Ethiopian Summer

And now, finally, an update about how my month in Ethiopia was. This was an article that I wrote for our seminary newsletter. Enjoy!

Ever since my childhood, I had romantic visions of being a missionary to Africa. In addition to this, in high school, I remember watching a movie about Mother Theresa and being deeply moved by her love for the poorest of the poor and the sick. Consequently, spending several weeks with her order of sisters, the Missionaries of Charity, in Ethiopia was really two dreams come true at once. I stayed at 2 of the Sisters’ centers, one in Addis Ababa and the other in Jimma—both of which were very unique and beautiful experiences. I will try to briefly share some of the things which the Lord is doing through the Sisters which I was privileged to be a part of.

In Addis, their mission houses about 400 patients, including men, women, and a children’s orphanage. Just outside the city in Asco, the sisters also have a dedicated AIDS orphanage, where they have about 400 children from infant to eighteen years old. They have a wonderful clinic, a school, and weaving looms where the children can learn how to make scarves and cloth to sell for themselves. In Jimma--which is in the southern highlands of Ethiopia—they have roughly the same number of patients, but the Sisters’ life is more rural: growing their own produce and coffee, and raising cows and pigs in addition to their hospice ministry.

In my whirlwind tour on the day I arrived, I was immersed into the reality of the poor who lived there. Tuberculosis and AIDS were the most common ailments, while many others suffered from fungal infections, cancer, mental disease, and relapsing fever. Many of the children were physically or mentally handicapped, while others were suffering from cancer or serious burn wounds. Part of the house was also a dedicated emergency room, where the more serious cases from the streets were brought. On average, a few people died every day—deaths which were probably not even preventable with better medical facilities.

My responsibilities as a volunteer were to assist in any area of the house that needed it, whether it was handing out meals at lunch, feeding those who couldn’t feed themselves, playing with children, doing physical therapy, signing patients into the emergency room, or bandaging wounds. The most rewarding ministry work for me was doing massage therapy with Tuberculosis patients in Jimma. Even though I only knew a few phrases in the local language, I was able to communicate through my hands that I cared for their needs. In addition, I was filled with joy knowing that this was the body of Christ in the poor that I was soothing.

While much of the ministry is one of simple presence with the poor, part of the experience is also sharing experiences with the other volunteers. People from all over the world gave their time to help the sisters: nurses from Spain and Denmark, Seminarians from Lebanon, and various service groups from France and Germany were just a few that came through this summer. I was blessed to serve alongside a few brother seminarians from the North American College in Rome, which provided much needed respite at the end of a long day with the poor.

However, the most profound experience during my stay with the sisters was perhaps the most unpleasant. For my first week I was violently ill—most likely because of the water—and was bedridden in-between what I liked to call “moments of purgatory.” I was frustrated that I had come all the way around the world to serve the sick, and here I was being yet another patient for the sisters to serve. Yet, the Lord was doing two wonderful things for me in the midst of the illness: I was getting much needed rest (since I never seem to take the time to do it on my own), and the Lord was giving me a greater sense of solidarity with the sick. The wonderful thing (in retrospect) was that as I loitered around the toilet, praying for a quick death rather than the pain I was experiencing, I would hear patients from the Tuberculosis Ward making noises outside which sounded like they were in far worse pain than me.

When I think about what I’ve taken from this summer, there were many beautiful experiences: playing with children, feeding finger food to the elderly (which is a very messy ordeal), laughter with brothers in missionary work, and the simple, deep Eucharistic devotion of the Missionaries of Charity that I was blessed to partake in. There were also moments of sadness: not being able to give money to people who really needed it, seeing several deaths and near-death moments, and feeling helpless in the face of real suffering and poverty. Indeed, without the life and rhythm of prayer, what the Sisters do is simply impossible. And yet, with complete abandonment to Divine Providence, anything seems possible for these humble servants of God. It is a beautiful vocation, and I pray that more people be inspired to join them. As the Sisters are fond of saying, “Jesus is waiting for you to touch Him” in the poor. May we be blessed to always see His face in the poor—and indeed, everyone—that we serve.

One of the mud huts that the poor lived in.

Sister Servita, mother superior in Jimma

Aids orphanage in Asco

Chapel of the sisters in Addis