Chigger Yellum

The phrase “chigger yellum” (transliterated into English from Amharic script), is equivalent to saying “Hakuna Matata” in Swahili, “No worries mate” in Australian English, and “No problem” in American English. I feel I owe the readers of this blog a respite from some of the harsh realities we have encountered. Call it comic relief. At any rate, I hope this is a more light-hearted look at our time here.

When we first arrived, we took special notice of how the local people dressed in order to know what was appropriate. Ryan commented that he apparently needed to carry a big stick and wear a poncho in order to wear shorts. Indeed, every man who we identified with shorts was engulfed in layers of cloth which he wore like a poncho with the point hanging down to his thighs and the widest portion over his shoulders. Almost without exception, the man would be carrying a staff, a stick, a gun, a cane, or even a piece of rebar slung over the shoulders or sticking out from underneath the poncho.* Surprisingly, Ryan elected to wear pants.

Apparently, knowing your weight is big business. These entrepreneurs don’t even have to guess your weight (as in a carnival or fair in the US) to be paid. They only have to supply the scale. Along the sidewalk, you may see 1-3 people with scales in the length of a city block. To get your attention, most tap their coins on the scale to make a tinking sound when you walk by. We were particularly impressed with one set of boys. They had rigged a toy siren to the side of their scale to avoid the difficult task of banging coins on metal. Instead of the normal tinking, we were treated to a flashing red light and a crackling wail of what sounded like a toy fire engine. You know, it almost convinced me that it was urgent that I find out my weight.

Sunday after church we ate at a restaurant next to Starbacks. That’s the correct spelling. Along with the round green logo with white writing, the name Starbacks sounds strikingly familiar. Apparently, there are a lot of familiar restaurants in Addis Ababa: Burger Queen, Starbacks, Kentacky Fried Chicken, MucDonalds. I haven’t personally seen all of these, but legend has it…

We walked home on Sunday, and I had my Bible in my hand. As happens frequently, a man started walking next to us, wanting to start a conversation with the forenji’s. He said, “Is that a Bible?” I nodded my head. “That’s very nice,” he commented. “Do you want one?” I asked. “Of course!” he answered, “I have none.” I inquired, “Is there a store which sells Amharic Bibles nearby? We’ll buy you one.” He was visibly excited. We were near one of the Orthodox churches, and I remembered that each time we passed near St. George’s, there were numerous tarps spread with books and posters and cross necklaces. When we arrived at one of the first tarps, the man began looking through the books. He picked up a couple. “Are those Bibles?” we asked, thumbing through them. “This is a prayer book,” the man answered, adding, “It is a good price.” I shook my head, “We would like to buy you a Bible. Are there any Bibles here?” Finally, after some searching, a nice leather-bound Bible with an Orthodox cross on the front was located. The man looked at us apprehensively. “It’s very expensive.” Selah ***

We had a great forenji soccer match on Sunday afternoon. There were 6 Australians including Dr. Andrew and his son, Anthony and his son, and Ryan and I were the token Americans. We played against an equal number of bible students from the Kale Hiwot Church** (KHC). The ground was rocky dirt with larger rocks for rough boundaries, and the goals were wooden poles nailed together. Ryan stole the show and scored at least 4 goals.

Amazingly, we have had only 1 power outage at our house. That night we decided that eating by candlelight and going to bed (very) early was about the only thing we could do. To my knowledge, I don’t know that I’ve been in bed with the first number on the clock reading 8 since before I was a teenager. Power outages, we decided, are good for marriages as well as for tired medical students.

Un-amazingly, we only had enough water pressure for the hot water heater in the bathroom to work for the first 4 days. Since then, we have enjoyed the convenience of boiling water on the stove for bucket baths using the bottom half of a plastic water bottle. Over the weekend, the water pressure in the city was definitely on vacation. It took over 30 minutes for me to fill the bathtub with 2 inches of water for washing clothes. I had fun, though I felt I was getting more water on me than was coming out of the faucet.

Today was a better day for me than Monday. Bear with me as I explain Monday’s events. In short, Monday was very difficult because I delivered a baby who died (likely had died in the womb shortly before she delivered). It was hard for me to face the mother when we had failed to resuscitate her baby. Secondly, I found out that a mother who had presented on Friday with prolonged labor and intrauterine fetal demise and a ruptured uterus died early Monday morning. We had performed a c-section and hysterectomy on Friday, but she was in septic shock after the operation. The doctor had stated on Friday that she had been neglected and her husband only brought her in when she failed to die. “How else would she not have received help for this long than she was neglected? The husband may have more wives at home or he may just get another younger one if she had died in childbirth. Anyway, the child was dead already.” Fast forward to today. I helped deliver the second twin which had been retained for about 3 hours after his sibling had arrived in the world. One dose of Pitocin was enough to give the mother a few contractions and the little boy came sliding right out. I taught one of the new mothers how to hold her new baby to breastfeed. Thankfully, I have been volunteering at the Seton Home for teenage mothers in San Antonio in their breastfeeding support group, so I have been taught many tips and helpful ideas. Generally the subject of breastfeeding is left up to lactation consultants in the US and many medical students and doctors receive relatively little information to share with patients. Lastly, I spent a good chunk of time teaching some of the other students. It was great practice for me to be able to explain how to determine dilation and effacement and station (pardon the medical-ese, those words just are used to describe how the labor is progressing). I also taught them about polyhydramnios (too much amniotic fluid around the baby) and discordant twins (one twin is significantly bigger than the other).

Yesterday, Monday, I brought 5 bars of soap into the maternity ward because there was no soap at any of the sinks. One of the midwives passed by me afterward, smiling and smelling her hands. “Infection control. Thank you very much!” Ironically, today I saw that both bars which were in patient areas were still at the sinks where I had left them, but none of the 3 bars remained which had been placed in the areas where the health workers and employees work. I told the doctor that I would replace them again tomorrow, but he said they need to investigate which workers had stolen the soap. “The patients likely did not take the soap out of respect for us.” He chuckled. “You know, sometimes they drill a hole through the soap and attach it to the sink with a rope to make sure it does not disappear.” It is amazing to me that something which cost me less than 50 cents could be so valuable that you need to secure it with a rope.

A thought by Ryan: -I find it ironic that there are people who sit on the main walkways around town who will wash and shine someone’s shoes (athletic or leather) or clean their bicycles, but when it comes to washing their bodies or their hands, they often do not take the time and effort to wash regularly or thoroughly.

Tonight we had a wonderful time at KHC. The church put on a bonfire party in honor of Anthony and Trudi and their family. First there was volleyball and then a gathering around a campfire as a second fire cooked 3 goats for a rare meal with meat. Genuine, though long-winded, speeches by the leaders of the church were made in gratitude for the Anthony and Trudi and for their church in Australia which has adopted KHC. Then, as a way to pray for the meal, we danced around the campfire to the beat of an African drum. When I used to think of Africa, this was one of the things I pictured in my mind, yet it took me three times to visit Africa before I finally was able to experience this. I love music and I imagine worshipping God in heaven will be similarly joyous and energetic and powerful. Ryan captured the dance on video, so hopefully we’ll be able to share this when we return home. The goat meat was wonderfully flavorful, and we even had caramel popcorn**** for dessert! It was a feast for sure and a day not soon to be forgotten!



*We found out later that this is simply the dress of rural farmers, regardless of the tribe from which they hail. The “big stick” is crucial to protect oneself from wild animals.

** KHC is the church which Ryan has been volunteering to teach and coach soccer at with the kids from Compassion International.

***Selah is a word used in the Bible which instructs the reader to stop and ponder (in my paraphrase). Of course we bought him the Bible, but it struck us that it is likely that few Orthodox Christians can afford to have their own Bible from which to study or check to see if the teaching of the church lines up with the Holy Bible, the word of God. Prayer books and pictures of saints are very available, but these are from the wisdom or creativity of man.

****Trudi actually taught a man to make caramel popcorn whose business was to make snacks to sell at the bible school and other places around town. Apparently, someone from the government tasted the popcorn that he made and liked it so much that the man was given a government award for innovation in entrepreneurship and given a new bicycle! It was tasty caramel popcorn!