ForsbergLetters

LETTERS FROM ETHIOPIA by Malcolm and Enid Forsberg,
[[collected by Marian Kraft (my mother, Enid Forsberg's cousin0) for possible publication -- most of the remaining letters are included in the "ethiopia.htm" file on this same web page]]

Some letters are quoted in newspaper reports, as noted here: Waterbury CT Sunday Republican 12/01/1935 "On the Fringe of the War" Evening Democrat, Saturday, 31 August 1935, p. 4, "Ethiopia -- Land of Strange Faiths, Diseases, Courage, Superstition" Minneapolis MN [? 07/1935 ?] "Wauwatosa Missionary Knows Ethiopia Peril"

"I wish somebody could set the world straight on this country, for it to certain that a lot of imagination is floating around, these days." -- Malcolm I. Forsberg.

So this to trekking in Ethiopia!!! It's a lots of fun, and lots of work, and lots of worry, but most of all, lots to laugh at. I've been chuckling ever since we left the Sudan interior Mission Headquarters in Addis Ababa. But this is not the place to start the narration

We planned to send our negadis, men who handle baggage and freight, off on Friday, so that we could leave the next day, and spend the week-end at the Hawash River. But no one ever leaves at a planned time when Negadis are in the picture. Tomorrow always means next week. So they didn't go on Friday. The next best thing was to send them on Monday, so that we could go on Tuesday. They actually left on Mondayl Since there are three of us travelling, we have twelve mules. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson are going to Gofa, so we go together as far as Soddu, in Walamo province. Besides the twelve mules. we have six head carriers and three boys to do the work. That is our party, but I mustn't forget the three horses, and mention in particular my 'Brummy' who steps right out and makes [[2]] time. But he is so peppy that he is a nuisance in camp. He is always heading off in some direction, or kicking at his chain when he is pegged out. But in spite of all his faults, I like him a lot.

Tuesday morming, Mr. Horn piled us in his, or rather Dr. Lambie's, car and drove us out several miles. I had gotten up before five to get the horses saddled and the boys started with them. We met them at Alam Gunna. Enid rode out with us in the car, so we had our goodbyes there. Then began the long ride. The road was good, in spots, as Negadi trails go. In some places the rock was worn almost two feet deep by the incessant beating of horses' and Mules' hooves. The morning ride was cool and pleasant, aside from the first rumors of a stiff neck and a sore back. About eleven o'clock we stopped for a lunch of sandwiches and lukewarm water. The afternoon hours were warmer, and the stick I had to rub on my lips to keep them from chapping was melted to a grease spot.

We were a bit long on the way, but got to the Hawash river camp about 2:30. Our tents were set up and. looked inviting. The horses drank deeply of the river water, and I was tempted to do the same, but didn't. After we got the boys started on the supper, we started out to look for ducks, and saw lots of them, some big ones, but Mr. Anderson’s "22" wasn't quite the thing for them. Finally, after many shots, he got one on the opposite side of the river. Two men there took off their clothes and swam across and returned the beast. It is in the stew pan, now. It was only a very small duck, but will give us a taste, and add flavor to the potatoes and carrots. We were very late in gettitig supper over, but managed to get to bed by nine. Groups of natives were singing, here and there. Some of the music was pretty, some atrocious. The hyenas contributed [[3]] their part to the concert, and to complete the symphony I could hear the horses chewing their hay every time I awoke.

This morning, we got up at 5:30, and it was freezing cold. It was a real effort to get out of a warm (?) bed under such conditions. But a little activity in getting things packed, and a warm potato eaten in the hand changed the temperature considerably. We dropped the tents, and the boys got things packed up, and we left at seven, ahead of the Negadis. The country, for the most part, was fairly level, at times broken by seams of limestone, through which deep ruts had been worn by much travel. At one place we had to get off the horses, because there wasn't room for our feet in the ruts. There were many brightly colored birds flying around, and the pigeons were cooing incessantly. unfortunately, we saw no game, not even a guinea.hen. We thought to go to Bienthrash, about a half-hour from here, but because of the dearth of water there, we stopped here near the river. Tomorrow we will go as far as Amosgabaya. Those who know this road will realize that we are traveling short days, but this is our first trip..... enough! We’re learning a lot of things. This afternoon I repacked my boxes so that I'll only have to open one, each day. It takes a lot of time just to keep alive. Some day I'll make the trip in respectable time.

We have arrived at our first rest stop, and are enjoying it. But then, the trip so far has been very good. Again we got a late start from the little Lehman river, and plugged along all day. [[4]] The carriers were having ‘chick-a-chick’ all day, and one fellow lost a bucket and paid the Negadis one besa to carry about five pounds of potatoes. We got to Amosgabaya about two o'clock and waited for the Negadis to come. Our saddles were of, and some of the carrier loads were in, and the carriers had left. When the Negadis finally came, about four o'clock, they didn't want to camp there, so we had to give the loads to our own boys and resaddle the horses and ride on for about half an hour. We camped by a nice river and had good water, but it was too late in the day to really enjoy the camp. We got the tents up, and supper cooked, and ate in the dark. Amosgabaya was an interesting place. In English the name of the place is Thursday Market. And that is exactly what it is. The rest of the week it is just a piece of ground along the road. When we got there, there were lots of people in the market, and the smell of pepper was over the whole country-side.

To the natives, the country between the Hawash River and here, is Shifta (bandit) country. And, indeed, for a long time it wasn't safe for natives to go through here. More than once, our mail has been stolen, and several carrier loads also have been taken. Some time ago they had a shooting affray, and two Shiftas were killed. To show the people the dangers of being a Shifta, the two bodies were hung from trees along the road. It was a gruesome sight to see the bodies thus suspended between heaven and earth. Now, if these bandits had been caught alive, they could have gotten some money together with which to bribe the officials, and they would have gone free. But when they get killed in the scuffle, they haven't any chance to pay out. The night before we got here, four Shiftas stole eleven [[5]] cows from a man near here. The next day four of the thieves were caught. Three of them were able to pay up and were released, (not legally, of course, but through bribes) but one poor fellow was kept in the house of the man who captured him. Finally he confessed to several crimes, and said he had stolen money from Dr. Lambie along the road. Incidentally, about sixty camels were camped near here that same night, and two boxes were stolen from the caravan. Strange enough, Anderson's and my goods were in that same caravan. One box was returned, but the other is still missing, This Shifta said he had stolen the boxes. The Arab in charge of the camels described the boxes and was sure one was ours. However, there is the possibility that he is saying that to give strength to his court case, as by connecting Dr. Lambie’s name to the affair, he can make it loom very large. Dr. Lamble is a very big man in this country. So the boxes may not have been ours at all.

Well, yesterday was the day on which we were due to arrive here at Marako. I wanted to give the Bartons a little warning of our coming, and I wanted to try an early atart, for once, and I wanted to see how fast I could go. So I got up at 3:20, ate some breakfast, and packed my stuff, and at 4:30 I was off in the dark, a boy going ahead with a lantern, and a carrier behind. The latter went along because he was the only available one who knew the road. The going was pretty rough in the dark, and I had to ford a stream three times. But about 5:30 the first touches of a new day appeared, and the lantern became unnecessary [[6]] The sunrise was a glorious birth of a new day. It was cool and comfortable, the best time of the day for travel. At 7:20 I reached the Marako valley. Scattering up the hill in a hurry, were about thirty or forty baboons. A man was chasing them from his field. The place was very beautiful, and what a sight was presented far below, in another valley.... the big camp of camels, not yet started for the day! At eight o'clock, three and a half hours from the time I started, I came into the Marako compound of the Sudan Interior Mission and was greeted by Mr. Barton. He and Mrs. Barton had been conducting school for their Christians since daybreak, so I was just in time for breakfast.

The Andersons left Amosgabaya at six, and got in at 11:30, and the Negadis got in about an hour later. We had dinner with the Bartons, and pitched the tents in the afternoon. There was plenty to do in the afternoon, getting things organized. We had supper with the Bartons, and chatted in the evening, There was much talking about Shiftas, and trouble and some shooting, but apparently no casualties. The Arab camel driver stayed here, because he was afraid to sleep in a native hut. This morning, they escorted the thief to the judge, about two hours from here, and probably by now are doing some wonderful orating. We'll be here over Sunday, and Monday will leave for Duromie, Kambatta Province.

---[letter #3 (full text in the main file , after #2)]
Saturday, March 24, 1934
Urbaruque

Things have been running in true Ethiopian style this week, in that our plans have not worked out particularly well. [[7]] instead of being in Duromie today, we have three days to go, but are camped here for the weekend. We had a good time at Marako on Sunday, attending the native services and seeing how they do things there. The first service was Sunday School, which I did not attend. But at 9:30 there was a prayer meeting for the native Christian boys. No bell is rung for this service, and nobody is invited, the idea being to let those come who are interested enough in prayer. The brother of our Negadi has been an outstanding Christian, and Mr. Barton has encouraged his to read the Bible for messages that he and his people need. On his 1ast trip to Addis, the Lord spoke to him concerning Romans 15:6,7. Apparently the Marako Christians had not been at one in their testimony so he asked to be permitted to speak to the Christians on this subject. He spoke at the prayer meeting, and very clearly told them the need, and mentioned names where that was necessary. It was a great blessing to us. But I’ll write more about the work at Marako in a separate letter.

Saturday night, as we were eating supper outside, the first of the ”little rains” began. These rains supposedly come in January or February, and last about ten days. I don’t know what is “little” about them, unless it is the duration. We scurried around to get our stuff under cover, and, not being able to do much then, we went, to bed. The next night it rained again. Monday morning we got up ready to leave. But since that was the home town of the Negadis, they were in no hurry. One of our carriers had deserted, so we had to got another, and they were scarce. The deserter was a slave [[8]] who had wandered away and had been eaught and taken back. At the last minute, a second carrier failed to show up, so the head Negadi managed to got two now ones. A third carrier waited until we were all ready to go, before he refused to pick up his load, saying that he wanted more money. After about half an hour of fuming and fussing, (they call it "chick-a-chick” -- very expressive) he picked up his load and went on. He has been sweet as a daisy ever since. They never remember those things, apparently. We had gone only about an hour when a fellow came running up behind us and stopped one of the now carriers. This time the story was that the carrier owed the stranger 100 dollars, and of course he wouldn’t let him go far with that hanging over. So when the Nogadis came along, they picked up his load without a word, and we went on. I had sharp words with the interferer, and wouldn't say good-bye to him, so he followed along, bowing graciously, pleading with me not to leave him without saying good-bye. I didn't feel led to speak to him further.

We finally camped Monday afternoon, at Afineguschafne. There, as everywhere since, we had to use slightly thickened water. When it rains, the erosion is so terrific that all the streams become dark brown. We put alum in the water to settle it, and it works wonders, but usually tastes alum. It rained again that night, so that in the morning we got a late start. Fact was, that it started to rain hardest after we had started packing, and the Negadis don’t like to load wet tents, as they are some extra heavy that way. Late in the morning, as we were on our way, the [[9]] boys started taking us up a steep hill for apparently no reason. But when we got to the top and looked down the other side, we saw the reason....a beautiful crater lake. It appeared to be small, but when we tried to throw stones into the water, we couldn’t touch it. There were ducks and geese on the water, but they looked like sparrows. The boys protested our throwing stones into the water, as it was “God’s water".

I kept getting unreasonably tired, all day, and about every half hour stretched out on the grass to rest my back. When we got to camp, I was all in. We camped at Arattabur (four roads). I went to bed right awav, without eating anything, and was kept going all night, quite sick. We couldn’t go on next day, nor the next, but on that second day I began to feel better, and got up, and ate. Ths day before, Mr. Anderson had sent a boy back to Marako for medicine, and he got back the next day. The pills settled my stomach. Friday morning I felt well and strong again, so we set out for a short day’s trek as far as Warabe. I forgot to say that Tuesday, Mr. Anderson shot a big goose, which I didn't taste, and yesterday we had roast guinea fowl.

Today we trekked another short day to Urbaruque, where we arrived about 11:30. We will stay here over Sunday. When we pitched our tents here, we little suspected what we were in for. About two o’clock some 50 natives had congregated and set to work staring at the ‘frangis’. Soon the crowd was increased to well over 1OO. Then we discovered that the Negadis had camped us almost in the middle of a huge market which convenes on Saturday. Being so close to the market was, of course, a great pleasure to them. We were, and are, a great attraction to the [[10]] people. They keep coming by the hundreds. Right hard by, there are other hundreds doing their weekly business. The odor that arises from so many Africans is tremendous. It is almost unbearable. They have many strong condiments, pepper by the ton, and sour bread, and other odiferous edibles – edible to them, at least. In keeping the crowd away from the tents, the boys have come little short of war, but being fond of all this, they prosecute their business diligently. Finally I suggested to the head Negadi that they take up a collection for the priviledge of viewing the white freaks. He proceeded to ask each for a besa, and they moved away like a crowd at a street meeting in Podunk, U.S.A.

We have just finished another meal of potatoes and guinea hen. Would any of you folks like some, or some duck, or goose? You can have all we shoot, and we’ll give you a dime for taking it away. A nice, cool strawberry milkshake would make me go to bed without crying tonight. Now Mr. Anderson and I are going to wander around the market to see if we can find some limes, or native peas, or beans.

Darkness finally came, and the crowd dispersed, to leave the place to us, alone. Which brings this account up to the present. Perhaps the addition of a little detail here, wouldn’t hurt anybody. When we get into camp, we usually have to wait a little while for our mules to get in. Our horse boy is with us, and he takes off the saddles and bridles, and hobbles my horse and lets all three loose to feed on the meagre supply of grass. When the caravan arrives, the [[11]] carriers and personal boys get at the tents, and usually have them up in half an hour. During all this, we have to supervise, and dash around to see that things are not done hind side before, and up side down. When the tents are up, two of the carriers go for water, and the others hunt for wood, if there is none, we have to buy it. The horse boy goes out to try to buy barley and hay. At times, women bring the stuff, and offer it for sale at the camp. The cook and one of the boys set to work making a fire, and pooling vegetables. For a stove, they get three rocks on which they plaoe a round, concave piece of tin. When the fire is started, they put long pieces of wood in from each opening between the rocks, and as the wood burns, they push it in farther. Really those people can be delightfully bright, or abysmally dumb.

We try to eat about four o'clock, so that all the work will be done before it gets dark. Also, the lunch for the next day is Packed, and a breakfast arranged, so that we can eat in a hurry, and got off in the morning. We don't leave anything until the morning, either. About six o'clock, as it is getting dark, the boy gets the horses ready for the night. We have an iron peg to which are attached three chains. The peg to driven into the ground, and one leg of each horse is padlocked to a chain. A thief could pull the peg up, and lead the horses away, but it to harder to lead three horses than one.

During these rainy days, the Negadis have been piling all the boxes into my tent to keep the goods from getting wet. So I have half a tent. in the morning the big job is to [[12]] get through with all our stuff so soon as possible, so that the boxes can be loaded on to the mules. The carriers pull the tens down and fold them up, and we wait around until most of the mules are loaded. Then we leave. About ten o’clock we stop for lunch. Saturday, the Andersons brought their little gas stove along, and had the materlai for pancakes all prepared, so that when we stopped for lunch, our cook made pancakes. They tasted mighty good! They have to take the place of bread, now, because we have been on the road longer than we planned, and are out.

I've been the traveling doctor for this outfit, ever since the first day. My kit consists of one tiny bottle of murourochrome, some cotton, and a bit of adhesive tape. Usually, in the course of a day's travel, the boys manage to get their feet cut, more or less. So I get out my kit, and they gther around, and I administer the potent cure-all. If one has a real bad cut, I wrup it up. Usually the cuts are old, and the result of dry cracking of the skin. Some have cracks all over their feet and legs. It's pitiful, sometimes, to see them. I don't think I’ve seen a good pair of feet yet. But as long an they go around in their bare feet, medicine will do them little good.

I could have used some eye medicine here, yesterday and today. A great many natives have swollen eyes, caused by road dust, and flies. A little silver nitrate does wonders for them. Today, a man brought a little girl in. I shuddered to look at her eyes. One eye ball was protruding way out, and there was very little pigment in it. I told them where they might get help from one of our doctors or nurses, but the nearest one is two days away. I don't suppose they will take the trip. [[13]] Yesterday, when the big crowd was here, we were thinkling what a big opportunity it would be to preach to them. But not being able to speak their language yet, we were helpless. We have travelled for days, between stations, and have seen many people who never come in contact with a Christian. Unless the native Christians evangelize their own people, the country will not be won to Christ. For it is certain that no organization could ever send enough missionaries to a land to convert that land. The native Christians must finish what the missionaries begin.

---[letter #4 (see also the main file , slightly after #3)]
Shamma, Gamo Province,
April 5, 1934.

I have arrived, after three weeks on a horse. This country is beautiful. This is home. But more of that later. I 1eft you all at Urbarque, I also left the Andersons there. You see, we have a station at Lambuda, near Hosseina, and the station is a two day trek from the main road. I wanted to see all the stations I could, so decided to hop over the hill to Lambuda. I left camp at five-thirty, with a boy who didn't know the road any more than I did. After a half-hour’s ride across the plain, we started up. it was some climb, up the rocky facs of a sheer cliff. I had to get off the horse so that he could get up through the last narrow defile. When pack mules go that way, they have to be unloaded and the loads carried up the cliff. We went up hill and down dale for eight hours, before we arrived at the station. It was good to see my old New Zealand friend of Addis Ababa days, Thomas Simpson, come out of the gate. The natives had [[14]] cried out "Frangi”, which meant a foreigner was coming. I stayed with the batchelors Simpson, Norman Couser, and veteran Clarence Duff. We had supper witn Mr. and Mrs. Annan, and Zillah Walsh, that first evening.

Tuesday, while I was at Lambuda, I read most of the story of Adoniram Judson <“>Splendor of God. The book, written by Honore Wilsie Morrow, is very good. It gave me more than one idea concerning missionary work.

We wanted to get an early start on Wednesday for Duromie, as it takes about six hours, if one gallops at every opportunity. Clarence Duff had to go to Duromie to see about fixing up a house for Miss Walsh, who is going down there to be the nurse. But it rained that night, and the road was slippery, so we didn’t leave until after eight. We stopped along the way to visit some natives, friends of Mr. Duff, and we got into Duromie about four o’clock.

The Andersons had arrived at noon. They had to leave the next day, but I stayed with Mr. Duff in his tukul. My stuff went with the mules when the Andersons left. Friday was the day of prayer, as is the last Friday of every month. We spent the time together, Mr. Duff and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips and I. Saturday morning I climbed on my horse again, and set out to do in one day what is usually two days’ trek to Soddu. I left Duromie just before seven. I trotted practically all the way. If you have ever ridden very much, you’ll know how it was, to keep up that posting motion for over five hours. About twenty minutes before I got to the station, Mr. Street came out to meet me. He had an extra horse [[15]] for me, so I rode him while Mr. Street’s boy walked in with my Brummy. So, from Monday to Saturday, I trekked six days in three.

After eating, we had a peculiar job to do. Dejazmatch Abeba, formerly of this province, had sent 10,000 thalers, all in silver, and slightly larger than the American dollar, to Soddu in care of the mission. That week the Dejazmatch had sent one of his men to Soddu to get the money, and take it to Addis. So Saturday afternoon, three of us counted out all that money. There were twenty bags containing 500 thalers each. After this job, we had to got my stuff packed for a new set of Negadis. My stuff that came down by camel had to be made up into mule loads. A big box that I had, had to be lightened, so that two carriers could take it between them.

In the midst of the packing job, it began to get very cloudy. All at once, and without a moment of warning, a terrific wind came up, ripping tin off the roofs and tearing the thatch to pieces. It lasted only about two minutes, but was followed by a hail storm such as I have never seen before. It felt as if we were getting shot. It oontinued to hail until the ground was white. In places, the stuff was several inches deep. Dr. and Mrs. Roberts got a tin bathtub full of hail, and set their churn into in, and made two batches of ice cream. I was staying with the Streets, and in the front room they had to set the furniture in spots that weren’t getting wet. It all passed over soon, and the evening was very pleasant.

Sunday morning, I attended the native service, and heard one Desta, a particularly fine Christian, speak to about[[16]] eighty people assembled. The church building in made of mud brick, and has a thatched roof. A thin eosting of hay covers the ground. The people come in, and are seated with their legs crossed. Some six or eight fairly "big" men come to the service, and their mules occupy the back section of the church, but cause no trouble. The missionaries sit in front on boxes or stools. Here at Walamo, nine were baptized last year, and the work is progressing. In the evening, the missionaries took communion with the native believers. It was a glorious service, to see those black ones, called out of darkness, and now breaking the bread and drinking the cup in remembrance of the Lord's death “’til He come.”

The trek from Soddu to Gamo usually takes four days, but, by sending the negadis on one day, and camping with them next, and then going on, in to the station here the second day, one can make it in two days. Mr. Street and I left Soddu just before five o’clock Monday morning. My horse was showing signs of being tired, after almost three weeks on the road, so I couldn't do as well as I would have liked. About two o’clock, we arrived at the village of Boroda, where we were to camp. We stopped at the house of a Coptic priest, friend of Mr. Street, and had some native coffee, served with a bit of salt in it… no sugar or cream. The priest came with us to our tent, and we gave him and two of his friends tea and bread. We had supper, and then went to bed. Four o’clock found us up, and before five we were on the road again. It was some day! The road to up and down most of the way, and We had to get off and walk a good deal. It sets one to puffing, too, because of the altitude. At one point the road goes up to [[17]] 10,200 feet. Most of the day, we were in sight of Lake Abai, and just before we got into Shammah, we could see both Lake Abai, and Lake Chamo. We got to the station just at twelve o'clock. Mr. Simponis, who had been staying here, was in town, and didn't got back until about three o'clock.

I was mighty glad to get to my destination, after three weeks on the road. And it was great to see the country in which I will be worklng for some time. Those of us in this station, when we are settled, will be the first ones to preach the Gospel in this land of Gamo. This in one of the more heavily populated or the Ethiopian provinces. At one time the land must have had a tremendous population. Every mountain and every valley is terraced. Each terrace is retained by a wall of stones, and the whole represents a huge amount of work. So intensively has the land been cultivated, that some terraces are only two or three feet wide, and ten feet long. Thus, every mountain looks as if it has steps up the sides. If you look at a good map of Africa, you will see the two lakes in southern Ethiopia, Lake Abai, or Abaya, and Lake Chamo. We are just on the western side of the neck of land that separates the two lakes. Our station is on a wide terrace, high above the lakes. But from here we get a wonderful view of the surrounding country. We can see acrooss the lakes into Sidamo; to the south we can see the mountains of Gardula, and over into the hills of the Boran country; directly back of us is the Shammah mountain, and on every side the ground either goes up or down. We had to go down into a deep valley, today, to see about getting timbers for lumber, and it was some hike! We had to crawl, at times, and all the time we were crossing [[18]] streams and passing waterfalls. The hills are very rugged, and bare rock protrudes everywhere. We'll have to be going over these rocks all the time in the future to reach the people. It took us about an hour to walk up out of the valley, and we didn't go much more than half way down. We saw lots of baboons, and jungle was more like Africa should be.

We have a wonderful house. It in a native tukul which was moved onto the place. It is some twenty feet in diameter, and the ceiling is about 25 feet from the floor. Here, the natives split bamboo, which grows abundantly, and weave it for the sides of the houses, and bring it to a point at the top. Then they thatch it with grass. So our house looks like a haystack. The men are putting up a stable, and the kitchen for Mr. Street's house is already finished. When more money comes through, we hope to get to building his house, and next, the nurse's house and clinic. I will probably build our house next dry season.

I am exceedingly happy that we are going to be in a country where the Gospel has never been preached. It means a lot, to build on no man's foundation. Building will take most of the time before we can get to language study. At present, the natives know nothing about working for foreigners, and we are having a hard time getting workers. Eggs are scarce, and we can’t get chickens very often. Once in a while, we get a sheep for a thaler (33 cents, American) but they are so small that they only last three or four days. But we are trying to show ourselves friendly, and in time they will come around. Just before I came down, the governors of Gofa and Gamo were changed. The one we [[19]] have now, Dejazmatch Bienna, is more liberal than old Abeba, so we are looking forward to more freedom in building and in carrying on the work. Since the work in Gofa is well established, we believe the Lord ordered the change for the good of our work. We went to Chincha, the capitol of Gamo province, yesterday, and had a nice visit with the Dejazmatch. He wants us to help him to build a church. He said he would help with our houses if we would help him. We told him we wanted to be as helpful as possible, but that our purpose in being here is to preach Christ. He assented to that.

---[letter #5 (in main file, main file p. 42, with a note explaining that Marian Kraft started her planned book on "American Girl in Africa: a Book of Letters" with this one)]
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Africa
May 18, 1934
Dearest Marian and Howie,

#5.1

[...] I've been busy as usual, only more so. Just yesterday got my china barrel and big boxes off by camel for Soddu -- wish you could haye seen them swaying along on those "ships of the desert.” They’ve surely had all sorts of conveyance. And they're just the forerunners of me, for I expect to leave here in a week and a half or so, for Soddu -- about 250 miles, and only 60 or so miles from Gamo and Mal -- two hard days' trek. I won't be able to see him more than once, I suppose, but then, it wlll take just a few days for a letter to come from him, rather than months. However, it wi11 take nearly two months for a letter from home, so write often. Soddu is a station that has been established for about five years and there they speak practically the same language that is spoken in Gamo. There is a dandy bunch of people there [[20]] from all reports, room being made for me by two going home on furlough, this next week. A Dr. and Mrs. Roberts are there, Mr. and Mrs. Street, and a Miss Lois Briggs, with whom I will Live, a nurse. I’m frightfully anxious to get going -- will have about a two week's trek, with a Mr. Lewis. (His wife is one of those going home, with bad heart trouble -- he'll follow in about six months, preferring to stay and finish some work before joining her.) On the way, we'll visit four or five other stations, and see the workers, the work, and the natives. It will be interesting, and "something to write home about", I'm sure.

The final word hasn't been given for my going, but it is pretty certain.
[...]

As usual, I've been having adventures on my horsey. The other day, going to town, Lottie Blair and I were racing on one of the few suitable stretches, when all of a sudden my horse braced his feet -- and there was I, wlth my legs clinging around his neck, and my hands grabbing his ears. Something had frightened him, so he just stopped -- and how! I didn't fall off, but I had a great time hoisting myself back into the saddle, I was laughing so. Then, again, coming home from inter-mission prayer meeting he saw that terrible creature -- a bicycle -- when we were going at a slow canter. As he shied, his shoes slipped on the rocks, and he went down on his knees, me going over his head, and landing on the back of my head. My watch got busted, and my coat torn, but that's all. (My watch is fixed, now.) He ’s a grand horse. I'd 1ike to race you, Marian. [[21]]

[[see the main file at p. [[21]] for the rest of this letter! and subsequent ones]

Here are the omitted sections of the remaining letters, identified in the main "ethiopia" file with elipsis dots, thus "[...]":

[May 18 1934 = #5 start (see above)]

So you're the proud possessors of another baby boy!! Congrats! Sorry it wasn't a girl, but bet you'll love another jumping-jack live- wire anyway. Guess my blue sweater wasn't such a bad guess after all, although it really wasn't a guess -- 'twas the only color they had. Do hope that you're both doing beautifully -- sorry that you had such a hard time, Marian. And I do like his name so much. Going to call him Bobbie? Give him a hug, a kiss, and a big squeeze for me. Imagine that you're busy between the two roughnecks, or rather three -- no offense meant, Howie.

[after sentence "The final word ..." (see above)]

Oh, before I forget it -- about Maryville College. I've heard quite a bit of it -- our college having some competition with it in debating, etc. A boy out here had a pal there and he says it is really a good college, with a very good scholastic standing and friendly, fun-loving student body. Hope Jean likes it -- it will be fun for her to go someplace away from home. Not that you want to send her away, but a place afar off always has a romance to it -- and won't it be good to see her when she comes home at vacation times. I tell you Jeanie, They never appreciate you until you're gone, and it sure feels fine to come home and see everybody and find all your favorite eats on the table for your welcoming dinner. And also you never realize just what a grand MOther you have, until you get away from her for a while. Just listen to your Grannie. Anyway, be good -- and let's hear how you like it in the sweet bye- and-bye.

[after "in the living room" concerning fleas] They're such loveable (?) things you know. Would like to send you home a few to keep as pets.

Am wondering as to your impressions of that book I sent Marian. If you're through woud you mind sending it to Uncle Jack? He'll probably think I'm cracked as usual, but I've had several long talks with him and this may make things clearer than I could in my talking. You also might send the account of the visit to the native house. I'd like to write them a long letter -- will try to get at it later, but time goes so fast and postage is frightful.

Had a nice letter from Betty a few weeks ago. Give her my best wishes, love, etc. Maybe she'd like to read this letter. Also regards to Vin.

Hope you keep well Auntie Margaret -- think your cooking class would like it out here where you have to substitute so many things for what you can't get -- dried peas and roasted wheat for nuts, caramelized white sugar for brown, and one gets so that one can make a decent cake without eggs, milkshake and almost without flour. It's a great life.

I'd better close -- give my love to Grandma. Hope she stays well and happy for a long time, along with Grandpa. [letter #6; Addis Ababa, 26 Aug 1934]

[Aug 26, 1934 letter, after the paragraph ending "...responsive to a little love" ]

Just one remark got me off on all this -- I'm some jabberer, aren't I? Your letters are so newsy, Marian. I enjoy every bit of it -- wouldn't know a thing that was in this R.R. [the "Round Robin" was a family news letter that circulated] if it wasn't for you, or any other Waterbury news for that matter. So glad you're strapping kiddies are well & happy. They surely must keep you stepping, but if they weren't lively, you'd wonder what was wrong with them. Your barley recipe sounds awfully good, but out here nuts & raisins are frightfully expensive & we can't get any candied ginger, so I doubt if we can use it much. That's the whole trouble. You have to keep wracking your brain to figure out what you can make with what you can get. I could substitute dried peas (split) for nuts & powdered ginger for the other & scrape out a few raisins. Sometimes, however, I think it sounds so good.

[after "it all seems so funny!" near the end of the same letter (#6)]

Hope Howie's leg is better by this time. It sure was tough luck. How could the team go on playing without him, I wonder. Ahem! No, it's not the raspberries, Howie, at least not very much [i.e., not razzing you; sports idiom]. Have been wearing the little basketball you gave me quite a bit lately, & been questioned as to just what team I played on. Don't worry-- I pass all the glory back to Conn. though.

[and at the end, before "Am happy, busy ..."]

I'd best close. It' getting late & I must write home. Much love to yourself, & Howie, the two kiddies, and do give Auntie Margaret a hug. Spect you'll be going off to college soon, Peewee. You'll have good times & do make the most of them. Hardly seems possible that I'm really through. How's Betty? I owe her a real decent letter. Should write Grandma too. Please give her and Grandpa my love. For now -- am happy, busy ... [#7 Marako 18 Sept 1934]
[#8 Duromie, Kambatta, 22 Dec 1934]

[Dec 22 1934 letter (#8), before "Just 3 more days ..."]

Was sorry to hear about Howie breaking his leg a second time. What a life!! but it certainly is good he could find this other job -- & nice of Scovilles to save the first for him. Just read a good write up about old man Scoville & all the Goases [[?]] in an issue of "Time" recently received. Didn't realize they made such a variety of things there.

Just 3 more days ... possible!! And a year ago I was with you, sleeping on your davenport & riding around to Howie's folks & 63 Beecher Ave., etc. now Bob is taking my place!! Will be thinking of you all at Grandma's this year. give Grandma & Grandpa my love when you see them next time. [Then after the next paragraph, before the one on Thanksgiving]

I guess I forgot to tell you about the Phillips coming back home with Little Henry David Phillips one month & 3 days old today.

[sign off in full --] Lots of love, Marian, to you, Bob, Charlie, & even a bit for Howie.

Once more, remembrances to Aunty Margaret, Betty, Jean, Uncle Cliff, Grandma & Grandpa

& -- well, I could go on for a long while --

Anyway, am loving you all. Enie.

[#9, Duromie, Kambatta, at the very start; 07 Jan 1935]

In the mail that came the other day, I opened first a letter from Dick Miller (the first I've received from him) written Nov 11th & I was just laughing over some things he said when I opened your letter with the startling news about Uncle Clyde's condition (the first telegram). He (Dick) had written just before the sickness -- & I can't tell you the shock it gave me to get both letters at the same time. Next day, a special carrier came in with another letter from you & one from mother telling of the death. Oh! how suddenly & unexpectedly that comes upon us! And what would we do without the hope of life hereafter?! I do feel so sorry for Aunt Fritza and the boys, especially since she has young Ronnie. I wonder whether Dick will be able to finish school, and if they'll continue to live in Toronto.

[In the signoffs to that letter ...]

It surely was thoughtful of you to write & tell me all about things, Marian. I appreciated it. Your word came before Mother's & then she didn't know so much either. they felt badly they couldn't get to the funeral, but Daddy's cold & railway fares were too big a barrier. I just hope this isn't too much for Grandma and Grandpa. It must have been a great shock to Grandma especially.

The enclosed is for a birthday present, Marian -- probably a bit early -- but lest I forget!! Use it for whatever you like & it brings much love. Sorry it isn't more. I have more than plenty now. The Lord was very good to us this Christmas time & after ordering our grocery order for the 1st 6 month of married life, there still is some remaining.

Lots of love to Bobby & Charlie & Howie, & yourself!!

Can you send me the dates of the kiddies & Howie's birthdays. I forget & can't find any record.

How does Jean like college? Haven't heard a word about her recently.
Enid [#10 Soddu, Walamo; 14 March 1935] [#11 Soddu; 18 April 1935]

[at the start of the 18 April 1935 letter]
...especially in your case. I just found four letters in my box from you And am ashamed. But then ....

I'm married ... years -- just to say it's been ... waiting for. My hubby is the swellest guy ever was and the last few weeks have been heaven on earth.

[vertical marginal addition in ink: "Mal had bought my ring in England on his way out -- platinum."] [then, before the "Mind if I quit" paragraph, these three: ]

The Oman's were recently in Milwaukee and spent some time with Mother so that she's seen pictures of the place where we'll be and has heard all about it, so that she can picture us easily there. I'm awfully glad for that. By the way, I'm so glad Mother had that operation, and is coming along all right according to all reports. I was a good bit worried over her but I hope this will fix up all the heart trouble, weight losing, extreme nervousness, etc.

I surely did appreciate all your details about Uncle Clyde's death and funeral, etc, Marian. Nobody else sent anything about it. It certainly was a terrible thing, but we can't doubt the perfectness of God's will in taking him. I had a letter from Dick last mail, but he only alluded to it all, not saying anything about how things were going now. He certainly sounds capable, and I guess is shouldering the task of being man of the house. I certainly feel sorry for Aunt Fritza, but it is nice she has the boys and is not left absolutely alone.

You write so naturally, Marian, -- I gobble up all your letters with their details. Enjoyed the account of Christmas, Aunt M.'s birthday and baby's antics, etc. wish Grandma were stronger -- which reminds me, I must write her soon. [then the full closing ...]

Much, much love with Happy Birthday wishes to Howie, probably late, but then, they're just as sincere. [#12 Bulki, Gofa; 12 May 1935] [#13 Bulki, Gofa; 30 May 1935, "Memorial Day"] [#14 Bulki, Gofa Province; 30 May 1935] [#15 Bukki, Gofa; 28 June 1935]

[June 28 1935 letter, after opening paragraph:]

I have three letters from you in my box and can't remember if I've answered them or not -- will go through for questions anyway. Thank you for all the news about Grandma. Mother and Daddy wrote, but not in such detail and your letters got here before theirs. Then, too, I surely do appreciate your snaps that you're sending. And I know their value will grow as time goes on. The one of Nita and then last mail the ones taken at Grandma's house arrived, and I'm saving them carefully. Thanks loads. Am sending a letter to Grandma with this, and could you see that she gets it? Thanks. [and after reference to manure ... all we want. "Thank Margie for me."] [and after final "I think I'd better stop this"]

Am glad the kiddies are growing so well and keeping well. Sounds like you're up and coming with sewing machine, telephone, radio, etc. Seems funny to think of it [being] summer there now -- it's winter to us. Regards to Howie and keep happy -- which reminds me of how happy Mal and I are. It grows more perfect every day. Mal sends love and so do I. [#16 Bulke, Gofa; 28 June 1935 to Grandma Miller]

[after opening paragraph of letter to her "Grandma" on 28 June 1935]

Marian just recently sent some nice snapshots of you and Grandpa along with little Charlie and other Krafts and Northrops -- all of which made me go to dreaming about the happy times I've spent at your house. Mother wrote, too, of how Bobby had sent a May basket to you -- I don't see quite how she did it unless it was just drawn. Remember when David and I, or Marian and I used to hang a basket on the front door on May 1st, twirl the bell and then run and hide behind the big oak tree. Then you'd come out and look behind the evergreens, or around the side of the house, anyplace but behind the oak, because you knew all the time we were there and didn't want to spoil our fun? When we finally did come out, seems like we always got a cookie or a chance to play with the toys in the cupboard before going home.

[finished with the lacunae, 27m2010; transferred to main file 05ap2020]
[#17 Bulke, Gofa; 26 July 1935] [#18 Bulke, Gofa; 08 Aug 1935] [#19 Bulke, Gofa; 22 Aug 1935]

Obituary from Wheaton College Archives and https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/187798059/malcolm-iver-forsberg:

Malcolm Iver Forsberg Sr. was born December 14, 1908 in Tacoma, Washington to Victor and Hannah (Bjur) Forsberg (both born in Sweden). He was the eighth child of Swedish immigrant parents. His father died when he was 8 years old. Early religious training under his uncle's direction took him to Pentecostal, Methodist, Swedish Covenant, and Presbyterian churches. He came to faith as a young person and joined a growing group at First Presbyterian of Tacoma, led by Dr. John Mitchell of Multnomah School of the Bible. He attended Lincoln High School in Tacoma and graduated from Wheaton College in 1932 with a Ph.B. (Bachelor of Philosophy) degree in Literature and an honorary Litt.D. in 1960. He was a Record newspaper reporter, managing editor, and editor; student council treasurer; junior and senior class representative; Beltionian director, corresponding secretary; president of Illinois College Press Association. He spent most of his life doing mission work in Africa with the Sudan Interior Mission, first sailing for Ethiopia in 1933, then for 25 years in Anglo-Egyptian Sudan (both inland and at the capital, Khartoum), doing evangelism, church planting, teaching, and administration work. In 1935 he was married to his college sweetheart Enid Miller from Milwaukee, WI after a four year engagement. They were married on March 14, 1935 and had three of their four children in Africa. Following expulsion from Ethiopia in 1938 by Mussolini's conquest during the Italian war, he pioneered mission work among the primitive Uduk tribe in remote Sudan. He learned four African languages and was field superintendent since 1948 and guided the mission through the complications of the Missionary Society Act. He also spent ten years in the United States (1964-74) as candidate secretary for SIM, recruiting and orienting new workers. He was a member and elder at College Church of Wheaton during this time. During his lifetime he wrote four books: "Land Beyond the Nile", "Dry Season", "Last Days on the Nile", and "In Famine He Shall Redeem Thee". His last trip to Africa was to teach Bible in the Uduk language in 1980. The Forsbergs retired to Carlsbad, CA (near San Diego) after serving 30 years in Africa and 15 years in Wheaton, IL. He became a member of Carlsbad Community Church. He died March 13, 1991 at Rancho Encinitas and was survived by his wife, Enid Miller Forsberg (d. 6/6/2007); two sons, Leigh and James (Malcolm, Jr. preceded him in death); a daughter, Dorothy; and five grandchildren. He was 82. [died 03/14/1991 = date of marriage in 1935!]

[obit online https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/187798425/enid-hattersley-forsberg]

Enid Miller Forsberg was born in Waterbury Connecticut on February 25, 1912, to Irving and Dorothy Hattersley Miller. She lived in Carlsbad, California for 24 years. She was a graduate of Wheaton College, where during spiritual emphasis week, she accepted Christ as her Savior and finished her college career there. It was there she met Malcolm Forsberg and eventually became his secretary, who was editor of the Wheaton Record. They felt God's call to mission, became engaged, and with SIM, left separately for Ethiopia in 1933. Enid was 21. Malcolm and Enid were married in a double ceremony with Norman and Flossie Couser in Soddu in 1935. Enid served with her husband Malcolm with the Sudan Interior Mission in Ethiopia, Sudan, and in the United States. Enid taught literacy and Bible to the Sudanese students. She was a missionary from 1933 to 1973. She retired to the SIM retirement village in Carlsbad in 1982 and joined the Carlsbad Community Church. She regularly participated in the women and senior groups. Mrs. Forsberg was preceded in death by her husband, Malcolm in 1991; her son, Malcolm [Kim] Forsberg, Jr. in 1985; her sister, Barbara Hansen in 2004; and brother, John Miller, in 2007. Enid is survived by her daughters, Dorothy [Dodie] Forsberg of Benin, West Africa [10/03/1950- ]; Nancy [Leaton] Forsberg of Oakland, California; and Linda Forsberg of San Jose, California. Sons, Leigh Forsberg, of Oakland, California; and James [Robert] Forsberg [04/10/1941- ], of San Jose, California. Brothers and sister-in-law, Donald Hansen, of Roseville, California; David Miller, of Denver, Colorado; and Lorna Miller, of Rogers, Arkansas; six grand-children, and four great-grandchildren. Memorials may be made to Sudan Interior Missions. [died on 06/06/2007]

Enid Forsberg Obituary ENID M. FORSBERG 95, of Sebring, passed away Wednesday, June 6, 2007. She was born February 25, 1912, to Irving and Dorothy (Hattersley) Miller in Waterbury, Conn. She had been a resident of Sebring since September, 2006, and attended Sparta Road Baptist Church. She was a graduate of Wheaton College and joined SIM in 1933. She worked in Sudan and Ethiopia for 30 years teaching literacy and Bible. She came home to US in 1963, and assisted her late husband Malcolm as the SIM Candidate Secretary then retired in 1977, to the SIM Village in Carlsbad, Calif., before arriving in Sebring. She is survived by her sons, Leigh Forsberg of Oakland, Calif. and James Forsberg of Jose, Calif.; daughter, Dorothy Forsberg of Djougou, Benin, West Africa. Memorial services will be conducted Thursday, June 14, 2007, at 3:30 p.m. in the SIM Chapel in Sebring, then will later be interred in Eternal Hills Cemetery in Oceanside, Calif. with funeral services at Carlsbad Community Church, Carlsbad, Calif. Arrangements entrusted to STEPHENSON-NELSON FUNERAL HOME Sebring, Florida 33870 863-385-0125 Published in the Tampa Bay Times on June 13, 2007