Eskendar

Eskedar

A story of an 8 year old girl attending Remember The Poorest’s Kindergarten Program.

Born January 11, 2001

The sun is relentless, happily enlightening everyone as to why the solar oven works so well. Lunch time has passed and adages about staying indoors come out. A young girl, maybe 14 years old, lies in the dirt. She lies on her back, slightly shaded by the tin gate next to her mud house. She seems unconcerned about the dirt that will streak her already dirt stained clothes or the filth that surrounds her. She lies off the main road separated by a dirt ditch – the kebele’s trash can.

The mud house that provides her and her family shelter with a tin roof serves as storage for old tires, stones, sticks, and other unwanted items that have no clear explanation for taking up residence on top of the house.

The interior of the house desires to be a dark cool cave but there is no mistaking it for a multi-family home. A tiny mud room serves as the reconciliation room – two people cannot pass through without touching. At one end this room is the door to the outside at the other end a door that leads to a series of other rooms which each house a family. To one side of the reconciliation room is a third door that opens directly to te young girl’s house. The word house is too generous of a description for this eight by eight food space. No windows or lights brighten the room. A large bed covered in a tattered bedspread claims the room allowing a tiny bench and stack of boxes just enough room to survive. Despite the tiny mud structure’s extravagant aspirations, it will never be spectacular. Its inhabitants have a much better chance of changing their lives.

The girl lives here with her mother, two sisters (approximately 10 and 8 years old) and baby brother (around 2). The little boy lingers silently in the doorway his belly a smooth brown balloon peeking between the flaps of his little blue vest which hangs open in the front. The rest of his body is thin. Around his neck he wears a black string with a small silver cross, an emblem of the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition. He holds a piece of bread he has been gnawing on.

The mother is tall. Her eyes fail to lighten as she slowly wraps her kerchief around her head. She squats on the floor welcoming the baby, who scoots closer. As a single mother she works hard straining and sorting beans. With her meager earnings she struggles to pay the shared rent of the small government house and properly feed and clothe her children. Five years ago her husband died leaving her to raise their children alone. She has HIV/AIDS and while she appears healthy, her health is only temporary. Her struggles multiply.

The youngest daughter, eight year old, Eskedar, is at school. Eskedar began receiving sponsorship from RPC four years ago. Prior to her sponsorship, Eskedar, had been unable to attend school. Currently she is in the first grade in RPC’s kindergarten. She attends first grade at the RPC’s kindergarten.

The family is struggling; they have one tiny room, no bathroom, and no kitchen. Since joining RPC life has slightly improved. Eskedar attends school with adequate materials; she has access to medical treatment, and receives occasional clothing or food items. Life remains hard. Questions about the children’s future are left to float in their tiny dark room.