Fighting Poverty

Tigist Challa is a 15 years old and lives in Awasa, which is the capital city of one of the Southern Nations, Nationalities and People Regional State (SNNPRS). She attends high school and lives with her mother.

29.4 million people in Ethiopia live in absolute poverty, among which 13.2 million are children under 14. In households that live in absolute poverty, there is only £30 or less to spend on each person a month. Half of all children live in houses that are made from wood or mud and have only one room that is shared by the whole family. This type of house is unlikely to be have a toilet or running water. For toilets, people may hire someone like the child's father in Tigist's story to dig a deep pit toilet for them.

('Birr' is the name of the national currency in Ethiopia.)

I used to wonder why people got sick or die. I would always ask myself, “What is death?” but I never knew the answer.

I'd see my father carrying a spade and hoe but I never knew why he carried these things around. One evening, my father came home disappointed. He was talking to himself, saying, “I don’t work for them any more! I don’t care if they don’t pay me for the work I did for them!” I always feel sorry for him whenever I hear him talking like that.

Later on he sat on the edge of his bed, and asked me to sit beside him. He started to smile and looked at me with affection. “Hasn’t your mother come home yet?” he asked.

“She did come, but that fat woman who hired her for the kitchen job came to take her away to do some extra work” I answered.

“Oh God! Why did she take away to do extra work? Why doesn’t she do it herself? They hired her to work in the kitchen, not to do extra things! This is bad!” After a moment of contemplation, he looked up at the roof and added, “OK my Lord, let your will be done.”

As we were sitting there, somebody knocked at the door, which is made out of a corrugated iron sheet. “Go and get the door” my father instructed. When I opened the door, it was my mother.

“Good evening” she said, walking tiredly into the room.

“Good evening. And how was your day?” asked my father, standing up to go.

“Where are you going father?” I asked him.

“I will be back soon, my son,” and turning to my mother, he said “Give him his supper”

My mother threw her old towel on the bed and put the plastic bag she was holding on a broken, old table. Then she took out some leftover food from the bag and put it on a plate and said in a low, weak voice, “Wash your hands and eat.” I hesitated. Puzzled with my reaction, she asked if anything was wrong with me and started to cuddle my head with her cold hands.

“Where are you bringing this leftover food from? And where is my father going, with his digging materials? I asked her repeatedly. I'd been thinking about this for a long time but hadn't said anything.

Still puzzled but serious, she said, “Why do you care? Why don’t you just keep quiet and eat?”

I decided to tell her what had happened at school, “My classmate Biruk insulted me saying ‘Your family is poor, your mother is a kitchen maid working in somebody else's house. That is where she brings you leftover food from. Your father earns money by digging dry latrines and things like that.’ Other students in the school also insult me, because of what Biruk told them about our family being poor. But Mama, what is 'being poor'?” I looked at her. She was crying silently, her tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying Mama? I asked her.

“Why shouldn’t I cry son? Poverty is whipping me mercilessly”. She added, with more tears, "Destitution is consuming me like fire. Until now, your father and I have worked hard to provide you with food and clothing, and to pay your school fees, but now the responsibilities are becoming unbearable. Your sister Mantegbosh who was as bright as you are, died early. Our poverty was responsible for her death. Oh my God, what can I say? Let your wish be done”

My father and mother always look to the ceiling and say “Let your wish be done.” Why is that?

Mama keeps saying to me “Grow to be a strong man.” But how can I be a strong man?

My mother washed her face. Then she handed me some water in an old plastic jug and told me to wash my hands.” After washing my face and hands, I ate all the leftover food that she'd brought.

“Are you full? She asked, picking up the empty plate.

Although I wasn't, I said “yes.” What could she do if I had said “No”? I felt so sorry for my mother.

“Wash your feet and go to sleep” she said and went to make the bed. As she was moving to the bed, someone knocked at our door.

“Who is it? Come in!” said my mother glancing at the door. It was my classmate, Biruk. Holding the door wide open, he said to my mother, “My mother wants you to come to our house and have coffee. Where is your husband?”

I did not like Biruk. Though I did not know what it meant, he always called me “poor” and I knew it was a bad thing.

“OK I will come! My husband has just gone out,” said my mother to Biruk and started making the bed. She finished quickly, because Biruk was still waiting for her.

“Go to bed, I will be back soon after having a cup of coffee,” she said as she went out with Biruk. I watched them until they disappeared out of sight and I went to bed.

As soon as I got into bed and closed my eyes, the bed bugs began to attack me. They crawled all over my body; biting my legs and my back. I scratched my body as fast as I could, but it didn't help. When it got even worse, I got out of the bed, stood on the floor and gazed at the wall. In the cracks and holes of the muddy wall, I saw thousands of bugs. They were waiting in file like soldiers ready for action. I tried to kill them, pressing them between my fingers, but when I killed some, more just fell onto the bed. It was a waste of time.

I saw my fingers: they were covered with blood. I brought them close to my nose, they smelt awful. I couldn't put up a fight against the bugs anymore. Even watching them made me tired. Finally, I fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my itchy, bitten body was ash white as though I'd slept in powder. I got off the bed and went out, rubbing my eyes. Nobody was around. As I sat down on a stone just outside our door, I saw my mother and father coming towards me. They were talking to each other, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“Are you awake?” my father asked looking at me.

As they were entering the house, I heard my mother say to my father, “Don’t be angry! Let it go! You will get what God gives you”

My father sounded desperate, “What makes me angry is that after they agreed to pay me thirty Birr for digging a square meter, they paid me only thirty birr for digging three square meters.”

That same afternoon, a man called my father to dig a latrine for him. After kissing me on my cheek, my father went to the man's house.

In the evening, my father didn't come back with his digging materials like he normally does; he was very late. My mother and I were very worried, especially my mother. Then we found out that what she had feared had happened. At about 8 o'clock in the morning, we heard the terrible news that started the darkest period of our family's life; my father had died in a car accident!

I can’t fully recall what happened that day. After the death of my father, my mother’s health deteriorated and she died a year later.

I hated my life after my parents’ death. I understood how ugly poverty and death are. I almost went mad. As days passed, however, I gained strength and composed myself. My classmate, Biruk, who used to insult me, changed his attitude and was more sympathetic to my problems. His parents, who knew all about my parents' tragic deaths, invited me to live with them.

One day I said to Biruk “I never want to be a burden to your parents. Let me go to school in the mornings and do some work in the afternoons. I may be able to buy my own exercise book at least.”

“No” Biruk said, “You are only a small boy. You can’t go to work.” We argued for a long time and finally, Biruk said, “Ok then, if you insist on your plan, I have an idea for you.”

“What?” I asked.

“Be a shoe polisher”

I accepted the idea delightedly. Biruk told his parents about my idea. They agreed and bought me the materials that a shoe polisher needed. I started the job as planned. Gradually, I earned enough money to buy exercise books, pencils, and reading books. Sometimes, I even bought books for Biruk. Later on, I managed to buy my own shoes and clothes.

I have decided to continue studying and working in this way. I would have been a much happier person had my parents been alive. They too would have been happy had they seen how grown up and brave I am. I am determined to get an education for myself and fight the poverty that made my parents miserable and eventually killed them.