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June 2, 2002
Dear Friends:
Another batch of students, twelfth- as well as tenth-graders,
left school a week ago after finishing their matrics in two consecutive
weeks. This occasion is always bittersweet with the realization
that what one has worked for for twelve years is now completed
but with the sadness of leaving friends and the familiar. Tears
are a part of this feeling. Rarely, however, does a father cry,
but this year it happened. His daughter, Hawi Tarekegn came to
the Bethel Evangelical Secondary School (BESS) six years ago as
a young seventh-grader. With older twin brothers enrolled here,
her parents wanted this bright, little sister to attend BESS also,
so they put her into boarding. Coming from an Orthodox background,
Hawi found much that was new in this Protestant school, where
life centers around studying the Bible and seeking to follow the
teachings of Christ. To watch a flower bloom into maturity is
a precious opportunity. That is what I observed as Hawi’s
personality developed those Spirit-given gifts of gentleness,
quietness of spirit, thoughtfulness and love for Jesus. Her father
had also observed, so he said through his tears, "I have
other children at home but none of them are like Hawi." That
moment, too, was Spirit given: a time of acknowledgment to Obbo
(Mr.) Tarekegn that the beauty of Hawi’s life is from God,
and a time of encouragement for me who faces daily disappointments
over those boarders indifferent to God’s word and claims,
those whose problematic behavior necessitate Solomon and Jo Ann
being detectives, judges, disciplinarians and finally loving father
and mother.
Students of BESS have always enjoyed April 1 for the chance it
brings to play simple, silly little tricks. Within an early hour
of that day, three to five students would have knocked on my door
saying something like, "Ms. Liisa is very sick. She said
for you to come to her house." When I calmly replied, "April
fool," the kids standing around would laugh their deep, hearty
laugh. But the first day of April dawned this year without a trick
and I wondered. As the morning hours passed, we teachers sensed
that something was amiss. It was not until the lunch bell rang
that we understood what was happening, and it was no joke. A student
who received financial assistance came to me and said, "The
students are all leaving school. What will I do about my house
rent money?" There followed three frustrating weeks of discussing,
waiting, sitting in meetings with parents, and discussing some
more before all our students returned to class. As one eleventh-grader
wrote in an English composition, "We wanted to reveal to
the United Nations the plight of our farmers." Student complaints
mentioned repeatedly dealt with high taxes levied on peasant farmers,
the push on farmers to buy the high-priced fertilizer imported
by our government leader to raise production, the problems caused
to thousands of tenth-graders who fail their matric with no vocational
schools ready to receive them, etc. No amount of earnest persuasion
would bring them back into the classrooms until they were ready
to return. They really believed that their "refusal to learn"
would somehow make a difference in this oppressed region.
During the three weeks of "student strike" and two
of national exams, I found time to do some handwork, a rarity
for me. Teachers’ wives and dorm girls got involved too in
all kinds of crafts for the women of the Danka church’s efforts
of fund raising for the new sanctuary. With more than a hundred
worshipers sitting in the open-air annex each Sunday, serious
plans are now underway. Personal faith is strong but how does
the church address injustice?
Cordially,
Jo Ann Griffith
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