Tuesday, September 11, 2007

You Can Feel the Joy of Abi

Written by Kali Stull:
Ashley and I met Abi Galeiwango at a home for former street kids in Kampale, Uganda. We were immediately drawn to him because as Ashley put it, "You can see the joy written all over his face." He is such a vessel of God's love and we wanted to know how he became so filled with the spirit so...here is are Abby's words:
"I was born in 1986 in a place called Natete. It's 5 miles from Kampala [the capital of Uganda]. I was born by a man called Gacoiwango, he was a muslim. As usual muslim men marry many wives. My mother was among the last wife he had. My father had 12 wives. When my mom joined that family she was mistreated by the other wives and she decided to divorce. She took her children with her. When we left my father became angry with my mom and her children so he didn't keep in touch with us and when he died of AIDS when he was 4, we discovered we were not in his will. After his death my mom was poor and couldn't take care of us- no schooling [in Uganda, there was no free schooling], we just stayed at home. We led a miserable life at that time. During those times, we could go to bed at night without eating, sometimes we would eat once a day. My mom wasn't working, life was not good. I suffered a lot for those 3 years. I decided to leave that life and live on the street. I was 6 years old when I joined the streets. I was persuaded by my friend to join the streets. He told me, "You go, make money, do whatever you want." At that time I was young and I couldn't work for money. I dug through the trash, sniffed gas and stole money from people during the day. At night I slept on the shop's porch. But if the police find you they beat you and chase you. Living on the streets was hard, but at least I could find food. I was there by myself. Some christians used to come and provide lunch and preach the gospel, but they never had a place to take us street kids. I used to abuse them because I came from a muslim background. I thought "leave me and I suffer", but I was ignorant about what I was saying. One day, the Rev. Sampunch had an organization called Africa Found and they had a home so one day they gathererd many of us on the street and took us to a home. At that time, no one wanted to go. Many people escaped from the van. We were used to life on the streets. In the morning I would wake up, pick pockets, sniff gas and if I fail I go pick garbage and then sleep. I had more food on the streets than in my mom's house. Rev. had the burden of looking after the 3 of us that made it to the house. At Africa Found, they took us to school, and gave us lunch and dinner and medical facilities. I was happy to start school. I thought, "I can't loose this opportunity and go back on the streets." I was in that home for 8 years. That's when Rev. joined the politics so he decided to use our scholarship money for political reasons. Some older boys told our sponsors about it, and they stopped providing money. So then Rev. decided to close the home and he told us, "Now you go out and find out how to survive." That moment my life came to a standstill. I couldn't communicate to my mom, I had to go back to the street. While I was at the house, they introduced us o Chrstianity and I decided to give my life to Christ. If you have Jesus, you have everything. So when I was kicked out of the Africa Found home, I started praying to Jesus, telling him I'm hopeless, I have nothing, but You are the one. I had heard a preacher say God does things and you never know what his final plans are so stop complaining and start praying. I prayed so hard. One of the people in Africa Found, Uncle Simon [a good, honest man] worked with the sponsors to find us kids who were kicked out. They advertised on radio and in the paper to find us. I remanined on the streets for 4 months. I felt so bad. That time on the streets I suffered so much. Because I commited my life to Christ, I couldn't steal. This time on the streets I worked for money to survive. I could go and build for 5,000 shillings a day [about 3 dollars]. Living on the street was a christian was difficult; though I was suffering I refused to go back and steal and sniff gas. God saw my determination and he opened dorrs for me. I stayed most of my time in a chruch-they gave me a place to sleep and some food because they saw the way I was loving Christ. When I was there I met a friend who said, "some people are looking for you, you have to go see Uncle Simon," so I went to find him. He and Peter [both men work for Cornerstone] said I could join a Cornerstone home. I was so excited and surprised, I can't tell you! Ah! From then I joined Cornerstone and they took me to school. The Bible says, " The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom," and you know, I was a wise guy. I completed school very well and qualified to join Mekere University. What I can say is all I have acheived is by the will of God. I have never regreted giving my life o Christ. I love singing about my love for God. I want to go and record. I am here, smiling, the mentors are good guys! Whenever people ask, I tell my testimony-they can't believe how much I've changed! Praise Him! You will never find me unhappy!

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

The Lovely Lira

Easter, Annet (two of the Youth Corps girls) and I left this morning at 5:45AM for school. I was not thrilled to be up so early, but as the day pronounced its coming with the sky brightening in warm shades of pink and yellow, the chipatti stoves warming, boda boda drivers biking to their stations, and children washing their feet and faces, I was reminded of the natural beauty and serenity of life here in Lira, which seems like a oxymoron since the past 21 years have been marked by fear and turmoil from the war between the LRA and UPDF. However it is not the Lira I know.

The girls of Lira Youth Corps home possess such a brilliant resilience and hope for the future. All sixteen girls, between the ages of 8 and 15, have experienced tremendous heartache, whether from the loss of a parent or both parents or the trapped, monotonous life in an IDP camp. They come with empty hands but with hearts of gold and radiant smiles ready to learn and serve.

Living in the home with them has been a delight because of their contagious enthusiasm for life and heart-felt gratitude for each new day, the clothes on their back, their warm meal at night, the opportunity to go to school, a mattress to sleep on, two strong and loving mentors, and the family of 16 sisters.

The exchange we've had with the girls over the past few weeks has been enlightening, encouraging, and full of belly wrenching laughter. We have tried to learn their culture, such as -- the task of balancing a jerry can full of water on our heads, how to kill, cook, and eat a chicken, dancing the traditional Acholi dance, singing Hallelujah praise music at the local church, riding side saddle on a bicycle boda boda, entertaining ourselves for hours with a few rock games, hoeing up cassava roots, and each night all 18 of us running through the village singing at the top of our lungs.

We've also had a chance to share some American "traditions"-- Easter egg dying and and Easter egg hunt, a campfire with doughboys, the process of washing hair, our many silly songs, field day games of three-legged race, wheelbarrow, and egg and spoon, as well as the lack of our ability to dance, always a sure way to get the girls giggling.

This house can't help but infect us with joy because I believe it is a taste of God's house. Few material objects make the house cozy, but the open doors and welcoming arms of the 16 young girls make it the most comfortable house of all. The walls aren't elaborately decorated, but full of their girls own colorful artwork. These girls aren't sisters by blood, but are tied together by even stronger bonds as sisters in Christ. They've missed the love of a mother or father, which allows them to cling even deeper to the Father's love for them. Each night they dedicate all their energy into shouting His praises which ring throughout the house. They haven't experienced the care of an older sibling, but they are in the care of two strong and loving mentors, whom they call "Aunties." These women invest their lives in these girls to care for their physical, emotional, and spiritual needs, by not only teaching the precepts of Jesus, but also by living them out each day. It's a family to the fullest extent where each girl cares for the next, as they eagerly serve and love deeply with the love of Christ.

--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Monday, March 26, 2007

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Tony/Uganda

TONY



Kali and I went up to Gulu and Lira this past week to see the broken towns and broken lives of the men, women, and children who have been victims of the 20 year war between Joseph Kony's Lord Resitance Army (LRA) and the government UPDF soliders. The LRA abducts children to become child soldiers and sex slaves. I'm not going to give a history lesson, but to understand more, there is tons of information on the internet about the situation.

No words can describe or adequately explain the experiences we had today. And no amount of time I spent here in Gulu would ever make me understand how these children feel. At the mere ages of 10 to 15 years old they have experienced more in their lives than I would ever see in 7 lifetimes in America. What follows is the story of Tony, a 15 year old boy I interviewed who is now living in the Cornerstone Youth Corps home in Gulu.

"My name is Tony. I am 15 years old. I am from the villiage Coro abeli. My brother Morris lives in the YC home with me. There are no more children in our home from our village. The village life was not fine. I was abducted by the LRA boys when I was 9. When I first got there I missed my parents very much, but after the LRA told me they killed my father and mother I had to forget. I was in the bush for 5 years. Life is so hard in the bush. I was beaten severely. We had to carry very heavy luggage for many kilometers. The hardest part about the bush was the hunger and thirst. They made us go to villages to loot, burn, and sometimes kill. We were marching back from looting, a two days walk to Sudan. There was an ambush from the UPDF soilders and I was injured. My heel was shot and so was my leg. I was 14 years old. The man who was carrying me had to put me down to run away. I stayed in that place for one week eating roots and leaves. The LRA came back to find me, but there was another ambush. The LRA went away and the UPDF found me. I gave them my gun and they took me to the hospital. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks."

"Then I went to the rehabilitaion center for 2 months. My brother did not recognize me until the fourth time he came to see me. We were happy. After rehab I went to live in the village with my brother. We had no parents. I got pigeons and baked bricks to make money for food. I like to draw. We registered to draw pictures for 500 shillings. We met David Laker and he went and told us to come live in YC home where we would have food."

"Life is very good now because I have opportunity to go to school. I want people to know about my life in the village because my life in the bush is not important now, because it has already passed. Life in the village is a life of struggling until one day you realize your dream. My struggle is when I leave YC home to go back to the villages and there is no food. My dream is to be a driver and a doctor and help."


Tony has been living at the home for a couple of weeks now. He is just a child but holds so much insight into life, as many of the Ugandans do who have suffered from the war. When I asked him what he wanted people to know about his life, he said he wanted people to know about his village, which is his current struggle, and his dream. So many of the people really strive to focus on the future and be hopeful. They have been through things harder than I can imagine, yet they aren't wallowing in pity for themselves. They are looking to the future, and working hard to make it better.
--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Uganda: the Pearl of Africa

..."the pearl of Africa"...

Indeed, what a gem, what a breath of sweet warm air. Smiling faces, colorful dress, lively music, lush vegetation and a bright new culture to experience. Kali and I were luminous stepping off the plane into Entebbe, about 40 km away from Kampala, Uganda's capital. There was some miscommunication about our flight arrival, so we hopped in a taxi and managed to scrounge around and find the address to Cornerstone.

We were speechless the whole ride because all of our senses were so busy taking in our new surroundings. The smells of bananas roasting, fresh paint, and the warm, salty, smell of Lake Victoria reminded me of Jamaica.

Compared to Ethiopia, this is the Garden of Eden. Banana trees, blooming flowers, avocado's the size of eggplants, green green grass, parks, and soccer fields that are actually made of grass.

We made it to plot 37, Cornerstone headquarters, to a joyful, warming hugs from the Ugandans, welcoming us to their country as sisters. After our informal introductions to the team, we were presented with our first tast of Ugandan food.... red bean with rice and 'posho'-- mashed plantains. Delicious, but my brothers would have a ball spicing it up with a bit of Tony's or Crystal hot sauce.

Tim , the director of Cornerstone, met with us for a moment, basically saying you'll figure it out in time and here's how to get around.

So after being shown to our cozy little room called faith, we embarked on our first adventure, one that I had no idea would cause me to fear for my life and be one of the most thrilling experiences of my life.... the culprit: the boda boda.

A glorious idea indeed, yet in actuality quite a death sentence. Boda boda's' are essentially motorcycles for hire. Peter showed us how to get on one with a skirt and the correct positioning of our legs so that we would not be burned, a common mistake of foreigners. Seconds later we were flying down the street. I was laughing all the way into town, out of sheer delight and sheer terror. The drivers recklessly weave in and out of traffic around trucks and in between cars so that you are literally centimeters away from grazing a car. But the best part was his non-nonchalant attitude about the whole shindig. Granted he's probably been doing it for years, but not to even flinch impressed me. Needless to say, I know how I'll be getting my rush everyday.

--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Thursday, March 15, 2007

hi hi hi

well just wanted to send a quick update about our whereabouts. kali and i just finished working with SIM in Mekelle and have spent the past 3 days in Addis visiting the Mother Teresea orphanage, hanging out with Mesfin, Alex, Sammie, and Ladet as well as the Cherokee guests. It was great to see them all again. What joy we had when we walked into the orphanage and Melkana, the little boy with downs, ran up to me with a big smile on his face, gave me a hug, and led me directly to the swing set, (where we spent hours during the month of december.) We are heading to Tanzania tomorrow to meet up with my parents, Frank Richardson, and Kali's mom to climb Kilimanjaro. We are so excited for the climb and have been training in Mekelle running 5 miles everyday, but are still a little nervous about the climb. So please pray for all our safety and health as we attempt this summit, and that it would just be a great time of fellowship with our families before we head off to Uganda at the end of our climb. My sweet father is posting our updates on my blog now, so it's up and running... www.ashleyzeiger@blogspot.com hope all is well in the motherland and that the beginning of spring is bringing good spirits.



--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Thursday, February 8, 2007

The universal bubble

Growing up I've always been a place that is labeled a bubble-- the Brookie Bubble, the Lawrenceville Bubble, Southern Bubble, and I will be soon going to the Vander Bubble. The word 'bubble' tends to carry a negative connotation, which I agree it should. We say that we live in a bubble because we are not being exposed to 'real' life. The south is home to the infamous Bible belt, so we are sheltered from liberal views. At Lawrenceville our community was surrounded by a iron gate which only partly symbolized our bubble away from the surrounding area, Trenton and Camden, home to some of the worst crime in America. In America we say we live in a bubble because we are a 1st world country and don't see nearly the same poverty and disease as 3rd world countries.

But here I am in Africa, Ethiopia to be exact, where years and years of famine have ravaged the people and land, 98% people unemployed, HIV/AIDS rampantly spreading, the orphan and street children population is some of the highest of anywhere in the world, hundreds of people dying each day to common diseases of TB, malaria, and diarrhea. Yet I managed to find myself in a bubble.

I managed to get into my schedule here, waking up each day, going on our morning run, eating breakfast, teaching several classes at the youth center, lunch, teaching a few more classes, playing some games, then going home and cooking dinner. While it sounds monotonous, and it very well may be, I'm enjoying myself. But I see how it has become my personal choice as to whether or not I will be affected by the things I see, hear, and feel. I make a choice each time I walk down the street as to whether or not I will look to see and appreciate the old beggar woman or just look the other way. Ethiopia is at war right now with Somalia, yet I didn't even realize the extent and severity of the situation. It's only when I make a conscious choice to ask about it, or read a paper, or check on the internet. It's my choice whether or not I will live in a bubble, whether or not I will take time to notice the pain, whether or not I will see the hunger and be affected by it. I have to let my guard down each day to see the 'real' world, because it's all around me, here in Ethiopia, at home in Birmingham, Alabama and in New Jersey. Bubbles are not defined by my location, but rather my outlook. Perspective can be so hard to keep even here in Ethiopia. Pray that God will help me to keep perspective, to open my eyes and let my guard down to see and feel what others are experiencing in this life.

--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Aliens in Africa

Dad,

here's my next blog posting... if it sounds rude or proud or any way
offensive will you not post it? i can't wait to see you!!! happy
training

So I've been feeling homesick lately. Mostly I miss my family and
friends, but at times I just really miss the comforts of home. I miss
warm pressured showers and driving rather than walking everywhere. I
miss not being noticed when I walk down the street and high-speed
internet. I miss Mexican food and washing machines. I miss speaking to
people whose first language is English. And yes, I miss my favorite
show Project Runway. Although I miss all these comforts, I know it's
only a short time that I'll be without them, away from home, so it's
bearable.

Today we were talking about what things make us realize that we are
total strangers to Ethiopia. Whether it is something as obvious as the
language or color of our skin, or something as simple as shaking a
wrist in a greeting or the 'gasp' that means yes. Whatever big or
small difference, cultural or physical, a thousand times a day I'm
reminded that I'm not from here.

I realize this is only a temporary place that I'm living. Since I know
this place is only temporary my value on certain things increases and
on others decreases. I know I'll only be living here for 5 months so
I'm not spending a lot of money on comforts such as more than one
towel or home decor. We are getting by on the essentials- food and
water. Why? Because this 'home' is temporary so it would be silly to
invest in luxuries.

We also know our time here is short, so we are really trying to
immerse ourselves in the culture to learn about the similarities and
differences. We are spending a lot of time with people building
friendships because we know that's the only thing we can take with us.
We also are spending a lot of time in reflection because we want these
5 months to count. We want to be available to God's calling,
open-minded to learning new things and seeing life from another
perspective, we want to grow, and we want to make a difference for
God's glory. Also, it's so much easier here to give more of ourselves
and time because we don't have the distraction of TV, or shopping, or
whatever else I do with my time at home.

Now, here I am, in Africa as a foreigner, but how is that any
different from my life on this earth as a foreigner?

Peter addresses followers of Jesus all throughout the world as
'strangers in the world' and 'aliens' to this world because they do
not belong. This is not my home, this life is not the final
destination, it's merely a temporary assignment.

I wish I could maintain a perspective that my life on earth is merely
a temporary assignment, before I am called home to heaven. Instead of
building a large inheritance for myself or my children on this earth I
wish I could maintain the perspective that my things on this earth
will not last. I wish I could focus on "an inheritance that can never
perish, spoil, or fade- kept in heaven for [me]… in this [I should]
greatly rejoice, though now for a little while [I] may suffer grief
and all kinds of trials." (1 Peter 1:3)

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Merry Christmas from Ethiopa




Melkam Gena! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Yesterday was the Ethiopian Christmas so Kali and I enjoyed the feasts of injera, wot, and popcorn at Semu and Winta's houses.

Kali and I have moved up to Mekelle, a city in the northern Tigray region of Ethiopia. We are enjoying the perfect weather of 50 F nights and 85 F sunny days. The average rainfall for Mekelle these next 2 months is 0 mm. Kali and I are enjoying living on our own, cooking all our meals from scratch, learning about the orthodox culture, but most of all spending time with the kids at the youth center. Kali and I are working for SIM (Service in Mission) which is a Christian NGO that began in Sudan and spread to Ethiopia in the early 1930's. SIM has numerous projects throughout Ethiopia that minister to people's physical needs: food, medicine, education, and shelter and by doing so sharing Christ's love through action.

The Mekelle Youth Center is a place where youth come for English classes, computer classes, HIV/AIDS education, and sports. The purpose of the center is to provide a safe haven for youth to be youth and learn essential character values. Approximately 400 kids come to the center each day. The center has been in Mekelle for 5 years and has been praised by the government for its programs and for the model it has been for the community.

Kali and I work closely with the Girls Anti-Aids Club, Girls basketball team, Youth Team building, English Classes, and Sports (all the volleyball, knock-out, ping pong, bingo, and soccer you could imagine.) There is a core group of 10 girls that we are focusing on building relationships with. The first day I walked into the Girls Anti-Aids club room they were all dancing and singing to Mariah Carey's We Belong Together and I just felt like I was right back in my dorm room at Lawrenceville. It's amazing how we share such similar interests and taste in music, clothes, movies, humor, yet come from tremendously different backgrounds.

For example, our friend Emebete, 16, loves Heath Ledger and Beyonce, and seems just like any other 16 year old American girl, but today I learned she was orphaned when she was 8 after her mother died and her father disappeared. Social services took her to this organization in Mekelle called Operation Rescue which is a community and family based child care program that cares for orphans, street children, and works to train mothers and educate the children. Emebete was so poor, just like a child on one of those horrific TV commercials that is digging through the trash, but now thanks to her sponsors, who give $15 dollars a month, she's in school, has nice clothes, and a chance to have a childhood. It's neat to think that $15 dollars a month really did change a little African child's life.

Speaking of giving, that is something that the Lord has really been teaching me. He's shed so much light on how stingy I am even though I have so much. The Ethiopians absolutely amaze me in their generosity. When we went to Semu and Winta's houses for Christmas, Semu's sister, who essentially stands as Semu's mother because her mother moved to Saudi Arabia to work as a maid to pay for her 3 girls education after her husband (Semu's father) passed away. They haven't seen her in 4 years. But her sweet sister gave us as many servings as we could possibly eat plus more and performed a coffee ceremony, in all which took about 3 hours. She didn't eat until after we left and gave us the best food. (which is a really big deal because Christmas is the one time a year they will slaughter a goat.) What would our world look like if we always gave others our best? How does Semu's sister who has nothing, give and offer everything to us, foreigners from America who have so much.

She reminded me of the widow in the gospel of Mark 12:41 who put in too small coins, worth only a fraction of a penny in the offering. Jesus says to the disciples, "I tell you the truth this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty, put in everything —all she had to live on."

Daily, constantly, the Ethiopians who 97% are unemployed and live on much less than a dollar a day, give their best food, best coffee, best chair, best smiles, and best attitude. How is it that they, who have nothing, give everything freely, and I who have so much am so hesitant to share my meal?

And it's not just because we are Americans and they are trying to impress us, they truly look after their neighbors. All the kids in the compound are looked after by every mother, beggars share with other beggars. A few minutes ago as I was sitting in this internet café, two blind men were helping each other down the street.

How different would our world look if we could truly love our neighbors as ourselves, and not just give them our leftover's, but like Semu's sister and the widow, gave our best?

Please pray that our hearts would grow more in tune with God's purpose for our time in Mekelle, that we would develop close relationships with the girls, that we can give our best and give a fraction of what the Ethiopians give us, for peace in Somalia and that the conflict would not escalate here in Ethiopia, health, safety, energy, hope, and that the Lord would break our hearts with the things that break His heart.


--
Ashley S. Zeiger

Salamna from Ethiopa


Salamna! (Hello in Amaharic, lit. meaning...Peace)

Well we are on dial-up over here so this blog thing isn't exactly
working so I'll have to send group emails, terribly sorry. I just sent
this to my whole address book so if you don't want these emails just
let me know, i promise i won't be offended.

Well my goodness, where to start.

When we stepped off the plane in Addis Ababa, Kali said, "Smell the
air because we won't remember it in a few days." Well I don't notice
the smell of cow patties and incense anymore, but its a good thing
because it signifies that Ethiopia is our home again. The friendships
are natural, the food sits well (for the most part), the laughter is
overflowing, the amaharic is coming along as our english diminishes
exponentially.... finally we are at home again.

Our days are filled with new experiences from riding on the large taxi
bus with a max capacity of about 40, but always at least 100 riders,
to visiting new orphanages and playing their games. But I enjoy the
familiarity of this place more: our friendships with Mesfin, Alex,
Sammie, and Ladet, our favorite injera (traditional Ethiopian food)
resturant, the 4 machiatos a day, and the little girl Salam at the
Mother Teresea orphanage.

Everday I have to give my expectations and idealism to the Lord
because in this place expectations destroy the beauty of the
spontaniety and what the Lord wants to show us. Nevertheless to have a
dream is of the utmost importance, as our Ethiopian friends have shown
us that to dream is to dream of eternal joy.

Ethiopians live in the day. Each day is all they have and could truly
be their last as many live on the edge between life and afterlife.
This is why they give, they give all that they have, and put their
whole hearts into each day. I believe because of this gift, each day
their hearts grow incredibly strong and the Lord fills them up each
day with joy and trust because he likes how much they give with their
hearts...

The largest heart I've ever seen is Alex's mother's heart. When she
was 16 her now husband, kidnapped and raped her, and forced her to be
his wife. She bore him 5 children. All the time he was going around
sleeping with many other women. Not only did she stay with him, she
took in his other children, 17 total, and raised them. She treats and
loves them as her own. Alex's dad passed away 2 years ago from
HIV/AIDS and now his mother has contracted it because he slept around.
Yet she gives all she has to these kids. She truly has a heart of
gold.



The more time I spend in Ethiopia the more accustomed I grow to the
feces on the street or the rabid dogs barking at all hours of the
night, but the integrity and the faith of the people continues to
amaze me. When I hear of their struggle I can't even begin to imagine
what it must be like, but it truly does cause me to look at my life
and revolutionize everything I think is important.

________________________________________________________________

December 12, 2006

Today was our first day working at the Sidestkilo Mother Teresea
orphanage for disabled, special needs children.

We got there at 10:30 and immediately I was bombarded by 7 children
all trying to hole my hand or asking me to pick them up. Then their
excitement turned into rage as there was not enough of me to go
around, so then I had to shift my focus from loving them to stopping
the boy with downs from biting the mentally handicapped girl.

Many of the orphans I've met in Ethiopia have dirty clothes, but as to
be expected. however these children cannot take care of themselves in
the least.

I'm ashamed of my next thoughts...

No only were they covered in dirty and old ratty clothese but tthey
reeked of urine and terrible breath. They have food crusted all over
their faces and snot and saliva pouring from their nostrils and mouth.
And all they wanted me to do is to hold them, but I couldnt help but
smell the urine and fell the saliva dripping down my leg. I searched
deep into my heart and had the hardest time to find the strength and
compassion to just hold them. And as if my sense couldn't sense
anything worse it was meal time.

The sisters brought out a huge pot of injera mixed with maize. They
then poured in wated and mushed it all together so that it literally
looked like dog food that had been vomitted. The sisters then
proceeded to strap these children to their charis and tie their hands
together as we filled their mouths with this foul smelling food, while
half of it trickled down their face and the other half ended up on my
face from their spit.

Needless to say, I didn't know whether to cry or vomit.

Thank goodness we didn't have injera for lunch, but went to a
pizzeria. I was hashing through my thoughts and feelings I was trying
to figure out a way I wouldn't have to go back. But after a 2 hour
lunch breaks and 2 machiatos I was beginning to feel some strength and
we headed back.

One of the girls had been crying all morning and finally after playing
ball and duck duck goose she was smiling, laughing and claping and I
was filled with such joy. To give these children an ounce of love
after being totally shunned from society, and to see them smile is the
greatest joy and fullfillment I've ever experienced. But it wasn't my
love. It was jesus' love. I had to pray for God to let me see past the
snot and just hug the little boy as his urine ran down my leg. But
with God's eyes i have to tell you, I've NEVER seen more BEAUTIFUL
children. Their smiles radiate with love. I couldnt stop dreaming
about them last night and wait to get back to the orphanage today.

I didn't have the love within me, but God loved them through Kali and
me and that was the most blessed I've ever been in my whole life.

God continues to help us see with our hearts. And to see with his eyes
which is so different from my view. But there is still pain and
hunger. so pray for our friends that they will continue to hope and
press on, pray for the special children who need to feel Jesus wrap
his arms around him. Pray that Kali and I continue to let go and let
God.

I love you all and miss you!

Ciao-

Ashley
Brahan (my ethiopian name)


--
Ashley S. Zeiger