Ethiopia Reflection

• God, why I not understand my learning? God, open my brain.
• Why people have different colors? Why you made me black?
• God, why people hate each other?
• Why God doesn’t stop the conflict of Ethiopia? Why God doesn’t give love and unity for our country?
• God, can you give me a wife?
• Why did my father die in his young age?
• Why do you refuse wealth to our country Ethiopia?
• God, what do you want from all human beings?

Those are questions to God that my students wrote in one of their journal assignments. I must admit, I have many questions of my own:

• Why is there no clinic at MKS to help students with medical problems?
• Why can’t the MKS toilets be fixed so they don’t run all the time?
• How do I respond when a student asks for financial help?
• How is it possible that some students cannot afford a pen, a notebook, or soap (let alone tuition)?
• When will English teachers in Ethiopia help students use English rather than learn about English?
• Why I am always so cold, even in Ethiopia?
• God, what do you want from me?

While I ponder these questions, I feel grateful for the opportunities I had in Ethiopia:

• To live a simple life on the MKS campus
• To learn a new language and experience a new culture—a new way of thinking and being
• To make new friends
• To visit people in their homes—for coffee, food, conversations, prayer, and overnight stays
• To visit churches and experience different ways of expressing faith in God
• To join the MKS community of faith as they strive to follow God
• To teach full-time again after a hiatus during the pandemic
• To use my gifts and impact not only individual students but also an institution
• To be reminded that there are rewards greater than monetary ones

I feel grateful for the things that I learned, or re-learned:

• It’s good to step outside my comfort zone because there’s so much for me to learn.
• Learning stretches me. It makes me humbler and more compassionate.
• I love experiencing the big, broad world and all its people that God created.
• I love the children’s book entitled People by Peter Spier (1980). It highlights the way people are both different and similar. It celebrates the beauty of diversity and at the same time reminds me that people are people everywhere.
• It’s good to try to understand another. Even if I can’t understand, it’s good to be accepting.
• There are many things in life that I cannot control. This is hard for me—since I like to be in control.
• I wish I were more flexible by nature.

I feel grateful for the non-fiction books which helped me in my learning (plus the fiction books not mentioned here):

1. Acclimated to Africa, by Debbi DiGennaro (2015) helped me think about the views and behaviors of Africans compared to those of Westerners like myself. It reminded me that I shouldn’t expect others to think or act like I do.
2. African Friends and Money Matters, by David Maranz (2001) helped me understand the different economic systems in Africa and the West. It gave me a framework for thinking about some of the questions I have about poverty and wealth and my response when I am asked to support others financially.
3. The Wife’s Tale, by Aida Edemariam (2018) gave me a glimpse of Ethiopian religious and political history (of the 20^th century) through the eyes of a victim of early marriage.
4. The Hospital by the River, by Catherine Hamlin (2004) informed me about the prevalence of fistula in Ethiopia and the amazing work of fistula repairs done by Australian doctors Catherine and Reg Hamlin, who committed their entire adult lives to fistula patients in Ethiopia. This story inspired me so much.
5. One Thousand Gifts, by Ann Voskamp (2011) reminded me that there is wonder all around to be grateful for. I can see wonder every day while living in Ethiopia, but I don’t have to go to Ethiopia to see and experience wonder all around me.

Sixteen weeks in Ethiopia went so fast, and now I am back home in Mexico. Sixteen weeks is nothing when I think about the big picture of life, when I think about the almost 40 years that I’ve been teaching since graduating from college in 1983.

Yet all my experiences, abroad and at home, no matter the length, have shaped me into the person that I am today. In fact, they continue to shape me into who I am becoming as I question, ponder, and reflect. God, I thank you for being with me in this life-long journey of learning.

Three Women I Admire

While In Ethiopia, I met many women I admire. Today I feature the three female faculty members I worked with at Meserete Kristos Seminary.

Selamawit Stifanos is a Biblical scholar who currently teaches Systematic Theology, Pentateuch, and Prophetic Books. She’s been at MKS since 2000, and students love her. When I had students write a journal entry about a good teacher at MKS, many wrote about Selam. 

Selam earned a B.A. degree in Bible and Theology in 1999 from the Assembly of God Bible College in Addis Abebe. More than a decade later, she spent three years in Harrisonburg, Virginia earning an M.A. in Divinity at Eastern Mennonite Seminary in 2008. She loved Harrisonburg. She was amazed with how quiet and peaceful it was.

From Selam, I learned to aim for the middle in terms of teaching classes with mixed ability levels. “We do what we can,” she told me. She values the role that MKS faculty play in training leaders for the many Mennonite churches which are either fast-growing or newly begun.

Selam’s husband is a senior pastor at one of the biggest Mennonite congregations in the country. They have two grown sons, one of whom served us a delicious Christmas dinner after we went to church together.

Ayalnesh Erku is a Biblical scholar who currently teaches Church History and OT Historical books. She began teaching at MKS in 2014. Though it is still uncommon for women to preach in the Ethiopian Mennonite church, I had the privilege of hearing Ayalnesh preach in October. 

Before pursuing her own studies, Ayalnesh worked in local church ministry, teaching new believers, holding Bible studies. She understood God’s calling for her to be that of teaching. After earning a diploma in 2006, she returned to her local church hoping to be appointed to fulltime church ministry. But one of the elders was opposed to women in leadership positions. He didn’t want to give her even a single Bible study to lead. He said, “If I see a woman preaching, I will leave.”

Her husband felt very sad about this, so they changed their local church. Alaynesh worked as the Assistant Women and Family Coordinator for the Evangelical Church Fellowship of Ethiopia (ECFE). One of the projects she led focused on harmful traditional practices against women, such as early marriage and female genital mutilation. She sought to bring these issues into the curriculum of theological institutions in order to raise awareness. Meanwhile, she gave birth to two sons (now teens), earned her B.A. degree from Meserete Kristos College, began teaching at MKC (in 2014), and received an M.A. from EGST, the Ethiopian Graduate School of Theology (in 2016).

Ayalnesh is passionate about women in the church and women in leadership. When I first met her, she mentioned her studies of I Timothy 2 and I Peter 3, New Testament passages about women, which she hopes to publish someday. In addition to teaching at MKS, she works on women’s issues, particularly the role of women in ministry, peacebuilding, and community development. She gives trainings and participates in panel discussions. She leads adult Sunday School classes and preaches.

“My mother always encouraged me that I can be whatever I want,” she says. “Though I’ve faced lots of challenges, I have hope for the future.” The church now allows women as elders and pastors, but there are very few. In the future, Ayalnesh hopes that will change.

Tigist A. Dessie is the Distance Education coordinator at Meserete Kristos Seminary. In addition to her administrative duties, she teaches the class “Ministry to the Poor and Social Problems.” Her presence down the hall from my office was a steady support to me last semester.

Tigist loves sharing her testimony, as she calls it, “God’s story in my life.” She sometimes begins like this: “The reason I have this scar on my face is . . . .” When Tigist was a high school senior, she asked Jesus into her heart after a friend told her about Jesus’ love. Displeased by her decision to follow Jesus, her Orthodox family chased her from their home. Her aunt and others beat her with rubber and burned her with fire. During the beating, she had a vision of Jesus’ suffering, and she did not feel the beating.

Meserete Kristos Church members took Tigist to Addis Abebe where she had several years of treatment and four plastic surgeries but retained a still-disfigured face. More than a decade later, from 2006 to 2008, she spent two years in the U.S., receiving further surgeries and laser treatments. While in the U.S., she shared her testimony at different times. At a youth retreat in New York, 50 youth made a first-time decision for Christ and 22 youth renewed their commitment after hearing her amazing story.

Tigist first worked at MK College in 1997 as a librarian and cashier. She took one class each semester, with a sense that God was preparing her for ministry. She got a diploma in Bible and Christian Ministry from MKC in 2004, a B.A. from MKC in Peace and Conflict Transformation in 2011, and an M.A. in Development Studies from the Ethiopian Graduate School of Theology (EGST) in 2016.

In addition to teaching, Tigist is involved extensively in her local church and has a vision for the holistic transformation of society. She says, “Humans have physical, emotional, psychological, social, and spiritual needs. Hence, we must serve humankind holistically.” She is targeting the Amhara region, which has been home to much conflict and the influx of migrants in recent years. Tigist says, “The depth of poverty in both economy and thought is unbelievable.”

She also began a Christian family fellowship in 2002, hoping to reach unreached family members. “Glory to God,” Tigist says, “many of my relatives have come to know Jesus Christ.”

If you would like to communicate with Tigist, or partner with her in her endeavors, let me know. She would love for others to stand by her side and be partners in her vision for the transformation of society.

These three women enriched my life while at MKS, both on campus and off. I look forward to our continuing friendship.

 

Amharic 101

I love languages! Amharic is no exception. Though my Amharic is rudimentary, I’ve been able to chat just a bit with people here in Ethiopia who may not know English. What fun it has been!

I’m glad I discovered the U.S. Foreign Service’s online Amharic lessons while still in Mexico. I’m also glad I bought this book to bring with me.

But I couldn’t have done it without Bethlehem Bizuwork! Beti and I began at Meserete Kristos Seminary the very same day—September 13 of this year. My Amharic lessons with Beti began the next day. It’s been a joy to spend time with this cheerful young woman, and I am truly grateful for all she has taught me, not only about Amharic but also about Ethiopian culture. I treasure our friendship.

I find the language and culture connection fascinating. I have dabbled in half a dozen languages in the nine countries in which I have lived. Learning a language can give hints into the culture. And sometimes it’s just fun to notice the differences in how we say things.

1. Ethiopians are expressive. Students (and others) often tell me, “I love you” or “I love you so much”—not a typical expression from student to teacher in my culture.
2. Nothing is a problem in Ethiopia. I hear “Chigir yelem,” or “It’s no problem” every single day. It’s the first Amharic expression that I taught Bob. I think many Ethiopians are more easy-going than I am.
3. Greetings are tricky. When I say “Good morning” or “Hello” to my students in English, they respond with “I am fine.” (I want to say, “But I didn’t even ask you how you were!”) The common greeting in Amharic is more “Are you fine?” than “Good morning.”
4. The other response to a greeting is “Thank God.” It means, “I am fine, thank God.” Ethiopians may more directly express gratefulness to God than we do in our culture.
5. “Ayzosh” (to a female) or "Ayzoh" (to a male) is a common expression of encouragement. It means “Take heart” or “Be strong.” I heard it many times after my mother died, but I hear it in other contexts as well. I use the plural form when my students need a boost in their language learning. I tell them “Ayzuachu!”
6. “What can I help you?” my students ask before or after class. They want to carry my bag or my stack of papers. I usually decline, but the offers are sweet.
7. “I very thank you.” “God is very help me.” My college writing teacher, Omar Eby, taught us to never use the word “very.” (He found it meaningless.) In Ethiopia, the Amharic word for “very”—“bet’am”—can be added to almost any sentence. Sorry, Omar.
8. Ethiopians say “Sure” or “Of course” more than we do in our language. Particularly one student, Samuel, says “Of course” in response to almost every question I ask him. Just for fun, I try to respond to all his questions with the Amharic equivalent—“Ekko!”
9. “T’uro naw”—“It is good” tops the list of oft-used expressions. Is it that Amharic has fewer adjectives, or is it that everything is simply good?
10. Another high-frequency word is “Ishi,” meaning “OK.” I love the sound of that word! It’s the second Amharic word that Bob learned from me. We now say it all the time.

I could go on, but since I’m leaving Ethiopia tomorrow, I’ll wrap this up. I want time to tell everyone “I love you” and “I very thank you.”

Beti gave me this traditional Ethiopian scarf as a going-away gift. 

 

My Daily Bread--Injera and Wat

What a pleasure it has been to live on the campus of Meserete Kristos Seminary and eat my meals with students each day in the dining hall. Another great pleasure has been interacting with the dining hall staff. I met these women my very first day on campus when I knew only a few words of Amharic and was eager to practice. That first day, I learned each of their names, and in the next week or two, a bit about them. I learned to ask, Where were you born? Do you have children? How old is your daughter or son? How many brothers and sisters do you have? (In the photo above are Asnakech, Tigist, Teje, Mulu, Mekdes, Mulu, Tagu, Tadu, Tiruye, and Meseret.)

Tagu, Tiruye, Tadu, and Mulu 

Meserete and Mekdes 

These women work hard! Every day they peel onions and garlic, bring wood from the wood pile and stoke the fire, make stews and injera, serve 200 students three times a day, and wash dishes. Pictured directly above are Askala and Diribe.

Injera is the staple of the day. This spongy pancake is made from the Ethiopian-grown grain called teff (and water). Yeast lives on teff’s surface, so the sourdough naturally ferments in one to three days.

In the “injera bet,” which literally means “injera house,” Asnakech and Tigist make about 200 injeras a day, measuring 22 inches in diameter. They work with four electric griddles for about five hours, using a straw mat to lift the injera off the griddle.

In the “wat bet,” or "stew house," the cooks prepare the stews of the day. Pictured here are Teje, Mulu, Meseret, and Tadu. 

They use yellow split peas, brown lentils, red lentils, and chickpeas roasted and ground into a powder for traditional “shiro wat.” (Above chickpeas dry in the sun outside the dining hall, with the kitchen off to the right.) These stews are rotated throughout the week. Bob knows how much I love legumes and never seem to get enough. Well here in Ethiopia, I have my fill!

The stews are either “red” or “white.” Pictured above is one of each. Red stews are made with the signature Ethiopian spice blend called “barbare,” a mix including chili peppers, ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, and other spices, (depending on family preferences).

Once a week, on Mondays, we have a “red” stew with ox meat, a nice break from the usual fare. It’s served with a “white” potato stew.

Ours is a one-dish meal, eaten with your right hand. Ethiopian children learn at age 3 or 4 to soak the injera with the wat, working it with their fingers, and scoop it up into their mouth. My skills are weak, but I keep trying! I keep eating!

Four times a week we have pasta and eat with a fork (Friday dinner and Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday lunch). Our menu is the same each week. The sauce is made from tomatoes, onions, garlic, and grated carrots. The spaghetti is served with vegies on the side—cooked cabbage, cooked potatoes and beets, or raw tomatoes—the rare raw vegetable we have.

We have water to drink and no dessert—no fruit, no sweets. An Ethiopian American friend of mine says, “How could you have room for dessert after filling up on injera?” She’s right—it is filling. It’s also nutritious. The grain teff has the essential amino acids, so it's a great source of protein, as well as magnesium, potassium, fiber, and iron.

Once or twice a week (and every breakfast), I eat at home—when my tummy needs a break from injera, or I don’t feel like eating with my hand, or I need some alone time. But mostly, mealtimes in the dining hall are a great pleasure! I love the simplicity and the social time.

I also love Tagu, the head cook. She has a special skill in helping me with Amharic, explaining things in a simple way without using any English. She’s been at MKS 21 years, first working in the “wat bet,” then the “injera bet,” and now as head cook. I leave Ethiopia at the end of this week. I will surely miss Tagu and her wonderful team. What a privilege it has been to get to know them and become friends.

Losing My Mother While Living Abroad

 

I knew the day would come someday—the day I would learn that a parent had died. But still, it took me by surprise. My mom--Theodosia Ruth Hartzler Yoder--died on Sunday, November 20 around 10 p.m. in her sleep.

On that day in Ethiopia, I had lunch with two students—Mega and Tsega—who I sometimes eat with on Sundays outside on a stairstep that I call our “secret corner.” We talk about things we don’t necessarily discuss with just anyone. That Sunday—November 20—we were talking about prayer. I told them about my lingering questions to God for some years now: “Why does my mother have to suffer as she has for five years?” “How long will she have to go on living in her condition?” How ironic that my mother left her suffering that very night.

The first week after her death, I remained in Ethiopia for five days (waiting on my passport and new visa). The second week, I was with my family in Ohio. The third week, I was back in Ethiopia. A whirlwind.

Though it’s strange in Ethiopian culture, where there are three days of mourning and wailing at home, I decided to hold classes that first week. In my classes, I shared a slideshow of my mother and told my students about her life, her faith, our relationship, and some of the things I learned from her. Students wept as I spoke. Then they prayed for me and my family. Prayer is an integral part of MKS student life, so it did not surprise me to hear the audible prayers of my students as I sat crying in a chair. I snapped a photo (also strange), thinking “I want to share this with my family.” 

After four classes and four other bereavement rituals (coffee, devotions, and prayer with the faculty, cleaning staff, dining hall staff, and two friends in their home), I felt overwhelmed by love. It was truly a blessing to be comforted by the MKS community. Some of my faculty friends told me it was a blessing for my students also that I invited them to comfort me.

My travel time home was 32 hours, and my travel time back was 39. Not easy, but good for journaling, crying, trying to sleep, and marking student writing (on my way back, that is).

Bob and I met in Detroit after midnight on Saturday evening. Terry and Joanie picked us up on Sunday on their way from PA to OH. My family all met on Sunday in the late afternoon. We were immediately thrust into preparing for the visitation and memorial service—a slideshow, display tables, music, and a tribute among other details. It was wonderful to be all together, remembering Mom.

Less than 24 hours later, Monday afternoon was upon us, where people were shaking our hands and hugging us. Both the visitation and memorial service the next morning were beautiful, sacred moments. What an honor for us children to meet people we didn’t even know who had a connection to Mom and/or Dad and wanted to talk with us. What a surprise that high school classmates showed up and said nice things about Mom. What a joy to welcome out-of-town visitors, to talk with friends from our home congregation, and to have our aunts, uncles, and cousins be present and support us. 

The hardest part? Not having enough time to talk with everyone. The biggest regret? Not taking family photos the day of the funeral—of our immediate family, the grandchildren, and our extended Hartzler and Yoder families.

Terry and I had the privilege of speaking about Mom on behalf of the four of us children, though it wasn’t easy. Thank you, Grandson Austin, for writing a tribute which was read by Grandson Jeremy.

Terry encouraged us to sing at Mom’s funeral even if it would be hard. Mom loved our music, so why not sing for her? Never mind that we didn’t have much time to practice with the sound man or that my mouth was as dry as cotton or that we couldn’t hear Bob’s guitar through the monitor so we sang in a slightly different key than he played. We had agreed beforehand that we were going to sing with Mom in mind. We felt God’s grace and peace so that we could do exactly that. We sang two of Mom's favorites: Lord Jesus, you shall be my song and I wish you Jesus. 

Back in Ethiopia, the most difficult week lay before me. My mind and heart were elsewhere. I missed Mom, Dad, Bob, and my siblings. Had I made the wrong decision to return? I didn’t want to face anyone though people showed up at my door five different times that first day. Another coffee ritual with faculty and staff just made me cry. People's attempts to cheer me up had the opposite effect. I only felt truly comforted by those friends who asked about my mother, who wanted to know more about her. I was longing to talk about Mom, so when people gave me that chance, I healed, even if only a bit.

Saturday morning, I woke up thinking about my mother’s gratitude journal, which she kept from 2012 to 2016. Her first hip surgery (and the beginning of her demise) was in 2015. Until July 2016, before her second and third surgeries, she was still trying to be grateful. I woke up thankful for that, thankful that she is no longer in pain, and thankful that she was my mother, confidant, encourager, and friend throughout my life. I woke up with a heart of gratitude. There will most likely be days of mixed emotions ahead, but I trust that I can keep moving forward, holding the memories of Mom and her love in my heart. (This is the last picture of Mom and me, taken on Mother's Day 2022.)

 

At Home on the MKS Farm

“Moo. Moo.” That’s the sound I wake up to each day. Meserete Kristos Seminary currently has eight cows and two heifers, along with several bulls and oxen. The cows wander around campus while grazing near the guesthouse where I live or on the main green. As they munch on the dirt and dry grass, they are oblivious to the students chatting in their midst.

There’s only one tiny sidewalk on our campus. The other walkways are dirt roads and paths, which turn to mud in the rainy season. Cats abound—20 or 30 of them. Though they’re fed injera scraps from the dining hall each day, they’re sickly and mangy looking. I couldn’t bring myself to photograph them.

From my balcony, I see our clothesline and the greenhouse in the distance.

Students often comment how much they love the green areas of campus, the farmland, and the peacefulness of it all. Most of our students come from farmer families, so they grew up plowing, planting and harvesting crops (mostly grains), and caring for their animals. Students enjoy telling me about their family farms, and I love to listen.

Addisu, the head of agriculture at MKS, gave me a farm tour the other day. 

Addisu majored in horticulture and plant science and has worked here for 10 years. Before that, he worked for years on a big farm run by foreigners. His English is fantastic, and he clearly loves his job!

The MKS cows are raised mostly for their milk. The milk is given to employees of the seminary, namely the agricultural workers and kitchen staff who put in long hours each day and don’t get paid that much. The surplus milk is sold to the public.

Occasionally, a cow is slaughtered, providing beef for the meat stew that is served once a week in the campus dining hall. (The other 20 meals a week are vegetarian.) Onions, carrots, potatoes, and cabbage are grown as food for the campus community.

500 chickens lay 375 eggs a day. Some of the eggs are scrambled twice a week for breakfast. The rest are sold to campus employees and people from Bishoftu, who can be seen walking off carrying their flat of 30 eggs. Eggs are the main income-generating part of the MKS farm. 30 eggs cost around $6.00.

The farm workers that I met on my tour seemed happy to meet me and happy in their jobs too. Ashenafi was watching over the cows as they grazed. With two oxen, Melaku was plowing a field that would become a seed bed. Biri and Aberash were milking cows. Ileni, Meskeram, and Tamenech were harvesting onions. When Addisu introduced me, he often told me the meaning of their names. Melaku means angel, Ileni means “the queen of” Sheba, Meskeram means September (her birth month), and Tamenech means believer.

Near the two dormitories, a group of staff and students were shoveling rocks and branches out of the soil, where a soccer field will be created. 

Haji, the main gardener who takes care of the plants and flowers on campus, is standing in the front of this photo. 

Haji and I greet each other “Good morning” and chat for a few minutes on the days we see each other. Like Addisu, his English is very good, and like Addisu, he loves what he does. I’m surrounded by happy, friendly people here on the farm of Meserete Kristos Seminary.

Mennonites in Ethiopia

“Meserete Kristos Seminary is a good place to study.” Learning about paragraph support, my students recently worked with that topic sentence. In small groups (and excited about the white boards and markers I had brought along), they listed things that make MKS good:

• Good teaching
• Full materials
• Library
• Good dorm
• Good food
• Good Wi-Fi connection
• Biblical focus
• Farmland
• Peaceful

My students seem pleased with the institution they have chosen. While I may think of what the seminary lacks, they think of what it has. (Pictured here is the main building with classrooms and offices.)

2,179 students have now graduated from Meserete Kristos Seminary (28 years after it began). Here’s the history in brief:

• 1994      The seminary began as a Bible institute.
• 1996      Ten graduates received diplomas in the first graduation.
• 1997      The institution became a college.
• 2007      The college moved from a rented space in Addis Abebe to a new campus in Debre Zeit.
• 2020      The college became Meserete Kristos Seminary.

The seminary seeks to train people to serve the church and society. 203 students are currently enrolled, taught by 13 full-time and 4 part-time faculty. Students can choose from four majors:

1. Bible and Theology
2. Mission and Intercultural Studies
3. Peace and Development
4. Leadership and Management

Personal connections for me: MKS is affiliated with Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary in Elkhart, Indiana, where I was born. In the past, MKS was affiliated with Eastern Mennonite Seminary in Harrisonburg, Virginia, where I worked at EMU for nine years. When I was a student at EMU (then EMC), I made friends for the first time with international students who came from Ethiopia.

Mennonites have an amazing story of church growth in Ethiopia. The first 10 Ethiopians were baptized by Mennonite missionaries in 1951, marking the beginning of the Meserete Kristos Church (meaning Christ is the Foundation). 

After a military coup in 1974 and the subsequent communist regime, the church was forced underground. Ethiopian Mennonites began to worship in secret, just as our Anabaptist ancestors did in Europe in the 16th century. 

From 1982 to 1992, during the time of underground worship, church membership grew drastically from 5,000 to 34,000. Today, Ethiopia has one of the largest Mennonite memberships in the world (300,000).

Mennonite World Conference membership numbers as of 2018:

• United States—500,000
• Ethiopia—310,000
• India—257,000
• Congo—225,000
• Canada—149,000
• Mexico—110,000
• Indonesia—102,000

A seminary like Meserete Kristos can hardly keep up with the needs of the Mennonite church here, which continues to grow rapidly. 

I recently had the pleasure of spending a day with the Mennonite Central Committee country representatives Paul and Rebecca Mosley and some of MCC’s local staff. It was great to make personal connections and learn a bit about MCC’s work in Ethiopia.

Here at Meserete Kristos Seminary, I am not the lone Mennonite volunteer. Werner and Joanne De Jong are at MKS for three years under Mennonite Church Canada. It is great to be able to talk together about the joys and challenges of living in another country.

For a good overview of where I work and live, here’s a 12-minute video in which a former Mennonite volunteer describes his experience.  Video on MK Seminary

To hear three Ethiopians talking about the persecution and growth of the Mennonite church, this is an excellent 10-minute video. Video on MK Church