My Ethiopia Story

By Andrew Crowson

The spicy smell of Ethiopia is hard to put a finger on. A mixture of the spices used on the food, the smell of the people, and the omnipresent diesel fumes are the most identifiable elements in the scent that mixed with the soft rays of sunlight to awaken me daily. My hotel rooms in Addis Ababa, Arbe Gona, and Awassa were all beautifully simple. The spartan lodgings, however, did nothing to rob Ethiopia of its extravagance.

Southern Ethiopia is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Banana trees, palms and ferns make this jungle region feel like a tropical oasis. The only thing more breathtaking than the beauty of the landscape is the poverty.

Our bus, which bore close resemblance to the “Mystery Machine” from Scooby-doo cartoons, was at least 20 years old. This steel cage took us on roads most people would only tempt with the latest in four-wheel-drive trucks. The driver, who we affectionately dubbed “Moe,” was ever-capable and knowledgeable of the roadways and dirt-pathways of rural Ethiopia. However, somewhere between Addis Ababa and Awassa, it appeared that neither Moe, nor our porters “Larry” and “Curly” knew where we were.

This situation would have been much funnier if it didn’t coincide with my first experience of the African version of nighttime. The darkness that envelops the African landscape at night is hard to explain. Envelops is the wrong word, though, suffocates is more apt. Nothing stands in the way of the black cloud of African night. It is the darkest place on Earth. If you put a blindfold on and then shoot out your circuit-breakers on a moonless night, you might come close to a normal evening on the Dark Continent. Eventually Larry, Curly, and Moe found their way to our hotel in Awassa.

The razor-wire surrounding the walls of the hotel in Awassa let me know what kind of neighborhood it was in. Most of Africa is in a bad neighborhood of one kind or another. Every time the Mystery Machine would roll into town in southern Ethiopia, it was surrounded by people. I worried these people would be disappointed when they found out the Beatles weren’t inside, but when we stepped off we were greeted as if we actually were John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

Arbe Gona and Bona were two towns we visited where we were the first group Buckner had ever sent. These people were so excited to see us it was almost overwhelming. Several times on our treks over dirt roads, the Mystery Machine would inexplicably have to stop in the middle of the road. Either it would break down or the truck following us would need a pit stop. We were never really told the reasons for these stops, but we didn’t worry. We knew Curly would take good care of us. When the Mystery Machine would stop, people would show up out of nowhere. Literally dozens of people would materialize around the bus mere seconds after it stopped. I don’t know where they came from, but they were always there to stare at the Americans.

These schools we visited are full of children. We put shoes on the feet of 800 kids in the three days we spent at the schools. Each pair of shoes was met by an ear-to-ear smile of a child who previously might have never known what a new pair of shoes looked like. In a country where the poverty is as asphyxiating as the injera bread, every kid needs all the help he or she can get. These orphans wouldn’t have a chance if someone didn’t give them one.

While some kids roam the streets of Addis Ababa begging for food, these kids are in schools breaking the cycle of poverty with education.

National schools teach high-school-age kids to become plumbers, carpenters and hairdressers, among other jobs, which are in high demand in a developing nation like Ethiopia. Buckner is changing the face of Ethiopia by equipping young people with the skills they need and with the unfailing love of Christ. Feeding, clothing, and equipping kids are what Buckner does as well as, if not better than, any organization out there.