There were four men, with four different purposes, from four different backgrounds, and I stand amazed by all of them. Josh and I had the privilege of accompanying my father-in-law, Ben, on a helicopter mission to remote tribes in the T’ara region of Ethiopia (click here for other details from the trip). I imagined the trip to be routine for Ben as he taught and evangelized to these beautiful, isolated people and eye-opening for me as I got to meet the ones he loves so much. We landed on top of a mountain ridge about an hour’s flight from the closest “civilization.” This was my first time ever experiencing God’s creation in a helicopter and my first time ever laying eyes on such a beautiful place in the world. We were on top of a mountain, in the middle of nowhere in Ethiopia, with lush green land and mud huts scattered along this ridge. There were half-naked children jumping up and down as the helicopter landed and a crowd of eager faces waiting to see these strange white folks emerge.
As I was taking it all in and trying to pretend that hundreds of staring eyes didn’t affect me at all, I was unaware of the impact that four men were about to have in the next few minutes. There was a young man there who was waiting for us. His name is Yohannis- one of the men whom Ben has been able to work with and teach over the past few years. He is part of the T’ara people, but he belongs to a village on another ridge about 8 hours away by foot. Immediately when we landed, he approached Ben for help. You see, he and his wife were expecting their first child. Except, there was an issue. It turns out that his wife had been in labor for four days. The baby was stuck in the birth canal, and no amount of midwifery or tribal encouragement could bring the baby into this world. This desperate father walked 8 hours (non-stop, I imagine) to meet us in hopes of getting help for his precious wife and child.
We unloaded all unnecessary gear from the helicopter to make room for Yohannis and headed to his mountain ridge. Mind you, it took us 2 minutes to get there by helicopter and this man had walked the whole thing in 8 hours. I am blown away by his dedication and persistence. We landed in the village and once again were greeted by hundreds of eager faces. It was exciting to be part of something like this, mostly because I didn’t realize the weight of the situation.
We followed Yohannis along a narrow trail through corn rows up, down, and around a hill on this vast ridge. As we were walking up to his hut- short of breath from the hike and anticipation- I saw a crowd waiting for him. There must have been a hundred people gathered around, waiting silently. As we moved closer, I saw a woman lying on a mat under the shade of a tree. It was she. His wife. With every subtle movement, her face tightened and she held her breath. I can’t imagine the fight she went through. Four days of labor on a dirt floor. No sleep, no food, just constant, intense child pains from a child who would not and could not give her relief. This is a woman if I ever saw one.
Several men helped as they lifted the mat from beneath the tree and brought her into their mud hut. I imagine that this poor lady hadn’t had privacy in at least four days, because even as she was gasping for air, trying to endure another contraction, people poured into the small space to glimpse at the potential action. Josh went in to examine her and Ben helped mediate/translate. After looking at her and talking to the midwife, Josh determined that the only way this persistent woman would survive is if she was evacuated immediately. Ben left the hut to get Matthias, the helicopter pilot.
I stood in the clearing on the hill where the helicopter would land so they could load this mom without having to carry her too far. Yohannis was waiting there as well. I don’t think I’ll forget the look on his face. I asked, “Are you nervous?” Through the noise of the approaching helicopter and his broken English, he said, “I thank God that you all came, because I know my wife would have died.”
And just as quickly as it landed, they loaded Yohannis and wife, Josh and Matthias, and took off towards Soddo- the next nearest city with a hospital, which was about an hour away by helicopter or 10-12 days by foot. Ben and I stayed behind and waited for Josh and Matthias to return.
Before I move on, let me explain how perfectly orchestrated the timing was. Ben and Matthias usually visit these tribes at a certain time each month. They had moved the trip back a few weeks, because Josh and I wanted to be able to come and do some medical work. Originally, we were planning on going out on Monday. Because Josh and I didn’t get to Ethiopia until late Sunday night, we decided to postpone the trip until Tuesday. If Ben had gone during his usual dates, Yohannis’ wife would not have been in labor yet. Most likely Ben would have found out the following month what could have happened. Yohannis had walked for 8+ hours to get to the village where we landed. If we had left the day before like we had planned, we could have missed him. Because it was such a time-sensitive issue, it blows my mind how well these events align. There is no other explanation except that it was purely God’s providence.
Matthias and Josh dropped the couple off at the hospital and made sure they were in good care. They reported that the surgeons were taking Yohannis’ wife into surgery as they were preparing to leave and come back to get Ben and me. Obviously these people have no quick way of communicating (i.e. cell phones), so we assumed that all was well and resumed our original plans for this helicopter trip. After a day and a half in the bush, we packed our gear up and flew towards Soddo to see Yohannis and his wife before going back to the mission station.
We laughed on the flight there. I remember feeling so excited to see these new parents and rejoice with them even though their struggle had been a hard one. We landed in a soccer field and immediately spotted Yohannis in the crowd. He wasn’t smiling.
Through peripheral conversation, I ascertained that his baby- his son- didn’t make it. After taking his wife into surgery and performing a C-section, the boy was born with a faint heartbeat. We met the doctor and he said that he tried very hard to resuscitate the baby, but they couldn’t save him. Thankfully, his wife was doing well. Her recovery will be a long one, but she has life.
Because there are no burial grounds at that hospital and Yohannis was several days walking distance from his village, it was determined that his son would have a place at the mission station. We finished the rest of our business in Soddo, then Matthias, Ben, Josh, Yohannis and I took off in the helicopter. The trip back was quite somber.
There I was, sitting in a helicopter with four men who worked so diligently to save two lives. And along with these four men, there was a cardboard box lying on the floor of the helicopter. It contained the body of Lukas Yohannis. Africa is a crude place sometimes. That box reminded me of that. It’s not fancy, but it’s powerful.
Once we landed at the mission station and ate a quick dinner, those four men set to work. Yohannis picked out a spot for his son. It was in the side of a hill leading down to the lake underneath a tree. I’m not sure if he saw the flowers growing up out of the hill as he was digging away at the earth, but they were there. Yellow flowers. Life next to death.
Matthias nailed two boards together in the shape of a cross as his wife wrote the child’s name and birthdate. In the darkness with only flashlights and moonlight to see, I watched those four men make a grave. Then I watched those four men grieve and pray over what had happened the day before. Once Ben was finished speaking for the ceremony, we stood there for a minute. Yohannis was standing inside the grave, straddling the cardboard box. He had wrapped his only jacket carefully around it. I imagine that he didn’t move right away, because he physically ached too much from his grief to do so. Then, slowly, he took handfuls of freshly dug dirt and put it back in its place around the box. Maybe that was harder for him than the ceremony. And once again, those four men worked together to finish what they started. That body went from the womb to a cardboard box to the grave, and they all knew it.
I have been to funerals before. They are never easy. But this one struck me in a way that none of the others have. Because even though it was painful to see the look on Yohannis’ face as he placed dirt around his firstborn’s body, that was not the end of the story. His wife was saved. There was one grave instead of two. If Ben didn’t feel called to minister to unreached people in Ethiopia, he never would have met Yohannis, Yohannis would never have walked 8 hours to get help, Josh never would have examined her, and Matthias never would have evacuated her. Four men with four very different purposes saved a woman’s life. Truly. And that’s what amazes me the most. I am heartbroken for those parents, because how is burying your own child ever ok? At the same time, I rejoice because Lukas will never know the pain of this world. Even though his body is dead, his soul is not. He is with the One who gives and takes away, and that is a far better place to be than here.
As I was taking it all in and trying to pretend that hundreds of staring eyes didn’t affect me at all, I was unaware of the impact that four men were about to have in the next few minutes. There was a young man there who was waiting for us. His name is Yohannis- one of the men whom Ben has been able to work with and teach over the past few years. He is part of the T’ara people, but he belongs to a village on another ridge about 8 hours away by foot. Immediately when we landed, he approached Ben for help. You see, he and his wife were expecting their first child. Except, there was an issue. It turns out that his wife had been in labor for four days. The baby was stuck in the birth canal, and no amount of midwifery or tribal encouragement could bring the baby into this world. This desperate father walked 8 hours (non-stop, I imagine) to meet us in hopes of getting help for his precious wife and child.
We unloaded all unnecessary gear from the helicopter to make room for Yohannis and headed to his mountain ridge. Mind you, it took us 2 minutes to get there by helicopter and this man had walked the whole thing in 8 hours. I am blown away by his dedication and persistence. We landed in the village and once again were greeted by hundreds of eager faces. It was exciting to be part of something like this, mostly because I didn’t realize the weight of the situation.
We followed Yohannis along a narrow trail through corn rows up, down, and around a hill on this vast ridge. As we were walking up to his hut- short of breath from the hike and anticipation- I saw a crowd waiting for him. There must have been a hundred people gathered around, waiting silently. As we moved closer, I saw a woman lying on a mat under the shade of a tree. It was she. His wife. With every subtle movement, her face tightened and she held her breath. I can’t imagine the fight she went through. Four days of labor on a dirt floor. No sleep, no food, just constant, intense child pains from a child who would not and could not give her relief. This is a woman if I ever saw one.
Several men helped as they lifted the mat from beneath the tree and brought her into their mud hut. I imagine that this poor lady hadn’t had privacy in at least four days, because even as she was gasping for air, trying to endure another contraction, people poured into the small space to glimpse at the potential action. Josh went in to examine her and Ben helped mediate/translate. After looking at her and talking to the midwife, Josh determined that the only way this persistent woman would survive is if she was evacuated immediately. Ben left the hut to get Matthias, the helicopter pilot.
I stood in the clearing on the hill where the helicopter would land so they could load this mom without having to carry her too far. Yohannis was waiting there as well. I don’t think I’ll forget the look on his face. I asked, “Are you nervous?” Through the noise of the approaching helicopter and his broken English, he said, “I thank God that you all came, because I know my wife would have died.”
And just as quickly as it landed, they loaded Yohannis and wife, Josh and Matthias, and took off towards Soddo- the next nearest city with a hospital, which was about an hour away by helicopter or 10-12 days by foot. Ben and I stayed behind and waited for Josh and Matthias to return.
Before I move on, let me explain how perfectly orchestrated the timing was. Ben and Matthias usually visit these tribes at a certain time each month. They had moved the trip back a few weeks, because Josh and I wanted to be able to come and do some medical work. Originally, we were planning on going out on Monday. Because Josh and I didn’t get to Ethiopia until late Sunday night, we decided to postpone the trip until Tuesday. If Ben had gone during his usual dates, Yohannis’ wife would not have been in labor yet. Most likely Ben would have found out the following month what could have happened. Yohannis had walked for 8+ hours to get to the village where we landed. If we had left the day before like we had planned, we could have missed him. Because it was such a time-sensitive issue, it blows my mind how well these events align. There is no other explanation except that it was purely God’s providence.
Matthias and Josh dropped the couple off at the hospital and made sure they were in good care. They reported that the surgeons were taking Yohannis’ wife into surgery as they were preparing to leave and come back to get Ben and me. Obviously these people have no quick way of communicating (i.e. cell phones), so we assumed that all was well and resumed our original plans for this helicopter trip. After a day and a half in the bush, we packed our gear up and flew towards Soddo to see Yohannis and his wife before going back to the mission station.
We laughed on the flight there. I remember feeling so excited to see these new parents and rejoice with them even though their struggle had been a hard one. We landed in a soccer field and immediately spotted Yohannis in the crowd. He wasn’t smiling.
Through peripheral conversation, I ascertained that his baby- his son- didn’t make it. After taking his wife into surgery and performing a C-section, the boy was born with a faint heartbeat. We met the doctor and he said that he tried very hard to resuscitate the baby, but they couldn’t save him. Thankfully, his wife was doing well. Her recovery will be a long one, but she has life.
Because there are no burial grounds at that hospital and Yohannis was several days walking distance from his village, it was determined that his son would have a place at the mission station. We finished the rest of our business in Soddo, then Matthias, Ben, Josh, Yohannis and I took off in the helicopter. The trip back was quite somber.
There I was, sitting in a helicopter with four men who worked so diligently to save two lives. And along with these four men, there was a cardboard box lying on the floor of the helicopter. It contained the body of Lukas Yohannis. Africa is a crude place sometimes. That box reminded me of that. It’s not fancy, but it’s powerful.
Once we landed at the mission station and ate a quick dinner, those four men set to work. Yohannis picked out a spot for his son. It was in the side of a hill leading down to the lake underneath a tree. I’m not sure if he saw the flowers growing up out of the hill as he was digging away at the earth, but they were there. Yellow flowers. Life next to death.
Matthias nailed two boards together in the shape of a cross as his wife wrote the child’s name and birthdate. In the darkness with only flashlights and moonlight to see, I watched those four men make a grave. Then I watched those four men grieve and pray over what had happened the day before. Once Ben was finished speaking for the ceremony, we stood there for a minute. Yohannis was standing inside the grave, straddling the cardboard box. He had wrapped his only jacket carefully around it. I imagine that he didn’t move right away, because he physically ached too much from his grief to do so. Then, slowly, he took handfuls of freshly dug dirt and put it back in its place around the box. Maybe that was harder for him than the ceremony. And once again, those four men worked together to finish what they started. That body went from the womb to a cardboard box to the grave, and they all knew it.
I have been to funerals before. They are never easy. But this one struck me in a way that none of the others have. Because even though it was painful to see the look on Yohannis’ face as he placed dirt around his firstborn’s body, that was not the end of the story. His wife was saved. There was one grave instead of two. If Ben didn’t feel called to minister to unreached people in Ethiopia, he never would have met Yohannis, Yohannis would never have walked 8 hours to get help, Josh never would have examined her, and Matthias never would have evacuated her. Four men with four very different purposes saved a woman’s life. Truly. And that’s what amazes me the most. I am heartbroken for those parents, because how is burying your own child ever ok? At the same time, I rejoice because Lukas will never know the pain of this world. Even though his body is dead, his soul is not. He is with the One who gives and takes away, and that is a far better place to be than here.
