He is Lord

One of the disappointments of the trip was the little amount that we were able to practice our Amharic, despite being in a heavy Amharic-speaking part of the country. The reason for our lack of practice was because we were traveling with more experienced people, two extroverts in particular, who already seemed to be competing for the available conversations. Andrea and I are both more on the quiet side and it still takes us way too long to produce a simple sentence that the others would lose patience. So, we had to make our own opportunities.

One day, in the tourist capital of Ethiopia, after having spent the afternoon touring the massive rock-hewn churches, our group finally retired to our plush hotel (a whopping $32 a night). Feeling the need to get out on our own, we went for a walk down the main street (we were also looking for a notebook to give to our little dishwashing friend from the previous blog). Right away, a young boy started to walk along with us. He had rough English and we had rough Amharic so we got along great. Getano, probably around 11-12 years old, walked with a cane because he was born with a club foot. Although I didn’t tell him this, I identified with his club foot since I too was born with this same condition. However, I grew up in a world of modern technology and financial resources which can fix such problems (although God played a major role in fixing my feet, but that’s another story ?).

After slowing to his pace, Getano walked with us the whole length of the road and back again, never once begging for money (which was refreshing to say the least). As we approached our hotel again, he invited us to his house for a coffee ceremony (a very common Ethiopian tradition). Unfortunately, we were unable to go with him because we were already late for our dinner. We politely excused ourselves with a simple, “maybe tomorrow, we don’t know what our schedule will be.”

Sure enough, on my way to an internet café the next morning, there was Getano right outside our hotel gate. On the way back from the only open café (yet without internet), he asked if he could shine my shoes (after all, shoe shining is Getano’s job). As expected, he did a great job and so I overpaid him as a way of saying thank you not just for the clean shoes, but also for his friendship to us. We exchanged email addresses and right before I left, he offered me a typed letter. It was a letter requesting a sponsor to help him in his education. I had learned about the idea of a sponsor at the graduation two days before.

The graduate we went to celebrate with once had a severe club foot and about five years ago, the “B family” felt compassion upon him to pay for the corrective surgery. Now, of course, this teenage boy appreciated the gift very much; but in Ethiopian culture, such an act of kindness is not viewed as a one-time-deal. Instead, the B family had unknowingly welcomed this orphaned teen as a part of their family. I don’t know all the details on how much the B family’s sponsorship had involved over the last five years but it was obvious this graduation day would never have come to him without it. Later in the trip, we would be visiting with another sponsored “son” of the B family. More than a decade ago, this young man was sent home from a hospital with aspirin to “treat” appendicitis. The B family, having compassion on him, took him for a second opinion which resulted in emergency surgery which literally saved his life. Here again, The B family, by helping this boy, automatically became sponsors of this young man’s life from that point on. It’s an interesting concept that random acts of kindness cannot be done without lifelong strings attached.

So with all this swirling in my head, I read Getano’s letter. Is God asking us to sponsor this teen so that he too can have the opportunity to study at university and advance in society? Is there that potential in Getano? Absolutely, but there is also great potential in the other ten shoe shine boys that had now gathered around us. Plus, we can see the potential in hundreds of shoe shine boys (most of whom are orphans) which wait on street corners of Addis Ababa. I gave Getano his paper back and said that we would be communicating through e-mail and that I would pray that something would come up to help him and all his friends.

As I said my goodbyes and walked back into the hotel courtyard, I thought about the name Getano. You see, almost all Ethiopian names are either taken from the Bible, or they are common words or phrases in Amharic. The name “Getano” simply means “He is Lord.” When I feel inadequate to meet the gazillion needs of the poverty stricken people around me, I must remember He is Lord and that no problem is too great, no situation too hopeless, no life too insignificant for his loving care, provision and protection. I don’t say that to excuse myself from doing my part as commanded in Scripture. Not at all, rather, Getano’s name is a reminder to me of the real source of eternal hope that we can offer those hurting around us. It is my prayer, first and foremost, that Getano’s life will be transformed by the very phrase that his parents chose for him. No matter where life takes him…He is still Lord.