My Basketful of Thanks
Reuniting with the Wise Women of South Omo
The majority of our work was with the Hamar tribe and the key to our success was Gulu Bola, the leader of the women of Minogelti. Gulu started with nothing in a land of virtually no opportunity. Over the course of her journey, she was brutally abused and expelled from her community. She endured slander and isolation and was threatened with death. Gulu survived (read about her in The Magic of Yes) and started the Minogelti Women’s Cooperative. Her courage and resilience gave me the energy to build GTLI, raise funds, hire field staff, and implement programs. Gulu and her friends were the first to attend our schools, first to adopt healthy behaviors, first to become teachers of the community. They inspired me to change the trajectory of my life. I’m excited to see them again.
Hugging our Orphans
Strict norms determine whether a Hamar baby is acceptable at birth. If you are born to a single mother, if your bottom-jaw teeth come in before your top teeth, if you and your twin are first born, you are declared “mingi” and left in a field to die when you are two-years old. You are considered bad luck for the tribe. If you are not killed, the rains will not come, the cattle will die, there will be no food, and neighboring tribes will attack. It has been estimated that more than 100 children are abandoned to die each year in Hamar. GTLI implemented a program to intervene and care for, support, and reunify mingi children with birth families when possible. Our older boys are now in university, the youngest are attending school in Jinka. I haven’t seen them for ten years. I can’t wait to hug them again.
The Roots of Accessing My Wisdom
I grew up believing in the American Dream. If I worked hard, with great determination and initiative, I would be successful and happy. I was forty-nine years old when I retired — but I wasn’t happy and certainly didn’t feel at peace. My life view started shifting during the long evenings I was forced to sit in the dark, alone, in Ethiopia, with nothing to do but think. Eventually, I was able to identify the myths that had colored my perspective, the fears that prevented me from breaking out of my comfort zone, the cultural and societal “supposed-tos”that governed my behavior. I reflected on how the wise women in South Omo, even while struggling for survival, were consistently kind and helpful to each other. I thought about the challenges facing my kids and wondered how their struggles could become the foundation of new strength. As I reflected, separated from people, technology, distractions — and concentrated on eliminating the noise in my life (myths, fears, and “supposed-tos”) — I learned to access and harvest my wisdom. And that’s when I found peace.
My Bundle of Fears and Regrets
Anger and Frustration
Living in Ethiopia, I was constantly angry at the petty, restrictive, bureaucratic rules that wasted so much time and prevented us from investing money where it would be most sustainable. I was angry at the government shutting down internet, turning off cell coverage, the backwardness of office technology. I was frustrated with entitlement, elitism, and other Ethiopian cultural and societal norms. Early years in the field, I was angry at the elders and all the other men sitting around refusing to carry heavy loads and help the women. The injustice drove me nuts. I don’t want to be angry on this trip—I want to observe through the lens of their context and ancestral rules.
Fear of Disappointment
I’m afraid to find that our initiatives were not sustainable. We put so much effort into constructing and refurbishing 127 water schemes, training Water/Sanitation Committees to repair the schemes and monitor healthy behavior. I hope some are still functioning. We invested in a rural trading center and several grinding mills, training women’s cooperatives to operate them. I pray the elders are allowing the women to use the money they earn.
We planted 114,000 drought-resistant moringa trees to provide famine-stricken families with nutritious foliage that tastes like spinach; bark that is medicinal, and pods that can be used for water filtration. I so hope the moringa is flourishing and there is excess to sell.
Seeing Injustice and Saying No, I can’t help!
The mere thought of this gives me heart palpitations. We moved mountains to transform the lives of these South Omo tribes. We gave people hope—for water, for food, for health, for gender equality. Now, USAID is shut down. Big non-government agencies are desperate for funds. Little GTLI has scaled back to a barebones operation struggling to keep our orphans fed, clothed and educated. I’m afraid I’ll raise false expectations. I don’t want to give people hope that I’ll provide relief from their suffering when I can’t deliver.
My Pilgrim’s D.R.E.A.M.
Desire: I want an open heart with loving boundaries for my personal self-care.
Reflect: To observe, listen, and accept that GTLI made a difference while we were there.
Explore: How I can show loving kindness without draining my energy and feeling guilty.
Acknowledge: GTLI provided our beneficiaries tools and training, but it’s their culture and their choice.
Mantra: I did my bestI’ll let you know what I found, how I felt, and what I learned on this pilgrimage.
Prayers, positive thoughts, and energy will be greatly appreciated.
