The god of Plan B

A quiet observation I have made since coming back to Australia and New Zealand is that having a "Plan B" is a big part of our culture. It's often a part of how we plan as we take into consideration the potential failure of plan A (ie. The ideal scenario).  As we think about risk factors, we "risk manage" around our plan and we set ourselves up a safety net as such. We like to call it plan "B". B for "better not get too confident in plan A because it might not happen."  People around us compound our fear of failure and confidently elude to the fact that what we have set out to achieve is far beyond our reach and should therefore be prepared for "if all else fails". Another common terminology in our lingo.

I'm not talking about the little Plan Bs... The wet weather plan or the "if so and so doesn't show up we will go somewhere else" I'm talking about your plan Bs for the big things in life- the defining moments, or the major life decisions...the ones you know God has endorsed Himself by a spiritual journey He has taken you on to achieve.  So the "Plan B" I am referring to is more like "if God doesn't show up, we will do something else!"  Plan B is what we save up for, store up for, buy up for. It's the thing we have to fall back on "just in case" what we originally set out to do doesn't fall into place. It's what we think about when we're not where we're going and we're not where we've been.

Lately I've learnt that this is a space called "Liminal Space".

 "It [liminal space] is the intermediate, in-between transitional state where you can not go back to where you were because a threshold has been crossed and you have yet to arrive where you are going because it is not yet available to you. Essentially it is the hallway between the past and the future. I can tell you quite candidly, it's hell in the hallway." Bishop Mark Chironna in Leadership Pain by Samuel Chand

It's actually in that liminal space that we forge our plan B's.  When we can't handle the heat of the unknown, we make plans to take the "Fire Exit" and we fall short of finding out what lies behind the doors ahead.  We see companies market their products and services based on this mentality. They develop their advertising to further corroborate this ideal that has become a cultural norm.  It's what insurance is set up for, it's why investment companies are able to function on the basis of fear, it's the reason why we all saved up water and nonperishable foods in the year 1999 in case the world stopped functioning when the clock struck midnight on December 31st. 

In our own journey we have been challenged about our plan B. What happens if this doesn't happen. If Ethiopia doesn't happen? If the money doesn't come through or the donors don't give. There are definitely risk factors going into mission in Ethiopia. Most of the time we don't know how we will fund our trips, our living, our various aspects associated with living far from the normal conveniences of Western life. We aren't always certain visas will be approved, children will get into school, that we will cope through separations. We could build up safety nets. We could also let these calculated risks feed the fear and anxiety that's wanting to grow to a point where it will stand in the way of us going with plan A-God's plan.

The god of plan B is often that thing that draws us away from having an unwavering faith in the God who does fulfill what He has promised. The One who King Solomon wrote about when he said "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean NOT on your own understanding." Proverbs 3:5  

Your own understanding lies behind your desire to set up a safety net, your fire escape, your plan B.

Your own understanding is the god that you could place above the One who has it all under control in the first place- who has a perspective on life that you don't have and who promises to do what He said He will do.  

That god of our own understanding is what caused even Abraham, the "father of faith" to convince himself that sleeping with his maidservant would be a good plan JUST IN CASE God didn't come through. Previously he had been full of faith but in the waiting his, and the faith of his wife, began to dwindle. We read about it in Genesis 16:

Now Sarai, Abram’s wife, had borne him no children. But she had an Egyptian slave named Hagar; so she said to Abram, “The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.”

Abram agreed to what Sarai said. So after Abram had been living in Canaan ten years, Sarai his wife took her Egyptian slave Hagar and gave her to her husband to be his wife. He slept with Hagar, and she conceived.

We read these verses and we think "What was he thinking?!" Abraham (or Abram as he was still called here) was trying to fulfill God's promise to him, BY HIMSELF! The god of the plan B really is ourselves. It's our own flesh that gets in the way of what God is already planning to do. 

The god of plan B is ME..

It's YOU..

It's US.


The thing is that He will do it in His time and in His way and we just have to wait. Albeit Abraham was already old when he received the promise and ten years had already passed. Not many of us would have even lasted that long- not many of us CAN last that long.  I know I have struggled in the waiting. I haven't waited well but I am learning to stand in faith and trust God to come through when He is ready. I believe He can and He WILL in His time.

The thing is we don't need to always have a plan B.  Though God's plan will always be bigger than what we can achieve, that's what makes it all the more worth waiting for, believing for and dreaming for. If God has said it will be done, it will be done. We don't always see how it will be done, but He does. Trust Him. Have Hope. It's coming!

For still the vision awaits its appointed time;

    it hastens to the end—it will not lie.

If it seems slow, wait for it;

    it will surely come; it will not delay. 

Habbakuk 2:3

Reflections from Samoa: A tribute to my Nana.

I have fond memories of my grandmother (or Nana as we would affectionately call her). Memories of her catching a bus to Auckland's North Shore where I was brought up, from her home in Mangere South Auckland where her and my grandfather lived. She would often catch a bus all the way to our house to babysit when my mum had to work or just to pay a visit. I don't remember my dad around much when my Nana came so it could have been that she came when dad was sick in hospital to support my mother looking after us. It always excited me when I would see her face appear into view. I knew she would come with treats for her grandkids (at that time maybe only two or three of us grand daughters that belonged to her fifth child, Iva).

I remember so clearly a time when she had come when I must have been less than five. Mum had gone off to work and I asked where the "Minties" were and was left feeling so disappointed when she said she didn't have any. Not long after she said she was joking but she would only hand over the lolly if we would brush our teeth! The teeth brushing was preceded by a hot bath that she took great pleasure in washing us little ones with her Samoan scrub (the Pulu) that felt like a pot scrub on my delicate skin.

Other times Nana would meet us in the city as coming across the bridge would mean another bus to catch and maybe another fare to pay. She would either take us to McDonalds on K'road or she would meet us down at the fountain on the bottom of Queen St in the heart of Auckland's downtown. These were exciting journeys for us as we didn't get to go into the city much. I remember hiding under her arm as she would protect me from strangers who had been drinking into the middle of the day.

As I grew up and we returned from our three year stint in Melbourne, Australia, Nana's visits became more like  lessons to indirectly teach me about Samoan culture. Lessons like, when someone comes around to visit you offer them a cup of tea. And when you give them that tea with some biscuit or a rock cake (which Nana seemed to love), don't be surprised if the whole pastry ends up in the cup of tea before they drink it.

Also when visitors come over, make sure you give them all a kiss when they arrive and then again when they leave. If they are all sitting around talking, then you aren't allowed to stand up as that would be considered rude. So even if all the chairs were taken, make yourself comfortable on the floor but don't forget to cross your legs and make sure you're decently dressed to do so.

Anuilagi Perese, our late Grandmother in her late 30s or early 40s

For an afakasi brought up on the North Shore in a home that was neither reflective of my father's Greek heritage nor my mother's Samoan culture but more so of the fact that they were both third culture kids and we had adopted the culture of the community we lived in which was New Zealand European- I desperately needed these lessons to come from someone who loved me as much as my nana did. These were lessons most Samoan children learnt from the time they were born-even if they were born in New Zealand.


Nana patiently allowed us to serve her as mum taught us how to prepare a bowl with hot soapy water and a towel to clean their hands at the dining table after they had eaten.
Later in life she patiently put up with us as we slowly led her to the toilet after not understanding what she was saying  as Alzheimers forced her to revert to her mother tongue.  It was then that we were able to see her strong willed nature while she endured the frustration of having to depend on the physical and mental assistance of her family and then eventually the nursing homes as her physical demands increased beyond the capacity of her children.



It was a late January afternoon in 1995 when Nana finally "gave up the ghost" on the living room floor of her eldest daughter, my Aunty Paulava. For some reason, the night before, I had a strong desire to go and visit my nana after a days work at my then job, McDonalds. We knew Nanas days were short and I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible so I did what she had done so many times for us- I caught the bus to her house to be by her side.

The next day I stayed by her bed and she had visitors coming to see her and pray for her. She eventually started to cough as I and my Aunty and cousin gripped her hands and body until it became an empty shell. A picture of beauty and strength and a life well lived and lived to serve others.

As we passed the port of Apia today I recorded its beauty, unconsciously aware of its significance.  Now as I lay in the hilltops of Upolu, the island my Nana came from, I am kept awake by this revelation:

Driving past the port in Apia

About fifty four years ago, my nana and grandpa and their seven children departed from the shores of Samoa, from this very port in Apia to embark on their new journey in New Zealand. It was a privilege my Nana had fought for- sailing many times on her own to Fiji to catch a plane into Whenuapai , Auckland to claim her right for New Zealand naturalization that was granted to her because she was a child of her father's. The New Zealand government had given him and his offspring this right in return for a service he had done for them.
 She set off from the shores of this small island into the great ocean waters, knowing what she was entitled to. Though she was rejected by the authorities that were in place at that time, she kept fighting for it so that she could give her children a better life. She risked life and limb to leave her country of birth, to go and get what only she could get (because it was her and not her husband that was entitled to it). Yet it was to be her husband and her children and her children's children who would benefit from it. What an amazing woman.

This island that took us almost four hours to get to by plane just a couple of days ago, would have taken her a world of courage and a heart of faith to leave. She would have travelled by the only means possible at that time, a boat that would have taken her three days to get to Fiji then a plane. Leaving her children confused and bewildered as to where their mother had gone, she knew that the price she was paying would be far outweighed once her children were living on New Zealand soil. She sacrificed so that others could receive. Not only did she do it for her own children but she also adopted so that others could have the new life they wanted in Niu Sila.

In some ways, I see my life as a mirror of my Nana's. Someone once said, "we stand on the shoulders of giants". This is the inheritance my Nana has left not just for me but for the many she left behind. A spiritual legacy that she paved the way for her daughters and grand daughters and great grand daughters to dare to walk upon. Just as her earthly father had given her an entitlement to a new land, so my heavenly Father has given me the right to a mission field.  As her grand daughter and as His daughter I was able to cross greater seas by myself six years ago in search of this land our family could dwell in. Coming from a cultural norm that exists where the man gets the call first and goes out, I knew from a young age that this call was for me and my family. It took a strong man to let me go and explore this corner of the earth, knowing he too had a place in it but not having the history I did that enabled me to go with this assurance that we had the mandate TO go to this strange land. I can, because she did and because He empowered me to. I not only walk in the way of her path or stand on the shoulders of her great courage, I get to sit in the future of her faithful decisions. What a privilege that would not do her justice if I were to forgo it. My nana, born Methodist and married into Catholicism. A grand daughter of missionaries to Papua New Guinea and a Catholic Catechist who traveled Samoa to spread the good news, I honor you today from your homeland.

Anuilagi Vaotuua (nee Perese).

About a third of our grandparents' descendants gathering for the Vaotuua family reunion in Savai'i, Western Samoa
Uli and Anuilagi Vaotuua had 7 children after birthing 12 who left with them from Samoa and have had one pass (Faiga) since their passing. Four of those families are represented here. 

We're not where we're going and we're not where we've been.

Yesterday as we disembarked the plane at Johannesburg airport, we bounced with excitement about being in South Africa; about the beauty of the airport and about the clear blue sky that was calling us outside. Yet in the hearts of my husband and I there were some hesitant reservations.

 See when we checked through our gate in Nairobi Kenya on our transit, we were asked for our children's birth certificates.  We thought we had mistaken her accent as she asked from behind the desk after she had just sent a family home in front of us for the same reason. She repeated herself "where are your children's birth certificates?" To which we replied "we don't have them." "Your children cannot enter South Africa without their birth certificates" she replied. "Well we are only staying one night in the Airport Inn (where our friends had booked us for the night). She agreed to let us go through since we were just in "transit".

But we were still not sure what that all meant.

So as we cruised our way over the bouncy travelators' through to immigration in the O.R.Tambo international airport, our minds wondered if we would even go through. Just before us in the line was another mother and sure enough, as she showed her daughter's passport, she was also asked to show her birth certificate. "Oh Lord" I prayed "please let us go through." There was a world on the other side of the airports glass windows I wanted to explore. From a young age I have been fascinated with South Africa, with Nelson Mandela and his movement to bring freedom to his people and the sacrifice he paid to do it; and the whole landscape that inhabits incredible wildlife and encapsulates the beauty of this country and this continent. South Africa holds so much beauty that has been born out of brokenness'.

But this time it wasn't meant to be. The rejection of our attempted entrance into this beautiful land and the paid for accommodation that was sending a shuttle to pick us up, meant we had to go back into the airport and try and come up with a plan B.

Transit airport hotels are SO expensive.

Plan C. Sleep the night in the airport then have a shower in the spa before we take our next 12 hour flight that proceeds our 9 hour flight to Sydney where my mother and sister will pick us up.

This journey started at 8:30pm Ethiopian time when we left our friends' home where we have been staying for the last week. They generously let us look after their dog and house and we got to stay in the capital and run some last minute errands before our departure. We had been without power for 11 days at our home in Debre Zeit so this was heaven for us!

So their driver picked us up a nice 6 hours before our plane was due to leave (Barak Obama was flying in that same night so we had to be cautious of security and road blocks delaying our arrival) and we tried to check in early but the airlines desk didn't open till two and a half hours early. It gets really late and there's no place to rest and we get a bit uncomfortable. For five hours. We check in and sit upstairs with a whole bunch of other people boarding to go to Kenya.

So its 16 hours later that we are hit with this news that we need to stay in the airport for the night. We explore the airport. Our appetite's whet for the things of South Africa in the souvenir shops and the classy restaurants that call us in to eat lunch. We eat, we cruise then we find our posse where we would spend the night. The sun sets outside the big glass windows and we get some wifi before we settle down to sleep. But its getting cold.

"Mum, your hugging my leg!" I wake up to my daughter lying next to me across the four seats we had gone toe to toe in. Now I wake up face to toe and I look down at my toes and there's a random man sitting there! I freak out and try and go back to sleep. My daughter informs me its 1:30 but theres a whole bunch of people surrounding us waiting to board their flight and the noise keeps us stimulated. The flight boards half an hour later and silence revisits. We sleep till 5am with cold awakenings and an acute awareness that we are no longer in Sub-Saharan Africa. We are in the winter of the Southern Hemisphere. Our bodies wake up to a freezing cold that we tried to prepare for with all the clothes we had for such weather in our carry on bags. But not even with all of that can we get comfortable enough to sleep well. We have acclimatized to our nice warm Ethiopian weather.

As I wake up at 5am I thank God that the night was over. And He whispers in my spirit.

 "You are not where you were, but you're also not where you're going."

Physically, we are not where we were (the city of electricity problems and network issues that would cause me hurl abuse at my phone). And we're not where we are going (the city that holds my mother and sister and a society that's developed to the point of heavenly proportions.) We are somewhere in between.

Also as we anticipate our visit to New Zealand with our whole family for the first time, there is some thing in the knowing that we are not in the same place as we were when we left and an awareness that not everybody will expect that. We are also aware that the people we loved and left are not where they were either when we left. We are all on a journey and we are all a work in progress.

But for those of us who are looking forward to meeting our Savior one day...THIS life is not comfortable. We are in a place that is better than where we've been but we are still not where we are going and where we are going is so much better than where we are now!!! We have to persevere through the cold and the random people who come into our lives and sit at our feet when we are trying to get some sleep. We  have to remember that the situation we are in is temporary. Its only for a season. Yesterday I read this tweet...

John Lindell ‏@johnlindell  Jul 26

In life it's important to remember the spiritual realities are the greater realities. "What is seen is temporary..." 2 Cor 4:18

11 retweets21 favorites

Like my children who continue to ask how much longer is our journey to "THERE", (for the last few months up until the last few hours) WE can be so busy "counting the days" that we forget to "make the days count."

We can't make time go faster. We often can't change our circumstances or uncomfortable situation but CHANGE IS COMING! Whether it comes in this life or the next, the change first has to happen in our mind. We can either anticipate a future event and totally miss out on the opportunities that surround us now, OR we can keep our eye on the prize and let that motivate us to stick it through, to endure the suffering and the pain so that we can make the most of today. 

When we can look at our uncomfortable-ness as a minor obstacle to the end destination we can thereby retain the peace and presence God wants us to carry into those situations.

He is there, (like my mum is there waiting for us in Sydney right now) ready to welcome us home and we want Him to say "well done, my good and faithful servant... Enter into the joy of your Master." Matthew 25:23. And Oh, what a JOY that will be. 

Hang in there. 

Deliver Us From Evil

"This work is spiritual warfare", advised the founder and director of a large local NGO who previously had a contract with an International organization to implement a project for women in prostitution in our town. "But we don't have time for spiritual warfare", he continued so as to explain the cessation of that particular attempt at meeting the needs of the local community. His subsequent advice to me - "Pray!"

When Jesus was teaching his followers how to pray, He included some key components to successfully address all of the areas in which God is willing and able to work on our behalf.

"Our Father, who art in heaven... "

"Deliver us from evil" was one of those key components. Evil is real. It's out there on assignment ready to take captive those who are living unaware. Unaware of its schemes', its subtlety, its power. It doesn't work alone but it has legions of soldiers in it's army that are ranked and are ready to attack on any given victim, in any given region, at any given time. And if that civilian is unaware they are even under attack...they will be captured.

And Jesus concluded his prayer with "deliver us from evil. For Yours is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory Forever and Ever!"

The battle begins in the mind and it is won or lost in the spirit of the man or woman. It happens in agreement with the victim. Like Eve believed the lie of the serpent "did God really say?" So too when we believe the lie, A lie, A whisper of doubt or fear, even a subtle thought that we are not good enough, our lives are not "fun" enough, our body is not "beautiful" enough...so too do we fall into a trap. We sign the dotted line and miss the fine print.  Evil is moving in!

Over the past few years God has taken me on a journey of discovering more about the evil that we battle against.  Growing up in a home where mental illness confused and scared the living "daylights" out of me. It also welcomed the darkness of evil in. The spirit of fear took up residence for longer than I had prepared to pay for it to stay. I however, was totally unaware that it was winning this battle in my spirit and it became a part of who I was. It influenced my decisions, my relationships, and it manifested in my dreams.

It wasn't until I became a bystander of someone else's fear that I was able to face my own. It wasn't until EVIL literally came and slapped me on the face, that I was able to see it for what it really was- an enemy to be reckoned with and a resident that was overstaying in the heart and mind of the person that mattered most to the ones I loved the most.


Me.

So I cried "deliver me Lord from this evil." Well actually it was a bit more dramatic than that but we wont go there this time. It took people who knew what they were praying against and the authority they were praying with. But not every experience of deliverance is the same.


Ok so going back to the story I began with. Part of my own journey's purpose was to prepare me for what I would encounter here in Ethiopia. Every Wednesday at Zion church where I first visited on our first week in Ethiopia, people squish into the uncomfortable wooden chairs for up to six hours on end to receive a word, a healing but more often than not, a deliverance from evil. Its real and it's raw and its pretty rough.

Unlike my experience, the experience of many here; through ancestral practices or through animistic worship, evil spirits are actually welcomed in to become resident in ones body, ones home or ones family. (We think we don't do that in the west but we do - through mediums or clairvoyants, through séances or Ouija boards, through alcohol or drug abuse or very simply by just believing a lie.)

The deliverance that occur every Wednesday at Zion Church and frequently at most protestant churches around Ethiopia, are the result of a prevalent darkness that has come down through the generations as the result of curses, witchcraft, demonic worship and idol worship sometimes associated with the Orthodox beliefs that are particular to Ethiopia.

Now take that background from which most of our women come from, then add a lifestyle of sexual exploitation which often comes as a result of sexual trauma, neglect and rejection; add to the mix a hardened heart who has built up walls or strongholds against the things of Light and you can see a better picture of what we are facing.

The restoration of lives who are bound up, occupied, deceived and discouraged takes place over a period of time. A life time. So we pray "deliver US from evil" and we bring truth to undo all the lies the evil has planted to make his way IN and we seek to break down the walls that are built up around their hearts. All of us as we go into this battle together. And we see Him set THEM free as He set us free.

"Transformed lives, transform lives."

God has called us out of darkness into His glorious light and He gives us ROYAL status. He is more powerful. He grants us freedom and victory. He desires to deliver us from evil, just as he desires to give us our daily bread. That's why He tells us to ask Him to do it, because He knows only He can. And He too has legions of a greater population that are out for our good, to wage the war in the spiritual realm where we can not go.

Gods plans for us are for good and not for evil. To prosper us not to harm us. To give us hope and a future! Jeremiah 29:11

Please join us in this battle. Pray for our ministry in Ethiopia. Especially as we take back territory the enemy has held captive for far too long. We need more soldiers in the battle. Come join the winning team! "For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power and the Glory! Forever and ever, Amen."

Red Lights and Beating Drums

“The drums, they are summoning you in” Saba warns me as the beat entices me to see what lay behind the curtained doors. It’s the Amhara drum that’s playing and it plays fast and it plays loud. Amhara region is the second largest region in Ethiopia.


It’s home to 21 million of the most beautiful people in the world. These people are the holders of the national language and a deep culture that reaches back into biblical times. 80% of the people in Amhara are Orthodox while only 17% are Muslim born again or Protestant 0.02%.  Orthodoxy has granted many men the right to marry young girls even less than ten years old for far too long, yet apparently that culture is changing. Without knowing all of the facts and figures, we know that partly due to this, we find 70% of prostituted women around the country are from the Amhara region.




It’s a Thursday night and six of us, two of the new staff for the Bahir Dar EWAR project, Mesfin (who is helping to get this whole project started as part of his outreach project with E3) and the three of us from Addis Ababa and Debre Zeit, scale the streets of the city to see the context of prostitution in Bahir Dar...at least in the case of the women EWAR will be working with over the next year.

The women cleaning up what will be their temporary project site

“The women” are the twelve we met with today. Some of these women had been approached more than a year ago by an Evangelist called Solomon who works for a local Kale Hiwot (meaning “Word of Life”) Church. While they have waited for a year for this project to get started, other ladies have since been approached and took the chance for change by coming to our drop in sessions yesterday. Here they shared their stories, what they would do once their hope was renewed and what they have in their hands to make it happen.




One lady, not much younger than I, spoke of how she had looked up to the prostituted women who worked in her neighborhood as a little girl. Orphaned and alone, she started working the street in her teens, falling pregnant and being left alone again, she kept working. For seventeen or more years….she kept working…to provide for her two children and to survive. Her desire was to be beautiful like the women she saw, all dressed up and made up. Her beautiful skin that glowed over her defined cheek bones hid her wounded heart. She has had enough now. Her youngest son is now ten and she wants better for him.

Mesfin (from e3) and Saba from Ellilta Women at Risk on the shores of Lake Tana

So we walked down the streets that these women have worked for so long. These streets are dark and they are unpaved. They’re narrow and cold and they beg for me to look down so I don’t trip up, rather than look up to see what we were really there for.  I almost wish I didn’t look up.




Red lights illuminate the muddy urine smelling paths. The men who urinate on these roads are only down here for one purpose. It’s not a thoroughfare, but rather a well designed lure for men wanting an irresponsible encounter to appease their sexual appetite. And the girls are there just waiting.




Unlike I have ever seen before, or expected to see, these girls have their OWN room. Their rooms are decorated with flashing lights and enticing bed dressings. Plastic weaving covers the mud walls and TVs blare to keep the girls occupied while they wait. The atmosphere feels so alone and so commercial.




Gorgeous Ethiopian girls (and I mean most of them ARE just girls in their teens) who grow up in a culture where life is all about community and communal living, about sharing rooms and plates and hearts, stand idle by themselves at the doors of their own little room. One girl sat looking out from on her bed that tonight she will service many men from (so she hopes) and her loneliness is tangible. My heart breaks for her and the many girls who stand alone in their red rooms and tears start to flow unexpectedly down my face. The sadness of the situation, the desperation that has caused them to give themselves away like this, causes our hearts to sink. I am not alone in this heart break.




After pulling myself together and taking a quick bathroom break, we round the corner and see these men. They’re lining the walls and seats of a local bar, preparing themselves for the night which has barely just begun at 8pm. They’re quiet and they’re rowdy, inviting us to ‘DRINK!’ They won’t stay long before all these brothels we saw with open doors and waiting girls are occupied by them.




This bar is situated on a street where a broker, known to traffic these women in from the rural areas, operates his business. Some of the women, according to Mesfin our guide, are sent to be house workers, others stay here in what is the capital of the Amhara region and work the bars, while others are trafficked into the Middle East. Others are trafficked into bordering countries North of Ethiopia and not too far from this city’s borders. Promises of a better life and better income beguile many young girls to leave their familiar to support their families. She’s not just thinking of herself but of her family and she will pay a high price for it.






The ladies who are about to enter the program tell us how much they get paid. Sometimes they will be paid as little as 10 birr (50c US) per trick, sometimes the man will take her out for a meal as his payment and sometimes the payment she gets is a beating- a night of abuse for the giving of her body. They get away with nothing if the man is so obtuse that he won’t even pay for her service. Unlike her, he’s just looking out for himself and doesn’t even want to pay for it.


Women at risk are only able to open new projects like these as local people take up the challenge and other people partner financially with the cause. If you would like to support Ellilta Women at Risks work, please go to www.ellilta.org and donate so you can play a part in empowering these women to be all that they were created to be.

Dear Africa...

Going through my Google Drive this morning, I found this poem I wrote on the back of my short term missions trip in 2009. It's something I wrote from the perspective of living in the first world and seeing pleas for sponsors on the TV. I remember crying at seeing a charity advertisement that was filming from Addis Ababa about a girl who had lost both her parents and was looking after her brothers and sisters in the slum. I wondered how many people would respond to this advertisement that would have taken a lot of money to make. The organization would have seen it as an investment but would they have gotten a good return. This was my return...

Dear Africa,

Thank you for your invitation for my transformation

But without having some substantiation

I regret to decline in my reply

How do I really know that what you offer is real

Even though my heart was touched by your appeal

My feelings of guilt I must deny

Yes you say that you have no food, no clothes and dirty water

But why don't you just get a job to supply for your daughter

You really can't expect to get handouts all the time

And about that AIDS thing - who's fault is that really?

We tried to tell you, gave you condoms and showed you clearly

The remedy is not hard to find.

You know I would contribute some money to your plea

If only I had just won the lottery

But money is so tight even in our country right now.

You can have my affection, my good motives are many

Upon my reflection I can see it's you in need- if any

But as much as I would love to give, I just don't see how.

Though I may look rich to you, I'm struggling myself

It's hard living in a society where it's all about wealth

You gotta keep up with the Jones's out here in our town

Gotta pay for my house, my car, my hair do

My cell phone, my ipod, my kids nike shoes

If I don't get them what they want, they will soon frown.

The credit company and banks are on my back 

I have to keep up payments and not get too slack

There's harsh repurcussions if I give my money away

But as soon as I get myself out of this rut

I'll revisit your proposal and see what's up

Surely I will give you some money one day

But until then I'll keep putting money into

The stock markets, housing and term deposits too

So that one day I'll have riches and plenty to spare

Please be patient Africa, I'll be with you soon

To clothe you and feed you with a really big spoon

And then you will have more than enough to share.

Lots of thoughts

The First World.

I am in a role now again (I say again because I have done fundraising in New Zealand), where I am fundraising for this organization I have fallen in love with. It's an organization that beats the heart of God. Caring for women who have been so hopeless and desperate to provide for themselves, often for their families, that they sell their OWN BODIES. Thinking they have nothing else to give.

I don't believe in giving hand outs to people who are in need, unless it is what God has specifically put in our heart to do in that moment. But coming alongside an organization that is working to EMPOWER the women to be all that God has created them to be-

Whole:  Creative:  Productive:  Happy:  Hopeful

And I read back on this poem and pray that those who are blessed would sow into these ministries working to help the poor, AS God has instructed us to do so SO many times in His word. 

Recently a friend posted on FB a saying that said, "When God blesses you financially, don't increase your level of LIVING, increase your level of Giving." And I added, "That's why He does it right?" 

Doesn't God bless us to be a blessing to others? That's what He said to Abraham when He blessed Him.

One friend replied, "He does it for both." 

And I believe that to be true, but I personally believe that it depends at what level you are living in the first place. I don't believe that God wants us to live in extreme prosperity while others are living in extreme poverty (and those are both relative terms). That is, for me, the definition of injustice. 

This weekend, the Christian Church celebrated Pentecost which instagated the Holy Spirit empowered church. Not long after this happened we read about people in the church .. 

Now all who believed were together, and had all things in common,  and sold their possessions and goods, and divided them among all, as anyone had need. Acts 2:44-45

This is what I am talking about! The sharing of what we have so that there is no more INJUSTICE but there is EQUALITY. But most of us Westerners think...

"WE WORKED HARD FOR OUR MONEY!"

So, You don't think African's work hard? They do, but their money is not what yours is. . For varying reasons. Ones I don't want to go into here.

But what I do want to say is that in my last job I had in New Zealand I worked for an organization that was government funded. One of the biggest funded programs dealing with parent education. I was paid $25NZD per hour. In one hour I got paid what some people get paid here for a whole months worth of daily labour. Their work being much more strenuous, in more difficult situations for a whole bunch less money. THEN I would get paid a government allowance to help with our mortgage payments and our children. Who works harder for their money? Them. Where did MY money come from? The people of New Zealand's compulsary giving within the context of their tax. Something which I also paid as I worked. There is an injustice that I still struggle with today.

You are blessed to be a blessing. When God blesses you, it's not just for yourself. He does it so that the needs of others are met through His children. I believe that from the bottom of my heart. 

So don't sign the letter I wrote above. Africa is developing, it's not defined by poverty, but there are needs here that need to be met the rest of the world CAN definitely do somethng about. How about you do something about it NOW :)

You can donate towards our ministry here in Debre Zeit through this link

Or you can donate towards Women at Risk through this Paypal link here. 

Be blessed! If you have anything to contribute to what I'm saying, feel free to comment below :)

 

 

This Side of Africa

On my return to Ethiopia and my workplace, sitting around staff devotions with our five staff that were present, I relayed some of the stories of my time in Uganda and Kenya and there they echoed a sigh of relief.  I realized then that I was representing my team as well as the people of Ethiopia as we visited some amazing projects in Nairobi, Kenya and in Jinja, Uganda.

One of the things I had not expected in visiting the projects in our neighbouring countries was hearing stories being conveyed that resonated with issues and situations we had been facing in our little town of Debre Zeit. There are some similarities in the work we do. Both projects had been set up with the EWAR project model first being investigated here in Ethiopia.  So here were two thriving ministries a few years down the line based on that model in a context of their own.  We are all different bodies doing the same work in different countries yet the blood that runs through the veins of our project is the same type.

Cherry, I and some of the Kenyan staff

In terms of the women we work with, I could see these three commonalities:

Poverty:

One of the systemic contributing factors to the women in East Africa entering into a life of prostitution is poverty.  It wouldn’t be right to say that ALL women enter into prostitution because of poverty but for those who do, I would even go into saying that it’s extreme poverty as poverty is such a loosely sung lyric these days. The women here are in SUCH a state of poverty that working other jobs or selling things on the side of the road, don’t earn them enough to make a living. We’re talking about those less than $2 a day jobs that qualify them for the “extreme poverty” category. They don’t have education and they don’t have the business know how to get their income up to a standard that provides their own needs, let alone the needs of their family- children, parents, brothers or sisters. Their families extend wide.

The kind of poverty our African women face causes fear and anxiety and once a remedy is given for it-even if it is based on a “hand up” and not a “hand out”, makes them susceptible to dependence.

So in Ethiopia we give allowances for the women while they are in our program, a component of our program that was adopted in Kenya and Uganda. However, the Kenya project has changed their strategy because of the dependency that has been created in the past. Now they offer small business opportunities for the women so that they can help themselves and save up for bigger micro enterprise projects. This has meant however, less time in the program and more time out making money by other means than their former life. There is this struggle we face and something we do have to adapt to make it work for the best outcome for the ladies. In Kenya this seems to be working well.

Witchcraft/Idol or Demon Worship:        

Working in Debre Zeit means that we are at the cold face of witch craft and Idol Worship. Unfortunately it is something that our city is well known for in local circles. It’s partly animistic practices that exist around the lakes here but it’s also something that is attached to Orthodox beliefs throughout the country. Even though people class themselves as “religious” and say they worship “Egzabiher” (God) they are often caught up in some kind of Idolatry practices that invite spirits of darkness to take up residence in their customs, their traditions and in their lives.

In Uganda I heard stories of the women who they are connecting with on the streets. Many of these women are using drugs in their smoking pipes to put their clients under a spell so as to take their money away from them while they are zoned out and in their presence. They won’t inhale the drug but rather puff it out into the faces of their clients once they have them to themselves.

Even as we left Uganda we were warned on the bus not to smile or talk to the men at the border who could potentially have drugs hidden under their tongue they could breathe into our mouths to put us under a spell. We have had some stories like this reported to us in Ethiopia as well.

When working in societies with such prolific darkness manifesting itself in so many different ways, it adds another dimension to the holistic services we need to offer. It takes time and it takes discernment to understand what is of the women’s own backgrounds and what spiritual forces that are underlying their behaviour.  There was another NGO working with women in prostitution in our city and eventually they gave up after a cycle of non-successes. As I met with the director he said to me that “this work is spiritual warfare, and we don’t have time for spiritual warfare.” This is a large NGO who work with tens of thousands of children and their families. His advice to me was to pray.

Abandonment issues:

As the HIV rates drop in Africa, the ages of the orphaned children go higher. Women we work with are often orphaned, abandoned, given away or trafficked in a domestic setting. Along with these oh too common terms, there are difficult issues to go through. Issues that stem from the abandonment, the lack of parental bonding at critical developmental stages, the fear of rejection and the lack of healthy relationships never being modeled in their lives.

Recently we had four women join our program from Addis. The main reason they needed to come into the Hope House was because they wanted to leave the street but two of them were orphaned and had no family to turn to whatsoever. Women who were not so long ago orphaned girls who never got the chance to find another family, who maybe ended up raising their own family and ended up on the street to feed their family- these are the women who are spread across the streets of East Africa.  

Women who’s stories would make your heart bleed and yet who’s hearts themselves have hardened so that they can survive. These are the women we see.

From the inside looking out, we see also commonalities in terms of the programs we run. As I stated earlier, both the program in Nairobi and the program in Uganda came to Ethiopia many years ago to see how Ellilta Women at Risk was being run and they contextualized that model into their own settings. The program in Uganda even adopted the name Women at Risk and is still running true to the model, yet in a residential setting a lot like ours. There are some things they do differently. Many years later some things have worked and some have been adjusted yet some things have remained the same.

In terms of the projects we run:

The spiritual component.

Our sister project in Nairobi is unashamedly Christian- being run by the Mamlaka Hill Chapel Church in the city, this church desired to reach out to their community and in response to the needs they found in a close radius, Full Circle was born. Their amazing team is made up of staff and volunteers who have come out of their church and who are skilled and qualified for their roles. In Uganda too they are trying to work with pastors and are staffed according to Christian values and beliefs. Something that’s so important in combatting the darkness-bringing in the One who IS light to dispel that darkness.

But YOU are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, God’s special possession, that YOU may declare the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His Wonderful Light! 1 Peter 2:9

Last year we came together at the ICAP (International Christian Alliance on Prostitution) Conference and we worshiped in a style that can only be African. One that was full of life and singing and beat and dancing. We worshiped in the African way- the way we worship in the settings of our own places where this is the norm and where it brings freedom. Freedom from the bondage that would keep our women silent against their struggles.    

Some of the beaded products the ladies in Uganda have made

Lack of market and job opportunities:   

Once the women have graduated from our programs, often we have given them tools and taught them handcraft skills that can help them to produce marketable products. But the market and the employment opportunities are hard to find. Not just for them but even for the educated, the graduated and the ones with great ideas. Unemployment rates are high and in comparison to the western world- a whole lot higher.

And then there’s the added complications and extra preparation that goes into transitioning women whose lifestyles and mentalities have lacked dignity and discipline for so long into a productive life. This is our struggle as we tailor our programs for them and desire only the best for these women who often find it hard to decipher what is best for themselves.

What I saw in Uganda was an array of finely handcrafted beads that were turned into necklaces and earrings, purses and bracelets. They had carry baskets the ladies had all lined up by their beds they are making in their spare time as well as table baskets that would sell for a good price in the western market. Yet here they are in the middle of Africa lacking the market and the marketers to be able to get the ladies some money for their hard work.

The challenge of funding.

While funds are obviously coming in to keep our projects running, there are definitely areas that could be strengthened with the help of additional funding. But like many NGOs who are running on a vision and passion to reach the unreached, the work gets done without time taken out to source additional funding to help improve services.  And then while funding is available out there by major organizations, it doesn’t get down to grass roots programs like ours who work on a small scale. We heard the same stories in these two countries of needs going unmet because of lack of funding. 

At the same time, each of our projects have a side IGA or income generating activity to provide sustainable income for the projects. But sustainable income that will bring in enough money to run a project seems unrealistic when all is taken into account. Overheads, staff needed to be hired to oversee the business, the payment of wages for the ladies we desire to hire to make the products…it all adds up. It’s like asking a successful business man to put all of his profit into funding an NGO. Not ever likely to happen unless there is another stream of income coming in somewhere else. For an NGO, that’s grants and funds.

Heri Nuts from the Full Circle Project

My friends Mary and Eunice in their newly established hair salon in Uganda

My heart was overwhelmed during our little excursion to Kenya and Uganda. I was as happy to encourage as I was to be encouraged and there was definitely more of the latter. I have sisters who have become closer and I hope that this work we do will collide more often as we look to the future. There are projects out there longing to join our fellowship, I know. There are women out there looking to join the projects. I know this too. And as our family grows bigger, pray that our battles will be won, our needs will be met and our markets will broaden.

And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work 2 Cor 9:8