I couldn't get the layout to post- so I'm posting it here.
My sleeping bag is warm, comfortable, and familiar. The cot groans as I put my feet onto the nylon tent floor, the familiar rustle of the wind is comforting.
I stretch, change drink a bit of water out of my metal canteen and unzip the door.
Even after months, it surprises me how the moonlight lights the grass. How the stars shine so clear, how the milky way is present. Being in urban cities, too long, so long. Light pollution is such a shame. The air is cold- but it feels clean in my lungs. The wind is blowing, and the sun hasn't quite started peaking over the horizon but it will soon.
The small wooden houses are quiet. The villagers are not up yet, to start their daily routines, the children laughing and the movements of day to day survival.
Today the UN Consulate for Ethiopia is coming.
And I- in hiking boots, in my favorite-a-little-to-worn jacket and the cleanest jeans I own is observing all the work that has been done.
There is a story, for every building, every plant, every dirt road here. There is a story for the grass, for the sun, and for my team's presence.
It has been a year and 1/2 sense we arrived. Villagers looking at us suspiciously as we unpacked explaining that we had chosen them- that we wanted to help them. Our truck-and I mean truck- was eyed by too-hungry children looking from us to it like we carried magic.
And in a way we did. We carried the magic of nature, of seeds, of food, of sustainable living. We carried the forces of hydroponics, and social innovation. We carried a torch so they could form their own schools.
The women today have a small child-care system. The men have extra food to sell, and everyone's belly is full.
When he arrives today, the they will not wonder if there is food. No one will try to sneak into the helicopter to try and steal necessities. They have them here. They will be curious and excited, but not desperate.
They will be able to offer him a meal. They will be able to pour him a glass of clean water. They will be able to explain how they grow their crops. They will talk about how they now have a small school. They will talk
about how they sell their leftover food, and how they collect seeds to
replant for the next season. And they will tell the stories of hope. Of capability, of dreams.
And I will be able to stand back and watch.