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.