Thursday, July 17, 2008
- Jordan Junge
I am a coffee junkie. I have the starbucks menu memorized and know the baristas at all the local coffee shops. I had believed that I had tasted great coffee. But that was before I went to Ethiopia. The trip to Ethiopia last Thanksgiving not only changed my perception of coffee but it also changed my life.
My naivety was not only on my idea of a perfect cup of coffee but also with my idea of charity. I had always believed in trying to help others but didn’t actually understand what charity and developmental aid was. Six months before I left for Ethiopia, I had started to raise money for the Cunningham Foundation for my international relations class. The generosity of strangers amazed me. I soon began to understand that many individuals are desperate to make a difference; they just needed to be provided with an outlet. Due to my fundraising efforts, I was one of the lucky few to be selected to travel to Ethiopia.
Despite all of the shots and preparations, the concept that I was traveling to Africa didn’t hit me. The day before we left, I went to Starbucks to think about my trip. I thought I knew what to expect. I had seen the documentaries with kids who had potbellies and flies in their eyes. I knew the horrendous statistics on poverty. I had traveled to the slums in Mexico on mission trips, and thought that I was prepared for poverty. Or at least what I thought was poverty.
In Addis Abba, all of my thoughts and expectations came crashing down as I was greeted with the horrible reality. The city was the definition of chaos. Millions of people attempting to interact in a city that is not developed. The roads are winding to unknown places as thousands cross the streets selling various trinkets. Wooden scaffling surrounds buildings promising development. However, the city is still horribly poor. If I looked through the blue tarps of the vendors down a side street, a shantytown awaits. I realized that I had no idea what poverty was as I tried to imagine living life inside of shack held together with scraps of rusted metal. Young boys surrounded our van singing for one dollar, something that is so insignificant at home. In America, women dot on their newborns. It is the same in Ethiopia, but some of the poorest women also held them up to our van, hoping for pity in the form of spare change. It was shocking to think that we were still in the same world. But then I realized that we were no longer in the same world. For far to long, society has separated our earth into different spheres. The developed world long ago identified Africa as “third world” or the more politically correct term of “developing”. Whatever term is used, the effect is still ignorance. Most Americans have no idea of the conditions that our fellow human beings are living in.
At the Mother Theresa Orphanage, I was greeted by hundreds of little hands and brown eyes. Before we had even walked more than ten feet into the orphanage, each person in our group was holding at least two children. It was only after the children were told to leave us that I found out that they were all HIV positive. The children who smiled so abundantly and loved without abandon, were left to the horrors of a disease that had no cure. Here I was, a senior in high school applying to universities all around the world, and these children who were uncertain if they would see their next birthday surrounded me. The unfairness and unjustness of situation broke my heart.
Despite the new shocking realizations, I still discovered perfection. Perfection in Addis Abba was in the form of a simple cup of coffee with milk during breakfast at the Arrarat Hotel. It was delicious and simply perfect. These two words were the only words I would use to describe the coffee in Ethiopia. However, coffee was not the only place I discovered perfection.
Our journey began in Addis, but then we left the tumultuous city to travel to the Project Mercy compound in Yetebon. Driving through the countryside was an amazing experience because of the ability to compare rural and urban poverty. At least in the city, people have access to the necessities. But in the countryside, you are at the mercy of the elements. The shacks still litter the streets, but they are made of branches, not sheet metal and tarps as commonly found in the city.
All of the despair and discouragement melted away upon entering the gates of Project Mercy. Love and hope filled the air. We were instantly greeted Ethiopian style- showered with affection and warm wishes. The buildings at Project Mercy are built with care. Everything is at the highest standard. After spending a week at Project Mercy, I truly believe that this is the key to development. All issues are addressed: education, health care, sanitation, vocational training, and agricultural training. The school at Project Mercy may feel overcrowded at times, but thanks to the generous hearts of donors, the children have notebooks and pencils. Upon observing an 11th grade civics class, I was shocked to find that the curriculum was almost identical to my advanced placement government course. The hospital is amazing, something that I would gladly stay in.
However, I realized how delicate the situation is at Project Mercy. It is a miracle that so many people are helped, but it is only a raindrop in the desert. Millions of people are in poverty, and constantly fear the threat of a famine. Even at Project Mercy, the good fortune is completely up to the donations received. I helped serve breakfast one day. I thought that I was being generous by pouring more meal into the cups. I was ignorant. By giving more to some children, I deprived thirty kids of breakfast. At that moment, I realized how little I knew of the country and how my ideas of development meant absolutely nothing unless they worked with the country and the people.
In Ethiopia, I was served the perfect cup of coffee. I was also served a huge dose of humility, compassion and understanding. The coffee in Ethiopia is simple, beautiful, bold, and full of flavor- just like the people. I find it ironic that millions of Americans would gladly pay four dollars in search of the perfect cup of coffee, while people in Ethiopia have the perfect cup, but they are barely surviving on one dollar a day.
My experiences in Ethiopia will stay with me for a lifetime. I learned not the only the power of coffee, but the power of humanity. The power of a dream, and the power of a dollar. I admire Noel and Tammy’s passion for uniting individuals under the single most important dream of all- of bringing Ethiopia, and the rest of Africa, out of poverty. There is absolutely no excuse for a city filled with shacks that are called homes, for no education, and for a place where dreams can’t survive because the poverty is overbearing. I now believe in the perfect cup of coffee, and in the future of Ethiopia.