Konjo, no?

The second day of our journey was spent on a drive to Ambo. Ambo is a small town that is about 3 hours northwest of Addis Ababa. I was really looking forward to driving outside of Addis just to see this beautiful country.

The country is beautiful. The temperature was in the mid 60's and it rained every day. The land is mountaineous and green. The soil so rich that it's black. The farmers till the land with an ox and plow and I saw them every where. While on the drive to Ambo, the sun broke out of the clouds and beamed down on the patchwork quilt of fields that littered the country side. Besides Sammy (our crazy driver) swirving to miss cattle that lay in the middle of the road, it was quite a peaceful drive to Ambo.

I couldn't stop pondering why this country was one of the poorest in the world. They seem to have everything; peace, a strong connection with family, land, rain, education. It didn't seem to add up. It seemed that 1+1 = 0 and my mind couldn't comprehend why they have so much, yet so little. I read from Hebrews during my time in Ethiopia and a reoccuring theme seemed to keep "popping" up of these people being blessed. My first night in Ambo, I read from Hebrews 6:7 "Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God."

I stopped after reading this. This verse was their country. They are a blessed country, but once again, I didn't fully understand. How can one be blessed, but still have disease? How can a country be blessed and still have poverty? I got very upset one day after I returned back home and I broke down crying. Telling God over and over again that it didn't make sense and what did he want me to do? Then I heard the still small voice inside telling me "see them as I see them."

Wow.

God revealed it to me in a way that made sense...I needed 1+1 = 2. However, there is no such equation. That is our way of thinking, though. We, as Americans, must have an answer and a solution to everything. Including how to make their lives better. However, we are the ones that need to be changed.

Their lives are much more than a late-night Sally Struthers commercial (as my fiance, Matt would say). They are more than children with flies in their eyes, pot bellies, and overcome with depression. We need to see people for who they are, not what they have (disease) or what they don't have (material things).

They have their own individual stories. I feel so blessed to be able to listen to their stories and experience their country. I fell in love with these people and their country the moment I stepped off the plane and the Ethiopians are in love with their country as well. One day, in Ambo, my team and I got our shoes cleaned by the street kids (who I will write about in a later entry) and our group leader, Geoffrey, asked one of the kids what he thought of Ethiopia. The boy replied with a big grin and said, "Ah yes. It is the life!"
While in Ambo we also visited a school and church that the Mocha Club (the organization I went with to Africa) sponsors. The children hung out with us for a few days and one day, a little girl came up to me and kissed my cheek and looked at me and said, "konjo." My eyes began to water because earlier that day, I had learned that konjo means "beauiful."

She was right - that moment was konjo.
This entire country and the people are konjo.

Now, if we could actually put those moments on a late-night commercial, instead of a depressing Sally Struthers commercial, we might begin "to see them how He sees them."