It’s been ten years since our brothers and sisters began serving in Ethiopia on the African subcontinent. Young clergymen. When they come to the land, they see their bodies faint. The face is dark. Even in color, they have struggled with that nation. All have overcome malaria and typhoid-related diseases at least once. They are the ones who recognize with tender missions that their rituals are not loosened from their domestic celebrations and personal relationships.
It was the bishops who invited our priests to Ethiopia. The Sisters of the Bethany Monastery were guided. The Government Road is just up to the border of the capital, Adisaba. They work between 400 and 600 km from there. Where ever drought is. People collect drinking water in kilometers. The main job of the children is to bring water. So no one learns. Most adults have a mental illness. Due to a lack of water, there is no significant crop. Perhaps they are simply hesitant to deal with nature. There are no politicians or channels in the country. Many human births can last as long as they breathe.
Our friends have come to this kind of Ethiopia. After ten years, they spread the word around to stay. They dug the well first. They are the ones who raised the hydration of the earth. Then they cut the road. Those young men who were unemployed worked hard. Occasional rainfall was collected at the well. Small farms have started. Slowly people were ready to join. They both knew that language was life, not knowledge. Therefore, the princes laughed, saying that the language was not problematic.
The donkeys were bought for the people, and the burden of carrying water was lifted off their shoulders.
They were invited to open a school. They opened the dispensary, church, and mosque in ten years. The youth were given vocational training. Wherever there was help, they stretched out their hands without pride. Their pet peeve is not a packet for a year when they leave home. Clothes for babies. Retrieved from Local Schools.
The mosque is a commonplace for everyone in the village to gather. Pallimani is the clock of the land. After ten years of sportsmanship, our beautiful children, the clergymen, have donated their youth and have taken on the Gandara. But they are happy. I know one thing. Having studied the history of Kerala during my undergraduate studies, I find a present in Kerala in Ethiopia.
As the country grows, so does selfish politics. At first, those who love the work of the fathers will rule and then they will say. Religion is not popular right now, but it can be problematic. Pallimani can be annoying. The church is built on our family property and the bishops and bishops say that our money is thieves. They will slander your schools by calling you, private robbers. Legislation will be abolished. We will approach the channels saying we are clergy, the facility is down and I am not paying my salary. Publishers will write and sell books for us.
When the light of the land is full, they will deny your lamps. They will discuss in the channels that they are the only sources of light. Their leaders will lead them to struggle. They would cry out that they had brought the renaissance. We cannot discuss this when there is no food for hunger and no land for cultivation. Silently, what you have done for people is not news.
When they are on holiday, I can see the sadness on their faces when they are home and when they are home they are saying, “What baby is there to eat anything? The penguins look at the tortoiseshell.
You too will have to return. But you’re right. Even if you sink so deep that you cannot find the light you have sown, a people will rise. Life thrives there too. We are sure that in premature old age you will be in monasteries and when you look away you will see paradise in front of your eyes. So lucky to be able to be with you then.
