The Harvest is over (and other news)!

The first week in August has come and gone and we have had another uberfun-filled week here on the farm. First, I just want to say “MY SON ZACK HAS BEEN ON HIS MISSION ELEVEN MONTHS! Only 13 months to go!

OK enough about him, back to my life. So many things have happened, I can’t remember everything. We did finish the grain harvest on Thursday the 5th of August and the farm/grain wrokers were so excited and happy that they decided to have a party and invite everyone on the whole farm.

In honor of the occasion, three goats were killed and made into tibs, and enough injera and umbasha and soda were provided for everyone on the farm to get so full and satisfied that they lost their inhibitions and even danced and clapped a little. And that was just the Americans.

 I suspect the real party started after all the Americans left and the habeshas could be themselves. The tibs were pretty good, still tough and greasy, but flavorful. Alan and I had eaten previously, so I didn’t eat much – only a few bites. Everyone else really indulged. One really nice thing about living in this place, is that hardly anyone drinks alcohol. It is rare, and on these accasions they get enough enjoyment out of the good food and soda that it is enough celebration for them. Zakir and I often have conversations about drinking and smoking and how it is bad for the health.

Remember two weeks ago I said I was going to a wedding in Goorooraayaa. Well, I didn’t go and I’m glad I didn’t go. Alyssas went and said it was weird. The bride wasn’t in view and so Alyssa asked to see the bride. They brought out a girl who looked like she was maybe 14. All she did was stand there and look sad. Alyssa found out that her husband was an old man who already had two other wives.  He was actually one of the village elders who came onto the farm last week and stirred things up. So they were celebrating this old guy's third wedding. Can you imagine? I’m glad I didn’t go! I totally disapprove. What he really needs is a good kick in the pants, and NO wives to take care of him!

I had Zakir and Ashreka kill a rooster a couple of days ago. Ashreka skinned, cleaned ,and cut it up. She does a very good job. Most of the work that she does, I can do myself; however when it comes to killing and cleaning meat and doing laundry, she is worth her weight in gold.

 It was a small chicken – only a pound or two. I decided that stewing is my only option when dealing with meat here. It has to cook forever in water and then it is tender enough to eat. So I let it sit in my refrigerator for a day of relaxation and then cooked it for about four hours with an onion. My house smelled so good, everyone was gathering round for a sniff. I deboned the meat and then made chicken vegetable soup. I didn’t make noodles because I have nothing here with which to roll the dough. My rolling pin is in Djbouti along with everything else for my house. I made some bread pudding while the chicken was stewing and so we had a good dinner and dessert and even had enough bread pudding for breakfast the next day. I also made two loaves of bread  that day.

One day this week I was called over to the clinic to help with a little girl from Goorooraayaa. When I saw her face from afar, I thought she was growing a big black beard. When I got close and took a good look, I saw that the black stuff was crusted on and oozing yellow puss. Hmmmm. In my limited medical experience I think I would call this a bad case of acne. JK, the girl was only a child.

When I got close to her she started howling and screaming “Ani demuu fee dha!"  Which means "I want to go!” over and over again. I brought Alan’s trusty squirt bottle and squirted her on the side of her face, which caused her to scream even louder. I started laughing and all the health workers and her father also started to laugh. She probably thought I was going to kill her. She was one of the dirtiest little children I have ever seen. Really, she was just pure filth. I started wiping at the scum, and it came off pretty easily, but underneath were huge sores. Our nurse, Abdul, told me that the black stuff was a traditional medicine applied by someone down in the village.  I think it is just chewed up chat.  I asked if they knew what had happened, and the father said she had a rash and wouldn’t stop scratching it. He kept saying "She did it to herself."  So we cleaned her off and her lower face was literally one open sore.

We applied Neosporin and bandaged her up. She also had some on her buttocks and one elbow. Everything was cleaned and she screamed through it all. At one point her father and two other men were holding her in place so we could take care of her.

When we were finished, she had screamed herself into such a state she was almost faint. The whole process took about 30 minutes. I gave her a lollipop and she wouldn’t eat it. She looked like she wanted to stick it in my eye. She was so surly; I've never had a child so mad at me.  Sooo funny. We all laughed again, and I told her she must come back or she wouldn’t get better. I don’t think she will be willing to come back. Afterward, I looked up skin diseases in my books and on the internet. I found a picture of impetigo in my book and researched it. I think this could be impetigo. MedicineNet.com said it is caused by staphylococcus and or streptococcus bacteria and more common in children than in adults caused by dirt and filth getting into open sores. The internet also said to give antibiotics and if you can, to wash the area three or four times a day and let it dry in the open air. I am worried about that, because this child cannot be kept clean. Hmm what to do?

The next day, Abdul wanted me to come and take pictures of the child who had been kicked in the face by a donkey. He is looking so much better than when I first saw him.

And I also took pictures of a man’s chin that Abudul was stitching closed. I guess the man had a run-in with a cow horn.

 I wanted to tell Abdul not to pull the skin so tight together, but just ease it together, but I didn’t. Now the man will have a pretty good scar on his chin for the rest of his life. Oh well, Abdul is doing a good job and needs lots of encouragement and high fives. Also at the clinic was a man who had a thorn in his eye for four days. Who walks around with a thorn in his eye for four days? He finally decided it was bad enough he would come to the clinic. I couldn’t see well enough, even with my trusty magnifying loop and we thought maybe the thorn had just pricked his eye, but Wes decided to take a look with the loop and he thought he saw something in there. With the loop, sharp tweezers, and flashlight he pulled out an ugly looking thorn. What a relief! Good thing the man came to us. Wes said it was in sideways – not straight in and that’s why the man couldn’t get it out.

Last week Ashreka came to me and told me she wanted to use my hair dryer. She has seen me using it and wanted to try it on her hair. I told her it would make her hair too fluffy, but we used it a little anyway. Then I got the bright idea to show her my hair straightener. I took a lock of her hair by her temple and straightened it. She was happily amazed that her hair was suddenly kind of straight and long. I kept on going and about three hours later she had semi-smooth long hair. All the sudden she turned into a princess and couldn’t stay away from the mirrors. For the rest of the day, she would run around showing all the women her long beautiful hair. Her hair is longer than mine when straightened. Alan came in and saw her hair and she was very embarrassed that he saw her without her scarf. Since then I have had several requests for me to straighten hair, but I say no, because now I know how long it takes. 
Poor little Ashreka working working working all the day long.  I should call her Cinderella.

Now here she is with her beautiful hair making me take several shots so that she could choose which one she liked best. 

  She liked this picture the best of all.

Alan has decided that he will take Zakir with him for most of the day and make him of use. Zakir previously took care of the monkey and other animals that Wes brought onto the farm, but when we came back in July, Zakir had been promoted to taking care of the mule. He also waters my garden (too much). Alan sees a lot of potential in this boy because he speaks fairly good english and is smart. 

Zakir's parents had no money to send him to preparatory school after the 10th grade, so he could enter the  university.  College is a possibility, but only if someone will pay for him to go and pay for all expenses.  After thinking about it for a while Alan decided that he would have Zakir work with him under his tutelage.  He was wondering what title he could give Zakir – because they always want to know what their title is and how they fit into this farm. So Alan told him he would be his “junior assistant.”

Zakir came to me later that day and told me he was now Alan’s “general assistant.” I said, “You are not a general assistant.” He said “Yes, mom, I am the general assistant! Dad say this ees so.” “You are the junior assistant," I said, "there is a big difference between general and junior." After telling him what the difference was we laughed, but Alan and I are still laughing about the 16 year old general assistant.

Anyone reconogize all these shirts and pants Zakir is wearing?  I scrounged them out of my Zack's high school leftover wardrobe.
Speaking of my garden, which I did, it is doing alright. I won’t say great, because some of it is getting too much water. I can’t keep them from watering my garden. But the zuchinni, butternut squash, peas, beans, tomatoes, yellow summer squash, cantaloupe, and watermelon are all doing well.

Beans above and peas below.

The lettuce and spinach not doing so well.

The spinach and lettuce are struggling. Have I told you about how each time I go out into my garden area I get about three or four people coming to look at it with me? The garden area should be private, not public, is my thinking. Everything here on the farm is just out in the open for everyone to see and enjoy. At least three or four times a day I long for my Idaho home with white picket fence and doors that lock and people who use phones to visit instead my open yard/door which seems to say, “come in and stay because I can’t get enough visitors into my house and yard.” With some people, it is a must situation because the apartment and dorms are not bathroom ready. Clair, Bracken, Heidi, Mark, and Nate all need access to showers and toilets and so they visit the houses with bathrooms several times a day. But everyday there are others who come to conduct business with Alan, or sick people who think I'm a good nurse, or come to admire themselves in my mirrorl-like windows, and even the monkey makes it into my house every day. I treasure the little bit of solitude I get here.

I made cream puffs the other day because I had so much milk and cream and eggs. I get the milk from the cow which is milked by Wes’s boys Mesafint and Mubarak, and the eggs come from the farm chickens gathered by Wes’s kids also. But the other day we had eggs from Addis. The difference between our farm eggs and Addis eggs is notable. Ashreka calls the big ones “forenjee eggs” and the little ones “ habesha eggs.”

So I made the pudding the day before and didn’t do the best job – I had to strain out the lumps, and then I made the most beautiful cream puffs ever.

And we all had one and I took the extras to Wes and his kids. After all they have been bringing me milk faithfully.

The other day, I think maybe Monday, another tractor and drill came. This drill was supposed to have arrived with the John Deere guys, but we heard that the truck had broken down. In reality, part of  the drill had fallen off the truck and was badly damaged.

The older gentleman in the picture is Yusafa.  He calls me "madam."

They had a time getting it back on the truck and bringing it on down here. They shouldn’t have brought the drill, because the police should been called to do an accident report when and where it happened. Regardless, the drill is here now and we had to get a policeman from Beltu to come and make a report. Alan said that the policeman was more interested in throwing things at the monkey than the damage to the drill and getting the report done.
As I was out taking pictures of the tractor and drill, I saw Bracken disking with the new tractor in the field just south of the airstrip. It was such a picture, because behind him in the undisked field were camels grazing in the golden straw and then the purple mountains in the distance. I tried to take a picture, but I couldn’t because my telephoto lens doesn’t work well. All I got was a fuzzy picture of the camels and the mountains - no tractor.   Hardly worth my effort, but here it is.

Two days ago I was invited to go up to Beltu with Ashreka on market day to visit her aunt and cousin. I think I understand that there is a new baby that I am going to see. I don’t know if I should be taking up something as a giflt or what. Maybe some birr would be the most helpful. I will either go up on the bus with Ashreka or something else. I think this will be another adventure. Alan says I might regret this because they will want to serve me something really scarey. I will say a silent prayer over any food I consume while there, and hope that I will be blessed for my good intentions. I know several of you have mentioned that you pray for us, maybe this would be a good time for another prayer. Seriously, thank you all so much for your support and interest, as well as your prayers. We certainly do need them.

We are doing well, and having good times as well as some hard times. Have a good week , until next time.