It Takes A Village

It takes a village to raise a child. 

Each child is a blessing bestowed upon the community. 

All blessings come with burdens;

therefore, the burdens too, must be shared by the village. 

A part of my village...

One component of a Canadian Humanitarian expedition is the participation in home visits. The interaction has many purposes. CH advisors, directors and volunteers listen to the concerns of the families and communities whose children are influenced by the programs. Being present affirms to those impacted that they are important and worthwhile. It cultivates hope, which gives them the strength to continue when challenges arise. Moreover, when people come together, it creates an opportunity for all to see the world in a different way, and to contemplate new ways of being. 

During the February 2008 CH expedition, I participated in several home visits. We walked from home to home through urban villages in Addis Ababa, where the sponsored children live with their guardians. As we trekked, our group multiplied. Community members walked alongside, down narrow stone-laid passages, or sprawling dirt roads—curious, yes, but supportive and engaging too. The sun reflected upon smiles and tears alike to reveal a certain kind of glory. It created—for me—the best and the worst memories.

Lunch prepared for us while visiting the "crisis intervention" house. Feb. '08

Surrounded by children, all along our visits. 

Pride and hope, the outcomes of support for many...but not all.

February 15, 2008

 Toward the end of our home visits, we arrive at Hannah’s home, where she lives with her grandmother and two of her cousins. The setayat, in her fifties, has aged prematurely because of life and loss. The home stands in a long row of “paper-mâché” houses, with dirt floors and a sheet of plastic overhead. If I stretch my arms fully, I will puncture the paper wall, and wave at the neighbours. The packed dirt floor swept clean during this dry season, weeps during the rains. A small raised bed, running almost end to end, gives us a place to sit during our visit. 

Hannah’s setayat has little opportunity to work, no steady income, no kitchen, or food pantry for the family she gained after the loss of her adult children. When she can, she makes injera, and cleans houses. On those days, she makes five birr a day (less than fifty cents). She needs Hannah to care for the younger children, beg on the streets, or find work. However, Hannah was accepted into the Kid’s Hope program when they expanded a year ago. Grandma shows weariness, and worry, but also determination and pride. She cries as she speaks of the days that she cannot feed her family at all, and she grows taller when she shares her gratitude toward Canadian Humanitarian. The joys and struggles face off against each other. Challenge triumphs momentarily and the small room seems to deflate, like a leaky balloon. 

Last, we follow Mekdes. She is the sponsored child of my in-laws; she leads us quietly down dirt roads lined with metal gates and flowing vines of delicate purple flowers. Mekdes lives with her setayat. This home, a sturdy mud structure, reveals a period of abundance with couches, a shelving unit, and a refrigerator. The grandmother paces as she listens to the greetings, and purpose of our visit. We have learned that she plans to take fourteen-year-old Mekdes out of the program. She leans against the wall farthest from us. Her voice a raspy whisper due to poor health, rises and falls just as her bony ribcage moves with her breath. She will not sit, or join us. We learn that Mekdes’ two aunts recently moved out, and life has become exceedingly difficult. They provided income as well as helping with shopping and chores. The aunts have not been good role models for Mekdes because they both work as prostitutes. Mekdes, at risk of following this same fate, remains silent and steady. 

  As grandma rants, and pleads for something more, her voice gives out and her head falls forward. One in our group wonders why we can’t give her money. Money does not promote sustainable living. However, supporting her health seems an appropriate way to help. The CH director communicates this idea, and then pleads with her, “This program is a chance for Mekdes to have a different future . . . for a better life, please do not remove her.”  Grandma relents; Mekdes can continue with her studies, for today.

***

Mekdes, seen here in 2008, is under the arm of Dr. Richard Northcott (co-founder). As of October 2013, she had graduated from school, and Kid's Hope, and taken extra training in the service industry of hotels and restaurants, and had a job. 

Within these ancient civilizations, the village is the base unit of existence. Daily life requires all members to participate for the well-being of the group. On most days they walk long distances to get food, water, wood, and coal, and often to the market to sell what they can gather. When one prospers, they all benefit, and when suffering occurs, they typically stand together. 

The village did not arrive at some point in history. It has always existed. Humans are meant to rely on one another. It is only recently that many in the developed world have severed the links between families of geographic or familial relationship, abandoning the village. We think we can make it on our own.  

***

As I stand on the outer rim of family crisis (yes, right now), I wonder…how can I continue with One Loonie Idea? Feeling the ropes of turmoil tighten around me—it’s hard to breathe, let alone plan, prepare, and perform. I ask myself, what would a woman in Ethiopia do if she were facing similar circumstances?

The answer is clear. She would turn to the village. 

I am one amongst many. Who have suffered. Hardship. 

Although we do not share the same journey, all of us are connected through feelings associated with experience. I ask, is there any one who has not experienced the sadness of loss? Do you know the angst that is saddled to helplessness? Can you relate to the disappointment of expectations not being met? When life throws you into chaos and struggle, can you avoid the anger and rage of a situation that doesn’t feel fair? 

I think we are the same amidst our differences. 

A sage in my village wrote me the following words this week, and I want to share them with you. 

Wendy, "Let me begin by saying that your life is an incredible journey - incredible doesn’t mean easy, nevertheless, incredible. Right now, Faven isn’t able to appreciate all the support she has been (and will continue to be) given, as her life thus far has also been an incredible journey.” 

Thank you for this HR.