practicum begins

Well, it’s the end of my first full week in Rwamagana. It was sad to say goodbye to the rest of the GoEd crew. Ali and Kelli who were going to Kionza, and the others left in Kigali. I really enjoyed singing them a goodbye song before we left, and hugging everyone goodbye before we squished tightly into the matatu.

My practicum has been pretty good so far. Seven others from the GoEd team and I are staying at a guesthouse at the Avega compound—it’s a nice place, we all have our own rooms with our own bathrooms. The room service is pretty nice too. They take our dirty clothes and wash them and dry them, so by the time we return to our rooms at the end of the day our laundry is finished.

I’ve been working at the Center for Champions, a home/school for orphans and street children from Kigali. Most of the children are orphans that have been given a better life and opportunity here than they would in the streets. My official title in the practicum is “Communications Coordinator”, in charge of social media updates, marketing sponsorships, and making videos, updating pictures, et cetera. It’s been pretty good.

The first day we arrived was very busy, and overwhelming. The people who are at the Center for Champions practicums met with Melissa, one of the staff, when we got here. We toured the campus and spoke about the code of conduct, as well as what each of us would be doing. After the tour, we met a few of the boys that are here—friendly and funny fellows. This week has been a process of learning their names and getting to know them.

Patrick on the left, others playing ball in the background.

Melissa took us to the market for the first time so we could buy some water. We bought a few boxes and took bicycle taxis back to the compound. That was a unique experience, quite exciting! Carrying a huge box of water bottles on my leg as we breezed through the Rwandan countryside on dirt roads hemmed by banana patches and corn. I loved it.

This week our first major task was to put on a dental hygiene workshop for the catch-up students. The catch-up students are the ones that missed out on primary school earlier in life and are now taking six years of it in three years at the Center. Anyway, we were tasked with presenting good dental hygiene. I didn’t expect it to be so fun. We acted out a skit about what happens when you don’t brush your teeth. Afterward we gave the students their own toothbrushes and toothpaste and gave them an opportunity to practice what we taught them by brushing their teeth in class. I got some good video from that, and pictures too.

Mikaela wields the giant toothbrush we used in our skits. It was a lot of fun.

My first project will be to make a video that can be sent to Crest and Colgate and other dental hygiene companies for some sort of sponsorship. The goal is to get free materials by demonstrating the Center’s intention for excellent hygiene. Pretty cool. I worked on the footage all afternoon. Tomorrow and next week I’ll get some interviews to splice in and out and make a nice little short to send off. I’ve also been working on logos for the Center, and taking plenty of pictures to begin updating the Facebook page next week.

Overall, the work has been good, and I’m really glad I’m with the group I’m with. It’s been really nice to crash in my own room at the end of the night, as well as just hang out with the other seven people here.

There is a really nice one-stop shop up the road where they sell these fried things. They make my tummy feel really weird, but they are so good—they have meat and a hard-boiled egg inside a fried wrapper in the shape of a triangle. Ryan and I have been frequenting the one-stop shop for them. They are 50 cents, and amazing.  

There is a lot of physical activity here. Yesterday we played basketball for about two hours. After dinner we came back to the center for hip hop dance night. It was hilarious, and beautiful. It’s pretty much all guys at the Center, so walking into a room full of guys breakdancing, hip-hop dancing, and just having an awesome time listening to bangin’ tunes was so cool. I loved it. I got to dance again with Africans—this time my new friends. There are all kinds of age groups, and it was awesome to get down with little Idi and Claude, and also to break with Alexis.

Thanks for reading. I could share a lot of other stuff, but I’ll save those stories for when I get home. This experience has been positive thus far, but I want to make sure that it remains a productive time. It’s tempting to just play with the children, but I have to remember that I’m here to promote the Center in different ways, and not just benefit myself and the children by hanging out with them and playing with them. Yes, that’s so important. But I am convinced that my role here is more than just immediate love for these kids—I think that what I do for the center long term through marketing, advertising, media, or whatever else is what I’m ultimately here for.  

One last thing—the kids love it when I beatbox. They think it’s the coolest thing in the world. Leonard was rapping yesterday when I was beatboxing after the basketball game. 

This is Leonard. He's good at volleyball and rapping.

lake kivu and such

It's been quite a while. I apologize for not updating anything very much. I feel like no one reads this blog anyway, so I don't have much motivation to write here.

We left for Kibuye after lunch on Friday. The journey was quite incredible. As soon as we passed out of Kigali, the landscape changed drastically. The mountains jutted out of the ground, green behemoths with carved out levels, where farmers had landscaped to be able to farm at ridiculous angles on the hillside. The highway wound up and around through the banana tree scattered hillsides, corn patched slopes, red earth roadside. It was so beautiful! I loved the trip. I also listened to some metal for the first time in a little while, which I enjoyed.

We arrived at the Hotel Golf on Friday evening and spent the night there. In the morning our adventure began-- we set out on a rickety boat to hike up Napolean Island, a jutting, angular mountain island in the middle of Lake Kivu.

Mikaela is is really excited to go to the island.

When we arrived, it was a 16 minute climb to the top. A stupendous journey, and a spectacular view. I wished I could have stayed up there longer... I feel like we stayed up there long enough to snap a bunch of pictures and then head out!

Ryan on a rock. This gives you a sense of the steepness of this thing.

This was the highlight of my trip. After this big hike we boated around the lake and made it back to the hotel. After church on Sunday we headed home. I will upload more pictures of the hike on Facebook.

The first day of our research was yesterday. I went around Gasharu, a town inside a cell inside the Muhazi sector where Procom will be doing development work in the next 10 years. Patrick was our translator, a very kind, smooth voiced student from the Kigali Institute of Science and Technology. He wants to do IT work when he gets out in March. I really liked him and he was extremely helpful!

We walked around the town with the help of some other man who knew the area (I didn't get his name). The compounds were close together, with plant fences and mud houses. Some of the houses were better than others. Some of the houses were obviously built with mud bricks and had an exterior finish with a more solid, cement foundation, and other houses were sticks in the ground with mud plastered over them. The households we were able to interview had weathered Africans to greet us-- for the most part the wife or son came to greet us and speak with us, as the father was generally working somewhere. Each household offered us chairs to sit down on. We sat and began to ask questions.

Sitting in the front or back yards of small, rural African households was a unique experience, to say the least. There were generally African children frolicking and bantering behind and around us as we inquired about daily life, income, and food for these people. All with tattered, secondhand clothes dirtied with daily use, hanging off shoulders, several sizes too large. Neon, rubber sandals on most children, some barefoot and filthy footed. The people we spoke to were sometimes solemn, sometimes funny, sometimes shy, sometimes loud, sometimes talkative, always willing to answer our questions.

It was heartbreaking to hear from all nine of the households we spoke with today that the only water is an hour away by foot, and that water is not clean. Every one of the places boils their water before they drink it to decontaminate it. Some of the families made about 5,000 francs a month, or the equivalent of 8 dollars in 4 weeks. There was one mother of four that was widowed and when we asked her what her monthly income was, she answered that she had none. She grew what she needed to survive, traveled to the market about once a year, and the rest of the time just survived. It was eye-opening, and at the same time, expected. I hope and pray that in ten years when Procom goes back to measure the progress, that people will have better access to necessities than what they have today.

Today's interviewees had similar stories. One woman had no income and was getting about one meal a day, generally. She was a widow and her name was Mary Odeth Kayitesi, and she was quiet while we spoke with her in her home.

She spoke softly.

I felt horrible for her because she had received a cow as a part of the government's program to give every poor person a cow, but after the cow had born a calf, they took both back apparently. Left with nothing. Patrick couldn't figure out why, and we couldn't either, but it was sad to hear. I wished there was something more I could do for her, but there wasn't really. I just hope that Procom can indeed do something positive in the community.

Another person we interviewed was named Emerita Nyirabatunzi. She was also a widow, and HIV positive. 

She had one child in secondary school, and has to walk half an hour to the lake to get water, and then boil it because it is dirty. Her average monthly income is 1000 rwf. 

Research continues tomorrow. Practicum begins next week. I find out what I'll be doing tonight!

today tonight tomorrow

Classes are excellent. In my social context for development class, we've talked about different social institutions that are addressed and contribute to development. It's a lot of stuff that I've never even thought about before. I'm realizing through this class and the issues in peacekeeping class just how interconnected my desire to end genocide is with maintaining, growing, and changing societies... and how development is sort of a precursor to peace. I don't fully understand all of it, but all the objectives of Christian development, or basically moving a community forward by principles of the Kingdom of heaven, all point  to a place where hostility ends and reconciliation can be facilitated.

Today was a per diem day, which means GoED gives us a few thousand francs and we're allowed to get out and buy some food at a restaurant in Kigali. A group of us went out looking for Shokola, a place I found online, but ended up at Camilla's (I can't remember if that's what it was called), a Rwandan buffet. For the equivalent of about four dollars I loaded up a plate and gorged on delicious food out on the front porch, cars, taxis, motos, and buses driving by. Rwandans laughing, talking, and strolling up and down the street.

Tonight I went bowling with Kevin, Ryan, Jordon, and Nathan from Procom. It was a fun night. We went to the only bowling alley in Rwanda and bowled two games. The electricity went out for about half an hour between games.

Tomorrow I'm hoping to ride around Kigali and interview different pastors, priests, or whoever else from different churches in the city. Next Thursday I have a group presentation with Ally and Nicoya about the role of the Church in the genocide, and we're hoping to get some first hand knowledge or testimony. Who knows what the day holds!

memorials

Today we piled into another matatu and drove to two more genocide memorials just outside Kigali. It was after another delicious lunch that Aidah prepared for us, and after a short siesta we headed out. I've grown accustomed to the colorful chair selections in the matatus, as well as the comfortable feeling of the air moving by my face and arms as I am almost pushed out the window by lack of space. And it's always kind of funny the stuff on the back of van, and the variety of music played. Last time the van was a pimp wagon that said "Rick Ross" with giant picture of him on the back, and we bumped old school rap the whole time. This time our matatu taxi said "Nigga 1" on the back (I don't know what that means?) and we listened to inspirational ballads the whole time. The CD skipped a lot though. 

We drove to the first genocide memorial. As we approached the buildings where the memorial was held, our group held a sort of solemn silence. The guide came forward and told us a bit about the location--it was a Catholic church; one building a chapel, one building a sunday school room, and a couple other buildings as well. Upon entering the chapel, our guide told us that 5,000 Tutsis had been murdered there in two days. The chapel was full of clothes of the murdered. Shirts, pants, dresses, blankets, socks. The walls were adorned with the tattered clothing of those who'd been killed. On the back wall was a shelf with different levels. On each of the levels there were human skulls, some of them incomplete, some of them with more machete cuts than one, some with bullet holes. There were also femurs and other human bones from bodies from the killings there.

At the front of the chapel were a few coffins, probably only 12. Our guide told us that six on the left side were found last year, in 2011, in the area. It smelled like dust and decay in the room. 

The second building was where school children hid from the killers for some time, until the wall was blown open by grenades. It was another room where children had been killed. There were shelves where the books of students used to leave their books.

The last two buildings were the worst. One of them was a structure where there were burnt mattresses and clothing all over the floor. They had incapacitated victims and burned them on mattresses. I stepped on someone's underwear, and noticed a shoe. The last building was the Sunday school room. There were small pews made of concrete. On the wall was a spot where the killers had killed babies by smashing their heads against the brick. The mixture of blood, brain, and hair had left a stain on the wall that never was washed. The rest of the building looked fairly clean except for that dark spot on the wall.

The most intense part was when the tour concluded and our guide asked if we had any questions. Carly asked how he escaped… he described how he had stayed hidden in swamps and on the hill. She asked if he could tell his story, and in more detail he described the day his father was killed but by chance he made it away from the pursuing soldiers. We stood out there out in the breezy air by the planted gardens, gathered around this thin man telling his story. He concluded by saying that he had left out a lot, but that it was terrible. As we gathered into our van to leave, locals gathered around to look at the bunch of muzungus that had come to the memorial. And we left that place. 

We drove further down the road, and I couldn't really think of words for in the van. I felt kind of weird because some of the other people were talking and I just couldn't say anything. I just felt like crying. Here was a man who had his life traumatized and now has a job reliving the massacres for tours. And he was grateful to do it. He said himself that he is not pessimistic; what happened in the past is in the past and he does not mind talking about it. I couldn't help but think what a genuinely beautiful human could do that-- to not be consumed by rage, bitterness, and sorrow, and instead quietly, slowly, describe the horrors he experienced in hopes of teaching a new generation what happened. 

We arrived at the second memorial, another Catholic church. The group piled out and we visited the inside. Our guide described how the church had been a safe haven in initial killings in 1992, and thousands flocked during the 1994 killings, but instead were all slaughtered there. 10,000 people lost their lives in and around the church. The pews were stacked high with the clothes of victims. They looked ordinary, but were dusty, old, and decayed. I could see many colors, weaves, and designs on all the clothing. The interior of the church smelled like age and decay. A musty, dusty smell. There were bullet holes in the ceiling and holes from the shrapnel. They had thrown grenades into the church because the people were too tightly packed to kill with machetes. They had thrown the grenades first and gone in afterward with machetes to kill the survivors in the sanctuary. 

Behind the church were mass graves of 45,000 people killed in the genocide. We could actually go down inside… one of the graves was a narrow, tall hallway that held skulls and other bones on shelves. The underground hallway was narrow, and it was dark. The weight of a thousand lives was thick in the air. I saw so many skulls… it was so weird to be able to reach out and touch them. I didn't, but they were inches from me. Prematurely ended lives now lined up in front of me. The skulls were yellowish, and a few of them had obvious machete holes. After we had a chance to see the graves, a lady that had been cleaning the church came with us in the matatu to a different location, to tell her story. 

Pastor Anostase, our professor for Issues in Peacekeeping class, led us on this trip to the memorials, and had heard this woman's testimony before. We circled around her on a random back road and she spoke Kinyarwanda and told her story. Pastor Anostase translated. 

Her name was Sarafina. To hear her tell her story in her native language, hear her tell how her husband was killed, but she was for some reason spared with her children… it was gut wrenching. She wept when she told about her children and her staying in the overcrowded basement of a church for two months while people wept and died all around her. She and her children made it out alive. 

The most powerful part for me was to hear her say that she forgives them. She has forgiven the Hutus who killed her husband. It made me weep to hear her say that she now prays and worships with them. That is what hit me the hardest. Seeing this woman who has every reason to live in hatred, but has found the power to forgive and love in the gospel of Jesus. Pretty much everyone was in tears by the end of it. We were fairly silent on the return journey to the house. 

Learning and perceiving this genocide in different ways has opened my eyes to how dark, deep, and tense things still are. I am so encouraged to hear firsthand the reconciling power of God. But I am also very intimidated by the enormity of the horror of it all. After today and the last memorial we went to last week, I have become even more convinced I am called to prevent this tragedy from ever repeating. 

class

The past few days have been thoroughly enjoyable! We have taken a bus every day this week to the Procom office near the market. It feels pretty neat to say to the bus drivers "Gerera?" and hop on the bus if they answer yes. Often times we cram into the van and it's a short ride past the market at Kimironko. It is all sorts of shapes, colors, fruits, sounds, and smells when cruising down the street with motorcycles weaving around. I see people walking on the sidewalk on their phone, I see women sweeping the edge of the road, men walking their bikes with enormous baskets to the market, and even people selling pants and shirts on corners and curbs. Everywhere I've been in Kigali has been bustling with life and color-- the ride to class has been no exception.

One we get off at our stop at Gerera, we walk down a couple of streets to the house and sit in the room while Dr. Dwight Jackson (a former Greenville prof) teaches on development. He is obviously experienced and I feel very fortunate to be able to study with him-- he's spent almost half of his life in Africa, and knows what's up when talking about development. I've felt inspired and interested most of the time, especially today when we talked about "normative systems," and thinking also about economic systems and how they relate to development. It's over my head a bit, but I'm getting there. Neato.

My other class is held in the classroom at the Go Ed house, which is outside underneath a tin roof. It's the garage, turned classroom. I have very much enjoyed Pastor Anastose, who teaches the class about the genocide, peacekeeping, and reconciliation. It is difficult to think about what happened here, and difficult to process all that I read about and listen about. It's incredible to think that most of the people I see on the street have some deep connection with the events that have transpired here. Everyone on the bus, everyone on the street... most people witnessed the genocide, escaped it, or participated in it one way or the other. That is humbling and intimidating. I wish that I could convey what it's like a little bit better.

I really do enjoy my classes so far, and the food is astounding. Also, the weather is astounding too. Today was the first day when I decided to wear jeans instead of shorts with my T shirt because it was a bit chillier.

That's all for now. I'm going on a safari this weekend. Looking forward to posting some pictures!

exploring

Today we spent the day exploring Kigali after some of the group went to church. I accidentally slept in until 1230 when Ryan woke me up for lunch. I guess I really was tired! Anyway, after church, we had a bit of meeting around time and then we embarked on the highlight of the day, a scavenger hunt around Kigali.

Sam, Rae, and Mikaela traveled around with Sarah Mast (who I knew previously from in the US... weird) and saw a bunch of places as well as got to interact with some local people. We went to Kimeronko (spelling?), the market, and walked around for a bit. It was bustling with people selling everything from fruit to clothes to flour to cleaning supplies in stalls and under a large roof. It was delightful and I'm looking forward to going back and bartering with people. I want to see what kind of deals I can get on clothes, fruits, and gifts. And just learning how people buy things here differently.

It was excellent traveling in the matatus as well, buses/van things that cost between 100-250 franc to get around in Kigali and its outskirts. It was far more interesting, engaging, and sensual than traveling by car in America-- the sights, the sounds, the smells are all so unique. Everything is so much more colorful. Each person seems to have their own color scheme. I really like passing by all the many shops and market stores on the sides of the roads as well. The road that our driveway comes on to is peppered with everything from electronic stores to printing places to coffee shops to supermarkets. Or some combination of each.

We stopped at Aromas cafe for one of our scavenger stops and I met a worker, Muhamed, who I'd like to go back and talk to. Partly because he was one of the few friendly people I actually had significant interaction with, and partly because he spoke English. And also because he could serve me (hopefully) delicious coffee. I've heard it's good from that place.

We also waltzed around the center city, going in a few different shops and getting bearings for a few different things downtown. Afterward, we met up for dinner at Sole Luna, a pizza place near our house. It was yummy.

More soon. It's quite incredible... I hope to upload some pictures that I will take sometime soon.

from earlier today

Well, I made it this far. I'm sitting in the airport at Addis Ababa in Ethiopia after a 13 hour flight. I think I slept a little bit, but for the most part I was reading and writing. It is certainly becoming more real to me that I'm here… maybe not that I'm living here for the next four months, but certainly that I'm here. 

The trip over was good. It really didn't feel like I spent 13 hours in a plane. It felt like I spent maybe six or so. I read from the book Crazy Love by Francis Chan, and it certainly messed with my sense of purpose, my anticipation for the next few months, and is helping me to look seriously at the faith I profess. It really will be an interesting process of transformation. I can't wait to be embarking on this journey… I wrote in my journal how crazy it is that I'm already experiencing profound spiritual questions and inspiration, and I haven't even gotten off the plane yet. 

I am off the plane now though. Our flight to Kigali has been delayed so we're waiting in terminal 1, gate 10 of the airport. I have had some great conversations with the others in the group. I suspect they will be intriguing, engaging, and generally excellent people to live with. And fun too! 

It was truly amazing flying in. I spent last semester working on artwork based on landscapes in Sudan, and to see similar geographical framework coming down from thousands of feet up was inspiring. instead of looking at maps from google, I'm looking at the terrain itself. Instead of imaging the African air, I'm stepping off the plane and breathing deep! It felt good to be off that plane and basking in the sun in open air. 

Fun fact: people smoke in this airport, even though it says no smoking. I love it. I don't smoke, but I think it's funny that people are just like "whatevs man" and lighting up. 

That's all I have for now. I will post again when we've settled into the house after our flight to Kigali.