Racial Walls

We have now been in Ethiopia for over two and a half years. During this time, I (Faith) have tackled various jobs here in Chiri. I have worked in the clinic and seen miraculous recoveries, with the children’s programs and witnessed orphans rise above extreme circumstances, with our staff and developed incredible friendships. But none of this is quite as rewarding as what I am allowed to do now. For the past few months, I have been managing our public health programs. Part of that consists of conducting community-wide women’s groups where we discuss various health issues such as nutrition, clean water, child safety, and harmful traditional practices. And although it is rewarding in itself to see a community’s overall health improve, what has been the most meaningful for me is the relationships that are developing, both with me and with the women themselves.

When I first came to Chiri, I started learning the local language, Kafanoonoo. It has given me a door into the lives of women that Amharic, the national language, would not have done. When I attended the first meeting and spoke to them in their native language they were so happy; I was immediately welcomed into their lives. Since then, I have worked side-by-side with them, eaten with them, and laughed with them. They are becoming my friends. And my life is enriched by them.

In our area, there are two major tribes, Kafa and Munja. These tribes have a history of racism and war, and although the racial tension is diminishing in the bigger towns, it still has a very strong presence in the rural areas. In the village of Ogeya, two of our leaders for our women’s group are Kafa and one is Munja. At first, this caused some controversy, as Kafa and Munja usually don’t associate with each other. But as time went on, the racial walls began to crumble. Last month, when the Munja leader was asked what the women’s group had done, she responded, “Before these meetings, no one would shake my hand, or eat with me, or listen to what I had to say. But now, these women are my friends. They talk with me, and smile at me as I pass by. They listen to my teachings. And today (as that day was a cooking class), they will eat with me.”

In these groups, Kafa, Munja, and American all come together. We shake each other’s hands, we sit and talk and laugh, and we eat together. And although our health educations might not completely stop pneumonia or prevent intestinal parasites, they are doing something that I consider a far greater feat. We are slowly breaking down racial stigmatism and cultural misunderstandings. We are learning to look at each other as individuals. We are growing as people. And for that, I feel immensely blessed. Photo by Annie Grossman