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!
