Stories from the field

In 2011, Rachel was patiently awaiting the arrival of her new niece. Her brother and his wife had adopted a beautiful daughter from Ethiopia. That was when Rachel — filled with all sorts of excitement — decided to make a cookbook. It was a taste of home gathered from African shores. 

The view from the narrow dirt road was breathtaking. The whisper of a breeze through the trees and the deep red earth — it was a symphony of sound and color. I was struck by the disunion; the majesty — even perfection — of creation in front of me, and the suffering that plagues this land.

She spoke somewhat reluctantly, this jewel of a woman. Weathered and straight-backed, she carried herself with a certain elegance, in the middle of this drought-ridden African land. The deep lines on her face spoke of laughter, of depth, of hope and humility. It was all there, as she graciously endured our obtrusive microphone and began to talk about someone she would rather have not: herself.

Sometimes the best memories are introductions. They take place in tiny, unassuming places. For Wilhelmina, that place was a little mud house. Inside, she spotted a small, frail figure lying on a bed. It was dark, but obvious there was no other furniture in the room. Hesitant, and curious, Will greeted the woman in Creole. The response was immediate and exuberant. It almost took her off guard.