"The Other Side of Heaven"

Yes, the title may be a little confusing. In this account of my actions, thoughts, and experiences, I have tried to always think about whatever it is from a different vantage point (i.e. the other side of "potluck", the other side of "construction", etc.), or sometimes it was actually from a different vantage point (the other side of "the road"). And so, this is "The Other Side of 'The Other Side of Heaven,' " which is my assessment and practical application of a film called "The Other Side of Heaven." It all started last Friday. While at dinner, I asked if any sort of vespers was going to happen. They replied, "Oh yeah, it's over at Paul's house and started half an hour ago. It's mostly singing and stuff." Before the bite of food had even vacated my pie-eating cavity, I was out the door and tripping over concrete steps in the dark. Soon enough, shoes removed themselves from my paws so I could creep into the back row. As life would always have it, almost everyone was facing my direction. There went that stealthy infiltration! Booming basses and screaming soprano children echoed their melodious tones throughout the concrete quarters. Locals and faranjes (the local non-derogatory word for foreigner, which was the first word I learned in Oromo and it still feels derogatory) both sang, but not necessarily in their native tongue. Many of the foreigners sang in Oromo from one of the many Oromo hymn books. Although not quite the talent of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, we sat there praising from the bottom of our hearts (no Katie, not the other way around). A so-much-more-than-satisfactory way to end the week. Heaven must be at least a little like this but so much better!

Again I stumbled through the darkness, missing steps and tripping over cracks until the VD (volunteer dormitory) doorstep welcomed me home. As per typical form, I entered a few minutes into a film. My first mental response? "A movie on the Sabbath? Hades will receive you with open flames, but only after becoming 7 times hotter!" Ok, that was a gross exaggeration, but it did surprise me. A verbal inquiry as to the nature of the film proved my assumptions hasty and ungrounded. "The Other Side of Heaven" tells the story of a Mormon missionary who travels to Tonga alone to minister. Some may think Mormons are good people and some may not. The point is not to cast any light on the depths of whatever shortcomings they have (for we all have something). Typhoons, water shortages, physical ailments (like getting your feet chewed by rats while you sleep), attempted seductions, a disapproving chief, an uncooperative missions board, and a girl back home who might marry someone else could have brought his work to an abrupt end.

Did I finish the plot? Nope. But you can fill in the ending (perhaps by watching it). How does this apply to my life here in Ethiopia? First, of all, the locals have a very specific way of life. I say that because the very way in which it is specific is also vague. Food, work/school, play, sleep. Always the same, but never in any particular order or fashion. This sort appears to be normal in equitorial, non-westernized societies (this is becoming more uncommon due to the infiltration of all manner of Western ideas, principally electricity, electronics, and time). Tonga had some form of religion, whether ancestrally, mythologically, or deity-based. Ethiopia also has many forms of beliefs. Christianity arrived quite early and took a strong foothold. But being so secluded, it morphed into a fairly unique set of traditions, customs, and beliefs. Islam also appeared, although a few centuries later. From my limited exposure, the two have certainly influenced each other, but Islam has better maintained the original identity. But the beliefs seem wrong to those of us from "proper" Christianity. Is Ethiopia lush and green, glittering with white-sand beaches, and bursting with happy and well fed families like Tonga? Lush and green would describe it. Ethiopia has essentially four colors (lots of colors exist but in small quantities). White: the color of most paint (initially anyway); Blue: together with white, are the colors of almost every taxi and minibus and the colors of Gimbi Hospital; Brown: (with a hint of orange) the color of dirt and everything nearby it; and Green: the color of everything else. White-sand beaches are uncommon in landlocked countries such as this. Families, for those who have them, usually have food but rarely leftovers. Happy? I would hope so, but smiles are a rarity in the hospital. These, particularly the last one, remind me that this is not heaven. Heaven may be lush and green, but we also know it has more than four colors. White-sand beaches would be a cool in heaven, especially in the absence of sunburn. Food? Trudy asked me what the Ethiopian equivalent of bears was (in reference to camping with food being abundant). I responded twenty-something year old males. Bring on the food! Families, happy ones without AIDS or deformities or malnutrition or alcohol-induced injuries-please make it happen!

My job is to make this place as much like heaven as possible (yeah, I have a long way to go). The first step (primarily because it was how I got here) was the need for clean water. But that's just a job. This Sabbath, I believe a few of us brought heaven a little bit closer. About 5 of us went through the hospital. We would greet everyone with a smile and a handshake (slightly modified on occasion to match local customs) and open with a song sung in Oromo. Paul and/or Pat would talk for just a few minutes about hope, love, and Jesus. Finally, Courtney or I would pray. Thankfully, we had a translator. Grim faces, both of the patients and the family members, generally cracked, sometimes barely enough to notice, when they heard what was said. I mentioned earlier that we have both Christians and Muslims. There are also those who adhere to nothing in particular. And yet, one's background hardly seemed to change the reaction. My thoughts, almost always analytical and constantly critiquing, continually drifted to the patients. What where they thinking? Why were they smiling? Would I smile if I were in their bed? Do I have a joyful heart in the midst of suffering?

And now that I have internet faster than snail mail (albeit barely), here are some slideshows (hopefully, they aren't working on my end).

This of my third trip to Mt. Mulanje, which was also my last Sabbath in Malawi (Photos courtesy of Cassie, Diane, and Chris). There will be lots of faces you haven't seen. Two guys (Adam and Drew) are Maranatha workers. Three gals (Cassie, Sam, and Alexia) are SMs in Blantyre. The Browns are also present, having only been in Malawi about a week and a half.

My first couple weeks in Gimbi, Ethiopia, including my project and my going-away gift, the "Bon Voyage" leaf Hannah carved for me. It traveled all the way from Malawi and managed to introduce a certain funk (in the form of an odor) to my suitcase and its contents.