Thursday, February 9th What Good Stewardship Can Mean

It is supposed to be a day of traveling with an early start. Up early (there’s that prayer call again) with breakfast on the upper patio. Buna bur wetta for everyone! At least I can say breakfasts are a tolerable meal.

As we assemble at the appointed time to leave for the days outing, the trip leader, Steve, comes to tell us our other driver, Hobtom, has had an accident. We have found that driving anytime other than daytime is not acceptable driving conditions in a country where livestock outnumber people 6 to 1 and are prone to wandering wherever, including on the streets. Hobtom, in order to see his mother who lives in the town just north of Lake Awasa – Shashemene – was driving back before 6AM to pick us up, and encountered a donkey on the road, swerved to miss the donkey and struck a tree. Well, that act totaled his vehicle and his livelihood and sent him to the hospital (though he is later ok and released). So now that we have extra time to kill waiting for another vehicle and driver, we head back to the little wood on the lake for a chance meeting with the hippos…

[side note: Hobtom and car are now just fine. Good news for someone who is a driver for a living! Got an email from one of the mission gals just yesterday Mar 7.]

Once we regrouped and obtained a new driver, we traveled next to the reforestation site just around the lake on the Udu Escarpment. It’s a long dirt road that takes us through small villages scattered throughout the dry landscape. Here people drive their cattle for miles to the lake, the only available source of water. Signs of daily survival all over again. All the children along the road wave happily at us. Again, we are strangers or a variation on the word “foreigner” that they pronounce what sounds like forange (which we immediately associate with Star Trek’s Ferengi and begin calling ourselves forengies – phonetically speaking).

Upon arrival at the escarpment village, Steve begins to show us and the villagers how the trees have begun to stabilize the hillside and erosion. It’s a beginning, though small. Roughly 400,000 varieties of trees and shrubs have been planted here and are doing very well. There has been only a small mortality, which is encouraging for all. They were planted at the end of the long rain season in August, not having any water until the short rains of fall later in October/November. There are two guards hired to protect the plantings, both from grazing livestock and residents. Unfortunately, until there is a cultural change in how the people live, the guards are a necessary part of life around here.

After the tour and photo taking, a meeting with the village elders commences. From Steve to Sirak to one of the nursery managers to the elders, a conference on what to expect from all this work begins. The outcome: In exchange for protecting the plantings, the elders wish to have a well and a school. The explanations about why the water sources have dried up, what wildlife used to roam the hills – the elders remember hunting rhino and other wild animals – and cultural changes are all discussed. It’s a real change for a culture that values livestock so highly – it’s a sign of wealth – to realize that this is the reason for the overgrazing and inability of native trees to reproduce and hence the lack of any water table of significance. The meeting is a success, all are pleased, and more plants will go in after the long rains this summer, probably August.

While the elder meeting is going on, the rest of us are gathering. The children sing for us, with the prompting of one of the young ladies with us, students from Azusa Pacific. Lana has a talent and passion for the children and they seem to follow her like the pied piper! So cute. My camera has become an item of interest as I can take pictures and replay the photo for the villagers to see. I have such fun taking their photos and they have fun seeing their images. The children and the women are timidly, and yet not, interested in seeing if our white skin feels different from their own skin. So, there is much shy handshaking as a ploy to find out. So sweet and genuine. But it’s time to move on to the next location.

After waving good-bye, we backtrack back a ways on the dirt road, going through what I perceive is a maze of roads and paths back down to the lake. There is another reforestation nursery here, again along the banks of Lake Awasa. It is smaller that the original nursery, but doing well. The workers gather their supplies to show us how they pot up the seeds and seedlings. They are fast at potting up and it’s nice to hear the soil mix is mainly native soil, a necessity to acclimate the seedling more quickly, with some compost to keep the soil aerated enough for the seedlings to have a healthy start at life. Again, many friendly but timid villagers come out to see the odd white folks. It’s become standard procedure by now to expect an entourage of sorts. The locals even gather at the fenceline at the lake to show us their "catch" for the day. Haven't a clue what type of fish it is, though! Looks like a great meal.

Along the banks of the lake nearly as far as we can see, we get a view of the social aspect of driving the cattle and goats and sheep to the lake. The banks are alive with color from their clothing being washed and blowing in the warm breeze, children getting baths and playing in the water, and even the adults taking time to clean up. Then there’s always the socializing that goes on to occupy the time while the livestock water up. It will soon be time to move the livestock slowly back to their homes, shading up under what trees they can along the way.

We have all learned a lesson on "softness:" We sorely miss our airconditioned cars in these dusty and hot conditions...