Wind Yellum
"Yellum" = meaning "all gone". It became a favorite word {it kind-of has a ring to it} among our Ethiopia group.
Food yellum. Sprite yellum. Bajaj yellum.
But in the context of Megaladi, it's definitely not fun to say "food yellum" or "water yellum". I really want to fly back over there, fix their water situation, help them plant fruit trees and vegetable crops, and teach their children to read and write. Oh how I want to help more. I hate thinking of them saying "forenges {foreigners} yellum".
Coming back home after such a powerful, purposeful adventure has been incredibly hard. Leaving behind friends that share my vision, saying goodbye to Ethiopians I now care so deeply for...that's hard.
And I admit, the wind has left my sails. I feel defeated.
I had hoped for many new readers to join, interested in stories of Africa. I had hoped for many questions and comments during my trip, and lots more interest upon my return. The obvious truth is that we are busy with our own lives. I am too. I never knew how busy I was at home with two boys, until I had twelve days off. Crazy what a little contrast will show you.
We're busy in this life of ours -- buying the groceries, cooking the food, doing the laundry, taking the kids to preschool and gymnastics. Hoping for a little down time to check our email and text our husbands. While they sip salty water, wear the same outfit for days and try to keep their goats alive.
Contrast.
It's a hard reality. And hard to be the only one thinking these things in a sea of self-absorption. I hate to be a kill-joy.
But it's still so fresh in my mind.
I know the right thing is to stay strong and be true to my passions. To keep talking about the village of Megadali, sharing their story, standing by them in their time of need. I know the right thing is to keep blogging, even though most topics seem pale and insignificant next to topics of life and death. I'll keep writing, whether it be trivial or deep as the ocean.
I'll keep on keeping on.
And in the absence of wind, I'll just have to get out a couple of paddles.
"Warm weather yellum".
Food yellum. Sprite yellum. Bajaj yellum.
But in the context of Megaladi, it's definitely not fun to say "food yellum" or "water yellum". I really want to fly back over there, fix their water situation, help them plant fruit trees and vegetable crops, and teach their children to read and write. Oh how I want to help more. I hate thinking of them saying "forenges {foreigners} yellum".
Coming back home after such a powerful, purposeful adventure has been incredibly hard. Leaving behind friends that share my vision, saying goodbye to Ethiopians I now care so deeply for...that's hard.
And I admit, the wind has left my sails. I feel defeated.
I had hoped for many new readers to join, interested in stories of Africa. I had hoped for many questions and comments during my trip, and lots more interest upon my return. The obvious truth is that we are busy with our own lives. I am too. I never knew how busy I was at home with two boys, until I had twelve days off. Crazy what a little contrast will show you.
We're busy in this life of ours -- buying the groceries, cooking the food, doing the laundry, taking the kids to preschool and gymnastics. Hoping for a little down time to check our email and text our husbands. While they sip salty water, wear the same outfit for days and try to keep their goats alive.
Contrast.
It's a hard reality. And hard to be the only one thinking these things in a sea of self-absorption. I hate to be a kill-joy.
But it's still so fresh in my mind.
I know the right thing is to stay strong and be true to my passions. To keep talking about the village of Megadali, sharing their story, standing by them in their time of need. I know the right thing is to keep blogging, even though most topics seem pale and insignificant next to topics of life and death. I'll keep writing, whether it be trivial or deep as the ocean.
I'll keep on keeping on.
And in the absence of wind, I'll just have to get out a couple of paddles.
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