I live in rural East Africa.
People die out here much earlier and much more often than a majority of
other places in the world. Regardless of
line of work, location, or poverty level, the regular loss of human life is a very
difficult thing to become accustom to.
However it is something that I have come to expect to encounter in my daily
life. Viewing death constructively is
something I am working through.
Since I’ve been in Azedebo, I‘ve noticed that within the
average week, the population of around 3,000 buries two of its community
members. Often the deaths are violence related, old age, or attributed to one
of three types of “malaria” (the last is in quotes because any time someone dies
with an elevated temperature it is blamed on mosquitos). This
week was no different. We lost 3. A school directors wife to what seems to have
been meningitis, a village elder to “old age” at 65, and my neighbors 14 year
old son to a Hyena attack in their front yard in the middle of the
afternoon.
Over the last 2 and half years I have worked and lived
along-side the communities that benefit from Tesfa/Ethiopia Reads mission. It can be an incredibly sobering life. Coming
from a middle class Midwestern neighborhood where death was the back of my mind,
this current life of mine has ushered it to the forefront.
I believe that in the moment, death is often avoidable. Fate may exist, but in my mind, we each are largely
in control of our own actions in the parameters we exist within. My life in South Minneapolis, Chicago and New
Orleans was at times tumultuous, though the dangers I encountered were for whatever
reason searched out. Danger is relative,
and here in Kembata-Tembaro, danger and it’s confidant, death, are so pervasive
they have become normalized. Rural South West Ethiopia’s cards are
unfortunately stacked against its people.
Living amongst a population that has a life expectancy hovering around 42
(that number is dragged down by the high rate of death of children under the
age of 5) urges a white male from a fortunate upbringing to reflect.
I will be the first to admit that I am an emotionally
distant guy. That’s been one of the key reasons
why I have been able to effectively work and live as I do. At its root, it’s a conscious decision. My work is based on immersing myself in communities
where hardship, poverty, corruption, drought, poor health is ordinary. There is hope for eventual change, but most
concentrate on getting though the day, rather than building for tomorrow. To function, I actively mentally disengage as
much as possible. I file all of the
negativity somewhere in my memory banks, but I strive to concentrate on the beautiful
moments. If I begin to focus on the plethora
of negativity, my capacity falters. So I
digest what I can as I encounter it, and continue to move forward.
Sometimes I do stumble.
The avoidable death of a child, with a future largely undecided, is a rough
one to side step; especially in incidents involving local fauna and preventable
diseases. That hardened exterior of mine
can only do so much. This week I caught myself going through the motions of asking
why and even blaming those life parameters. In time those sentiments faded, and a more constructive
approach amassed. I am finding that the
more I assimilate the more I am processing these events as tangible evidence
for the dire need of expansion of ER’s work.
In coming years to better enable our beneficiaries, education and healthcare
outreach is a start… but in time we can work with the communities and other NGO’s
to better enable our beneficiaries to
create more stable and positive lives for themselves and future generations.
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| Ekodaga kiddies |
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