Temesken and Kalkidan on Entoto Mountain

Written By: Lauren Putty, field director for Ordinary Hero

Today was a free day since the next team doesn’t come until tomorrow morning, so we decided to go see ‘The Fault In Our Stars’. I tell you this because it’s one of the saddest movies I have ever seen, leaving me crying even AFTER the movie, so I’m approaching this heavy blog topic with an already heavy heart. Should be interesting.

I said in my previous blog, “Even though on mission trips we meet hundreds of kids, God always has a way of allowing just a couple to go beneath the surface and grab a hold of our hearts. This unexplainable connection keeps us pursuing them through both action and prayer.” This is proving true yet again, even in the short time I’ve been here. Last blog I told the story of Temesken and Buruk, two boys that stole my heart on the side of Entoto Mountain, and I briefly gave a glimpse into Temesken’s life, including HIV positive parents and a 4 year old sister with an infected burn. 

A few days ago fate unexpectedly brought our team back to the home of Temesken for the story to continue. When we first met Kalkidan, Temesken’s sister, and saw her burn, the doctor on our team gave Temesken the tools and instructions to keep the wound clean and allow it to heal. About a week later as the team did home visits we decided to go visit their family and check on the burn. Instead of finding a Neosporin covered, healing wound, we found that it was about ten times worse than it was before, now oozing and pussing and wrapped in a head cloth.

 

This isn’t the type of thing you just throw money at or pray over. You don’t walk away with a heavy heart. These responses alone would have been much easier. Our hearts were heavy and we did pray for her, but Kalkidan is a little girl who fell in a fire, burning off the skin of her neck and shoulder. The only logical response was to bend down, pick her up, and help her. Love her. Kiss her. And this is exactly what we did. 

As we drove to the hospital, Temesken and Kalkidan were like Americans seeing Addis for the first time. They had always been stuck on Mount Entoto, just on the outskirts of Addis, having rarely ever seen their own city. As I fell into a trance watching their bug-eyes glued to the window, I couldn’t help but notice Kalkidan’s shirt collar that was falling over her limp body in my lap. It was covered in the ooze, infection, and blood that was all over her neck, and the smell allowed me to grasp just how bad it was.

After arriving at our third clinic, the only one we could find open (at noon on a Saturday?!), we were finally making progress. It came time for the nurse to clean the wound, and so began one of the toughest hours of my life. As Temesken, her 10 year old brother, and I rubbed the little hands of Kalkidan, the nurse begins spraying alcohol on her wound and what was simply squeezing her hands turned into pinning her body so that she couldn’t flail out of reach. In order to fully clean the wound, they had to remove the infected scabs that had formed over the burn and it was almost unbearable. Here is this four year old girl, screaming at the top of her lungs, being held down by me whom she barely knows while these doctors perform on her head. I told my mom, “She’ll never trust us again after going through all of this. There’s no way.” After about 45 minutes of literal blood, sweat and tears from everyone in the room, the process was over and she had fresh bandages covering her sweet neck. I approached Kalkidan expecting a dart in the other direction, but what I found shocked me. She fell into my arms and clinched me. She was limp, exhausted, and simply just wanted the comfort of being held. 

I held her tight, experiencing a similar comfort that she still trusted us, and rubbed Temesken’s back telling him what a good brother he was for being there. The small group of us took a good look at Temesken in his tied on, hole-y pants and Kalkidan who had put back on her blood covered shirt and decided they needed a moment of Oasis… The OH Life Center. 

I could go into tons more detail about their afternoon of getting bathed, fed, dressed, and played with but this would easily turn into a novel, and I think the pictures speak for themselves. Sarah Venable did an amazing job at providing a mother’s love, clipping their toenails and sponging their bodies. They had a blast. They felt loved and cared for. Uneasy and anxiousness changed to carefree and alive. Everyone involved was changed that afternoon. 

The beautiful picture of that day is that we got to see their full potential. Full bellies, healing wounds, glowing smiles. The tough reality is that it wasn’t permanent. We gave them an afternoon to remember but we then sent them back to their mud hut of seven. I asked Mesfin, the ministry director, how the family reacted when their children came home clean in new outfits and he said they were overjoyed, but immediately started asking if he could just take them to an orphanage because they couldn’t give them a full life like that. 

It’s heartbreaking but it's not hopeless. Ordinary Hero is focused on empowering ordinary people to make an extraordinary difference for children in need. In this case, we are focused on empowering Temesken and Kalkidan’s parents to take care of their five children, despite their circumstances. Their 28 year old mother, Mimi, has just begun a new clay works program through our partnership with Endihnew Hope, so that she is employed rather than begging. The next step is sponsorship. Sponsorship will provide money for their most basic necessities, so that their extra income can go towards caring for their family. 

I’m not being cliche when I say sponsorship is a miracle. That God would send us clear across the globe, for a few encounters that change the course of a families life is a God ordained miracle. That God would touch people’s hearts through a blog or Facebook post, enough to move them to action, is a God ordained miracle. My prayer is that we don’t skip out on the miracles God is trying to include us in, towards bringing families and children to their full, God given potential. 

For more information on the details of this sponsorship, or if you are interested in sponsoring this family, please email me at lauren@ordinaryhero.org.

Stories from summer trips

Summer short term trips are in full swing! We have two teams on the ground right now, with one returning and another leaving in the next few days. It is awesome to see these team members INSPIRED to make a difference in the life of a child in need. And it's amazing to see how they continue to advocate for the children they encounter in Ethiopia when they return home, and then also find opportunities to serve in their own communities here in the U.S.

This summer, Lauren Putty is serving as Ordinary Hero's on the ground representative in Ethiopia. Here are her words…

I’m about six days into my time here in Ethiopia. I’m seeing everything in a different lens, not feeling rushed and beginning to consider this city my home. Back in December when I came on a 10 day trip, it never quite felt right to be hurrying through my experience and only spending spurts of time with so many different people. Now that I’m here for the year doing exactly what I’ve always wanted to do, I feel a peace and joy that I don’t know if I’ve ever felt before. I can feel the relationships I already have here growing deeper and new ones being birthed. This, coupled with the overflowing love from all of our Ethiopian family and community here, has me feeling right at home.

Also want to give a shoutout to the North Dakota team that just left to head back to the States. As the first OH summer team you guys rocked, were so loving and encouraging, and I know I’ll see a lot of you again. Keep doing you North Dakota.

The past six days have been full and amazing. I can’t share every story but I will share one from today. It’s not everyday that I get overcome by something that brings me to tears but today was one of those days. One of those “I can’t get my sunglasses on fast enough” cries. 

Three days ago we traveled to Mount Entoto where we learned about a ministry called Endhinew Hope. As we wrapped up the day and the children were performing a goodbye, I found myself sitting between two 10 year old boys. The one on my left named Temesken had a smile and spirit that I absolutely fell in love with, and the one on my right, Buruk, was sinking into my arms and I found myself staring at how small his wrists were. It was essentially just skin wrapped around his wrist bone. I felt such a connection in my brief moments with these two best buds that it left me thinking about them the next couple of days.

Fast forward to today, and we’re headed back to Mount Entoto for their feeding program. I’m shaking lots of little hands as I hear a little squeal, looking up to find Temesken. He leads me to sit and eat with him, where I then find Buruk with the small wrists. I watch them scarf down their injera, we take some selfies, and then we get the cue that our team is beginning home visits. After sneaking the two of them outside the gate so that they can join us, we set out to see the living conditions of the mountain families. We’re walking from hut to hut hearing heart breaking stories, all the while Temesken and Buruk are clinching my arms and fighting kids off from also trying to grab at my hand. Every time I would walk in to visit a small house, they were there waiting for me in the door frame to then squeeze my arm and wrap it around their neck. We walked like this until we came to the last home visit. All of a sudden Temesken perks up and says “Inay Bet”, “My House”. My stomach sank. He walks me into his home, one room, about as big as a walk-in closet, where we find his father sleeping (at 2pm) next to his 1 year old sister on a mattress that fills up the entire floor space. A translator begins telling Temesken’s story: six people sleep on the same mattress, his father HIV positive, unable to work, and his mother a beggar also HIV positive. All of a sudden I can feel the boy, still gripping my hand, taking a deeper place in my heart. Temesken drags me a few yards away to then meet his sister. “Zis is my seester” as I approach a glowing, smiling four year old girl. He gives her a hug and begins to unwrap a cloth around her head. All of a sudden I realize that underneath the cloth is raw, pink and purple, infected skin. His sister had been burnt and the burn was sitting untreated. As I’m taking all of this in, I can hear myself saying, “Oh my gosh. Horrible.. Horrible.. Get the doctor” and the rush of emotions turn to tears that I can’t shut off. I take a few steps back so that I’m not scaring the kids with my scrunched and wet face, and I sit and listen as our team doctor explains to 10 year old Temesken how to clean his sister’s wounds. 

I was looking at this family, and my heart broke. I’ve heard this expression but I don’t know if I’ve felt it in a moment like this before. I felt sick, and sad, and so much love for Temesken and his family. Temesken still smiling grabs my hand, along with Buruk on the other side and we start the trek back to the van. I’m walking back this time squeezing them tighter and picturing a better life for them both. One with fat on their wrists, treated burns, enough beds for everyone and healthy, loving parents. 

The beautiful thing about Endihnew Hope and Ordinary Hero’s partnership is that they are approaching this problem of poverty with both immediate and long-term action. To meet immediate needs, they provide sponsorships so that the children receive three meals a day, an education, and paid off rent so that other sources of income can go towards the livelihood of their families. Also, so that the families aren’t completely dependent on Americans they are developing a number of skills training programs so that the mother’s are able to make a sustainable income. Both approaches are vital to breaking the cycle of poverty. Neither Temesken or Buruk have sponsors at this time. If you feel led to sponsor these sweet boys, or if you have any quesitons, please message me on the contact page or send me a private message on Facebook. 

People who have been on these trips know that out of the hundreds of children we meet, God almost always allows just a few to go beneath the surface and deeply touch our hearts so that we will pursue them in action and prayer. These two have me all sorts of messed up, crying the ugly cry and writing long blog posts. Someone on our team asked the founder of one of the ministries we visited, “So what’s the answer to all of this? You’ve been here a long time, how do we fix it?” His answer was simple… “Just help one at a time, that’s all you can do.” I’m writing on behalf of Temesken and Buruk today. They have such bright, untapped futures in store and I am obligated and committed, we are obligated, to see them through. 

You can follow Lauren's blog here.