In the middle of October, a couple of weeks after our arrival in Africa, I flew to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, together with my colleague Nancy who volunteers for the Canadian Harambee Education Society which give scholarships to girls in Kenya. In Addis we joined a group of Rotarians from the US and Canada, all of whom wished to participate in the Rotary Polio
elimination campaign.

As you may know, polio is almost vanquished, thanks to the immunizations carried out over a number of years by WHO and Rotary International. Both Ethiopia and Kenya have been polio free for three years, but have to remain so for four years for polio to be declared eradicated in the country. However, in Nigeria the immunization program was stopped because people
believed a rumor that the vaccine contained agents that would sterilize a Muslim population. Unfortunately wild strains have just popped up along the Ethiopian and Kenyan borders with Somalia, brought in by refugees. The strains originate in Nigeria. So both Kenya and Ethiopia must start again.

In Addis we were hosted for a week by local Rotary clubs who organized a full program for us. We were received at the US Embassy (no pictures because of security) with popcorn, cookies and tea; at the Canadian Embassy (rather like having a fireside chat with a favorite uncle) with wine, tea, coffee and finger foods; and the French Embassy with a magnificent dinner and
plentiful wines. One of the local clubs is French speaking and the ambassador is a Rotarian, so this counted as a meeting.

Ethiopia was never colonized and the language (Amharic) is written in a script with certain symbols that look like Hebrew, others Greek. There are no written vowels and the presence of each vowel is indicated by a stroke at varying angles on the consonant. The history goes back some four thousand years and it is the site of some of the very earliest Christian churches. We
had a chance to visit the museum in Addis and saw Lucy, who has of course now been deposed as the oldest humanoid by the recent discovery of even older bones.

Addis is the site of a fistula hospital started over forty years ago by a husband and wife team of gynaecologists. ( There is a book: The hospital by the River.) Fistula disappeared from the western world in about 1912, but is still evident in countries with poor infrastructure for health and prenatal care in rural areas. Some estimates indicate there are 100,000 women in
Ethiopia suffering from this, many in India and some in the remoter northern areas of Kenya. Fistula happens when birth is delayed because of the size of the baby, because the mother is too young, too small due to immaturity and malnourishment, or the child presents in a way whereby the head, or other bony part, presses against the walls of the birth canal. Labor in these cases can last a week or more. The baby usually dies, but so does the section of flesh inside the mother where there has been unrelieved pressure for so long. When the fetus dies, its blood pressure drops, allowing it to be born, but the mother is left with a hole between the bowel and the bladder.

These women are left incontinent, continually leaking urine and sometimes feces. They are rejected by their husbands and by others of their family because of the smell of their bodies and clothes. Sometimes they spend years in a small hut, crouched to one side to try to manage the continuous flow. Their skin of their legs is burned and scarred.

The two doctors who began to treat this condition had first to research the techniques used over a hundred years ago in the West. They began to operate largely unknown until Oprah featured the hospital on her show. They treat about 1200 women a year, although no one is turned away. However, depending on the severity of the case, a woman might have to wait two years for her operation.

This is the cue to introduce the Trampled Rose. This is a small unit which houses about thirty women waiting for a fistula operation. It is run by an American woman, Becky, who receives donations to keep it going. Donated panty hose with the legs cut off and gauze keep the women dry and clean. While waiting they take literacy and trade classes and Becky is proud that
98% leave being able to read and write. The women range in age from teenagers to gray haired women who have lived with this infliction for decades.

What was most moving was the way they all waited for an outstretched hand and a invitation to come closer. Hugs and kisses were showered on all the visitors as soon as the first overture was made. They were all starved for human contact. One woman said: "My own mother rejected me, but you accept me. I love you."

Many of the women return to their villages, but some are so seriously damaged they must stay in Addis. There is work for them in the hospital, making bed linens, smocks, or in food preparation. One woman had her operation over thirty years ago, has a grade four education, but has been trained not only to assist but to perform the simpler operations herself.
The hospital ward with women recovering from surgery must hold over fifty beds. I was interested to see that one woman was nursing a small baby, who obviously survived its own ordeal.

Another trip was to the Cheshire Home for child victims of polio. It is a beautiful campus with sparkling clean dormitories, each bed bearing a cute stuffed animal. The children come to have feet and legs straightened and spend up to six months in the facility. It was lovely to see the kids out in

the 'adventure' playground, hardly slowed down at all by crutches and wheelchairs. The facility has a workshop where they make boots and leg braces.

One day we went to a school where girls living on the street are trained in sewing, food services and weaving. Two such girls served us at the French Embassy and the Canadian Embassy as part of their 'attachment' (practical experience). Both wives of the ambassadors made a point of telling us how intelligent and willing the girls were and how they would hate to lose them.

The girls were certainly lovely in their traditional long white pleated skirts made of fine cotton, with a red border. Their bodice was ruched with red, tight fitting with short sleeves. Their hair was braided and swept up. With their happy faces and broad smiles they made us feel very welcome.

We made a longer trip out into the Rift valley where a Rotary water project was to be handed over. Water from high up in the ridge of the Rift had been captured and piped down to a village about halfway to the valley floor. This was only the first of a multi million dollar project for some thirty seven sites.

The road down to the village from the plateau raised a few moments of anxiety since the bus was stuck on a sharp turn with a sheer drop on one side. The villagers were waiting when at last we appeared and sang a hymn of thanksgiving that God had brought us safely. Amen to that! This village had a Coptic church built in two concentric circles with all sides of the inner
wall richly decorated with Biblical murals. The congregation stays in the circular walkway by the murals and only the priest enters the central section.

Across the street from the church was a collection of tiny thatched huts which formed a monastery for priests in training. A gentleman urged us to go in, not to see the huts as we supposed, but to proudly show us his vegetable garden, irrigated by the water now flowing in the village. To one side of the open area which obviously served as a village gathering place, four taps were available in a concrete slab with run off being channeled to a large
cattle trough and a stone laundry slab.

We did manage to squeeze in a few hours shopping. The silver and gold jewelry is exquisite and we loaded up on silk shawls in shimmering jewel colors as well as the larger hand woven wraps. (And a little jewelry)

There were also visits to donate books to elementary schools as well as to Rotary Village, a low cost housing estate, in Addis.

Towards the end of the week we set off for the polio vaccination, one group going north and the other south. We traveled nearly all day (the rural roads are no better than in Kenya) to reach a town called Nazareth where there was a hotel that would at least be acceptable to North Americans, (the spoiled brats). The next day it was another 2-21/2 hours to the site.

I have to confess that for most this was a disappointment. There we were, equipped with our yellow Rotary pinnies and our yellow baseball caps, only to find that the government had decided this would not be a major immunization for all young children, but that it was for under 12 months only. Many of the mothers and babies had already passed through the clinic
when we arrived, and we had just a handful more who had not had the polio drops.

The good news was that all those children had been immunized and were safe. After all, it was not about us, but about making sure the children were protected.

Most of our group continued on to safari in Kenya or Uganda, or to another project in S Africa. We returned to Kenya and back to work.