by Erin Affourtit
I got back from Africa 2 weeks ago today and I have yet to write a blog. Dealing with the feelings and emotions from this trip has been incredibly difficult. In fact, I haven't dealt with them at all, unless you count chocolate cake. J I threw myself right back into the American way of life and I haven't taken a breath or hardly looked up from my job, essentially because I know how painful it is to go back to what I witnessed.
One of the Ethiopian boys who rode in the van with our driver Abraham was Shiffalo, a 22 yr old young man with such a vibrant spirit. Shiffalo got a huge kick out of helping me and the rest of the team speak Amharic. He would say "wet-tight" or "sue-car", I would repeat "wet-taught" or "slow-er" and he would just laugh and say "good good" at my broken Amharic. I'm sure it sounded much like the broken English of a newly arrived China man to America. But he didn't care, and neither did I for that matter. I was happy enough to be engaged with him, learning about his culture. By the way, "wet-tight" and "sue-car" means milk and sugar, in case you were wondering.
Each day Abraham and Shiffalo picked us up we were greeted with so much JOY! I was intrigued by Shiffalo's joy, to say the least. I wanted to know more. Where did he come from? What village? Where is his family? So…being me, I pried. I asked Aki, our incredible translator and local guide to ask Shiffalo if he will give us his testimony while we were in the van. I looked to Shiffalo after Aki asked and after a big sigh, he concurred. He began by telling us that his father loved his mother very much. His father was a soldier and had to go away. When his father returned, some time later, he found his wife in bed with another man. At this point in Shiffalo's testimony, he turned his head away to look out the window and his lip began to quiver. As I watched him, I felt him go back in time to what is the most devastating moment in his life. He slowly began speaking, swallowing chunks in his throat. Aki translated: At 10 years old, I watched my father shoot and kill my mother and the other man. My father quickly went to prison. Shiffalo was left to survive, traumatized on his own as an orphan.
He found his way to the big city, Addis Abbaba where he met Abraham, who tried to help Shiffalo whenever he could. Shiffalo says, "because I witnessed this experience, the image of my father killing my mother kept playing over and over again in my mind, it drove me mad so I started doing drugs to deal with the pain."
This is probably only a quarter of (1) one single child's story. There are SO many children without parents in Ethiopia- it's heart breaking. My absolute favorite scripture is James 1:27 because it answers everything you need to know on what God has to say about religion, orphans and how we should live our lives. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and blameless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
I got back from Africa 2 weeks ago today and I have yet to write a blog. Dealing with the feelings and emotions from this trip has been incredibly difficult. In fact, I haven't dealt with them at all, unless you count chocolate cake. J I threw myself right back into the American way of life and I haven't taken a breath or hardly looked up from my job, essentially because I know how painful it is to go back to what I witnessed.
One of the Ethiopian boys who rode in the van with our driver Abraham was Shiffalo, a 22 yr old young man with such a vibrant spirit. Shiffalo got a huge kick out of helping me and the rest of the team speak Amharic. He would say "wet-tight" or "sue-car", I would repeat "wet-taught" or "slow-er" and he would just laugh and say "good good" at my broken Amharic. I'm sure it sounded much like the broken English of a newly arrived China man to America. But he didn't care, and neither did I for that matter. I was happy enough to be engaged with him, learning about his culture. By the way, "wet-tight" and "sue-car" means milk and sugar, in case you were wondering.
Each day Abraham and Shiffalo picked us up we were greeted with so much JOY! I was intrigued by Shiffalo's joy, to say the least. I wanted to know more. Where did he come from? What village? Where is his family? So…being me, I pried. I asked Aki, our incredible translator and local guide to ask Shiffalo if he will give us his testimony while we were in the van. I looked to Shiffalo after Aki asked and after a big sigh, he concurred. He began by telling us that his father loved his mother very much. His father was a soldier and had to go away. When his father returned, some time later, he found his wife in bed with another man. At this point in Shiffalo's testimony, he turned his head away to look out the window and his lip began to quiver. As I watched him, I felt him go back in time to what is the most devastating moment in his life. He slowly began speaking, swallowing chunks in his throat. Aki translated: At 10 years old, I watched my father shoot and kill my mother and the other man. My father quickly went to prison. Shiffalo was left to survive, traumatized on his own as an orphan.
He found his way to the big city, Addis Abbaba where he met Abraham, who tried to help Shiffalo whenever he could. Shiffalo says, "because I witnessed this experience, the image of my father killing my mother kept playing over and over again in my mind, it drove me mad so I started doing drugs to deal with the pain."
This is probably only a quarter of (1) one single child's story. There are SO many children without parents in Ethiopia- it's heart breaking. My absolute favorite scripture is James 1:27 because it answers everything you need to know on what God has to say about religion, orphans and how we should live our lives. "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and blameless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."
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