Rwanda, the last days

Thursday, Oct 1
In Kigali, we stopped to buy more soccer balls for the orphans. While we were in the store, Sherrie mentioned she’d noticed that in the UNICEF school, all the kids shared one drinking cup for the water stored in a jerry can in the classroom - water unfit to drink to begin with, but when multiplied by the germs of 48 children, it becomes a potentially fatal drink, especially for the kids carrying HIV. We determined that we wanted to buy a cup for each of the children at the school. We didn’t buy cups for the kids at the other two schools because they don’t have access to water. Yes, that’s right - 2 of the schools have no water.

So Thursday was spent writing the name of each child and drawing little decorations on the cups in permanent marker. My formula was a bouquet of flowers for the girls and toadstools with a caterpillar for the boys. Everyone knows little girls are sugar & spice and boys are snails & puppy dog tails. ;-)

And then off to our English classes.


Friday, Oct 2
We returned to the UNICEF school to give the kids 2 more soccer balls and their cups. Clara, one of ARDR’s staff, read each child’s name so they could come get their cup. Inside each cup we put a “bon bon” (candy) and one of my little Noah’s Ark cards with the phrase “Imana iguhe umugisha" (God bless you) and a U.S. penny rubber cemented to it. Big success - I just hope the teacher can find a place to store the cups.

Saturday, Oct 3
Another day spent in Kigali. We checked into Chez Lando Hotel, had lunch, and then met the families of several friends from home to deliver items & pick up a few things to return. Then a little shopping, and back to the hotel for some longed-for wifi and Skype time with my hubby whom I miss very much. Oh Joy, there was a hot shower and a flush toilet. Skype is an amazing thing, but the hotel wifi connection was weak so our conversation was a little frustrating. Better than nothing though!

Sunday, Oct 4
We attended St. Peter Anglican Church in Kigali. Once again, the singing was wonderful. I've fallen in love with African hymns & songs. It's going to be hard to return to the smarmy church lady hymns that plague North American churches, but I do miss the chants we use at home. If St Peter is typical, then the Anglican Church in Rwanda is, not surprisingly, "low church" Anglican. Holy Communion was kind of similar to our form, but aside from the General Confession of Sin (no absolution or comfortable words), lessons, recitation of a Creed, homily, and benediction, I couldn't discern any other pattern like ours. There were far fewer prayers, and many informal breaks in the flow of the liturgy. I prefer my home "high church" service, but the service at St. Peter was a good experience.

Sherrie & I sat at the back of the church in an attempt to be inconspicuous (no small feat considering we were the only two buzungu present), but before long an usher came & invited us to sit right up front. LOL - not what I had in mind, but it helped Sherrie film more easily. Then it happened again. We were unexpectedly asked to come introduce ourselves - an example of one of several breaks in the liturgy. Before we spoke, the choir sang a song for us. I think it was probably a song of welcome, but I'm not sure. It wasn't too traumatic with the kind priest standing next to us.

After church, we were invited to sit and talk with the priest for a bit. The Bishop of Kigali was visiting that day, so we were able to meet him as well. But the really big news is that the priest is going to try to arrange a meeting for us with Archbishop Kolini! What a privilege.

Sunday turned out to be quite a day. After church, while we were waiting for a ride, we noticed a little book shop. Inside, I spotted the Primary grammar book the Rwamagana ESL students use. I thought it might be helpful for my ESL students at home, so I asked Laurent to ask the clerk how much it was. Meanwhile, Sherrie found a Kinyarwanda Bible for a reasonable price. Laurent told me the grammar book was 8,000 RWF (about $4) which was very reasonable, but I saw another stack of the same book priced at 7,000 RWF. When I pointed that out, Laurent said something to the clerk, but the clerk made some excuse about the inflated price. That did it for Sherrie. She shot back, "No! That's a muzungu price!" and threw down her Kinyarwanda Bible declaring she'd buy nothing in this store and stormed out. Haha! As that little moment transpired, I shook my head, "No," laid down the grammar, and walked out too. Laurent stayed behind, and the clerk had a Duh moment when he asked if Sherrie were mad. LOL! Dear Laurent chastised the clerk for lying to us and left as well. As it turns out, the clerk was Muslim so that was two strikes against us: white, and Christian. Oh well, his loss.

The rest of the day was a combination of agony & ecstasy. We had been invited to our host's home for dinner Sunday night, but while we were in Kigali Nicole and Laurent wanted to visit family members. The family of Nicole's uncle was our first stop. Her aunt's home is a little stucco-like house with sheet metal roof and concrete floor that's common to Rwanda. Very quaint and homey. Houses in Rwanda, at least the ones I've seen, all have a separate building for the kitchen, and all seem to cook on charcoal stoves. It's very primitive, but the food is wonderful. Nicole's aunt and cousins had prepared a feast. Dish after dish of rice, potatoes, cassava, matoke, sauces, meat, and vegetables were brought to the table, and bottles of Fanta were passed. We tried to take conservative portions of food since we had dinner plans, but it would have been rude to turn down a meal meant to honor guests, It was delicious! After dinner, some formal words were exchanged as is the custom, and we were invited to pray together before leaving.

Next, we set out for the home of Laurent’s brother, Oscar. As we turned off the main road, it was apparent that we were about to do some serious “dancing” - an inside joke about what it’s like to bounce, sway, skitter, and bebop down very steep, narrow, deeply rutted red dirt roads in a jeep - and I use the word road loosely. Houses line these mountain goat trails, and people travel up & down everyday by foot for all their daily business. On our descent to Oscar’s house, a new phrase became a favorite: Mamawe! which is Kinyarwanda for momma mia. We arrived with our previous meal still located somewhere near our stomachs. The view was spectacular. Oscar’s house overlooks a gorgeous valley and hillsides covered with cultivated fields, stands of trees, and homes.

After greeting the family we were ushered inside. The first thing I saw was a chicken perched on a dining room chair. Then I noticed that the house was unfinished. The floor in the dining room wasn’t excavated and was a bumpy surface of rocks & packed earth. If it weren’t for the potential toe stubs & tumbles, I thought it would be pretty cool to leave it the way it was. The house will be beautiful when it’s finished. It was made of the same mud stucco common to Rwanda, but the design elements set it apart as a more affluent dwelling. There was the standard out building for the kitchen and a wonderful covered front porch perfect for enjoying the valley view.

We sat down and accepted yet more Fanta while we visited. Then, much to my horror, the parade of dishes began. Once again, African hospitality could not be refused, and as we feigned starvation we filled our plates with rice, potatoes, matoke, sauces and meat. Momawe! Oy vey, and aye car rumba! It was late afternoon and I had not seen a bathroom since 9:30 AM. I was certain I would explode. And then it began to rain. Deluge to be precise. That precipitous path we had descended was undoubtedly becoming an impassible raging red torrent and we were doomed to sit here and eat for all eternity.

Kidding aside, Oscar’s wife and kids, 4 of whom are genocide orphans they’ve taken in, were completely delightful. When it was time to go, we were again invited to pray together. Oscar particularly asked prayer that God would provide for him to complete his house since his children were still sleeping on the floor.

Our last stop was the home of Jean & Jeanne, our host family. Right after we arrived, the electricity fairy snuffed out the power. I was thankful for the small blessing because by now the dark exhaustion circles under my eyes were as conspicuous as my hospitality-swollen abdomen. Jeanne prepared a beautiful dinner of spicy matoke, rice, meat & sauce, vegetables, batter-fried fish, and homemade doughnuts. I was, by then, comatose.

I have no memory of arriving home. I know I woke up in my own little nest under the mosquito net. I never, ever again want to eat dinner 4 times in a row.

Monday, Oct 5
Today we visited a micro-finance class and saw a field prepared for the rainy season cassava planting, But the memorable part of the day was the drive there and back. We were in a fairly rural area where the square mud & tin roofed houses sometimes gave way to the earlier days of cylindrical mud walled huts with banana thatch roofs. As usual, flowers bloomed everywhere and young children played in front of their homes near the dirt road. That gave us many opportunities to hear squeals of excitement over the passing buzungu ladies who tossed bon bons from the windows of the Jeep. At one point I told Sherrie we were like the Rwandan Mardi Gras. We'd toss candy to the kids and they'd scramble to pick it up. Some would thank us with the now familiar "murakoze," but several times Sherrie & I each received a very special gift: some of the kids would spontaneously say "God bless you!" It's hard to explain what it's like to have a smiling, bright-eyed child ask God's blessing on us, especially when that child is dressed in rags and standing in front of a mud house. I had one very inquisitive little girl, after she told me "God bless you" in English, ask where I came from. She'd never heard of America, so I explained I was from very, very far away across the sea. Many of the kids in this community can't go to school because their parents or guardians can't afford uniforms or books. Unless they can find a way to afford school, they are likely stuck in poverty so extreme it defies imagination. No school, no health care, not even a church within walking distance. The girls will be married to a husband who can pay a good price at a very young age, have babies, and repeat the cycle. Education is their only road out.

In the evening we had our English class. I finally feel as though we have some direction. Too bad it didn't begin to shape up until the last week. I feel there should have been advance communication between us and the local teachers to facilitate preparation for the classes, but, as we've learned, the African way seems to focus primarily on the present. Oh well... no big deal.

Tuesday, Oct 6
Back to one of the orphan schools to drop off 4 more soccer balls. The fun part was handing out our penny cards and bon bons to each child. Such a little thing, but it generates such happiness in the kids. I got lots of smiles, hugs, and hand shakes. It' was funny though... remember the manicure I told you about? Well, you get what you pay for. My nail polish began chipping off after just a few days and by today I was left with little islands of dusty pink polish in the center of each finger nail. I watched many of the kids as they took my hand in theirs. At first they were fascinated by my light skin next to their dark skin, but many of them did a little double take at my finger nails. I'm sure they had no idea what they were seeing and will forever think buzungu have the most curiously spotted nails.

Next, we stopped by the little grotto where the genocide widows weave baskets to sell. After a few more purchases, we photographed each woman and recorded her name. Our plan is to print cards with the photo, name, and brief biography of each widow to attach to the baskets we hope to sell. We'll write some interview questions and have one of ARDR's staff write the answers for each woman. Sherrie & I can then correct the grammar and have the cards printed back home.

Wednesday, Oct 7
Wow! We met Archbishop Kolini today! It speaks volumes about the man that he's willing to take time from his busy schedule to meet two housewives from Ohio. He is an adviser to President Kigame, Archbishop of the Anglican church in Rwanda, and Bishop of the Diocese of Kigali. He travels all over the world, so we were fortunate to find him home. We had coffee and talked for an hour. He's a very humble and gracious man, and has his finger on the pulse of worldwide Anglicanism.

One of our purposes in meeting with Archbishop Kolini was to tell him about our desire to get an African Anglican service started as an adjunct to our regular English service since we have so many African refugees living in our parish. He told us about a Rwandan bishop in Buffalo, N.Y. who might be able to help us.

After our meeting, we did the tourist thing and went shopping. It's amazing how fast word spreads that there are buzungu shopping. When we walked out of the little Rwandan crafts shop, we were mobbed by street vendors. Our hosts tunneled us through the mass of hands waving wares and we escaped. As we reached our car, the next salvo was upon us, this time beggars. The beggars are annoying on one hand, but on the other sad because it's often obvious that they really are needy and may have very little or no means of support other than begging. Women begging with babies tied to their backs are everywhere, but it's impossible to tell if they are legitimate. There is prostitution in Kigali, and it's likely that these are women who beg by day and sell sex at night. I have compassion for them; I'm sure they don't do this by choice and that their lives are miserable, but I'm not inclined to line a pimp's pocket. What a sad situation. More compelling are the crippled and handicapped. Rwanda probably doesn't have infrastructure in place to provide for them, and since the population is so poor, I doubt even churches can adequately provide them with food, clothing and shelter. Our host suggested that, unless someone was handicapped, we not give beggars money. Seems like a good guideline.

It was late & we were way too tired to teach English by the time we got home.

Thursday, Oct. 8
Today was a day to rest, do laundry, and go to the internet cafe. Unfortunately, the dial-up service was down, and then later the power went off. No internet - no email from my hubby and no way to let him know all is well. I don't like this at all.

We had storms again in the evening. The rainy season is beginning, but still no running water. No one came to take us to English class, so it was a slow day. In the evening, Nicole's birth mother and sister, who had traveled by bus from Kenya, came to our house. Nicole was separated from her mother as a toddler when her mother was kidnapped by Congolese rebel forces. Her father, thinking his wife was dead, remarried and, from refugee camps in Burundi, was resettled with his children in the U.S.. Nicole was meeting her mother for the first time, so Sherrie & I retired to our rooms.

Friday, Oct 9
We visited ARDR's functional literacy project. The class is composed of women who never had a chance to go to school. They meet in a partially completed mud brick building without doors. The black board is borrowed from a primary school, and the women sit on mud bricks on the dirt floor. Some of them are genocide orphans, and one is confirmed HIV positive. All of them want to learn and have hopes for a better future. We are nearing the end of our time in Rwanda, and still I can barely wrap my mind around the magnitude of the need here. And this is just one district within one Province in all of Rwanda, and Rwanda is just one country in Africa, and Africa is just one continent in a world full of continents, countries, districts, towns, and people in desperate need.

We had our last English class this evening. The regular teacher, Bob, talked a bit about how thankful they were for our visit and for our hope to continue to support ARDR's work. It was kind of overwhelming because, as he talked, I was again struck by the enormity of the need. Sherrie and I are just two women, What can we do? But that isn't the real question. The real question, or more properly, the real anticipation, is for what God will do.

I wasn't yet prepared for the "good-bye" part of our trip to begin, so when Bob prayed for us and each student gave us a hug & a few words of thanks, I started to leak from the eyes again. I'm ready to go home. I miss my husband terribly. I need a purring cat in my lap, and I'm even looking forward to my dog panting his hot breath in my face, but I'm not ready to say goodbye to Rwanda. I know part of my heart is going to stay here.

Saturday, Oct 10
Today is an ARDR board meeting. Sherrie & I will be attending, but I'm not sure why exactly. We won't understand any of what's said. Afterward, we've been promised a driver so we can see some scenery and have time to stop for photos. We've been kept so on the move that we've missed capturing far too many things. A little internet time would be great, but that's beyond my control. Tomorrow we will attend the Anglican Church in Rwamagana and have lunch near a lake as a last get together before Laurent leaves for Burundi on Monday. Monday will probably be spent packing up, and Tuesday we head for home. None of us are looking forward to the 5 + hour lay over in Brussels. It will be a shock after 3 weeks in a place as friendly & unpresumptuous as Rwanda.