and they told me they were other orphans who needed a home. My mouth dropped. There was no way we could take all these children, and I watched as their faces went from hope to dispair as they were turned away. And as we headed out of the village, children were brought, one by one, with a similar story of hopelessness. I was overwhelmed by the great need.

I looked around at the magnificient landscape and the precious school house, and I wondered how there could be such a mix of beauty and tragedy in the world. How could a place that could take away your breath with its overwhelming splendor produce such dispair and hopelessness.

As we were almost leaving, another girl was brought to us. She was small and light skinned with a face that showed no emotion. Her eyes were dark and empty. They told us of how her parents had died and she had lived in the wild until a well off family had taken her in. She was their house worker, and in exchange, they provided and cared for her. Although they did not send her to school, they were very kind to her and treated her much like their own children. The community had demanded the family bring her to us with the idea that any child being raised by the white people would be better cared for. The man fought desperately for the child to remain in his home.

I watched the child, to see her reaction to the situation, but her face remained empty. I saw no desire to stay and no desire to go. When I asked her what she wanted, she looked down and remained silent.

With much pressure from the local community, the man relented and allowed her to leave. He held her tightly and kissed her, almost crying. The two mile hike back was not as inspirational as when I first walked that path. I went much slower. Maybe because it was uphill, but mostly because I was sick inside. My stomach turned within me and my throat seemed to be denying a breath to pass through. I questioned our motivation for taking this second girl. My American mindset saw a girl denied of the chance for education and wanted to give her that chance. But I also began to think about the reality of what I had to offer her.

Although the children in our program are provided everything possible to succeed in school, only a very small percentage make a high enough scores to go to University and receive enough education to take them out of the poverty level.

The reality- I was taking a girl from a loving, stable home and putting her in an orphan home that we are constantly fighting for stability. I am taking her from a place where she has no chance at education and offering a chance, but a small chance indeed, at getting an education at a high enough level that would take her out of poverty. Was this really the best thing for her?

In developement work, there are no clear lines. They are blurred almost to the point that they no longer exist. It is a constant question in my mind, "Am I helping more than harming? Is what I am doing really best for this culuture and this time and these people?"

I take a leap of faith and make the best decision I can, but in the end, I must trust that God is sovereign, and NONE of his plans will be thwarted. God does not leave the life of anyone in MY hands, and for that I am grateful. He is a father of the orphans and does not just leave them to the hands of men to do with them what they please. He protects and cares for them. I am praying for that little girl. Her name is Kebabush. I am praying that those empty eyes will be full of light one day. That the stone face will be graced with a huge smile. And that maybe she will be one of the small percentage of people who can testify of how she was once living in the wild without anyone, and now she is the minister of Affairs in Ethiopia, changing her world. I believe it is possible, for all things are possible with God.