And, This Is Called Communication

I’m often asked how I communicate with the tribe. Answer: “it’s not easy!” It was particularly difficult in the beginning, before I knew any Amharic or Hamar.

My first extended stay in “Hamar-land” was February to April 2008 when we conducted our comprehensive needs analysis. Our program called for us to visit 10 Hamar kebeles (small counties) and interview elders, men, women, health workers, and others, with a series of open-ended questions that we hoped would identify the barriers between the Hamar and a healthy life.

Good plan. . . Tough to implement!

I was traveling with an English/Amharic translator, or so I was promised. Damtew was top of his university class in English communication, which meant he could read English – which is not the same as understanding a native English speaker! Fortunately, Fekade, our driver, could also speak some English. But neither of them spoke the tribal Hamar language. So in Turmi, the nearest town, we picked up Enyite – “the best Hamar/Amharic translator available.”

The interview process went like this:

Lori asks question in English

Damtew, Fekade and Enyite discuss the question for 10 minutes in Amharic

Enyite asks the question in Hamar – which takes 5 minutes

Hamar interviewee responds in three words

Enyite yells the question in Hamar – another 5 minutes

Hamar interviewee stutters his or her response

Enyite, Damtew and Fekade discuss the response in Amharic

Enyite says something in Hamar

Hamar interviewee clams up, seemingly afraid to respond

Enyite yells

Hamar mutters a response

Enyite, Damtew and Fekade speak Amharic

Damtew gives me the answer to a question I did not ask!

It took us 45 days to gather all the information – time in which I received the gift of a lifetime. Forced to be quiet, to listen, to observe body language, I learned simply “to be.”

And by sitting still, showing up day after day, proving that we really cared about what they thought, we laid a foundation of trust between the Hamar and ourselves.

A Humbling Experience

Don't you hate it when you make a stupid mistake that causes angst for an innocent person?

It’s even worse when the innocent party has visions of her daughter growing up without a mother because her mother has been left to rot in jail!

One day in the field, we were visiting Demeka, the tiny little woreda (county) seat, 86 km from our project site. It was raining, everything was taking 10 times longer than it should, so we decided to have coffee in a tiny shop.

We headed back to camp, stopping in Turmi to see Tuti. Remember the young woman I wrote about last time, who ran away to primary school in order to escape being married to an elder? Anyway, Tuti had typhus and I was worried about her. I reached for my purse to give her money for medicine and, darn, it wasn’t there. The only thing I could think of was that I had left it in Demeka, at the coffee shop.

It was dark now, still raining. We crawled back to Demeka, dodging potholes and goats. No lights were on in Demeka. We finally found the little shop, closed up tight. Fortunately, the husband of the owner was nearby and guided us to their home. The woman came running out when she saw us, in tears. She led us back to her shop and gratefully retrieved the purse. She made me check my money and passport while she watched.

She was terrified that I had gone to the police to accuse her of stealing my purse! Since I am white, and she is a Muslim, she was convinced that the police would automatically believe me, throw her in jail and that her daughter would have to grow up without a mother!

What an absolutely humbling experience!

Tuti Goes To School

Sixteen years old, about to be married to an elder for fifty goats and cows, Tuti Dobe ran away to Turmi (a small town 56 km away) and became a first grader!

Before GTLI started working in her area, Tuti's only option to escape arranged marriage (which means being banished from her family and forced to support herself) would have been to become a prostitute in Turmi.

Two GTLI projects gave Tuti the vision and the resources to escape: the tiny school for the women's cooperative and the money-making shikinee (beaded bracelets) program. Tuti became the fastest shikinee maker on the planet!

But Tuti needs your help. It will be years before shikinee sales cover all her school and living costs. But with your help, she can stay in school - and model healthy alternative behavior to other Hamar girls being forced to marry against their will.

$10 will buy Tuti room and board for a month
$50 will buy her a year's worth of books and supplies

http://gtli.us/donate/help-tuti-stay-in-school/?searchterm=tuti


On behalf of Tuti - thank you.

Lori

"I was lucky with my career, but I failed retirement..."

I started my software company when I was a single mom with 2 little girls - in a wide-open market – and sold it at the top of the tech-bubble in 1999. After retirement, I filled my time with volunteer work, golf, business consulting, and extensive travel. By the time I circumnavigated the Sahara desert in fall 2006, I had reached a crossroads. I was either going to ramp up my consulting business, earn tons of money and give it all away, or I was going to work for free. What I saw in Niger, Africa, convinced me to work for free!

We were in Timia, an oasis that is a miserable nine hour drive from the capital of Niger, Agadez. A little girl (around the age of six) came up to me, begging, with her three year old sibling on her hip. Flies were crawling across their faces. My granddaughter, Ella, was 6 that year. Looking at this little Nigerian girl I saw Ella. I realized that this child had done nothing "wrong" to be born into a desert teaming with flies, and Ella had done nothing special to be born into a US suburban home with running water. In a flash, I knew how I was going to spend the rest of my life. I was going to work to get flies off the faces of children.

I knew nothing about development work in Africa – but I knew how to analyze needs, create strategies, motivate people and make things happen. I heard about a small NGO (non-government organization) that worked primarily in Niger and Mali that wanted to tap into grant money. I made a deal with them. I would figure out how to get them grant money and in turn, they would give me open access to their books and educate me on doing development work in sub-Sahara Africa. Part of the deal was that I would accompany a group of their volunteers and two doctors to SW Ethiopia on a humanitarian trip that summer.

In July 2007, we visited three exotic tribes: the Mursi, the Karo, and the Hamar. I didn’t like the experience at all. I felt that what we were doing was a waste of time and money. It felt like we were "throwing a few vitamins" at people who needed much more. Instead of wallowing in frustration, I put energy into figuring out how one could really help these people have a chance to have a healthy life.

We chose to start this journey working with the Hamar, an ancient tribe who has been virtually untouched by the modern world. Global Team for Local Initiatives (GTLI) was born October 2007. Our overarching mission is to create a scalable and replicable sustainable development model. But right now . . .

Goal #1: get the flies off the Hamar children’s faces! Goal #2: apply lessons learned and move to the next group of kids.