Rwanda, week 1

Tues, Sept 21
We arrived after a very long, 25 hour trip. The trip itself was uneventful, except in Brussels when baggage inspectors debated about taking away the large stained glass gift cross I had packed in my carry on luggage to keep safe from loss... They must have thought I might whip it out mid flight & bludgeon someone, or perhaps that the composite matrix material was explosives.

Jean & Laurent's family gave us a very warm welcome at the airport and each of us was given a small peace basket in which our names had been woven along with the message "Welcome to Rwanda." Upon arriving at our rented house, I saw that Angelique, our cook, had set the dining room table in silver service for dinner, I wasn't hungry, but that proved to be no obstacle to enjoying my first taste of authentic African food. Fresh chicken in a savory sauce, rice, spinach with something unknown but delicious mixed in, and "chips" or fried potatoes, fresh, locally grown avocado, and bananas for desert.

I turned in around 11 PM local time (6 PM at home) to the horrible sound of what must have been a puppy being eaten alive by a pack of dogs, and slept like the dead until sometime around 3 AM when I was awakened by more dogs.

Wed, Sept 22
(It's 4 AM Thurs. The baby in the room next door is fussy, probably because he's ready to be awake and play. There is a lone dog outside barking its fool head off. I've been asleep since 8 PM, so I'm ready to be awake too, but I should try to sleep some more so I can get my internal clock set to Rwanda time.)

I saw Rwamagana for the first time today. Jean came to the house early - around 8 AM. None of us were quite dressed yet, though we'd been up for a long time. Because it was the first morning, getting myself ready was a little chaotic. I can't really unpack because there is no closet, so it's hard to find things quickly. I'm still trying to figure out how to get things done efficiently. One bathroom between four people is an adjustment, but we'll get it figured out. I have no electrical outlet in my room - that works, anyway - but there is an empty room that has one. It's a good place to pass the curling iron through my hair and iron the wrinkles from my clothes. I may begin brushing my teeth & washing my face at the outside sink if Angelique doesn't mind. The bathroom sink is miniature & overshadowed by a shelf, so it's impossible to get my face over the bowl to rinse. Of course, we have no running water most of the time so washing at all is a treat.

We went to the ARDR office to meet the staff. What sweet, considerate people! I'm pretty overwhelmed by how kind & friendly nearly everyone is, including strangers on the street. Not all of the staff were there today. We met Rose, Clara, and Laurent. The three of them took us on a walking tour of Rwamagana. It's completely different from anything I've seen before. Hard packed red dirt roads & paths, squat buildings, some of which are painted in bright colors, and others made of beautiful rustic brick or perhaps mud. (I hear the Imam calling Muslims to prayer it's - 4:30. I hate Islam, but I must admit, the chant is beautiful.) People everywhere and not a car in sight. People everywhere walking, people congregating, people hauling produce to the market. They all stare at us. I was called muzungu for the first time today by a little boy. It was cute. I was told "Good morning, Sir" by another little boy as I walked by on a path past a school playground. With a smile, I gently corrected, Good morning, ma'am" and as I continued walking to keep pace with my friends, I heard him call after me, Good morning, Madame!" I smiled & waved.

The market was amazing. Wall to wall people with their wares set up on tables, some under a large barn-like building and others in the open air. There were all kinds of produce and foods I have no clue about. I'll try to learn more later. Used clothing, bright, hand dyed fabrics, nails, and almost any scavenged thing one can imagine. One very sad incident overshadowed the market trip: a young woman whose face had been terribly disfigured by burns furtively darted into a corner and peered at us intently as we bought water in one of the shops. It was upsetting, but apparently she is known around town and maybe someone helps her survive.

We bought woven earrings in bright colors, and some hand dyed fabric. We'll go back tomorrow to be measured to have dresses made. I don't know what style I want yet.

We returned home, tired again, to another amazing dinner. Cassava with beef and sauce, baked bananas with carrots & seasonings that was sooo good, macaroni & cheese (!), the obligatory avocado - the best avocado I've ever had - and sliced fresh pineapple. Yum. I hope all the walking will compensate for the large meals we're served.

The afternoon nap was followed by our first visit to the English class where we met Godfrey, the teacher. He was lecturing his students on the rules of debate. I assume he's going to have them hold a mock debate to practice English. Good idea for a more advanced class. I'll be curious to see if these students actually kept up with his rapid fire technique.

No electricity upon our return home. No water either. It's going to be interesting!

Thurs, Sept 23
Running water & electricity are more often off than on, but it's amazing how easy it is to adapt and make do. I continue to wake just before the 4:30 AM to the incessant barking of feral dogs followed by the Islamic call to prayer.

Today we visited three orphan schools. They are scattered through the country side in locations accessible to clusters of foster families who have taken the children in. The families receive very little, if any, compensation for sheltering the children. Rwanda has approximately 600,000 orphans due to the genocide and HIV which is rampant due to the use of rape as a weapon of war.

We traveled steep, rutted, red dirt roads lined with wild flowers. Flowers grow everywhere. Perhaps they are God's way of redeeming the blood-soaked ground. Geraniums & Verbena seem to be common, along with Clematis, Vinca, Poinsettia, and other garden store varieties we see back home. The first orphanage was next door to a genocide memorial. This very rural cemetery/memorial consisted of a single mass grave containing 1,000 bodies. It was covered by a concrete top, and wilting bouquets were scattered around it. The school building was constructed of the common packed mud ball material with several shuttered windows and a sky light. There was no electricity. About twenty young primary-aged children sat crammed like sardines behind two rows of rough-hewn wooden benches with writing tables. They desperately need more benches, but there isn't enough money to have the local craftsman build them. They had little notebooks which had each been carefully torn in half to make twice as many. They were so well behaved, but obviously excited to see us. We received a greeting in English along with a little conversation and a song about Jesus. Then it was time give our gifts. We took them outside and tossed little soccer balls to them and passed out jump ropes. The soccer balls were an immediate success, but the kids were unsure about what to do with jump ropes. After a few demonstrations by adults and lots of coaxing, the kids caught on and were jumping away. We brought both short individual ropes and long ropes. It would be fun to come back in a year to see if they have developed the intricate jump rope dances we played as kids. After awhile we gave them boxes of crayons, more little notebooks, and some work books for math and writing. Saying good bye was hard. These kids are so sweet and eager to learn, but most of them will not be able to continue with school once they are past this charitable primary education provided by our host organization, ARDR.

We continued to the next school. This one was better off, having been built & supplied by UNICEF. They still had only the basics, so our gifts of soccer balls, jump ropes, crayons, and workbooks were appreciated. The third school was held in the bare sanctuary of a large church. As we walked in to the dim space, we passed a young boy laying on a grass mat on the cold concrete floor. He had vomited, and appeared very sick. No help was available for him. No school nurse to keep him comfortable, no call to mom to come pick him up. No doctor to give him medicine.

The rest of the class sat in a group in the center of the sanctuary. They didn't have desks. There was a blackboard at the front, and this is where their lessons were done. In another small building nearby was a second class. Dirt floors, no light, no desks, more of the same. Again, gifts of balls, jump ropes, crayons, workbooks. Each time, all the kids wanted to be touched, hugged, talked to, loved. And it was so hard to say goodbye.

After this last visit, the pastor of the church that housed the school wanted to pray with us. His prayer, as others I'd heard, started with thanks to God for "still surviving." Heartbreaking. He offered the most beautiful prayer of thanksgiving for us, for the gifts we brought, and for the love we had for Rwanda. It left me in tears, not happy tears, but deeply sad & embarrassed tears because we had done next to nothing. What are a few soccer balls & crayons when these kids have virtually nothing? The poorest children in America are rich compared to them. They do, however, have one thing that many American kids don't: faith in God who loves them, and the joy that faith brings even in the face of such suffering.

In the evening we visited another English class, this one taught by "Bob." Bob is from Uganda and was given his nick name by an American friend while he was living in Iran. I hope to find out more of that story. Bob was instantly likeable. Our class time was spent introducing ourselves and then it was time to go. Jean didn't want us to walk home in the dark.

Friday, Sept 24
Today was quiet. We spent time talking with Jean about our agenda and brainstormed ways to raise funds to help ARDR's work continue. So much need, but everything requires funding first. We stopped by an internet cafe, and then later in the afternoon returned to Bob's English class.

Saturday, Sept 25
Jean and his staff are very busy preparing for tomorrow's celebration of Laurent's return home with his bride, Nicole, and baby son, Grant. It will be a feast that will include a freshly slaughtered cow for the wedding party. We won't be visiting the field today.

Jean's wife, Janine, took us to the seamstress' shop to pick up our dresses. Sherrie's dress fit well & was beautiful, but mine was a bit snug in the shoulders. No problem - the seamstress took it apart and adjusted it on her peddle machine while we waited and visited. Everyone that came into the shop was a friend, and conversation was lively and full of laughter. Afterwards, we 4 women went to the beauty salon where Nicole had her hair done and the rest of us had manicures and pedicures. If any of you have seen the movie Steel Magnolias, you should have no problem imagining the atmosphere of the shop. It was very small and dimly lit, but lively. A TV/DVD player stood in one corner playing wonderful Christian reggae. There were three stations with women having their hair done by the stylist who moved from chair to chair while her assistants supplemented. While Sherrie & I had manicures the power went out. The manicurists took it in stride producing flashlights to continue filing and polishing all the while bantering and laughing. My manicure & pedicure cost $2 American. The same at home would have cost $40.

Sunday Sept 26
Today was our first African worship service at the church Laurent attended when he lived here in Rwamagana. It was large a non-denominational evangelical church packed with about 1,000 people. Banners hung from high on the walls. There was a large stage area, and the choir was already singing when we arrived. It will be impossible to describe how amazing the music was. No sing-song, sappy, bustle & bonnet, sentimental "church lady" music there (the 19th century virtually ruined hymnody and should be banned). What we heard was lively, joyful, music with a reggae-like beat and tight, natural African harmony. The singers moved as they sang, usually in unison, and the effect left my eyes leaking for the beauty of it. They sang Amazing Grace and even it was somehow given new life. I enjoyed singing along in English from memory.

Sherrie, Nicole, and I were each invited to speak for a few minutes giving whatever little introduction of ourselves we wanted. It was far less intimidating than I thought it would be, but I'm still glad that part is over. ;-) There was time spent by the Bishop who oversees the cluster of local churches thanking Laurent for his years of service to the church before he moved away. Laurent preached a short sermon, there was more music, and the service was over. Not what I'm used to, but good - especially the music. A friend of Laurent, Elisa, was invited to sit with us to interpret, and as it turned out, he is an Anglican. He invited us to visit his church in Kigali which we intend to do, God willing. He thought Sherrie would be allowed to film the service. I hope so!

After church, we walked across the road to the ARDR compound where tents and chairs had been set up for the long delayed wedding celebration for Laurent & Nicole. Nicole looked absolutely gorgeous in a traditional African dress of patterned silk tied over one shoulder with a matching undergarment called a Umukenyero. Sherrie & I were surprised to be seated at the head table with the bride & groom. Music and speeches followed a delicious dinner. Traditional African dancers performed and Sherrie & I were honored (and embarrassed, I might add, speaking for myself) to be pulled up front to join the dance. We tried, but buzungu (pl. of muzungu), as everyone knows, can't dance. It's traditional in Rwanda, when one wants to honor someone, to give a cow as a gift. Laurent & his family received 3 cows from various family & friends. I wonder if customs will have a problem with them. ;-)

I fell asleep at 5PM and slept soundly until 2:30 AM - 9 hours of consecutive sleep for the first time in a week. I was awakened again by the barking of a feral dog and the Islamic call to prayer.

There, but...

Yes, we arrived safely, but I have almost no internet access. Bummer. I'm journaling daily and may try to post a few things from an interent cafe, but pictures will have to wait.

It's utterly foreign, raw, beautiful, delicious, and hearbreaking. The people are so warm & friendly. The birds are amazing.

I've seen precisely one small spider - outside where it belonged - and not one mosquito.

I'm really disappointed that I won't be able to do much blogging, but when I get home I'll make up for it.

For family & friends

Stay tuned... I hope to post pictures & narrative here, IF netbook & wifi cooperate, and IF I can upload pictures. We arrive in Rwanda on the evening of Tuesday, Sept. 22, 2009. I'm sure I'll be exhausted after a 25 hour trip, but maybe by Wednesday I can begin updating.

I have no idea what to expect, and no clue as to what my reactions will be. I'm so very thankful for my dear husband who encouraged me to go. I wouldn't have dreamed of it apart from his urging. This isn't a book, but I dedicate my Rwanda trip to him. I love you, Clifford!

Muzungu means white person. It is, apparently, a common shout among local people. We're told it's not derogatory - just an exclamation.

Comments from home will be cherished while I'm away. Please keep me connected, :-)