SuperHeroine: Sophie Ness
By Jennie Lucas

The baby weighed less than two pounds. His eyes were far too big for his emaciated little face, and the spaces between his not-yet-fused skull were sunken in from dehydration. Born several months premature, he was estimated to be about two months old. No one knew his exact age, just as no one would ever know who his parents were or why they'd abandoned him in Addis Ababa.

The three American volunteer nurses staying at the Ethiopian orphanage weren't sure baby John would make it through the night.

"He would have been in NICU level 2 in the States," says Nampa, Idaho resident Sophie Ness, now 24. "He couldn't eat because his mouth couldn't fit around a regular-sized baby nipple, and we couldn't get any preemie-sized ones. So we had to feed him with a spoon, but most of it kept dribbling out."

While the other American nurses, Kjelsi and Tiffany, wrapped the shivering baby in layers of blankets, Sophie called her mother and her eldest sister (both nurses) back in Idaho. Since no high-calorie formula was available, Sophie wanted to know how they could make do with what they had.

They managed as best they could, and the baby survived.

Making do is something that Sophie learned as a child. The youngest child in a family of eight children, she grew up in a home blessed with love, but not always with money. Her father died in an accident when Sophie was six, leaving her mother to care for their large family alone. Her mother rose to the challenge and taught all of her children-including her eldest son, my husband, Pete-the meaning of tenacity, faith and strength.

Sophie has always loved children, and it's mutual. She is the undisputed favorite of her fifteen nieces and nephews. As a high schooler, Sophie also "adopted" two local children who needed care and continues to love them as if they were her own. As a 21-year-old nursing student, Sophie decided to move beyond Nampa. Her first trip abroad was a medical mission to provide care to post-Soviet Ukraine, where the residents are still feeling the aftereffects of Chernobyl. She received her nursing degree in 2004, and while many new graduates might dream of spending their summer partying on a Caribbean beach or touring the museums of Europe, Sophie paid her own way to volunteer for three months at Wanna House in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. She returned for a month-long, follow-up visit in 2005.

"I thought I could help them," Sophie says simply. Her eldest sister, Mary, had recently adopted a baby girl from a different orphanage in the city.

Wanna House is one of two orphanages in Addis Ababa funded by Adoption Advocates International, an organization based out of Port Angeles, Washington. In 2004, Wanna House was caring for about 45 kids, ages birth to five years. Sophie worked with the babies-all fourteen of them.
 

Sophie with baby Howie at Wanna House.

The first two or three weeks, she got to know the babies and caregivers without trying to "teach" them anything. "I have a hard time with Americans who just breeze into places and try to impose the American way of life on these people from a totally different culture," Sophie says. Instead, she modeled the things that needed to be done-basic things like washing hands, not letting bottles sit out for hours and encouraging motor skills in the babies.

"The main thing was hand-washing," she says. "I brought tons of soap and instant hand sanitizer along, and after leaving, made sure they had a steady supply of it coming so that they would not run out. I put up signs in both English and Amharic, reminding them when to wash their hands. I also emphasized giving each baby his/her own stuff (bottles, blankets, towels) instead of having everyone share the same things. I gave each baby a number and wrote numbers on nearly everything in the place. We learned about tummy time to increase strength and motor skills, and chest physio-therapy (patting babies on the back) to help prevent pneumonia-a very common ailment there."

Eventually, she started giving a class to the caregivers. Teaching wasn't always easy since she didn't speak any Amharic and most of the caregivers spoke little English, but a translator came once a week and Sophie gradually learned enough of the language to-again-make do. "Many of the workers have been there four-plus years and are very dedicated to these babies. That made my job so much better. They were very eager to learn and continue to do a very good job."
 

But being alone in Ethiopia was sometimes hard on her. The orphanage was two miles from where she lived, so she walked back and forth every day. To her surprise, she was continually pointed at, by people both young and old, male and female. ("A word was constantly shouted at me. I'm not sure of the spelling, but it sounds like 'for-enge'. It means foreigner," she says.) Men of all ages would come up and talk to her along the way and simply not leave her alone. She got more marriage proposals from strange men than she ever hopes to get again.
 

The view from the window of Sophie's apartment in Addis Ababa. Across the street is the United Nations building.

But she also experienced more kindness and love from the Ethiopian people than she ever imagined possible. For instance, a family who lived in a house made of mud and rusted tin insisted that she join them for tea one day. They entertained her graciously, spending their last coins to get soda and cookies, which turned out to be just for Sophie. (She managed to convince their seven-year-old daughter to help her eat them!) The family's pride in being good hosts, coupled with the love they obviously had for each other, stayed with Sophie long after she returned from her trip.

"When I got home from Ethiopia, I had a hard time going to Wal-Mart for several weeks," Sophie says now. "Once I went in and just had to turn around and walk back out. We have so much here, and yet we're not happy many times. Those people over there have love and each other, and that's all they need. It's absolutely amazing. To this day (17 months after I went for the first time), I can't shop like I used to be able to. My time over there definitely gave me the gift of seeing the value of different cultures. We tend to think that the American way is the only way to do things. Absolutely not! It also showed me very tangible ways that I can use the gifts that God has given me to help other people around the world-exactly the reason that I went into nursing."

Baby John is one of the many babies who benefited from Sophie's efforts. Now a hale and hearty eight-month-old, he's recently been adopted by a large family. The abandoned, starving little boy is now a fat, happy baby with parents and siblings who love him.

So what's next for Sophie?

"I don't know. Maybe Sudan," she says. "They really need help with ob-gyn care. Tons of women and babies are dying in pregnancy and childbirth. I've heard it's kind of dangerous to travel there right now, but my mom said she might come, so I figure we'll be okay. I think we can help."

Sophie Ness is my youngest sister-in-law-and my pick for the first SuperHeroine of 2006.

The author of seven unpublished novels, Jennie Lucas is still trying to find her voice. In the meantime, she enjoys writing short pieces for the Wet Noodle Posse and dreaming up storylines while she folds laundry and rocks her baby to sleep at night.

To read last month's SuperHeroines article, click here.

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