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<p>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" file on this same web page]]
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.
---[letter #1]
At the Little Lehman River
March 14, 1934
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. Andersonís "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! Weíre 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.
---[letter #2]
Marako, Gurage Province,
March 17, 1934
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 ëchick-a-chickí 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. Lambieís 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]
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 Iíll write more about the work at Marako in a separate letter.
Saturday night, as we were eating supper outside, the first of the îlittle rainsî began. These rains supposedly come in January or February, and last about ten days. I donít know what is ìlittleî
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-chickî -- 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 wouldnít 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 donít 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 couldnít 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 ìGodís 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 couldnít 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 dayís 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 oíclock some 50 natives had congregated and set to
work staring at the ëfrangisí. 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 ñ 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 weíll 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.
Later.
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, wouldnít 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 oíclock 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 Iíve 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 donít 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]
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-hourís 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 "Frangiî, 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 <ì>Splendor of God.</î> 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 didnít leave until after eight. We stopped along the way to visit some natives, friends of Mr. Duff, and we got into Duromie about four oíclock.
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 daysí trek to Soddu. I left Duromie just before seven. I trotted practically all the way. If you have ever ridden very much, youíll 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. Streetís 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 werenít 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 ìítil He come.î
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 oíclock 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 oíclock, 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 itÖ 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 oíclock 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 canít 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]
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Africa
May 18, 1934
Dearest Marian and Howie,
Iíve 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.î Theyíve 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. Iím 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", Iím
sure. The final word hasn't been given for my going, but it is
pretty certain,
As usual, Iíve 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 dovm 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.) Heís a grand horse. Iíd 1ike to race you, Marian. [[21]]
[[to be continued] -- see the full file at p. [[21]] for the rest of this letter!]
Here are the omitted setions of the letters, identified in the main "ethiopia" file as [...]
#5 start
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 ..."]
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" on 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.
[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 latter (#7)]
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 rasperries, 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 kate & 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 ...
[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.
[next letter at the very start; 07 Jan 1935]
In the mail that came </p>