It was six fifteen and darkness was falling. Mulawork (who, along with her grandma had been forced to leave the housing they had shared with a relative), was now keen for us to visit her new home. Just before we finished the session, Tadalech and Meseret also spoke to us and made us understand that we should visit Meseret’s mum. Why, we had no idea but they were so insistent. So the three of us who help run Y’Tesfa Birhan and the three girls crowded into a vehicle in the gathering gloom.

We wound our way between the oncoming traffic and many pedestrians who were milling about in the road. It was necessary to lower the windows a little as the girls don’t have access to water and soap as we do. This is the time for the Entoto ladies to make (one hopes) their final descent from the mountain and we watched many of them carrying impossibly heavy loads of eucalyptus wood tied to their backs, as we drove along. With the girls gesturing directions we made it to a road near to where Mulawark is now living. After crossing the uneven ground on foot (I’m so grateful for a torch on my phone), we entered a small windowless place with mud walls and a tin roof. There was no room for furniture just a thin mattress laid the length of the only room and the same amount of floor space again. Grandma greeted each of us with five kisses on alternate cheeks and a big hug and we celebrated with her the fact that they now have accommodation again.

We returned to the vehicle once more and drove some distance away to Meseret’s home. We gathered that she is an only child living with her mum. Recently she had two weeks off school when Mum went into hospital. Meseret went with her and slept on the floor.

After parking by the roadside we descended the rocky, rubbish strewn bank to another mud and corrugated iron shelter. By this time I had a boy of about four holding my hand and had greeted and shaken hands with a growing collection of others. Tadalech and Meseret led the way, the three of us came next, followed by Tadelech’s three younger siblings, her mum, and maybe her aunt and uncle (but that was a bit difficult to determine). It was standing room only inside but in the light of a single candle and our phone torchlight we saw Meseret’s mum lying on a hard wooden bed. She was probably in her thirties, seriously skeletal and barely responsive. I doubt that she has very long to live. It was a shocking sight.

As we began to process the pitiful scene before us, we did the only thing we could in the circumstances. Pray. Although our prayer was in English, those gathered listened and thanked us although they couldn’t grasp the meaning of our English words. We also left a small gift of birr to help pay for any further needs.

A further visit two days later to take gifts of food, saw Meseret's mum just slightly more alert. This time she indicated that she wanted prayer again. She is obviously uncomfortable with bed sores and the hospital gave her medicine for reflux.

As ever there is no precedent to indicate how to proceed in a circumstance like this. We will respond to the request to visit and above all - pray.