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Jerry Katlin asked me to describe my experience in three words.  Even though I am generally the queen of concise, I just can’t.  But let me try a few…

Grateful.  I feel so blessed to have had this opportunity.  So many things bought me to this point-some not so good but most of them great.  And now to be able to immerse myself in a culture, to live differently than my norm, and most important, to be touched as I never have by so many people and places, makes me so grateful.  

Connected.  One aspect that I wasn’t expecting was the large number of people that volunteer at and visit the orphanage, not to mention the others I met in my work and travels.  Meeting people from literally all across the world and to now consider some of them my friends, is a bonus that I will take.  And who knows how I ended up in a tiny little country that, as Brenda pointed out, you can barely find on the map, but I also have a connection to that place that I will never lose.  It is wounded yet so hopeful.  There is gentle kindness to its spirit.  And thanks to that crazy Facebook, I also felt connected to home.  The amount of love and support that was sent my way was humbling. 

Overwhelmed.  At times I feel the experience was so overwhelming.  There is much that I did not write about like meeting the former Bishop of Rwanda and a former wife of Kony—both individuals that you knew had a wisdom and understanding that you can only hope to achieve a fraction of.  And honestly, sometimes I was overwhelmed by my own Western ideals that I could not shake.  I want so much more for these kids, especially the teenage girls at the orphanage.  They are so bright and funny and engaging that you just want to scoop them up and give them the opportunity to do anything they want.  But who am I to judge that the life they end up living won’t be fulfilling and beautiful.  

Trust.  I will be the first to admit that Victor could sometimes drive me crazy.  But I learned a lot from him.  How to argue with grace.  How to stay true to your vision no matter what the obstacles.  How opening your home to anyone that wants to experience the peacefulness and restorative feeling of that place and trusting that the Universe will return that favor someday, is amazing.  And it works.  And trusting myself.  Learning that not everything is going to feel right and to sit back and be patient as the lessons unfold does not come easily for me.  Yet I had no choice.  And it also worked.

For the first time in my life, I could go just go on and on about these past three months—but I won’t.  It took me two days to even post that I was home as I struggle to readjust and come to terms with what this has meant, and to face the new fears of what comes next. 

And finally back to grateful--I can’t find the words to express to my new friends and old how much your interest, support, and love has meant to me.  I am one very lucky woman.   Thank you.            

The Genocide

I have not spent much time writing about the genocide that occurred in this country.  You all know about it and it certainly has not dominated my trip.  It has however, constantly been in the back of my mind.  Standing in the streets of Kigali and wondering what it was like when it was littered with bodies.  Looking at machetes and wondering if they were ever used for killing.  Finding out that the kindest man at the orphanage was imprisoned for alleged acts during that time.  Sitting at the pool at Mille Collines in the lap of luxury yet knowing that it protected so many.  Meeting a man whose family swam across Lake Kivu to the Congo and lost two siblings along the way.  Visiting the memorial in Kigali.  Seeing a scar on the neck of a young man at the orphanage.  It is everywhere. And yet, the most impactful was the church in Nyamata.  A place where people thought they were safe—but the army bombed and shot their way in and killed thousands.  The clothes of those victims piled on the pews. Bullet holes in the ceiling.  The blood of the babies that were swung by their feet and slammed against the wall still evident.  And looking at the casket of a woman that was repeatedly raped before she was killed.  And she was killed by a sharpened stick that was inserted in her vagina and pushed until it came out the top of her skull. I think, for the first time, I might truly believe in evil. 

And yet, while I type this, it is occurring again and again and again.             

City Life

I’m in Kigali for a few days before I leave for Kampala.  It is so different here than ‘in the middle of nowhere’, but interesting just the same.  Ralf kindly let me stay at his house this week.  It has been fun to get to know Eli and Norman better—all really great people.

Not that I’m not working for Victor anymore—Cristina and I ran errands for him on Tuesday which included picking up his passport from the German embassy, getting some more RAM for his disabled laptop and picking up his iPod from some hotel.  Thursday, I went to immigration to find out what a new work permit was going to cost him.  In between I managed to visit a genocide widows sewing and craft cooperative (where they also made me a lovely skirt), do a little shopping, and have dinner with my new Danish friends, Helle and Helene, and attend an art opening with them. 

And lunch Wednesday with Cristina was quite fun.  After countless numbers of children asking for money or trying to sell you something, we walk into the restaurant and she grabs the menu and says, I’m going to buy that kid a sandwich—meaning the one standing outside the front of the building.  Not sure why this exact child captured her, but he did and we decided we would invite him to eat with us.  He was about five years old and initially very shy.  The waiter helped translate (we learned his name was Patrick) and we ordered him the milk and bread that he requested—later a Fanta after he eyed Cristina’s.  He gulped down the milk and when he finished his croissant, he asked if he could go get his brother.  Sure, why not.  His brother, Kerry, was probably about two or three.  They were so darned cute—one of the best meals we have had here.  When we were finished we boxed up some leftovers and had them take us to where their Mom and other siblings were sitting on the street.  She was very appreciative. 

Most every trip requires a ride on the moto and now I barely notice the crazy driving and death defying merges into traffic.  Just seems normal and I’m beginning to wonder why we don’t have this in Denver—maybe I’ll get a scooter when I get homeJ  With a sidecar for Willie?

Today will be my last day here before a 5:45 am bus to Uganda.  I’m sure I will question why I didn’t fly after 8 or more hours on the bus, but it just seemed like a waste of money.  And supposedly it is much more luxurious than the buses I’ve taken here to date.  We will see.

Friends, can you imagine....

Victor’s favorite saying is “Friends, can you imagine…” as in:

Friends, can you imagine in the middle of nowhere there is a place as beautiful as this.
Friends, can you imagine the first orphanage in the world to gain self-sufficiency and economically independence (I love his English)
Friends, can you imagine how we can support almost 130 orphans on $2000 a month.

I went to high school for a bit today.  Friends, can you imagine a classroom with only a blackboard and chalk for teaching aids, with limited textbooks, shared pens and one notebook each.  For Physics, the questions were written on the board and then they worked in groups to answer.  English was a little more fun.  The teacher wrote the lesson on the board and then interacted with the kids to complete the examples.  They all raise their hands and snap their fingers and say ‘me, teacher…me, teacher’ when they want to answer a question.  Despite never raising my hand nor doing any of that, the teacher called on me four times!  My name was ‘newcomer’.   I guess my English is a little rusty as I rarely use the verb ‘shall’ and never use ‘shan’t’ and was a little confused as to which pronouns they apply.  The teacher was quite patient with me and I answered all my questions correctly including the definition of ‘must’.  I was quite proudJ

As time runs out here I realize how much I have grown to love some of these kids.  Jeanette (or Bora) and Elena are a couple of my favorites.  Jeanette (Bora) wrote me a letter and gave it to me last night.  Here is what she said:  

“To you my dearst:  How are you firstly I greet you in Jesus name.  I think that you are okey just that the problems can’t goose in our life continue.  Jean, since I look at you, you are believed for me ‘oh’ faithfully just to say I will never and ever forget you in my life.  My aim is that when I have life I will remember you.  You are very sorry for that you are going to miss you and you pray for you.  Thank you so much, for your friend, Bora."

Friends, can you imagine the struggle it is for any volunteer here to stay in touch with these kids.  They don’t have phones.  There is no post office nearby (the orphanage PO Box is in Kigali and mail is picked up sporadically) and it would be difficult for them to even purchase stamps.  They do not have access to email except if a volunteer will let them use theirs, as I do.  Their English is so limited that they can’t express themselves as much as they would like.  And they all ask ‘when are you coming back’?  So hard to answer.  Maybe soon.  Maybe never.   What must it be like to constantly have people walk in and out of your life? 

I can only hope we do more good than harm.          

The children

I have only a little over a week left here at the orphanage before I leave for Kigali and then Uganda.  It has gone amazingly fast.  How was I ever worried about my ability to be away for so long?  Now, it doesn’t seem like near enough time.    

I’m still in awe of the children here.  There are many challenges—the crappy diet, the tattered clothes, the probably less than adequate schooling—especially when they are being taught in a language that they barely know--and of course, the lack of a true family unit.  But yet, although the diet is heavy carbs and low on protein, they certainly aren’t getting the processed foods and genetically modified mutations that we consume.  They make the best of their clothes and the teenagers even share like every other teenager across the world.  The value their education and study hard.  The all talk about University. And they truly love and look after each other.    

And they are happy.  As I have written about before, they sing and smile all the time.  I have an endless supply of hugs—not just from the babies but from the older kids as well.  There is a certain innocence about them that is so endearing that you want them to keep it forever.    While it is not a perfect life, it is much, much, better than I expected.

And the government wants to take it all away. 

The rumor is that they want to close all orphanages by the end of the year.  At least one and maybe two have already been closed.  I found the strategic plan of the Ministry of Gender and Family Promotion and there is not one word about it in there, so it is suspected that it is a presidential edict of some sort.  (don’t think for a second that this is a democracy as we know it).  There were a few articles about the policy in the press last fall and now the talk has started up again and being heard by the kids on the radio. 

The plan is to place the children with their extended families if they have one.  The problem is that to date, these families have not stepped up to care for them and there is a real and legitimate fear that they will be mistreated if they are returned.  Not to mention that many of them cannot afford another mouth to feed.  For those that do not have extended families, they are looking at something similar to the American foster care program.  I will leave my views on that system out of this and just let you form your own opinion on how that might or might not work.

Of course, the orphanage has received no official word from the government.  Our current plan is to write a letter to the minister to ask if we can receive more details and also to see what the criteria is to select the two orphanages that we have heard they will keep open.   It is also hard to believe that they can accomplish this all in a year, so we will see.

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the policy will be re-evaluated or reversed (Kagame has done that a couple of times in the past) as there are so many people that have invested so much to help these kids and there are so many good plans to help them in the future.   

And they deserve it.       

     

Sounds

I think one of the things that I will miss most about this place is the sounds.  It starts with the clanging of the tire rim at 5:00 am for church and then slowly and gently increases from there.  There are the birds of course, and the roosters and the cows, then the children singing, and some extremely loud bees and finally the whole day comes together as church is over and the cooking begins—generally there is a child or two crying somewhere, but on the other hand there is the laughter of the babies as they receive their baths and get dressed for the day.  Sometimes Victor plays his guitar and sings in the morning.  By 7:00 when the first children leave for school and the rest head for the fields, the orphanage is in full swing.

Then the opposite occurs as the sun goes down.  First there is church so the kids settle down from their play, and they sing again (they often sing to themselves during the day as well).  Study time follows which can be quiet or sometimes a little rowdy.  By 7:00 it is dark and we have our dinner.  Then it is only the sounds of conversation at the guest house which can also range from quiet to a bit rowdy, but always interesting. 

Except for the occasional motorbike or car in the distance there is no ‘traffic’ noise and I have only heard the ambulance siren once.  And siren is a stretch, more like a horn that says “I’m here”—you certainly can’t drive fast enough on these roads to hurt anyone and there is not enough traffic to get in the way. No TVs or video games and few radios (think tinny transistor sounds).  There are a number of old cell phones that hold some music for the kids but you don’t even hear those that often.   And I have only heard Lady bark twice while I have been here (I need to have a chat with Willie when I get home to let him know that is an option).  

I know I’m not describing it well, I think it is one of those things that you have to experience before it makes sense. And I’m happy that I have. 

Rain, hellos, and goodbyes

The rainy season is here.  I thought that it might delay its arrival as a favor to me but no luck.  It has been raining off and on for the last week but pretty steady for the past two days.  Just when you think it isn’t too bad, it starts raining harder to prove a point that you aren’t in control of anything here. 

It leaves you a bit damp and not bone chilling cold, but certainly not the warmth of the sun that I was so getting used to.   It is the weekend and Victor discourages work so I try to read but it doesn’t hold my attention so you have to be content with just being, and alone with your thoughts—which is harder than you think.   At some point, I just crawl back into bed. 

But Pam arrived on Thursday evening so that is a bright spot for me.  Although, I wasn’t sure she was going to survive the moto taxi drive to the orphanage, she did.  I think she would have preferred to drive.  And if you know Pam, you know that is true.  Now we need to stop her from stashing one of the babies in her suitcase to take home.    

We spent the morning after her arrival exchanging money and grabbing a few supplies in Kigali before heading out to the orphanage.  You don’t know the look of joy until you deliver jar of Nutella to Janek.  The bottle of Vodka didn’t hurt either. 

Janek and Beata leave tomorrow for three weeks of travel in Uganda and then home to Poland.  I am in quite a bit of denial about it as this has become my home for now and they are my family.  They are an amazing couple and have been a pleasure to live and travel with.  I will miss their humor, Polish Tuna salad on the top of a volcano, and a story worth it’s own post about Janek  ‘saving Private Ryan,’ aka my cell phone.   I hope to be able to see them in Kigali on the 12^th before they catch their flight home, so it is just a temporary goodbye.  But it is worthy of a dance party tonight with the kids and an adult party later to ensure they end this part of their adventure in style.    

The Routine

The adventures are over for a little while and so I’m settling into a routine at the orphanage.  They ring the bell (actually a rusted out tire rim) at 5:00 am for the kids to get up.  I can now sleep through it but am generally up by 5:30 or 6:00 and get a little alone time before everyone else gets up.  Breakfast is at 7:00 and then we ease into the day

It’s probably time that I admit that I have a dog here in Rwanda--please don’t tell Willie.  Ok, so maybe it is actually Victor’s dog but I have adopted her as my own for the time that I am here.  Her name is Lady and she definitely fits her name.  There aren’t a lot of dogs in Rwanda (most were killed after the genocide for less than pleasant reasons that I won’t go into) and Lady has to be the fattest one here.  She is so spoiled.  The kids call her the Muzungu dog because she is white (blond color), has her own bed (a bean bag chair), lives at the guesthouse and gets good food.  She is very patient about her food but knows she is probably going to get an omelet and guacamole for breakfast and if not, a hard boiled egg—which she can peel herself, very lady like of course, if you start it for her.  She loves a good butt rub and I would let her sleep with me if it weren’t for the darn ticks and fleasJ

I generally go to the office in the morning and fight with the Internet.  We are waiting on the ‘mapping’ to come back on the land and in the meantime I’m trying to figure out how to register a business in Rwanda and be prepared to move forward on the purchase (and various other tasks regarding Birambye).   I have become the editor for most documents as I’m the only person here that English is their first (and only, embarrassingly enough) language.  I have also been assigned the project to figure out how to cut costs in their egg producing business which should be interesting.  Add tour guide to the list and it provides a lot of variety. 

Lunch is at 1:00 after which Victor takes a siesta.  I may siesta myself or head back to the office.  Some days we head to the hospital if we need to do any heavy lifting on the Internet or I may take a walk.  Every couple of days, whether I need it not, a shower is in order when the water is hot in the afternoons.  Wednesdays may involve a walk to the market in Mugonero although not every week.   A trip to the baby house is generally in order at some point during the day.  Dinner is at 7:00 and after some conversation, to bed embarrassingly early.   

This past Friday we headed to Kibuye.  Cristina met quite a few people in Kigali and one guy has a cottage on the lake which he offered up for her use.  His ‘man’, Kazunga, (I swear that can’t be his name but she insists it is) came and picked us up on the boat (a motorized raft really) which was a nice break from the moto taxis and provided us a different view of Lake Kivu.  The cottage was lovely—we had lunch at a hotel next door, did a little shopping in the market in town and just hung out on the porch for the evening.  Saturday morning I took a couple of hour walk doing a bit of market research on the hotel competition in the area and we headed back to the orphanage in time for lunch and of course, more weekend guests.  I don’t think there is a weekend where there are not guests here. 

Guests change the routine a bit but there is a certain rhythm to the days that doesn’t change.  And it is amazing how quickly it feels like home.  This week Pam will arrive and I am very much looking forward to her visit and showing her this crazy little corner of the world.   

Road Trip #2-Wow!

It seemed like a busy week.  We returned from the rain forest last Sunday and late that afternoon two unannounced guests arrived.  Since I am now the official tour guide of the orphanage, I showed them around.  They are two German medical students, Bartu and Chris, whom had just finished up a surgical rotation in Butare, a town a few hours away.  I guess there isn’t actually a lot of surgery performed at this hospital due to lack of equipment and supplies and amputations seem to be a popular procedure.  Still, they were ready for some R&R and a friend who was a previous volunteer here sent them our way.  They planned to stay for one night but they stayed for four. 

We finally made it down to Mugonero market with them on Tuesday (it was a day early due to a national holiday on Wednesday that no one could seem to explain), and more guests (two women from Britian) arrived that evening.  That prompted Victor to throw a somewhat crazy little party on Tuesday evening.  I am now quite familiar with Rwandan pop music as well as some European.  At one point in the evening a limbo contest broke out, with a broomstick as the limbo pole.  Let’s just say a good time was had by all.

Our moto taxis arrived at 6:00 am on Thursday to take Janek, Beata and me on our Congo adventure.  I will be upfront here and admit that half the reason I did this was to get the Congo stamp on my passport.  Some of you will understand that (Katlin, if you are reading this I thought specifically of you).  But it was way, way worth it.

We stopped in Kigali to load up on food for the hike and also met Cristina for lunch.  She seems to be thriving in Kigali but will return to the orphanage this week.  Then we were off to Gisenye where we spent the night.  We headed out to the border (Gisenye and Goma are side by side) at 8:00 the next morning and the process to enter the Congo was surprisingly simple and easy.  Our guide from the park met us at the border in what looked to be a huge former military transport truck.  Most comfy ride we have had so far.

The DRC is one of the poorest countries on earth but I did wonder if I was going to be able to detect a noticeable difference from poor to poorer.  But there was no doubt we were in a different country.  The first thing you notice is the amount of barbed wire and also that about every third vehicle is a UN car or truck and there are several large UN compounds just outside of town.  The airport has a wrecked jet sitting at the end of the runway.  I guess it crashed a few years ago and they just haven’t bothered to move it.  The housing is denser and definitely more dilapidated.  The markets feel more desperate as well.  The USAID stamp is everywhere.  And yet, the people were friendlier and less uptight than the Rwandans.  Go figure. 

We had a quick stop at the office where two older American women and a son of one of them joined us.  (Louis works for Human Rights Watch in Kigali but spent over two years in Goma and was quite knowledgeable).  We arrived at the park where we met the rest of the group, four deaf Germans, and after loading up our porters and getting a short orientation, we were off.  Two armed guards/guides with us, of course.

It was a very nice hike up Nyiragongo (the head cold I had wasn’t so nice).  We were slowed a bit as one of the Germans was ill and they would not break up the group, but still a good hike.  I wouldn’t say that loose lava rock is my favorite hiking surface but hey, what can you do.  This volcano last erupted in 2002 and much of the trail is along that lava path. 

We arrived at the top in the late afternoon and settled in and had some dinner.  They recently built some little wood and metal A-frame huts at the top that have two cots and provide some shelter from the wind.  The wind really was nuts during the night so I can imagine how fun a tent would be.  I had taken an early peek at the lava lake but it was nothing compared to want we saw once it got dark.  I’ve searched my brain for the right words to describe it but all I can come up with is ‘It was so friggin cool!!!’  Sorry, I have never been too eloquent.

Mother Nature is amazing.  The lake is a hot pot of boiling lava that looks so alive and powerful.  Fire patches that move about the pool and a ring of fire around the perimeter.  The crater itself is about 800 meters deep (yet you can still feel the heat) and incredibly steep with the lake glowing and growling in the middle.  My pictures will never ever do it justice.  If it had not been so windy and a bit cold, I could have stared at it for hours. 

Not much to do after that but read a bit, try to get warm and turn in for the night.  We were up early for one last look at the lake and then we started our decent.  Did I mention I’m not a fan of loose lava rockJ  But after the steepest part, it was just a long good hike down.  We didn’t get back to town until about 1:00 but Louis recommended an Indian restaurant that was outstanding.  The food in Rwanda lacks a bit of flavor so we were pretty happy to have that opportunity.  A short walk back to the border and we were out of the Congo.  I had promised Janek a helicopter rescue should we be kidnapped so I think he was a bit disappointed that didn’t happen (he wrote his masters thesis on the whole ‘Blackhawk Down’ Somalia incident) 

We headed back to Kigali on Sunday where I left Janek and Beata. There is a concert on Monday night that they want to see but I was eager to get back to the orphanage.  It was a long day but I arrived back at the Hilton (aka guesthouse) just in time for one of Rasta’s excellent pizza dinners, a warm beer and a good night’s sleep.  All and all, a great weekend.                      

Road Trip—it’s all about the transportation

On Wednesday we had a new visitor, Jose from Spain, that Victor had met the previous day on his way to Kigali.  He mentioned he was traveling next to Nyungwe National Forest and asked if Janek, Beata, and I would like to come along.  As usual with me, I said “sure, why not”.

We packed up and headed out on Thursday mid-day.  After waiting an hour on the road for the bus, we were on our way.  We decided that it would be best to stay in Kamembe and then head out for the park on Friday morning.  After five hours on a crowded, dirty, smelly, bumpy (not a strong enough word) bus that was probably from the 60s, we arrived in Kamembe late afternoon.  (At one point on the drive, we all had to exit the bus as it navigated this makeshift wooden bridge that was barely as wide as the bus). 

After scrambling to find a place to stay, we headed out for a much needed beer and dinner.  (It’s not like you want to spend a lot of time in a room that $5 per night will buy you) 

We found a covered outdoor patio bar that came in handy once it started pouring rain.  Soon the electricity went out and we were eating by candlelight (and the light from the bank sign across the street which was apparently the only place in town that had a generator).  We, of course, were the only mizungus in the bar and after the electricity came back and the music started up, Jose decided we needed to dance with locals.  That required another round of the ridiculously large Primus beers, but we all eventually jumped in and were welcomed with open arms.

I took a little break back at the table and as I sat watching the rain and the dancing, I had one of those ‘how in the world did I ever get here’ moments that often happens when traveling.  Half way around the world with three new friends in a town whose name I didn’t even know at the time and only a vague idea of what the next couple of days would bring.  And my logical voice said that we should probably go back to our room as we had a big day ahead, but then another round was ordered, it started to rain even harder and it seemed as if I needed to just be right there, right then.

No surprise we got up a little later than planned on Friday.  After grabbing a quick breakfast and locating a bus to the park we were off in search of a market to load up on fruit, chapattis and samosas for lunch.  Our plan was to go the park, hike and then camp but when we got there we found out that they charged $30 PER PERSON to camp.  Now that’s a little nuts to pay $120 to camp so we bagged that idea.  Jose is traveling for 18 months and even the hiking fees were too much for his budget so he dropped out and headed out to find a bus to Butare. 

Janek had spoken to a taxi that was in the parking lot and arranged for him to take us back to a guest house about 12 kilometers away, but our hiking guide convinced us to stay at a different guest house the other direction that would be more affordable.  He said that flagging down a mini bus to there would be no problem so we cancelled the car. 

We finished around 4:30 and headed out to the road to flag the bus (this, by the way, was the only time we saw monkeys but we did see about six of them and they came within a yard of us).  Hmmmm, seems that finding a bus isn’t so easy as there were not too many and most passed us by with the ‘we are full’ hand sign. 

Then it started to rain.  Change of plans, we will take a bus in either direction, just need transportation.  We finally got one to stop and although he was also full, he was happy to let us sit in the cargo area.  It is hard to describe how funny it was and how scared the three of us looked when the back door started to fly open before we all grabbed it. 

Not knowing exactly where we were going, we accidentally overshot our destination by a few kilometers so now we had to grab the motorcycle taxis to get us back.  Riding on one of those with a large backpack is a special treat.  But we made it and headed to reception where we were promptly told they were full.  Change of plans again.  Sam, the guy at the front desk walked us down to the nearest village and hooked us up with a room for about $8 each.  Luckily the newlyweds don’t mind sharing a room.   It was ‘tolerable’ but also was the second night we chose to sleep in our sleeping bag versus the house linens—Janek was still itching from the flea bites from the first place.

So we lost the Spaniard but we picked up a German, Bertal, at this place and he joined us the next day when we returned to the park for a longer hike.  Another transportation challenge as the buses were few and far between but we finally got a guy in a little Toyota pickup to stop and we rode in the back of that for free. 

Today’s hike was six hours long and we saw such a plethora of wildlife--two worms and five frogs-- Woo Hoo!  It really was a very nice hike in the rain forest with three waterfalls and enough elevation change to wear us out.  One of the guides was willing to take our money and give us a ride back to the original guest house where we knew they had a room for us now, so our transportation was not as eventful.

Had a lovely dinner and shared a table with a man from Wales working for the Rwandan Education Board for six months and a Rwandan friend of his.  We turned in early as we needed to grab a motorbike by 6:45am to meet the bus at 7:00.

If I described the first bus experience as crowed, etc., this one was over the top.  I did not know it was possible to squeeze that many people into one bus.  We gave up trying to protect our packs and just endured.  It’s not too bad when you are moving—and develops your core strength staying upright on all the crazy curves—but some of the stops were long as people were crawling over and under other people to get out and the heat and the odor just got worse and worse.  But in a mere four hours we were back ‘home’ at the orphanage.
 
We were disappointed by the lack of primate viewing but overall had a ton of fun on the trip; probably for its impromptu nature and creative problem solving.  Thank goodness for Janek and his French and negotiation skills.

Next road trip…..The Congo!!

Weekends

The only true weekend day is Saturday but given I’m not working that hard, it seems like every day is a holiday.  However, this is the day that Victor relaxes, the kids go to church, and then they play in the afternoon.

We knew we had visitors coming in the afternoon so Cristina, Janek, Beata, and I headed for Cristina’s and my first trip to the ‘beach’.  The orphanage owns a bit of lakefront property that is about a 30 minute walk (all downhill).  It’s a sweet little spot where we could soak up the sun, read and swim without the kids around (they sometimes come after church on Saturdays but not today).  I know most people say not to swim in the lake but it is too inviting.   Janek and Beata have been doing it for months and they don’t appear to have any nasty parasites.  

There were a couple of local boys swimming and playing soccer (of course called football here) with the requisite ball made out of plastic sacks compressed and tied with a string.  We had brought a ball as well, so Cristina and Janek, our soccer professionals, joined the boys for a bit.  

We headed back for a late lunch at the orphanage.  I hadn’t really been paying attention to how steep the earlier descent was but I sure felt in on the way back up.   Luckily we hadn’t had any of the beer that we were dreaming about. 

Our guests had arrived and as usual, it was an interesting array.  Ralf who picked us up from the airport, his roommate, Ellie, and her boyfriend, Norman.  They had driven from Kigali and brought treasures for us, most notably cheese and wine!  I love these people.

Spent some time getting to know more about Ralf and his work.  He works for a German company that consults with the Rwandan Development Board and his specialty is food processing and production.  But we spent most of our time talking about a business that he was starting on the side and how inexpensive the start-up costs were in Rwanda.  We also talked about the ecolodge project which I’m spending most of my time on.   Everyone I talk to has a very different opinion on what exactly this ecolodge should be.    

Norman is a PhD candidate doing research in Rwanda for a year.  He is an anthropologist and is studying the effects of health care tracking on funding and policy.  Not sure I would have put those two together but it was very interesting to discuss.  He is currently working at the Millennium Village Project.    Ellie teaches German at a private school in Kigali. 

It was a lively evening (given the wine and all) with great conversation and beautiful weather.  Can’t ask for much more.

Sunday started out as a another lazy day as we had breakfast with our guests and they set out exploring the orphanage and it’s grounds.  They left shortly after lunch and took Cristina with them!  Ralf has a lot of information for her assignment that they can work on together as well as some contacts in Kigali for her to meet with.  Hopefully, she will only be gone a week or so as her energy will be missed.  She is the extrovert to my introvert and keeps things lively. 

I thought the day was winding down when Janek stopped by to see if I wanted to accompany them to the lake as they were taking some of the kids for some play.  At the least, I was ready to master that hike so we took off.  The kids had a blast and I dusted off my rusty volleyball skills.  Maybe skills is a stretch but I held my own.

We returned the orphanage and after an early dinner it was time for the Dance Party!  Janek set up his little DJ station, complete with solar flashlights for lighting, and pulled out his Rwandan music.  The kids absolutely loved it as did I.  They sing along and dance and dance and dance.  Some of the little ones were originally more obsessed with my headlamp than the dancing but soon joined in.  Poor Janek, dozens of kids facing his DJ stand screaming the songs at the top of their lungs.  It has been a long time since I have danced so much that I’m dripping with sweat. 

The dance party is a rare event and there are even those that don’t feel it should happen at all since that type of music is not in line with the Adventist values.   But it’s hard to think of it as wrong when you see the joy it brings the kids and also the ability to express themselves.     

Work

Shortly after arriving, I decided that my time would best be used working on the Birambye Lodge project and of course anything else that Victor would like for me to do.  Cristina is here for three months working on the Orchard business plan so I feel like I would be stepping on her toes to carve out the marketing strategy.  I have offered my services as a ‘consultant’ and I provided her with a list of questions and concerns that I have with the existing plan.

My personal goal is to facilitate the purchase of the land for Birambye while I am here.  Three hectors have been identified and it looks like we have the $10,000 to get it done.  JP, an engineering student from Kigali, came down this week to do the ‘measurements’.   He and John from the orphanage have identified 34 different owners on that little slice of land.  The next step is to finalize the purchase price for each of those segments and have the local authorities bless the sale.  Then we apply to the regional government for a certificate of ownership.  At some point we have to apply to the government for ‘use’ of the land since it is waterfront.  I’m still trying to figure that part out but hope to soon.

So far, that and my assignment to write up a report on the Agricultural Work Program have been about all that I have worked on.  The Internet connectivity is so spotty and definitely frustrating.  Sometimes if I get out one email a day, I feel lucky.  We walked up to the hospital again on Friday to try to use their higher speed connection again but alas, it was down

This week I think I can start working on a fundraising presentation for Victor and Brenda Hull has agreed to help find someone to design a brochure as well.  I want to set up a Facebook page and have started that but of course, I’m dependent on the Internet once again.  I have done a pretty darn good job of divorcing myself from technology but there are certain things you just cannot get done without it. 

I’m hoping that I return to America with a lot more patience than when I left as I think that is what is necessary to get me through.  Of course, no one will probably appreciate my ‘African time’ mentality but me.   

Judgment

I was sitting on the couch outside the guesthouse speaking with Cristina about the fact that I was having a hard time wrapping my head around the new Agricultural Work Program (AWP) that had been implemented at the orphanage over the holidays.  Several agricultural workers had been dismissed and now all the children were required to work in the fields for several hours per day.  Something about that screamed of child labor.  About that time I was summoned to the office to speak to Victor.

When I arrived, Victor and Prince (Prince runs all the operations of the orphanage) asked if they could ask a favor a me.  Wanting to be as helpful as I can while here, I said ‘of course’.  They went on to explain that the Rwandan government was establishing a new policy that would close most of the orphanages in the country.  The government’s concern was that the orphanages were producing ‘spoiled’ children that did not know how to take care of themselves and expected everything to be done for them.  Victor felt that the new AWP addressed those issues and asked if I would write up a description of the program and its mission to be included in the next monthly report to the government.

Oh great, the program that I was criticizing only minutes ago I was now being asked to ‘sell’ to the outside world.  Something told me to sit back and wait until I learned more so I agreed to meet with Prince the next day to review the program.  

Prince and I walked the property as he explained the program.  This gave me an opportunity to not only learn more about the AWP but to get to know Prince better as well.  Victor has a dominant personality and Prince can sometimes fade into the background but our time together allowed his passion regarding the orphanage to shine.  Keep in mind that this is a 30 year old man whose parents were killed by jealous neighbors who wanted their land, whose remaining family was killed in the genocide and who only escaped his own death at that time through the kindness of a Hutu man who claimed Prince was his son when the soldiers were threatening to kill him.  

At that point he was sent to l’Esperance where he has been ever since.  When the previous orphanage director was fired, they asked Prince to take over and he ran the orphanage on his own for several years with limited training until Victor arrived seven years ago.   He now lives off-property with his wife and two children.

Really, Jean, do you think you know more about the welfare of the children than this man?  

I learned more details of the program—they limit the number of hours the children work, the assignments are age appropriate, there is plenty of time for school and play and the children actually receive a financial reward that I equate to an allowance for doing chores.  The orphanage highly values education and they want as many children to go to University as possible but Prince feels that for those that can’t, and even those that can, this experience teaches them a work ethic, self-sufficiency and life skills.  Hard to argue.  The kids learn how to raise seedlings, plant, cultivate and harvest and all the food is consumed by the orphanage. 

So the orphanage got a great write up to include in their monthly report and I got a lesson in judgment. 

 

A Walk in Africa

The slow pace and large quantities of food had me in the mood for movement so I decided to take a stroll up the road toward Kigarama on Saturday.  This entire area is heavily influenced by Seventh Day Adventist (the orphanage is owned by them although Victor is no longer personally affiliated) so Saturday is Sabbath.  Church appears to be an all-day affair with people coming and going throughout the day. 

To me, it sounds as if there are 20 different ways to say hello or ‘how are you’ in Kinyarwandan and I struggle with the appropriate response to any of them.  Mostly I just provide this vacant look with a big smile and head nod.  I’m sure I look like a complete idiot as one old woman grabbed my hand and repeated very, very slowly what I was supposed to say.   

But I continued along my way trying to be as friendly as I could when I realized that I was gaining a rather large contingent of children surrounding me.  At one point I counted about 12 and all were probably six or under.  They competed with each other to hold my hand and were also fascinated by my watch (a cheap Timex from Target with LOTS of buttons).  I babbled on to them thinking they couldn’t understand a lick of what I said but soon learned a few had a tiny grasp of English.  But in either case, I could easily throw them into fits of laughter with anything I said.  I heard several references to Mizungu (white person) and tried to teach them how to say ‘white girl’.  They could get the ‘white’ but not the ‘girl’.  One little girl kept poking and pinching at my waist and so I finally asked her if she thought I was fat and she replied with an emphatic ‘YES’.  I refuse to believe that she could understand me.

After quite some time and getting further and further from the village, I attempted to get them to turn back with no success.  I finally found an older boy that knew a bit more English and we sent them off laughing and smiling.  I then was joined by a couple of older boys who practiced their English with me the rest of the way back to the orphanage. 

I know many people were a bit concerned about my safety in Africa and I had my own concerns, but I can tell that I was MUCH safer on this walk than on any walk I have taken in my own neighborhood in Denver.  And definitely more entertained.  

Planes, buses and motorcycles….

Arrived safely in Kigali where Victor, Ralf and Ralf’s girlfriend, Sylvie, were waiting for me.  Ralf is a German ex-pat working with the Rwandan Development Board and also volunteering his help with the orchard project at the orphanage.  Cristina Marie, a grad student from Canada who will be at the orphanage for three months, was also on my flight and she soon joined us.  Ralf was kind enough to put us all up for the night after a nice dinner overlooking the city.  The rooster waking us up at 4:00 was a bit unexpected but no complaints.

After breakfast at Ralf’s we headed downtown to exchange some cash, pick up a local phone and PC Internet modem (they were out of stock) plus Victor had other errands.  We had one last cold beverage at the Hotel Mille Collines, aka Hotel Rwanda, (Victor informed us that there is no refrigeration at the orphanage) and then we were off to find a bus to Kibuye.

There is a reason that Rwanda is called the land of a Thousand Hills and they are magical.   The three hour mini-bus ride was relatively uneventful but a bit difficult to nap with the windy roads and constant swaying.   

At Kibuye we hired motorcycle taxis to take us the rest of the way--one for each of us and one for our luggage.  An hour and half on the equivalent of a rutted jeep road through the hills on a small motorcycle was an experience.  But the view was beautiful as the road bordered Lake Kivu for most of the way and was spotted with banana trees, the occasional goat, and many smiling, waving, African children. 

We arrived at the orphanage at dusk and so couldn’t get much of a feel for the place.  The kids were crazy to see Victor as he had been gone for six weeks.  We settled into the guest house and then had dinner (outside of course) with the Engineers without Borders group from the University of Colorado (Ankit, Andy, Sonia, and Steve) as well as a Emmanuel, a German high school grad spending a few months here before University and Janick and Biata, a Polish couple spending a six month sabbatical AND their honeymoon volunteering at the orphanage.  One of the joys of traveling for me is the opportunity to meet such a wide range of people (Heidi--this reminded me a bit of the dining table at Chapunga).  

The guest house is lovely with a comfortable common room and two guest bedrooms in addition to Victor’s room.  There is no electricity but it does have a shower that is solar heated and if you catch it at the right time of the day and it has been sunny, it may be warm.  The latrine is dry composted and has some odor challenges but overall not bad at all. 

My wish for a reliable Internet connection has not come true so not sure when I will actually get this posted--probably just one of many things that I have to get used to.   But all is good and I am adjusting to a much, much slower pace—which is saying a lot coming from an unemployed person. 

Thursday was slow day as Victor was busy getting settled after being away and there were a lot of demands on his time, not to mention the need to entertain a group of volunteers from Centura Health that were performing orthopedic surgery up the road at Mugonero Hospital.  The children’s choir sang and danced and the Centura folks and I the kids were fascinated by my iPhone camera.  At one point, one of the boys ran off with it to capture the action and had he actually known how to take pictures with it I’m sure I would have a 100 more on my camera as he was trying like crazy.   

Friday I helped the EWB folks measure water flow on the nearby stream for a potential hydro-power project.  Ok, so my ‘help’ consisted of running the stopwatch but hey, I was there for them in spirit and I did make the hike.  We then headed down to Lake Kivu to look at the property they are looking to purchase for the Birambye Eco-lodge.  Beautiful spot in a secluded little bay.  I think there will be some challenges as the only way there is by boat or an hour hike from the main (I use that term loosely) road, but not necessarily a show stopper.  I have to constantly remind myself that this is Africa and that something like carrying supplies for a mile or so on a rocky trail is probably not that big of deal. 

I don’t plan on posting a day by day account of my activities but thought the first days would paint somewhat of a picture of what life is going to be like.  The EWB group leaves in the morning and I’m not sure if new guests will be arriving for the weekend or not.  I think that Cristina and I will not get Victor’s full attention until Sunday which is fine as we can hit the ground running—I guess that really doesn’t happen here so maybe hit the ground strolling--on Monday.                

   

Am I really doing this?

On Monday I leave on my African adventure.  My plan is to blog on an occasional basis but let’s set clear expectations here—don’t be looking for deep philosophical musings (although I might get lucky now and then) but rather a place to keep friends and family updated on my journey.  I pray for a decent internet connection.

For those that haven’t had the opportunity to listen to me babble on and on about my trip, I am headed to Rwanda until the end of February (and then on to Uganda through March).  In Rwanda I will be living at an orphanage helping on a couple of different projects.  L’Esperance   http://www.lesperancerwanda.org/  is located in the southwestern part of Rwanda on the shore of Lake Kivu.  Victor, the director of the orphanage, has a vision to make the orphanage less reliant on charitable giving and more self-sustaining.  To that end, they have planted an orchard with the goal of exporting dried fruit for sale.  I will be helping with the marketing strategy around that.  There is also a group based in Boulder, http://www.icatis.org/birambye that has plans to build an eco-lodge near the orphanage with the profits going to fund the education and health care of the children along with providing jobs and training for the local community.  I will be assisting them with the business aspect and fundraising.   And if all works out my good friend, Pam Clark, will be joining me for the last two weeks at the orphanage bringing her extensive LMSW and family preservation experience.

Many, many, thanks to my friend, Elliot Goldman, for introducing me to Victor.  I knew I wanted to travel to Africa and volunteer, but that is one big continent with endless numbers of NGOs and other non-profits.  I was overwhelmed by the choices but once I started corresponding with Victor I knew it was a fit.

In March, I hope to be joining a group of business leaders from Denver, lead by Jamie Van Leeuwen and his Global Livingston Institute, traveling primarily in Uganda.  We will start in Kampala and visit a group working in the slums there and then travel north to Lira to visit a child soldier rehabilitation center and refugee camp.   We will then head to the northeastern part of Rwanda to visit a school and tea plantation, plus get a little gorilla trekking in.  My desire is to go back to Kampala at the end of this trip and volunteer there.  

And now thanks go to the fabulous Jayne Buck for introducing me to Jamie.

All I can think is that this is my ‘semester abroad’ or my Peace Corp—whatever it was that I didn’t do in my 20s because I wasn’t ready.  Maybe the biggest thanks go to my former employer for laying me off after 19 years with a pretty decent severance.  It has allowed me to take the time to figure out what I want to do with this next part of my life and although I haven’t totally answered that question yet, I look forward to the insight these next three months will provide.

So I’m packed and ready—I think.  I’m comfortable with the fact that there will be endless bad hair days and no makeup (I am a Colorado girl after all) but the scarcity of wine is a bit more concerning.  And of course, I’m in total denial about the fact that I won’t get to see my Willie for three months.  But he has Justin to look after him and the neighbors checking in as well, so I know he will be well taken care of and probably won’t miss me a fraction of what I will miss him.        

Please feel free to comment on any or all of my blog posts, or email me at jeanann927@yahoo.com as my guess is l am going to get a little starved for friend contact and news from the first world.  Thanks for your interest in my journey.