Why Africa? Why Now?

I see a lot of comments on news stories where people express the sentiment that Americans should be helping in America first; they wonder why we would devote time and money to people in other countries. It's a valid question, and one that has no easy answer. My heart breaks for the recent victims of the Boston bombings, and countless other problems in the United States, big and small: homelessness, animal cruelty, senseless violence ... the list goes on and on. And like most Americans, I do what I can to help out: it's in our nature to be generous to those in need.

A few friends who have just started to read my blog ask me if I've been to Kotebe and the answer is yes, three times. Why Africa and why this particular part of Africa, a continent with so much need?

Well, one reason is because I am able to go to Ethiopia at a discount; my husband works for the airlines. I would feel remiss if I wasn't able to use this great gift of travel to do something so important. And that's the crux of the matter. I choose to help because of Muday Mitiku. She has devoted her life to uplifting the residents of Kotebe. Ethiopia is Africa's second poorest country, and Kotebe is one of the poorest neighborhoods in Addis Ababa.

Not one penny is wasted and the work she is doing is so vital. Even the walls of the school are put to use, an ongoing reminder of lessons Muday would like the students to remember.

As my dad used to say: "Try to find just one little thing, and make it right." It's my hope that I can convey the intensity of the need, the desire of the people of Kotebe to have just a tiny slice of the pie. Their piece will never be as big as ours is, but in Kotebe, Muday, with your help, is making progress. And so I blog, and raise funds, and hope to go as often as I can. So, please, tell your friends, spread the word, because in that way, you too are finding just this one little thing that you can make right.

Through African Eyes

Xenophobia. It means fear of that which is foreign or strange. And it seems that everyone in the world has a touch of it. As Americans, we love the "red, white and blue," as well we should. Many of our friends and relatives (mine included) have fought under its banner. Our flag inspires us to be the best we possibly can; it embodies all that we feel we love about our country: landing on the moon, our independence, our generosity and countless other things about this, our amazing, free and brave homeland.

That being said, it's pretty easy for Americans to believe that we are the sole greatest country on earth. As David Sedaris says in Me Talk Pretty One Day:

"It's startling to realize that other countries have nationalistic slogans of their own, none of which are "We're number two!"

Funny. And poignantly true. Ethiopians believe the "green, yellow and red" are the embodiment of all that is great in their culture. And well they should. As the only country on the continent that was never colonized, the "green, yellow and red" of the Ethiopian flag were adopted as the "pan-African" colors. You'll see these colors in many of Africa's flags.

The reason this blog is in African colors is to pay tribute to all that is wonderful about the Ethiopian spirit. Through "African Eyes" as it were. Without meaning to proselytize, it would be a mistake for Americans to think that national pride is the exclusive province of Americans. It's everywhere. And Ethiopia, a country of 78+ million people with 83 languages and more than 200 dialects, is proud of its heritage, and rightfully so.

It's my hope to portray all that is great about Ethiopia and the Ethiopians and America and Americans without delving into politics, religion or other areas in which countries may disagree.Thanks for reading!

New Shoes Bring Big Smiles

Shoes. For many Americans, they're not just a necessity, they're an obsession: buying the latest fashion in dress shoes, the latest and greatest gym shoes, work shoes, summer sandals, winter boots ... some have closets devoted exclusively to their shoes.

It's kind of difficult to imagine never having had a new pair of shoes in your whole life. But for the 111 students at Fresh and Green Academy, that was exactly the case. Until last April. A group of volunteers chipped in and gave Muday enough money to buy each student a new pair of shoes.

Nice, sturdy lace-up shoes that will help them negotiate the steep, rocky trails almost all of them have to follow to go back and forth to school. The kids were ecstatic to get the new footwear, shouts of "Addis chamma!" ("New shoes!") rang out across the school yard. Just check out the giant smile on third-grader Bogale Kumela!

Of course, being kids, they're going to outgrow them. If you would like to help fund future shoe purchases for the students, please feel free to contact me at kmvilicich@sbcglobal.net. Thanks!

Meet Muday Mitiku

In Amharic, the word "muday" means a tiny container full of treasures. Muday certainly embodies her name. Standing at all of four-and-a-half feet tall, she is a dynamo of energy and light. Whether she is running around the school grounds or leading us to one of the mother's homes, it is difficult to keep up with her. She runs as if there is no time to waste and not enough hours in the day. The women, children and families of Kotebe could not have a better, or more devoted advocate, for truly she is working miracles: feeding and educating 111 children age three to third grade; running a cooperative for the mothers so that they can earn funds and become financially independent; teaching classes in hygiene and child-raising; and always, always looking for ways to better the lives of those around her. All this while caring for her six-month old daughter Shanti, her four-year-old daughter, Leah, her adopted son Yabsira and her wonderful and supportive husband, Anteneh (at right).

Anteneh is a surveyor. Together with Muday's income as an elementary school principal, they probably could afford to live in one of the middle-class neighborhoods of Addis Ababa. But they choose to live in Kotebe, on the grounds of the school in a two-room house with their bathroom accessible around the corner. (In fact, until last year the bathroom did not have running water; it was simply a hole in the ground. Thanks to some generous donations, it now has a full toilet, sink, bathtub and shower.)

Here is a picture of Muday and Anteneh's house. Looks can be deceiving: the door on the side of their building is the front entrance, and the door to the right of the yellow flower is the bathroom and also accesses separate space for a bedroom for Yabsira and some additional storage space. Their actual square footage on the inside of Muday's house is approximately ten feet by twenty feet for both rooms, and although it is quite nice, it would be considered impossibly small by most Americans.

Muday wants everyone to know that improving the lives of the people of Kotebe is not just a hobby, a passing fancy, or a part-time job. By living on the grounds of the school, Muday is showing her deep commitment to her community. A community she is lifting up out of hunger and poverty. She is truly one of the most inspirational people I have ever met.

This Thing Called Hope

The first time I saw the moms at work in the Mothers' Cooperative, they were sitting in a semi-circle in the courtyard of the school. Wearing traditional garb, they were swathed in headscarves and long skirts. Each had a project, a necklace, earrings, or some jewelry item that they were working on. Some smiled at us, the American volunteers, but most were engrossed in their work, while keeping an eye on their children who were at recess. Of course, once we walked in, it was pandemonium for the kids -- they ran to greet us like long-lost friends.

While I watched the moms talking softly among themselves with their solemn, lined faces, I imagined all of them to be in their late 30s. Looks can be deceiving: most of them are in their 20s and early 30s, which is middle-aged in Ethiopia. Life expectancy is only 45.

As the week progressed, I learned some of their stories: most grew up in small villages. In the 1980s, when most of them were children, it was a time of great famine in Ethiopia. And so, as soon as they got into their teens, they moved to Addis Ababa, thinking it would be the land of opportunity. But there was no work, nor food, to be found. Most of them turned to prostitution as they only way of staying alive. And most got pregnant, and most got HIV.

That is one common thread that runs through their lives. But the other commonality is this: Through Fresh and Green they have been given back their dignity. Through the jewelry and craft sales, they are able to afford food for themselves and their children. Most importantly, the meals they are now able to provide qualify them to receive the life-saving anti-retroviral drugs that have turned AIDS from a fatal to a manageable disease. Muday holds weekly classes in health and hygiene and they have learned how to keep themselves and their families healthy and strong. They have formed a sisterhood of trust and friendship in a city where life can be very unforgiving. In short, they are thriving.

Fresh and Green seems to me to be a magical place. Through Muday's vision, the entire neighborhood of Keteme has been transformed. With your help, not only the students, but their mothers have been given this one invaluable thing called hope.

A summer rite of passage

Yesterday I drove past a little boy with a sign: "Drive-Through Lemonade." Pretty clever, I thought. Especially since he was stationed at one of the very few stop lights in our residential neighborhood. Red lights sure to bring in customers on a hot summer day.

How many of you remember having a lemonade stand? I certainly do. We didn't live on a very busy street, but we caught the attention of a few passers-by; sometimes our customers were dads driving home from work, or neighbors or the mailman. I think of my mom, keeping an eye out for supplies running low, helping us count our change. We maybe made one or two bucks, but hey! It was enough to buy candy, or gum or some other treat. Spending money, earned fair and square. The world of commerce was a snap!

A summer lemonade stand seems to me to be a rite of passage for American youth, and I was thrilled to see that enterprising little boy yesterday. It made me feel like some things never change.

But now, when I wax nostalgic for "the good old days," I can't help but think of our kids in Addis Ababa. They don't have the luxury of selling anything for spare change, for there is nothing to sell. There is no such thing as "spending money," and treats like chewing gum are the farthest thing from their minds.

If they are out on the street, it's serious business. Any money gleaned from passers-by is used to buy dinner. For the whole family. If they're lucky.

In Africa's second-poorest country, food is not provided in the schools. If you are as poor as the kids in the Keteme neighborhood it comes down to this simple choice: you can get an education or you can eat.

Once again, I give thanks for our generous sponsors and donors. Without your help, the kids at Fresh and Green Academy would be out there on the streets begging. Hoping against hope to come home with something for mom to use to feed the family. Your support is saving lives.

Thank you for being a friend.

Summer's Bounty

It's July here in the Midwest. Hot, humid sticky weather that has most city folk complaining. For farmers, it's a paradise: barring any unforeseen destructive storms, 2010 promises to be a banner year. At least in Illinois and our neighboring states.


As I've mentioned in previous posts, I tend to look at life from a more inclusive perspective these days. Hooray for the prairie, bursting at the seams with bountiful blessings. Fresh and green indeed!

I've become a somewhat dedicated locavore. For those unfamiliar with the word, that means I try to eat food that was grown or raised within 200 miles of my house. It's better for the planet (saves on transportation costs), better for our bodies (we are biologically programmed to eat seasonal foods), and better for the small, non-Big Agriculture farmers. Our local Farmer's Market has new goodies each week, right now we're in "berry season" -- Michigan's blueberries, strawberries, blackberries and raspberries are finding their way to our dinner, er, I mean dessert plates in wonderful ways!

In the midst of all this, I find my heart breaking for the farmers and fishermen in the Gulf states. It's not just going to be a rotten year for them, it may be a rotten decade or two. Although Mother Earth has remarkable self-healing properties, She's going to have a tough assignment bouncing back from the BP oil spill. Since eighty-five percent of the seafood we consume in the United States comes from the Gulf region, we are in for some dietary adjustment. Shrimp is a staple in our household. Guess I'm going to have to forgo one of my favorite foods, or pay dearly for it to be imported from someplace else.

But that's my point, or the point of this blog anyway. I have that option. I can fill my larder with other foods, I can adjust to not having a weekly shrimp dinner. For almost 10 percent of Ethiopia's 77 million people, the concept of a larder is unimaginable. With six major droughts in the past two decades, Africa's second-most populated country can't seem to get a break. Many opt to move to Addis Ababa, only to find their situation worse than the village they left in the countryside.

For all 90 students at the Academy, there is no larder to come home to. No Farmer's Market, no high-priced sea food. It's common practice in parts of Ethiopia for mothers to sprinkle gasoline on their children's hands -- the smell quells hunger pangs. For awhile anyway.

And because this is America, we will find some way to take care of our citizens in the Gulf region. They will certainly have to make some life-changing choices, but chances are good they will not starve. Their children won't have to sniff gasoline or go to bed hungry. Government programs, charities, and our unwavering and ever-present volunteerism will help get them through this difficult time.

Ethiopia has virtually no organized in-country mechanism for food distribution to the poor. According to the 2010 Index for Economic Freedom (http://www.heritage.org/index/Country/Ethiopia), corruption is seen as pervasive. Ethiopia ranks 126 out of 179 countries on the Transparency Index, America ranks eighth. What this means in real-life is that much of the money directed toward hunger relief in Ethiopia more often than not gets funneled elsewhere.

Ethiopians get by with help from Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs). Friends of Fresh and Green is a very small NGO, but through the generosity of our donors, we manage to keep 90 students educated and nourished, and 22 mothers as well.


In giving thanks for this summer of plenitude here in the Midwest, I also have to give thanks for the philanthropic spirit of so many of my friends and neighbors. People are giving what they can to wildlife and wetland rehabilitation in the Gulf, and to so many other worthy causes, including Friends of Fresh and Green. Paying it forward for Mother Earth, sharing the gift of "having more than enough." Bounty brings a smile to my face.