November 2009Twelve year old Tadila struggled across the compound with the help of Kafreta, her father, stumbled and fell to the ground against the masonry wall. She lay there week, disoriented and able to only move her head.
No one knew what was the cause of her illness. She and Kafreta had arrived in Addis Ababa, the capitol, two days previously from a remote village in the Gondar region of Northern Ethiopia where no medical help was available.
I had yet to meet her but I went to her, put a hand on her head and prayed, mostly in the Spirit, since I knew nothing about her. She was very thin, too small for her height I thought.
A taxi arrived. Child and father were driven to a hospital.
The next day we sneaked in to visit her. She would not, could not, take nourishment.
I took hold of her small, pale hand. It was rough, like heavy duty sandpaper. I could not help but wonder about the difficult life she must have lived.
I prayed as before, quietly, in the Spirit, not knowing what else to do.
Two days later she returned to the little converted store room she shared with eleven year old TB stricken cousin Rosa, who is from the same village. I marveled at Tadila's recovery and worried about the T. B. since they shared the same room
The girls took their meals separately from the rest of us and after evening meal Tadila and Kafreta were in the main house when the mobile phone of my hostess rang. She answered, gestured to Kafreta and excitedly he talked in Amharic over the phone. His sixteen year old daughter, missing for a year was found alive and well!
The housekeeper put a video on the TV with traditional Gondar music and Tadila, who seemed near death two days before, danced a celebration dance. She danced with vigor, for such a long time I tired and went to bed while father and daughter continued the celebration into the night.
Ain't God good?
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