I Stepped Into A Corner of the Kingdom of God for a Week

 

 If you've been on Facebook, you know that I arrived in Ethiopia, spent a week in Addis Ababa, and then went to Gambella to spend a week. 

I was greeted very warmly in Addis by several people I've known for a long time and whose love for Michael spilled out and washed over me. It is good to eat fresh injera. And you just can't beat coffee made fresh - roasted, ground, and brewed each morning. 

I also got in a few visits in various parts of town with other missionary friends who are still here - fewer and fewer of those around. I think age has something to do with that. 

Then I went to Gambella where I spent the better part of two decades building relationships and working with the leadership to develop programs of community health and trauma healing.

Most of the time I was in Gambella, Michael was running between Ethiopia, Sudan, and South Sudan doing the connecting work that PCUSA Regional Liaisons were assigned to do. Michael was building relationships at church management levels while I was working with people who were teaching and encouraging their own people. It always seemed to me that both parts were important.

What I didn't understand clearly was that the relationship-building work that both of us did was also important to the people of Gambella. I didn't understand it's depth.

I got off the plane in Gambella and took a taxi, arranged by the church leaders, to the West Gambella Bethel Synod compound. (The fuel shortage prevented them coming to meet me at the airport in the church vehicle.) I jabbered along with the taxi driver in Oromo language, keeping up good conversation until we turned to cross the bridge into Newland, where the Nuer people I was going to see live. I started getting quiet. By the time we were driving along the synod compound fence, I was taking deep breaths. We entered the gate.

Simultaneously the group of people sitting under the shade of the Neem trees rose and walked toward the taxi. As I reached out my hand to greet them each one gave me the traditional Nuer greeting - a firm hand on my shoulder. "Welcome, welcome," with big toothy smiles. And them Mary stepped up. Mary was the Women's Coordinator when I was there before. We had done many things together. Her hand landed firmly on my shoulder. Then she pulled me toward her in a prolonged embrace. As we released we both wiped our eyes.

And then I was directed to the church. There I saw the welcome line to the door of the church. I didn't realize they were waiting for me. Just before I stepped into the building, according to Nuer welcome culture, my face and hands were washed with cool, clean water. (They would have washed my feet - but I had socks and shoes on.)

My visit in Gambella started with a welcome that was so much warmer than the temperature on my phone said it was. And it didn't stop there.

All week people along the road said, "Rachel Willer" (yes, willer, it seems easier to pronounce than weller). Nuers greet each other by saying the person's name. Some of them knew me; some of them heard I was coming at the announcement on Sunday at worship. My days were filled with meeting and talking to people and, at night, there were more visitors. I was really overwhelmed. 

I was invited to stay in the home of Rev. Moses Hoth. I could have stayed in a hotel or in the house Michael and lived in before, but I would have been alone. Everyone agreed I should not be alone.  

Moses' plastic bottle house

I'm not sure how I captured this picture without anyone in it. Moses lives with his wife and three children, his mother, four boys whose father died asking him to care for them, a sister-in-law and her daughter, and several other people randomly showing up. He has a water tank that has a steady stream of people coming by to purchase clean water. During the day there were people tearing down or re-roofing some of his old traditional houses making room for a local-style stick and mud house for the four boys and others and for a goat house as well.

Grandma keeping the grandkids occupied

The house has four rooms: three bedrooms (one of which Moses has designated his library/office/quiet room, and which he gave to me for the week) and a "living room" - which is a misnomer because most living happens outdoors; it's at night when the rain is pounding down that everyone sleeping on the wide veranda moves their blankets or mats into that room. And it's where the tv is.

That's how many people are inside watching tv.

Saturday afternoon hair braiding - the first session

Grandma organizing the old roofing into sheeves to be used again.

The water gathering.

I was well cared for. Nuer don't usually drink coffee, but Moses organized for a "Highlander" neighbor to come in the mornings and brew me a couple cups of that wonderful Ethiopian coffee. I ate what they ate - a lot of starchy bases with mostly meat sauces. Every now and then some dark green leafy cabbage. I ate more than I usually do. I was certainly satisfied.

For me, this is the essence of mission. It is a world where relationships between people are built. Where people struggle to communicate in each other's languages, where people stumble over cultural misunderstandings, where people know and understand the pain of people whose ways and opportunities are so different from their own. This does not happen by ecumenical relationships. This only happens when people live with people and learn what it is that makes them different and see that so much more makes them the same. 

What a blessed week I had. Truly, it was an experience understanding a little bit more of God's Kingdom.

By supporting my engagement in Ethiopia you join me in Kingdom work. If you want to, 

here is the link.