Hi Friends!!
I am writing to promise you some fascinating upcoming posts about Teacher Trainings, Gorillas Mating (I mean Trekking), my Zanzibar adventures and many more stories. It is now school break and the past month or so has not been without drama. I wouldn't expect anything less from my Rwandan experience! I am thinking of home a fair bit but today I skyped for over 3 hours and feel so comforted by the support of my family and friends. I am hoping that everyone is well and is able to prepare for and enjoy the holiday season. I will do the same here in Gitarama with my neighbours, roommate and the amazing children in my life, who never tire of showing me love.
New posts will be forthcoming to explain in detail the new pictures I've just added, your patience will pay off tenfold.
Be well, talk soon!
Becky
Monday, December 14, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
The Hokey Pokey was right!
That's what it's all about. So says the "Hokey Pokey", which for the record is a big hit with Rwandan teachers and also a good motto for life. Put your hand in the ring.. I've done so by finally planning, organizing and facilitating three amazing workshops for my three sectors in Kamonyi District. It only took six months to pull it all together. The best part is, the trainings went incredibly well and those 100 teachers will become my best means of advertisement within the District and at the Education Office. I am certain they are going to return to their schools and share the new methodologies they've acquired and then be asking: "When's Rebecca's next training?" I have so much more to tell you about the workshops and which activities worked and which flopped and about all that I've seen in the last few weeks- including MOUNTAIN GORILLAS in Virunga National Park and Stone Town in Zanzibar!! but I am running out of time at this Internet Cafe and life is beckoning me outside. The rain is letting up, there are the idyllic sidestreets with quaint shops, the open market on the beach, the marvellously wood-carved doors and portugese influenced architecture, the warm, embracing island air, the tortoises on that island over there waiting to see me tomorrow, the sunset I'll watch tonight- yes, I'm in Zanzibar right now! I can safely say that after several challenging months in a country not easy to live in (Rwanda) and my recent FOURTH bout of malaria this past weekend, I am going to indulge this week in doing next to nothing on my little holiday. Tomorrow I am turning 33 years old. I'm feeling contemplative but happy, eager but not anxious, loved and safe. I sometimes think about the future goals and yet to be experiences and wonder where I'll be a year from now but I think it will all work out in the end. Haha, I actually heard a salesguy today say "Hakuna Matata", yup "no problem". I hope everyone is well at home. Talk soon, Becky. Now... I've got to get my "shop on"..hee hee.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
The 5th of November
I'm going to write about my day, just today Thursday, November 5th so you can share my experiences. I woke up before 6 to the sound of the call to prayer at our neighbouring mosque. Sometimes I sleep through it, but most often I wake up around 6. It's a routine I can't shake even on weekends. I was in a rush because before I catch the 8am bus I must drop off an envelope to the YWCA for Charlotte as she is picking us up a modem in Kigali. I am carrying a big, heavy bag of resources for my workshops. I have slowly but surely been bringing didactic materials to the school hosting my first workshop. I will run the first workshop and then pack everything up to take it to the next location and then pack it up again for the third sector. Each sector gets a 2 day training. I drop off the envelope of money and catch the bus. Several of the usual beggars approach the window along with vendors. I pop my iPOD into my ears and face forward. I delete some numbers on my phone of people who have now left or returned home while I wait for the bus to pull out. The man beside me clearly wants to start a conversation but I don't as this usually ends in asking for my phone number so he can beep me or request something of me later on down the line. Since I ride the bus everyday, I have to manage who I chat with and who I don't. The bus leaves weaving up and down round each curve on the scenic road to Kigali.
I knock on the window at Kamonyi and hop off but for some reason today there are no motos in Kamonyi. I wait a bit and text Emile, the regular guy and soon enough he's there. The path we take off the main road to get to EP-Rubona is very bumpy and when we first dip off the main road it feels like I'm on a rollercoaster as it's almost straight down. I usually close my eyes a bit. We weave our way to the school, it's empty, I call the Headteacher and he sounds like he's in Kigali but says he's on his way. I sit outside the teachers' room and wait. Eventually I decide to stroll the grounds, say hi to the cow, admire the view, acknowledge the bathrooms are locked, etc. A young boy from Primary 4 shows up, he's the shepherd and has come to let the cow out for a stroll. The cow comes charging out of the stall and circles around until he is standing a few feet from me. Now, the VSO Handbook definitely doesn't say anything about what to do when a giant cow charges you. I kind of shuffle my feet and she startles away, does a lap in the yard and comes charging forward again, stopping about 2 feet from me. The shepherd boy is still running over to catch up to her, yelling something in kinyarwanda. Honestly, she was a bull minus the horns, I was a little intimidated. I kinda yelled something, the boy caught up and wrestled her rope to the flagpole. Crisis averted.
The Headteacher eventually shows up, we sit down to discuss who will cover what costs and the organisation process of the upcoming workshop. I am quite disappointed as the discussion veers towards "we have no money for transport, can't provide tea at break, cut the training time down or else the teachers will complain there isn't a per diem, what motivation is there for the teachers if you are only offering a small meal, it's the school holidays and you're making them come in.." I am infinitely frustrated because I am about to provide a free training and give each teacher many didactic materials along with model lesson plans, rice sacks to make posters, teacher resource handbooks and my time. I know why the teachers are frustrated, they don't get paid well and are often not paid on time and all the usual bull about how hard life is here. I get it. I am sympathetic. But why am I having to ask "Please will you come to this free workshop I am going to give you that will help you become a more effective english teacher and please come so I can give you many ideas for making resources out of found materials." When the Headteacher asked who else was running the workshop I answered "just me". He was surprised that I had made all 20 posters (with Emmanuel's help) and the dozen or so math manipulatives and prepared teacher handbooks for 100 and was preparing to run a workshop for two days, alone. I am struggling with the whole learned helplessness that exists here. Help me do it, fine. Do it for me, not okay. I want the teachers and Headteachers to participate in the process and I feel like sometimes they just expect NGOs to sweep in and do it. Working in particular with a low-budget NGO which seeks to empower people to do it for themselves, it is so hard to manage the disappointment associated with "I don't have resources for you. The resources I'm providing you are ideas."
I am the first volunteer to work in Kamonyi in this capacity so I have to make allowances for the fact that they don't completely understand how VSO works. Still, when I did school visits everyone was so keen. Yes!! Come and help us with our teaching, show us some ideas, we want to work with you. And now that the workshop is here, oh it's the holidays, oh we have to provide food during the training, oh it's not enough budget for transportation. The kicker today was on the walk back from the rural school to the main road. A very friendly lady came up and gave me a hug, a greeting and handed me her baby. I could tell, even in kinyarwanda, what she was asking of me. I gave a blessing and handed the baby back and as I walked away I clarified with the Headteacher what she was asking of me. Yes, she had no milk and was asking me to feed her baby.
We walk 45 minutes uphill back to the main road, I was very hot and very thirsty having not consumed anything since 6:30 in part because the bathrooms were locked at the school. I caught a stopper bus back to Gitarama, it can take anywhere from 30 minutes to 90 so I call Christi to say I might be late for lunch. At one of the many stops, a man approaches me with the usual box of candies, cookies and Kleenex. I buy two lollipops and give them to the two little girls who have been sneaking glances at me since I boarded the bus. They are very polite, smiling and saying "Merci." I meet Christi in Gitarama and we have a great chat as I pour out some of my thoughts on what comes next after my VSO contract is up in March. I am full of ideas! Any thoughts of coming home fill me with guilt as there are many more long-term humanitarians here, albeit working with significantly bigger budgets and very high-functioning NGOs. Thoughts of extending my contract however, when the day to day frustrations feel insurmountable, at the moment doesn't feel right. I look at the workshops I did with Unicef several months ago and wish I could do that everyday, 5 days a week. I feel like I am only using 10 percent of my abilities and the rest of the time I am problem solving how to just manage/cope/exist here. The living conditions are okay but I still miss normal food, having electricity all the time, hot water, carpet, shoes without holes, heat when it's cold, transportation that doesn't involve sitting in a squished bus in 30 degree heat, drinking something other than Coke or water, having clean toenails, feeling RESTED and seeing my friends!! Okay, I've poured it all out. I'm just really tired. Unfortunately, even in the capital of Kigali there are many things you just can't get here. Compared to other African countries that welcome tourists on a regular basis, Rwanda just doesn't have a lot of western style things. The treat of the week is a tin of Pringles. I can heat a bucket of water for a hot shower. I never considered myself a high-maintenance person but perhaps I need a little more than what's offered here. We just say that certain things are "forbidden" in conversation. That's how we rationalize the fact that we can't buy clothes here that aren't second hand donations from the West or since the rains have come we have to contend with a zillion flies inside and outside of the house. Rice, pasta and vegetables that you buy at the open-air market. The kids, love them like crazy, are sooooo filthy. Guaranteed that I got my amoebas, typhoid and half my colds from hugging, hand-shaking and high-fiving with them. Not that I'm going to STOP doing any of that :)
Okay, I digressed a little there and started outright complaining. I guess I needed that. After lunch with Christi I came home and was followed by three little boys. Asante, Mohammed and a third. I brought them inside the gate and Emmanuel and I played soccer against the three under 8s in the front yard. A head popped over the wall, it was a lady with a headdress asking if she could come visit. I said yes and she brought two friends over. As is the custom, I made tea and offered biscuits and Karen joined us for the kinyarwanda translation and to be neighbourly with me. After a fun game of soccer with the kids, I went to send them on their way but at the gate were 10 or so more. I tried to say no but saw JeanPierre looking very forlorn as he gets from time to time. It's as if he's had a very sad day, not sure what exactly that means but you can just see from the look on his face, something terrible is going on. I sent the three on their way but invited JeanPierre and his buddy Francois to come and challenge Emmanuel with their soccer skills. In a few minutes they were all giggles and smiles. The three ladies had been on their way to fill jerrycans so we suggested the boys just fill them from our sink. Eventually all five visitors leave and Karen and I are due at our neighbour Fils' house. We go there for a visit, mostly out of curiosity to see who is looking after this orphan. Apparently he lives with his two aunts, his mother's sisters who both study during the year in towns well outside of Gitarama; Nyagatare and Nyanza. Does this mean other than school break, he lives alone? Possibly. We leave Fils and get stuck playing Hokey Pokey, Ring around the Rosie and "Juck, Juck, Juice" (the way the kids pronounce "Duck, Duck, Goose") with the 20 kids and one or two adults who have joined in.
I am home a few minutes then head off to Tom's because I need to borrow some dice for a math game. There is a letter from Emmanuel, our guard. Now, if I haven't said so already, I am very fond of Emmanuel. He is 22, lost both parents in '94 and we have kind of taken him under our wings. We feed him, give him drawing materials, invite him inside as often as possible, have bought some Arsenal paraphernalia for him and he feels like a part of our home. He gets paid a teachers' salary which is double what VSO has given me to pay him monthly. I just thought if I could give one person some help, it should be him. The letter says in a very kind way about his family's history, being an orphan, having finished senior secondary school and his struggles as a young man... can we help him to build himself a house? I don't feel badly that he is asking, I would do almost anything for Emmanuel. On my walk to Tom's I meet Kate who would like me to come on Saturday morning to take pictures of her sister Bridgette for the memoir we have written together. We will take photos and I will get the story bound in Kigali. She will then send it off to her American friend and see what becomes of it.
The power goes out around 6pm. I am just very tired. I know there are moments today that I have enjoyed very much, like when Fils sang us a song during his visit. This parentless child has a beautiful voice and sang to us about Jesus providing for him. Watching Arianna, who is 4, do the Hokey Pokey or little Mohammed giggle as I grab his shirt, preventing him from scoring another goal in my front yard. I just get stalled when I think of what impact I'm having. Did I come here to play with the kids? I thought I came here to train teachers?
Allright, it's almost 8pm. I'm still in town at the Internet cafe- not for long as we get a modem on Sunday and I can start emailing/Skyping more.
What lesson can I glean from today? It's not about me, but sometimes it is. A friend told me enjoyment is a feeling. Can I not manage the extraordinary circumstances here so that I can feel good more often?
That's a little glimpse into my mind this day, the 5th of November. Thanks for listening.
I knock on the window at Kamonyi and hop off but for some reason today there are no motos in Kamonyi. I wait a bit and text Emile, the regular guy and soon enough he's there. The path we take off the main road to get to EP-Rubona is very bumpy and when we first dip off the main road it feels like I'm on a rollercoaster as it's almost straight down. I usually close my eyes a bit. We weave our way to the school, it's empty, I call the Headteacher and he sounds like he's in Kigali but says he's on his way. I sit outside the teachers' room and wait. Eventually I decide to stroll the grounds, say hi to the cow, admire the view, acknowledge the bathrooms are locked, etc. A young boy from Primary 4 shows up, he's the shepherd and has come to let the cow out for a stroll. The cow comes charging out of the stall and circles around until he is standing a few feet from me. Now, the VSO Handbook definitely doesn't say anything about what to do when a giant cow charges you. I kind of shuffle my feet and she startles away, does a lap in the yard and comes charging forward again, stopping about 2 feet from me. The shepherd boy is still running over to catch up to her, yelling something in kinyarwanda. Honestly, she was a bull minus the horns, I was a little intimidated. I kinda yelled something, the boy caught up and wrestled her rope to the flagpole. Crisis averted.
The Headteacher eventually shows up, we sit down to discuss who will cover what costs and the organisation process of the upcoming workshop. I am quite disappointed as the discussion veers towards "we have no money for transport, can't provide tea at break, cut the training time down or else the teachers will complain there isn't a per diem, what motivation is there for the teachers if you are only offering a small meal, it's the school holidays and you're making them come in.." I am infinitely frustrated because I am about to provide a free training and give each teacher many didactic materials along with model lesson plans, rice sacks to make posters, teacher resource handbooks and my time. I know why the teachers are frustrated, they don't get paid well and are often not paid on time and all the usual bull about how hard life is here. I get it. I am sympathetic. But why am I having to ask "Please will you come to this free workshop I am going to give you that will help you become a more effective english teacher and please come so I can give you many ideas for making resources out of found materials." When the Headteacher asked who else was running the workshop I answered "just me". He was surprised that I had made all 20 posters (with Emmanuel's help) and the dozen or so math manipulatives and prepared teacher handbooks for 100 and was preparing to run a workshop for two days, alone. I am struggling with the whole learned helplessness that exists here. Help me do it, fine. Do it for me, not okay. I want the teachers and Headteachers to participate in the process and I feel like sometimes they just expect NGOs to sweep in and do it. Working in particular with a low-budget NGO which seeks to empower people to do it for themselves, it is so hard to manage the disappointment associated with "I don't have resources for you. The resources I'm providing you are ideas."
I am the first volunteer to work in Kamonyi in this capacity so I have to make allowances for the fact that they don't completely understand how VSO works. Still, when I did school visits everyone was so keen. Yes!! Come and help us with our teaching, show us some ideas, we want to work with you. And now that the workshop is here, oh it's the holidays, oh we have to provide food during the training, oh it's not enough budget for transportation. The kicker today was on the walk back from the rural school to the main road. A very friendly lady came up and gave me a hug, a greeting and handed me her baby. I could tell, even in kinyarwanda, what she was asking of me. I gave a blessing and handed the baby back and as I walked away I clarified with the Headteacher what she was asking of me. Yes, she had no milk and was asking me to feed her baby.
We walk 45 minutes uphill back to the main road, I was very hot and very thirsty having not consumed anything since 6:30 in part because the bathrooms were locked at the school. I caught a stopper bus back to Gitarama, it can take anywhere from 30 minutes to 90 so I call Christi to say I might be late for lunch. At one of the many stops, a man approaches me with the usual box of candies, cookies and Kleenex. I buy two lollipops and give them to the two little girls who have been sneaking glances at me since I boarded the bus. They are very polite, smiling and saying "Merci." I meet Christi in Gitarama and we have a great chat as I pour out some of my thoughts on what comes next after my VSO contract is up in March. I am full of ideas! Any thoughts of coming home fill me with guilt as there are many more long-term humanitarians here, albeit working with significantly bigger budgets and very high-functioning NGOs. Thoughts of extending my contract however, when the day to day frustrations feel insurmountable, at the moment doesn't feel right. I look at the workshops I did with Unicef several months ago and wish I could do that everyday, 5 days a week. I feel like I am only using 10 percent of my abilities and the rest of the time I am problem solving how to just manage/cope/exist here. The living conditions are okay but I still miss normal food, having electricity all the time, hot water, carpet, shoes without holes, heat when it's cold, transportation that doesn't involve sitting in a squished bus in 30 degree heat, drinking something other than Coke or water, having clean toenails, feeling RESTED and seeing my friends!! Okay, I've poured it all out. I'm just really tired. Unfortunately, even in the capital of Kigali there are many things you just can't get here. Compared to other African countries that welcome tourists on a regular basis, Rwanda just doesn't have a lot of western style things. The treat of the week is a tin of Pringles. I can heat a bucket of water for a hot shower. I never considered myself a high-maintenance person but perhaps I need a little more than what's offered here. We just say that certain things are "forbidden" in conversation. That's how we rationalize the fact that we can't buy clothes here that aren't second hand donations from the West or since the rains have come we have to contend with a zillion flies inside and outside of the house. Rice, pasta and vegetables that you buy at the open-air market. The kids, love them like crazy, are sooooo filthy. Guaranteed that I got my amoebas, typhoid and half my colds from hugging, hand-shaking and high-fiving with them. Not that I'm going to STOP doing any of that :)
Okay, I digressed a little there and started outright complaining. I guess I needed that. After lunch with Christi I came home and was followed by three little boys. Asante, Mohammed and a third. I brought them inside the gate and Emmanuel and I played soccer against the three under 8s in the front yard. A head popped over the wall, it was a lady with a headdress asking if she could come visit. I said yes and she brought two friends over. As is the custom, I made tea and offered biscuits and Karen joined us for the kinyarwanda translation and to be neighbourly with me. After a fun game of soccer with the kids, I went to send them on their way but at the gate were 10 or so more. I tried to say no but saw JeanPierre looking very forlorn as he gets from time to time. It's as if he's had a very sad day, not sure what exactly that means but you can just see from the look on his face, something terrible is going on. I sent the three on their way but invited JeanPierre and his buddy Francois to come and challenge Emmanuel with their soccer skills. In a few minutes they were all giggles and smiles. The three ladies had been on their way to fill jerrycans so we suggested the boys just fill them from our sink. Eventually all five visitors leave and Karen and I are due at our neighbour Fils' house. We go there for a visit, mostly out of curiosity to see who is looking after this orphan. Apparently he lives with his two aunts, his mother's sisters who both study during the year in towns well outside of Gitarama; Nyagatare and Nyanza. Does this mean other than school break, he lives alone? Possibly. We leave Fils and get stuck playing Hokey Pokey, Ring around the Rosie and "Juck, Juck, Juice" (the way the kids pronounce "Duck, Duck, Goose") with the 20 kids and one or two adults who have joined in.
I am home a few minutes then head off to Tom's because I need to borrow some dice for a math game. There is a letter from Emmanuel, our guard. Now, if I haven't said so already, I am very fond of Emmanuel. He is 22, lost both parents in '94 and we have kind of taken him under our wings. We feed him, give him drawing materials, invite him inside as often as possible, have bought some Arsenal paraphernalia for him and he feels like a part of our home. He gets paid a teachers' salary which is double what VSO has given me to pay him monthly. I just thought if I could give one person some help, it should be him. The letter says in a very kind way about his family's history, being an orphan, having finished senior secondary school and his struggles as a young man... can we help him to build himself a house? I don't feel badly that he is asking, I would do almost anything for Emmanuel. On my walk to Tom's I meet Kate who would like me to come on Saturday morning to take pictures of her sister Bridgette for the memoir we have written together. We will take photos and I will get the story bound in Kigali. She will then send it off to her American friend and see what becomes of it.
The power goes out around 6pm. I am just very tired. I know there are moments today that I have enjoyed very much, like when Fils sang us a song during his visit. This parentless child has a beautiful voice and sang to us about Jesus providing for him. Watching Arianna, who is 4, do the Hokey Pokey or little Mohammed giggle as I grab his shirt, preventing him from scoring another goal in my front yard. I just get stalled when I think of what impact I'm having. Did I come here to play with the kids? I thought I came here to train teachers?
Allright, it's almost 8pm. I'm still in town at the Internet cafe- not for long as we get a modem on Sunday and I can start emailing/Skyping more.
What lesson can I glean from today? It's not about me, but sometimes it is. A friend told me enjoyment is a feeling. Can I not manage the extraordinary circumstances here so that I can feel good more often?
That's a little glimpse into my mind this day, the 5th of November. Thanks for listening.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Art Club
Extra-curricular activities in Rwanda. Why not? The kids in our neighbourhood would play with us everyday if they could. Unfortunately, that’s an impossibility but I did decide to start an Art Club. Every Wednesday afternoon at 4pm (or ku wa gatatu/ sakumi in kinyarwanda), we open our doors to a dozen carefully chosen kids between the ages of 5 and 12. Actually yesterday a 4 year old boy named Mohammed somehow managed sneak in, runny nose and all. The initial art club had one kid, JeanPierre who came and painted for the afternoon with Emmanuel, our guard and me. I told him the following week he could invite one friend, he brought Francois. Then I told the two of them to each invite a friend and the next week we had five. (Not sure who didn’t follow the guidelines but it doesn’t matter). Now, after 8 weeks, we have an officially established Art Club.
Last week, Karen made puppets out of brown paper bags with them. They turned out really well! This week, we took large water bottles, hollowed them out, used straws for masts and construction paper for sails- to make our very own sailboats! It’s so interesting to watch kids of this age (we have more boys turn up than girls) here in Rwanda. They are so enthralled by the activities that they rarely speak during the hour but are intently working away on their drawings. There is absolutely no art curriculum in schools so the idea that they have an opportunity or outlet for their creativity was the motivating factor for this club.
As a side benefit, I learned that our 22 year old guard Emmanuel is a very gifted artist. He has since been tasked to make the posters for my teacher trainings. He made all 16 posters that are now hanging in the resource room at EP-Rubona. And thank goodness because I am in no way capable of drawing like that! I am hoping to get him a commission to do some painting at the schools in the future. Why not? We are also looking in to what kind of higher education is available in Rwanda such as an Art College. His birthday is in December and we are going to get him some oil pastels or something. Finding art supplies in Rwanda is like finding an icecube in the Sahara. I have used many of the stickers, markers and paper that Dina and Ana sent in their packages. The superhero stickers were a big hit !!!
I have been reading through my resource books to find art activities that can be made from simple materials like boxes, paper, sticks, glue and so forth. I even sent emails to teacher friends for simple art ideas along with energizer ideas for my workshops. Speaking of them, I am running 3 workshops in November. I am 100% ready, the room is set, the didactic materials and math manipulatives are made and sitting at the school, the teacher handbooks are mostly ready and the itinerary is set. The workshop plan has been submitted but the first one isn’t until November 9th so I am waiting patiently. The pace here continues to be so much slower than how I’m used to doing things. That’s fine, I guess but I am a results-oriented person so I’ve had to make a huge adjustment.
Things like the Art Club, or writing Kate’s memoir or possibly tutoring some kids are all ways in which I can “volunteer” as well. I had a few of the girls over the other day and we made bracelets. We continue to have Marie and her 10 month old son JeanPaul over every Sunday. And our little friend Clementina, her mom and her brother have been joining us as well. There is a Rwandan tradition of visiting that initially I balked at because I thought I needed atleast one space to myself. I have since changed my mind, influenced greatly by another friend who lives in a rural area with no other expats. He has a revolving door of visitors from colleagues to street kids. It’s charming and there is a cultural lesson I can learn here. Keeping the company of others is an integral part of maintaining one’s well-being and extending that invitation or accepting that offer is far superior for my state of mind than watching another Ben Affleck movie. (Sorry Ben).
Case in point, last Sunday JeanPierre (pictured in the green shirt on my blog) invited Karen and I over to his house. This thirteen year old, who lives with his often absent father, bought us each a Coke and sat contentedly as host in his living room. The living room being a very small dirt and mud room. We caused quite a stir among the other kids who kept crowding around the door or casually sauntering by the window to peer in. I finally shoo-ed them away but not before a comical exchange with some of them. I have a very slight control over the kinyarwanda language and often in times of disciplining, this is an impairment of sorts. I said to the one cheeky boy “Wowe oya hano ubu!!” which roughly means “You, not here, now!” While his friends ran off at the sight of me wagging my finger and looking all stern, he proceeded to make those four words into a little song and jig. I had to turn around to keep from laughing!Ever have those teacher moments, when you’re trying to discipline a kid and he makes you laugh?
A very nice visit indeed with JeanPierre and we now have an invitation to Fils’ next week. Should be interesting, we really want to find out who looks after him as he is parentless.
Speaking of orphans, I met a really nice one on the bus yesterday. Usually when I’m sitting waiting to leave and a man sits down beside me when there is so obviously 11 other seats he could choose, I get annoyed. In this case, I met Christian a 20 year old who had just completed senior 6 and was returning home for school break. (Home being an orphanage up near Ruhengeri). He has lived there for 10 years. We conversed, I taught him tic-tac-toe and a few other car games and as he dismounted the bus I watched him walk away. He has nobody. What does that feel like to be alone in the world and relying on people other than relatives for support? I promised him a game of pingpong if he’s ever back in Gitarama. He said he’d text me his exam results when he got them next week. I know at some point I will decide to help someone here in a more significant way, whether it’s Christian the orphan, JeanPierre the uber-polite neighbour or Marie and her little son (who we suspect may have Down’s Syndrome as he has several of the traits). I understand I came here as a volunteer and what I’m giving is my time and what I’m sharing are my ideas and the currency I’m trading in is love. It never, ever feels like enough.
Last week, Karen made puppets out of brown paper bags with them. They turned out really well! This week, we took large water bottles, hollowed them out, used straws for masts and construction paper for sails- to make our very own sailboats! It’s so interesting to watch kids of this age (we have more boys turn up than girls) here in Rwanda. They are so enthralled by the activities that they rarely speak during the hour but are intently working away on their drawings. There is absolutely no art curriculum in schools so the idea that they have an opportunity or outlet for their creativity was the motivating factor for this club.
As a side benefit, I learned that our 22 year old guard Emmanuel is a very gifted artist. He has since been tasked to make the posters for my teacher trainings. He made all 16 posters that are now hanging in the resource room at EP-Rubona. And thank goodness because I am in no way capable of drawing like that! I am hoping to get him a commission to do some painting at the schools in the future. Why not? We are also looking in to what kind of higher education is available in Rwanda such as an Art College. His birthday is in December and we are going to get him some oil pastels or something. Finding art supplies in Rwanda is like finding an icecube in the Sahara. I have used many of the stickers, markers and paper that Dina and Ana sent in their packages. The superhero stickers were a big hit !!!
I have been reading through my resource books to find art activities that can be made from simple materials like boxes, paper, sticks, glue and so forth. I even sent emails to teacher friends for simple art ideas along with energizer ideas for my workshops. Speaking of them, I am running 3 workshops in November. I am 100% ready, the room is set, the didactic materials and math manipulatives are made and sitting at the school, the teacher handbooks are mostly ready and the itinerary is set. The workshop plan has been submitted but the first one isn’t until November 9th so I am waiting patiently. The pace here continues to be so much slower than how I’m used to doing things. That’s fine, I guess but I am a results-oriented person so I’ve had to make a huge adjustment.
Things like the Art Club, or writing Kate’s memoir or possibly tutoring some kids are all ways in which I can “volunteer” as well. I had a few of the girls over the other day and we made bracelets. We continue to have Marie and her 10 month old son JeanPaul over every Sunday. And our little friend Clementina, her mom and her brother have been joining us as well. There is a Rwandan tradition of visiting that initially I balked at because I thought I needed atleast one space to myself. I have since changed my mind, influenced greatly by another friend who lives in a rural area with no other expats. He has a revolving door of visitors from colleagues to street kids. It’s charming and there is a cultural lesson I can learn here. Keeping the company of others is an integral part of maintaining one’s well-being and extending that invitation or accepting that offer is far superior for my state of mind than watching another Ben Affleck movie. (Sorry Ben).
Case in point, last Sunday JeanPierre (pictured in the green shirt on my blog) invited Karen and I over to his house. This thirteen year old, who lives with his often absent father, bought us each a Coke and sat contentedly as host in his living room. The living room being a very small dirt and mud room. We caused quite a stir among the other kids who kept crowding around the door or casually sauntering by the window to peer in. I finally shoo-ed them away but not before a comical exchange with some of them. I have a very slight control over the kinyarwanda language and often in times of disciplining, this is an impairment of sorts. I said to the one cheeky boy “Wowe oya hano ubu!!” which roughly means “You, not here, now!” While his friends ran off at the sight of me wagging my finger and looking all stern, he proceeded to make those four words into a little song and jig. I had to turn around to keep from laughing!Ever have those teacher moments, when you’re trying to discipline a kid and he makes you laugh?
A very nice visit indeed with JeanPierre and we now have an invitation to Fils’ next week. Should be interesting, we really want to find out who looks after him as he is parentless.
Speaking of orphans, I met a really nice one on the bus yesterday. Usually when I’m sitting waiting to leave and a man sits down beside me when there is so obviously 11 other seats he could choose, I get annoyed. In this case, I met Christian a 20 year old who had just completed senior 6 and was returning home for school break. (Home being an orphanage up near Ruhengeri). He has lived there for 10 years. We conversed, I taught him tic-tac-toe and a few other car games and as he dismounted the bus I watched him walk away. He has nobody. What does that feel like to be alone in the world and relying on people other than relatives for support? I promised him a game of pingpong if he’s ever back in Gitarama. He said he’d text me his exam results when he got them next week. I know at some point I will decide to help someone here in a more significant way, whether it’s Christian the orphan, JeanPierre the uber-polite neighbour or Marie and her little son (who we suspect may have Down’s Syndrome as he has several of the traits). I understand I came here as a volunteer and what I’m giving is my time and what I’m sharing are my ideas and the currency I’m trading in is love. It never, ever feels like enough.
Akagera National Park
Karen and I were commiserating that we never do anything fun- Gitarama can be a very quiet, sleepy place at night. If an expat hasn’t planned a games night or dinner, there is little to do and after exhausting most of my DVD supply, we really needed SOMETHING to do! So we picked up the Rwanda Bradt Guide Book on Tuesday night and decided on Akagera National Park. It is in the far east of the country, right on the Rwanda/Tanzania border and with a friend living in the area to stay with, we organized a driver and set out for some safari adventuring.
Can I just mention that I was a little over-excited about this trip? Honestly if I had seen one animal I would’ve been happy. After chimp trekking in Nyungwe Forest for four hours and seeing NO chimpanzees, I was psyched for some nature. On a tight budget, we hired a local man with a matata (basically like the mini-buses from town) and he picked us up at 5:30am on Saturday morning. Now, the reaction of our tour guide at the park was priceless. There were six other vehicles there that day- all of them SUV’s, Jeeps or 4x4s and we pull up in a rusted out bus whose doors won’t close properly. When we came across a dozen buffalo, one of whom was not too pleased with our presence, the guide alerted us to “not make any noise just now” and Karen and I could not stop giggling at the thought of a male buffalo vs broken-down matata showdown. Who would win do you think? He’s pictured on the right of my blog.
Seeing the giraffes was magnificent! You know in the movies “Dances with Wolves” or “Last of the Mohicans” when there are scenes on the prairie and its’ vastness is accompanied by sweeping, epic music? I kept hearing that music in my head as we communed with these graceful animals. They walk with opposite hand and opposite leg but when they run, they saunter. Their necks look too heavy for their bodies to support and the patterning of their skin is incredible. We were quite close to a male and female who were trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to mate. I said to Karen, “I don’t really want to see this, but if I get a good photo I’m selling it to National Geographic!” As it turned out, Mrs. Giraffe was playing hard to get and kept running off as Mr. Giraffe attempted to jump on.
We saw many baboon, impala, bushbuck, birds of extraordinary colour and the Tanzanian coastline! In between animal sightings, it was a very bumpy, uncomfortable ride with the only two seats in the matata seemingly ready to break free of their hinges. Only the back window opened so when an animal was spotted, we had to hop over the seat to hang out the back window, or sit on the spare tire in the back. Several times, while off-roading it appeared as though we were stuck and might have to get out and push our 'little engine that could' back onto the road. Karen kept saying “This’ll make a better story in the end” and I kept thinking “but what end exactly?”
We entertained ourselves by trying to spot various animals which is quite tricky as there are lion-coloured rocks and giraffe-like tree branches EVERYWHERE! We also enjoyed acknowledging our fellow adventurers in their SUVs who gave us two girls in our cheapmobile strange looks all morning. We started to sing the songs from the Lion King and just at that moment, our guide said “Look, it’s Pumba and the kids!” A family of five warthogs ran by. The three little ones scurried hurrily beside mom and dad; just as frightened and horrified by our white matata as the khaki-clad SUV people.
Down by the water was the real treat. Many hippos floated contently in the water. Our guide encouraged us to get out of the van and walk closer for the sake of photos. The SUV group beside us was seen to be gesturing and arguing with their guide about the fact that we were out of the car and one by one, they also got out to investigate. It was the sounds the hippos made that impressed me the most. From time to time their nostrils cleared the waterline and “POOF!” they took a breath and then disappeared again. There was a tiny baby crocodile skimming across the surface as well, and we were reluctant to stay longer fearing that Mama crocodile was probably very near. Other highlights were seeing the sacred Ibis, baboons with babies clinging on, the monkey from Friends and just the whole experience in general- far better than another Saturday watching movies on the laptop.
Elephants hadn’t been spotted in over a month. That was the one disappointment, I had really hoped to see elephants. Maybe next time…
Karen and I thanked our guide, who reminded us to come in a “real vehicle” next time. We just laughed and climbed back in our rustmobile to clunker our way back home, nursing very sore backsides but with very satisfied curiosities.
Can I just mention that I was a little over-excited about this trip? Honestly if I had seen one animal I would’ve been happy. After chimp trekking in Nyungwe Forest for four hours and seeing NO chimpanzees, I was psyched for some nature. On a tight budget, we hired a local man with a matata (basically like the mini-buses from town) and he picked us up at 5:30am on Saturday morning. Now, the reaction of our tour guide at the park was priceless. There were six other vehicles there that day- all of them SUV’s, Jeeps or 4x4s and we pull up in a rusted out bus whose doors won’t close properly. When we came across a dozen buffalo, one of whom was not too pleased with our presence, the guide alerted us to “not make any noise just now” and Karen and I could not stop giggling at the thought of a male buffalo vs broken-down matata showdown. Who would win do you think? He’s pictured on the right of my blog.
Seeing the giraffes was magnificent! You know in the movies “Dances with Wolves” or “Last of the Mohicans” when there are scenes on the prairie and its’ vastness is accompanied by sweeping, epic music? I kept hearing that music in my head as we communed with these graceful animals. They walk with opposite hand and opposite leg but when they run, they saunter. Their necks look too heavy for their bodies to support and the patterning of their skin is incredible. We were quite close to a male and female who were trying, albeit unsuccessfully, to mate. I said to Karen, “I don’t really want to see this, but if I get a good photo I’m selling it to National Geographic!” As it turned out, Mrs. Giraffe was playing hard to get and kept running off as Mr. Giraffe attempted to jump on.
We saw many baboon, impala, bushbuck, birds of extraordinary colour and the Tanzanian coastline! In between animal sightings, it was a very bumpy, uncomfortable ride with the only two seats in the matata seemingly ready to break free of their hinges. Only the back window opened so when an animal was spotted, we had to hop over the seat to hang out the back window, or sit on the spare tire in the back. Several times, while off-roading it appeared as though we were stuck and might have to get out and push our 'little engine that could' back onto the road. Karen kept saying “This’ll make a better story in the end” and I kept thinking “but what end exactly?”
We entertained ourselves by trying to spot various animals which is quite tricky as there are lion-coloured rocks and giraffe-like tree branches EVERYWHERE! We also enjoyed acknowledging our fellow adventurers in their SUVs who gave us two girls in our cheapmobile strange looks all morning. We started to sing the songs from the Lion King and just at that moment, our guide said “Look, it’s Pumba and the kids!” A family of five warthogs ran by. The three little ones scurried hurrily beside mom and dad; just as frightened and horrified by our white matata as the khaki-clad SUV people.
Down by the water was the real treat. Many hippos floated contently in the water. Our guide encouraged us to get out of the van and walk closer for the sake of photos. The SUV group beside us was seen to be gesturing and arguing with their guide about the fact that we were out of the car and one by one, they also got out to investigate. It was the sounds the hippos made that impressed me the most. From time to time their nostrils cleared the waterline and “POOF!” they took a breath and then disappeared again. There was a tiny baby crocodile skimming across the surface as well, and we were reluctant to stay longer fearing that Mama crocodile was probably very near. Other highlights were seeing the sacred Ibis, baboons with babies clinging on, the monkey from Friends and just the whole experience in general- far better than another Saturday watching movies on the laptop.
Elephants hadn’t been spotted in over a month. That was the one disappointment, I had really hoped to see elephants. Maybe next time…
Karen and I thanked our guide, who reminded us to come in a “real vehicle” next time. We just laughed and climbed back in our rustmobile to clunker our way back home, nursing very sore backsides but with very satisfied curiosities.
Soccer with the First Lady
Nearly three weeks ago I had the unique opportunity to play in a charity soccer match in support of the One Dollar Campaign. This charity supports children orphaned by AIDS. This involved me arriving at Amahoro Stadium in Kigali around 1pm on Saturday to meet “the team”. Our team was a group of women expats working in Kigali for various NGOs or wives of NGO workers. The game was scheduled for 2pm and in true Rwandan fashion, we sat for four and a half hours waiting for our turn to play. There were several kids matches planned and we quickly realized that the six year olds were possibly putting on a better show, with their jerseys hanging to their knees like dresses, than how we expected to perform. Being the only non-Kigali based player and having not been to practice during the week, I was not starting and there was not a uniform for me. As luck would have it Nancy Barry didn’t show and I got her jersey. Guess what? It was number 10, a number I’ve played with for years!! Love those types of coincidences. The stadium became very full as we sat in the dressing room, occasionally playing team-building games, stretching and kicking the ball around trying not to break any windows. The prime minister of Rwanda came by to say “hi!” and take photos and soon enough, it was our turn. I can’t tell you how delightful it was to be waiting under the stadium, peering out at the crowd and being advised by the coordinators to behave; “It’s like the World Cup! Must follow protocol!” Too funny. We ran a lap of the field, trying to play up to the crowd a bit since it was a charity event. Our competitors were the Women of Parliament- including none other than President Kagame’s wife Jeannette. We were strongly encouraged to not make contact with her on the field and further more, to make her look good. She is a very tall lady with a nice smile and a pleasant manner. I guarded her in the second half and we had some nice conversations, but more on that later.
Sitting out the first five minutes was unbearable, I wanted to be on the field!! Finally, it was my turn and I ran out to my spot on left wing. Within minutes I had the ball and a breakaway. It was called back because one of my team mates was offside. Second time out, I broke away again, dribbled inside the 18 yard box and let one go. The goalie blocked it but didn’t grab the rebound, I followed up and put it in the top left corner! It was sooooo much fun !
One of the coolest parts of the game was that my friend Christi had come down to watch me play. She was up in the bleachers cheering away- my own personal fan club! There were a few VSO there too and the atmosphere was so energizing! By half-time we were up 3-0. I had seven more breakaways that were all called back because one of our players insisted on hanging out by their goalie?! It reminded me very much of last summer and how much I dislike playing “recreational” sports. It’s competitive or not at all for me :)
At halftime I got a little talking to that we collectively needed to try less and make it look a little more even for the sake of the Parliamentary women. I volunteered to play centre defense for the second half. This required some creative performances as I mostly ran away from the attacking player who had the ball. At one point, I let Jeannette Kagame pass the ball through my legs!! It was kinda funny but the crowd reaction was worth it. Midway through the second, we realized that the Parliamentaries had brought on several new players, including a 14 year old boy from one of the previous games. He was like a mini-Ronaldinho and I don’t think I could’ve covered him if I had been trying !! Anyway, they caught up 3-3 and then the boy took a dramatic dive inside the 18-yard box. The President’s wife took and scored the penalty to a roaring ovation! It couldn’t have ended any better. After the game, photo ops and a bit of dancing on the field with both teams, I made a quick getaway to catch a very late bus back to Gitarama with my cheerleader/friend, Christi. The next day on the evening news, the lead story was the soccer match. My goal was featured in the highlights. Does life get much better than this?
Sitting out the first five minutes was unbearable, I wanted to be on the field!! Finally, it was my turn and I ran out to my spot on left wing. Within minutes I had the ball and a breakaway. It was called back because one of my team mates was offside. Second time out, I broke away again, dribbled inside the 18 yard box and let one go. The goalie blocked it but didn’t grab the rebound, I followed up and put it in the top left corner! It was sooooo much fun !
One of the coolest parts of the game was that my friend Christi had come down to watch me play. She was up in the bleachers cheering away- my own personal fan club! There were a few VSO there too and the atmosphere was so energizing! By half-time we were up 3-0. I had seven more breakaways that were all called back because one of our players insisted on hanging out by their goalie?! It reminded me very much of last summer and how much I dislike playing “recreational” sports. It’s competitive or not at all for me :)
At halftime I got a little talking to that we collectively needed to try less and make it look a little more even for the sake of the Parliamentary women. I volunteered to play centre defense for the second half. This required some creative performances as I mostly ran away from the attacking player who had the ball. At one point, I let Jeannette Kagame pass the ball through my legs!! It was kinda funny but the crowd reaction was worth it. Midway through the second, we realized that the Parliamentaries had brought on several new players, including a 14 year old boy from one of the previous games. He was like a mini-Ronaldinho and I don’t think I could’ve covered him if I had been trying !! Anyway, they caught up 3-3 and then the boy took a dramatic dive inside the 18-yard box. The President’s wife took and scored the penalty to a roaring ovation! It couldn’t have ended any better. After the game, photo ops and a bit of dancing on the field with both teams, I made a quick getaway to catch a very late bus back to Gitarama with my cheerleader/friend, Christi. The next day on the evening news, the lead story was the soccer match. My goal was featured in the highlights. Does life get much better than this?
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
"Bring a Tree to School" Day
No need to bore you with stories of my malaria, amoebas and typhoid. Here are some entertaining stories:
Last visit to Rubona Primary School, I witnessed children of all sizes dragging large branches and tree limbs along the road. Evidently, the school needs a new fence and each child was instructed to bring a tree with them as contribution- one of which came in handy when Pascal and I roofed my Frisbee. We used a tree branch as a reaching device to retrieve it.
Funniest moment in recent weeks had to be standing outside our neighbourhood shop and seeing a young boy running by at full speed, screaming as if all hell was breaking loose- followed momentarily by a few weeks old baby goat who was chasing him playfully!
There is a little boy in Primary 2 who squishes up his face each time he tries to catch the ball. Don't know if you can picture it, but try.
Last week's English Club had us reading letters aloud (we are hoping to find future penpals at Princess Anne French Immersion School in London, Ontario) and identifying adjectives, nouns, adverbs, etc in teams. Winning team got to do the Hokey Pokey with the teacher- major motivator!
Umuganda in September involved digging drainage ditches and moving piles of debris from one spot to the other. The obligatory volunteering on the last Saturday of each month continues to be something I really want to participate in and paid off ten-fold last week when we asked our Umudugudu leader Alphonse (the person responsible for our neighbourhood community) to assist us with an aggressive, unruly man. Alphonse came to our house, heard our story and said quite simply: "Give me two days". Problem solved. On a lighter note, one of the issues on the table at the monthly meeting was advising everyone NOT TO KEEP YOUR COW IN YOUR HOUSE. It is advisable to build a pen outside of the house to keep your cow and not to keep him in the house with you. I'm guessing theft plays a big role here, either that or a lack of hamsters available to keep as pets?!
Forgot to share this one awhile ago.. Karen and I were walking home one night from a friend's house in a thunderstorm (lightning and downpour included) and decided to pass by the empty market only to be met by two growling, fierce dogs feeding on something. Luckily we didn't run and they seemed to be more interested in protecting their feast than us. Still- quite frightening!
Dr. Suess where are you? Never have I wanted storybooks or novels more than here. The children at the primary schools and in particular my little friends in the neighbourhood seemingly have never had stories read to them. Wish I had packed less clothes and more children's storybooks!
Waterbottle bowling, Stella-ela-ola, rocket balloons, thumb wars, badminton, pingpong at the cultural centre... fun is mandatory! We affectionately refer to these impromptu games with the children as "Les Jeux Obligatoires". I make Emmanuel, my guard, participate. I don't think he minds. Last week, Emmanuel and his brother Silas played a quite competitive badminton match in our front yard. I found myself acknowledging that most likely they didn't play like this as children for at the age of 7 Emmanuel was seeing his parents killed in the genocide. I had the reluctant role of referee/scorekeeper. Even though it was in kinyarwanda, I could understand the nature of trashtalking and egging each other on. Emmanuel (also known as "Stretch") is about 3 feet taller than his older brother Silas. FYI: Silas is our new nightguard, Emmanuel has been promoted to dayguard/house manager.
Pingpong Moment: I bought a set of paddles and balls in Kigali once I learned that our neighbourhood Cultural Centre had a table. Took Jean-Pierre and the boys to play and after a few instructions and each boy taking a turn, we were surprised to have visitors. On a Wednesday afternoon, two middle-aged men pulled up on one moto, wearing Adidas tracksuits and carrying what looked like small tennis racket bags. In the miniature tennis racket bags were pingpong paddles and a proper net. They shared with me that they play competitive pingpong...EVERYDAY!! Too funny.
Found chocolate ice cream in Kigali. One scoop= one dollar. Awesome!
Rough days for sports equipment; the soccer ball, basketball and small purple ball I bought have all succumb to the rocky terrain and have burst. Thinking about replacing them soon though- "Ndashaka gukina football namwe!!" I hear every afternoon from the kids. Translated: "I want to play football with you!"
On the bus is where the majority of my greatest stories come from. For instance, returning from Kamonyi at 3pm, having not eaten since 6am, on a really hot day, dying of thirst- I asked one of the Rugubagoba boys if he had any water for sale. This particular boy greets me every time the bus stops there. He has one normal arm and one chicken wing and I spoke of him before as I was wishing he had another purpose besides begging at the bus. In any case, he always greets me and on this particularly sweltering day, I decided to take advantage. "Ufite amazzi?" (Do you have water?) He says: "300 francs" and I hand the coins out the window. He proceeds to run off and there is a mild chatter amongst my passengers who are amused that the foreigner is being ripped off by the street kid. "Wait. Just you wait" I say to the smirkers. The bus is being loaded, I look down the lane and don't see the boy. Then...just as we're about to pull away there he is, running as fast as his little feet can carry him, arm flailing in the wind. He rushes up to my window, big bright smile and hands me a waterbottle. I thank him, give him a small tip and look a little indignantly at my non-believing fellow passengers. I just knew he'd come back and he did.
Marie, the lady whose roof was caving in and who couldn't afford rent on her new residence and had asked us for money- has landed on her feet. She and her 10 month old son Jean-Paul have new dwellings and she has new employment. She looks really well. Something makes me wonder if we had given her the 7,000 francs, would she have solved the problem as well as she has? In any case, we have decided to have her over each Sunday afternoon. Last week, at our request, she brought Clementina with her. Clementina was sent to live with her grandparents awhile ago because her father was abusive to the family. We had a delightful visit- Clementina on her very best behaviour (nothing like a well-behaved 3 year old!) and Jean-Paul livening things up by touching/pulling/knocking over everything in sight- as only a ten month old can!
We are learning a lot more about our neighbours. Some of it good, some of it not. For instance, Fils (frowning boy) is an orphan. He lives in a small hut a few doors down from us, and he is 11 years old. It seems as though there isn't any family at all and the storeowner told us he has no parents. Surely SOMEONE is looking out for him?! Jean-Pierre (green sweater/basketball buddy) has no mother. He is often kept home from school to look after his father. Not sure if that's due to illness or drinking. And Serge (also known as Trouble #1 or Bandito) has no parents, just four older siblings, the eldest 14.
I think I knew there were hardships, I wasn't ignoring that. I just thought that these children, who play, laugh, offer hugs and are so charitable towards me, weren't suffering in that way. The most remarkable part of the story is that their neighbours and people completely unrelated to them, are looking out. While they may have very little food, one set of clothing and next to no material possessions- there is no shortage of love.
I think I'll end on that note.
Be well,
Becky
Last visit to Rubona Primary School, I witnessed children of all sizes dragging large branches and tree limbs along the road. Evidently, the school needs a new fence and each child was instructed to bring a tree with them as contribution- one of which came in handy when Pascal and I roofed my Frisbee. We used a tree branch as a reaching device to retrieve it.
Funniest moment in recent weeks had to be standing outside our neighbourhood shop and seeing a young boy running by at full speed, screaming as if all hell was breaking loose- followed momentarily by a few weeks old baby goat who was chasing him playfully!
There is a little boy in Primary 2 who squishes up his face each time he tries to catch the ball. Don't know if you can picture it, but try.
Last week's English Club had us reading letters aloud (we are hoping to find future penpals at Princess Anne French Immersion School in London, Ontario) and identifying adjectives, nouns, adverbs, etc in teams. Winning team got to do the Hokey Pokey with the teacher- major motivator!
Umuganda in September involved digging drainage ditches and moving piles of debris from one spot to the other. The obligatory volunteering on the last Saturday of each month continues to be something I really want to participate in and paid off ten-fold last week when we asked our Umudugudu leader Alphonse (the person responsible for our neighbourhood community) to assist us with an aggressive, unruly man. Alphonse came to our house, heard our story and said quite simply: "Give me two days". Problem solved. On a lighter note, one of the issues on the table at the monthly meeting was advising everyone NOT TO KEEP YOUR COW IN YOUR HOUSE. It is advisable to build a pen outside of the house to keep your cow and not to keep him in the house with you. I'm guessing theft plays a big role here, either that or a lack of hamsters available to keep as pets?!
Forgot to share this one awhile ago.. Karen and I were walking home one night from a friend's house in a thunderstorm (lightning and downpour included) and decided to pass by the empty market only to be met by two growling, fierce dogs feeding on something. Luckily we didn't run and they seemed to be more interested in protecting their feast than us. Still- quite frightening!
Dr. Suess where are you? Never have I wanted storybooks or novels more than here. The children at the primary schools and in particular my little friends in the neighbourhood seemingly have never had stories read to them. Wish I had packed less clothes and more children's storybooks!
Waterbottle bowling, Stella-ela-ola, rocket balloons, thumb wars, badminton, pingpong at the cultural centre... fun is mandatory! We affectionately refer to these impromptu games with the children as "Les Jeux Obligatoires". I make Emmanuel, my guard, participate. I don't think he minds. Last week, Emmanuel and his brother Silas played a quite competitive badminton match in our front yard. I found myself acknowledging that most likely they didn't play like this as children for at the age of 7 Emmanuel was seeing his parents killed in the genocide. I had the reluctant role of referee/scorekeeper. Even though it was in kinyarwanda, I could understand the nature of trashtalking and egging each other on. Emmanuel (also known as "Stretch") is about 3 feet taller than his older brother Silas. FYI: Silas is our new nightguard, Emmanuel has been promoted to dayguard/house manager.
Pingpong Moment: I bought a set of paddles and balls in Kigali once I learned that our neighbourhood Cultural Centre had a table. Took Jean-Pierre and the boys to play and after a few instructions and each boy taking a turn, we were surprised to have visitors. On a Wednesday afternoon, two middle-aged men pulled up on one moto, wearing Adidas tracksuits and carrying what looked like small tennis racket bags. In the miniature tennis racket bags were pingpong paddles and a proper net. They shared with me that they play competitive pingpong...EVERYDAY!! Too funny.
Found chocolate ice cream in Kigali. One scoop= one dollar. Awesome!
Rough days for sports equipment; the soccer ball, basketball and small purple ball I bought have all succumb to the rocky terrain and have burst. Thinking about replacing them soon though- "Ndashaka gukina football namwe!!" I hear every afternoon from the kids. Translated: "I want to play football with you!"
On the bus is where the majority of my greatest stories come from. For instance, returning from Kamonyi at 3pm, having not eaten since 6am, on a really hot day, dying of thirst- I asked one of the Rugubagoba boys if he had any water for sale. This particular boy greets me every time the bus stops there. He has one normal arm and one chicken wing and I spoke of him before as I was wishing he had another purpose besides begging at the bus. In any case, he always greets me and on this particularly sweltering day, I decided to take advantage. "Ufite amazzi?" (Do you have water?) He says: "300 francs" and I hand the coins out the window. He proceeds to run off and there is a mild chatter amongst my passengers who are amused that the foreigner is being ripped off by the street kid. "Wait. Just you wait" I say to the smirkers. The bus is being loaded, I look down the lane and don't see the boy. Then...just as we're about to pull away there he is, running as fast as his little feet can carry him, arm flailing in the wind. He rushes up to my window, big bright smile and hands me a waterbottle. I thank him, give him a small tip and look a little indignantly at my non-believing fellow passengers. I just knew he'd come back and he did.
Marie, the lady whose roof was caving in and who couldn't afford rent on her new residence and had asked us for money- has landed on her feet. She and her 10 month old son Jean-Paul have new dwellings and she has new employment. She looks really well. Something makes me wonder if we had given her the 7,000 francs, would she have solved the problem as well as she has? In any case, we have decided to have her over each Sunday afternoon. Last week, at our request, she brought Clementina with her. Clementina was sent to live with her grandparents awhile ago because her father was abusive to the family. We had a delightful visit- Clementina on her very best behaviour (nothing like a well-behaved 3 year old!) and Jean-Paul livening things up by touching/pulling/knocking over everything in sight- as only a ten month old can!
We are learning a lot more about our neighbours. Some of it good, some of it not. For instance, Fils (frowning boy) is an orphan. He lives in a small hut a few doors down from us, and he is 11 years old. It seems as though there isn't any family at all and the storeowner told us he has no parents. Surely SOMEONE is looking out for him?! Jean-Pierre (green sweater/basketball buddy) has no mother. He is often kept home from school to look after his father. Not sure if that's due to illness or drinking. And Serge (also known as Trouble #1 or Bandito) has no parents, just four older siblings, the eldest 14.
I think I knew there were hardships, I wasn't ignoring that. I just thought that these children, who play, laugh, offer hugs and are so charitable towards me, weren't suffering in that way. The most remarkable part of the story is that their neighbours and people completely unrelated to them, are looking out. While they may have very little food, one set of clothing and next to no material possessions- there is no shortage of love.
I think I'll end on that note.
Be well,
Becky
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