few from Rwanda

some munchkins trying to learn from the traditional Rwandan dancers... Every Saturday, the group practices outside of Umuryango. Several of the boys are in the group!

few more

Pics from art with the boys

A few pictures from art with the boys!

A blur of thoughts, and a work update (Caroline)

Today is Rwandan Independence day! (Ironically, I am sitting next to a boy wearing an american flag shirt and whose trying to apply to Indiana State University!)

None of the boys have school, so we had fun hanging out with them this morning. I’m sad about missing the fourth of July in Montreat, all of my family is going to be there, and I’m sure a bunch of friends. I have been missing my nieces and nephews (and sisters and parents!) a lot! I’m trying not to be too sad, because I realize how incredible of an opportunity I have right now. I met these boys and fell in love with all of them last year, and have been able to come back and be with them again! I am here again! Its amazing. I’m already starting to get anxious about the fact that we only have 11 days left and am thinking about opportunities to return.

This trip has been really neat because through art and with the help of the translator we’ve been able to learn soo much more about the boys’ actual stories and personalities. We’ve also learned some more about different needs of the boys. The actual setting up of a counseling program that continues while we are gone has been kind of up in the air. Consolée, the woman who was doing the program, is rarely here, and when she is, there never seems to be a person who speaks English well. I still plan on sitting down with her and really discussing what she sees as the needs of the boys. I realize there are differences culturally about how counseling works, but I have already received confirmation from one or two of the older boys that they really need somebody to talk with and somebody to help guide them in the next stage of their lives. I think that Umuryango is at a transition point, with some of the first boys beginning to phase out of the family and go out on their own. It is also a great opportunity for more work.

Another big need is English training. The boys understanding of English is basic, but as one boy said, “I don’t understand half of what the teacher writes on the bored.” English class is challenge enough, with teachers hardly understanding the language, much less Chemistry or Mathematics… Its absurd really, that they should be expected to learn, but Rwanda is in a transition period. They have switched from teaching in French to English in the last year and everyone is struggling to adjust. That being said, I am trying to think of ideas. Many of the older boys have to take the National Exam in October. They are really stressed out about it. It’s a big test that determines whether or not they will be able to go into government paid secondary school. All of the boys are struggling, and many are not likely to pass if something doesn’t change. If they don’t pass, secondary school isn’t really affordable for an average Rwandan. I believe its several thousand dollars total.
Anyway, I think that there is a definite need for tutors to help them outside of class. I plan to talk to JP, get an idea of costs.
Finally, Meghan and I are visiting Gisenyi on Lake Kivu this weekend. I’m a little sad because we have less than two weeks left, but we decided that we needed the break. Living with 30 boys who wake up at 6 am screaming everymorning, having no privacy, and being the center of attention everytime you make a move takes its toll. I am really excited because its supposed to be beautiful. It will also be an interesting adventure as it will just be Meghan and I on our own navigating the bus systems (Don’t worry T. Hunter, Gisenyi is very safe and touristy and we wont be traveling on any buses or anything at night, plus we have our hotel booked and Dama is going to make sure we know exactly which bus to get on).

Update on Work:
We only have a few interviews left. It has been really neat to get to know the boys on this level, and I think that its been good for the boys. After each interview, the boys have become much more personable to us. We also have emphasized that we want to take this as a chance to get to know them better and for them to get to know us. So, we give them the chance to ask us questions about our lives. There have been interesting questions from: “Why do you come to help us?” “Do you have a boyfriend and if so, do your parents approve of him?” to “Tell me what is beautiful in America”

in-between

Wed. June 30, 2010

In-between

It is already the last day of June. It seems like last month that I celebrated the beginning of this glorious year. And, glorious it has been, in all its many ups and downs; and there have been many. Yet I am not in the mountains of North Carolina as I was then. Now I am in the hills of Rwanda, quickly turning from lush green to hungry yellow as the recent nourishment from rain becomes a memory. Here there are many people, but they are not peers, and socialization is lacking. Here I am in bed 12 hours before the sun rises. Here there are few luxuries, though there is still more than plenty. Here, there are not a lot of things, but here I am. With more than plenty. Here I find myself in-between. In fact, in-between is a state that articulates what it is like here with keen precision. Here, in-between haunts me. Here I remain in-between, and I like it. I have begun to notice it more and more. The most obvious factor to such liminal feeling is the seeming timelessness that governs existence here. “Rwanda Time,” it is called, usually by Americans finding themselves uncomfortable outside of the over-structured time regulated state of being they are used to. “Rwanda time” honors moments of absorption in the present. Because of such commitment to being when one is in fact, being, there seem to be no in-betweens at all, which makes it feel like it is all one big solid in-between. But the in-between is never solid. Rather, it is the opposite: transcendent, empty of preconceptions, open to new knowledge, void of firm identity, unpredictable, undefinable. This is what makes it the in-between. It is not one thing or the other. It is neither, and it is both, and something else entirely. While every in-between mirrors others in certain aspects, the details are interchangeable. Time is not the only in-between detail here. Here, I find myself in-between meals, which is acknowledged by constant hunger humming just loud enough to be distracting. Here I find myself in-between home and home. Let me break this down even more: The last thing I did before leaving for Africa was move. I moved all of my belonging into one space, now crammed so tight as to prohibit movement throughout. Upon my return, I will have very limited time to make this space home. In this way, I am truly in-between homes. But, Woodruff, in his book on Reverence, explains that home is any place where there is reverence, where there is ritual. In this way, I have made a miniature version of home here, but it is lived in with time pushing on the edges, with in-between pervading, slipping under the mosquito net like all the bugs during the night. I’m getting used to it. I suppose I constantly find myself in-between, which in a way is the way of reality, and which is likely the reason for my fascination with ritual. My dad always says that what we do is exactly what we need. Ritual facilitates the unknown in-between. I have struggled with this place since as long as I can remember, and I am getting good at being there. Ritual provides a structure to being there, to getting one there, to getting one through. So I supposed it makes perfect sense that I want to understand everything I can about it.

But no-one can exist in-between forever, without going crazy that is. Eventually one must exit the ambiguity and forge through the future into the present. This being said, I am looking towards the next move. Though I strive to live in the moment as much as I can, there are a lot of moments here that allow enough time for thinking, and that leads me to what’s next. It is great here, but I already feel as though I have been here forever, and it has only been a little over half of our stay. That means that there is much before us blooming with goodness. Truly, the time here is a luxury, and I am grateful.

I was not so grateful for time this past Saturday. It seemed to drag on forever as we marched through the ritual movements of a Rwandan wedding. Our friend Pascalina just finished the last of 3 wedding celebrations characteristic to tradition. The one we attended was the church one. The day before, we went into Gitirama to rent traditional Rwanda “Fancy clothes.” Then, Saturday, we got up amidst the chaos of many extended family members, and the wedding party, preparing. We had no idea how to get dressed, but we managed to enlist the help of our other friend Genereuse, who dressed us properly. Then there was a lot of down time, in-between the next thing. I was walking around taking pictures, when all of the sudden I found myself in the middle of the procession. It had started suddenly, with the entrance of Mark, Pascalina’s husband, and their shared drinking of milk. They then followed the 3 adorable sharply dressed pairs of kids (girls and boys) out the door, where they passed through the traditional intore dancers who were dressed up, and looked awesome! They then got in the car together, after which we all loaded into mini-bus taxies we had rented. We were stuffed in there to the max. What followed was a loooong ride to Butare. About an hour and a half later we finally arrives at the Butare Cathedral. It resembles a cathedral, kind of. The service that followed was very long, but the choir was unbelievable. Afterwards, we loaded up again, and headed to the national museum...where we stayed for around 45 minutes taking pictures. Then we loaded up again and proceeded to the hotel for the reception. Now don’t think that this was the kind of reception we are used to in America. It wasn’t. There were lots of looong speeches we couldn’t understand, and finally we were served one fanta and one small piece of cake. People came up individually to give gifts. Afterwards, the tradition is to go to the newly married couples new home. That is what we thought we were doing, but its turns out we were wrong. We figured this out when we arrived at a bar after thinking we were lost, only to find out that we would be “taking fantas” while waiting for the others. Apparently, the parents of the bride are not aloud to go. SO, we drank fanta (I tried the new “fiesta” flavor, which was gross), watched the first half of the USA, Ghana game, and starved. Finally those we were waiting on arrived, at which point we crammed back in the vans to head home, except we didn’t head home. We spent the next hour trying to figure out who was supposed to be in what bus. We finally made it home around 12, at which point we ate, and tried to go to bed, but some other visitors that were here insisted on a long drawn out, loud, good-bye to the boys. Ahh, there was sleep at last. And it was good.

Another note on the wedding: The deal is, after Pascalina left the house that day, she will no longer be allowed to spend the night, except for once a year. This explains her somber mood and many tears throughout the day. I know tradition is important, but it is also important to allow traditions enough flexibility to change. It was really a pretty sad thing for her and her brother who said “we will no longer we able to joke around.” I am glad I don’t ever have to do that! She isn’t completely forbidden though, so can visit during the day some. Next week we are going to visit her in Butare!

I have also been a little sick. I say a little because it hasn’t been completely debilitating, but I have not been feeling good. I think I have had a little bit of a flu, but not too bad, and after three or four days, I am finally feeling close to normal.

But don’t think it has been so horrible. This is just the latest big news. There have also been lots of eggs, which we looove, and tell Hadija constantly, who then confirms that we are crazy. She says “all you want is eggs and bread and rice and beans.” This is true, as a result of our effort to avoid potatoes, etc. In addition there have been mangos, tiny ones, that are very difficult and messy to eat, but delicious. We have also gotten a lot of work done, which leads me to...

***Work Update***

This week the boys have been making masks: one of their past self, their future self, and their present self. For our warm-up we have been getting our bodies moving, and energy flowing. This has included patting our legs and telling them thanks for all the good work they have done today. It then includes shaking our entire bodies out in a ridiculous manner. Surprisingly, all the boys, even the oldest ones, have loved it, and we have ended with big smiles and giggles. This is not the first time we have been surprised by the willingness of teenagers here to participate in activities that teens at home would be embarrassed by.

We have also finished many interviews, and now only have 5 boys left, plus anyone else we wish to talk to with a translator. I am excited about this, for we are going to talk to Grandma, who has been around forever, and seen many things.

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Before that though, we will see Gisenyi. This weekend we are going to this beautiful town on lake kivu, bordered by a chain of volcanoes, and accessorized with beaches! Thanks to the suggestion of Mamma McEaddy we are taking a trip and getting away from here for a couple of days. We are both looking forward to it greatly. After that, we have little over a week left, and then we begin our long journey home.

Updates on our work (6-21/6-25-2010-Caroline)

June 21, 2010

We have begun doing the interviews! On Friday, we interviewed one boy, Emmanuel, who went to the streets when he was around six years old. He lived there for five years before coming to Umuryango. I can’t imagine… Six year olds should be entering kindergarten, not begging for food and sleeping under bridges. I will write more about their stories when I have time, but needless to say they are all pretty eye-opening. It is really great to see how Umuryango has positively affected these boys’ lives—one of them wants to become a doctor and the other hopes to help other street children when he grows up. It makes me really want to help find sponsors for the boys at Umuryango. The organization would really like to expand and take in more boys.

June 24, 2010:
We have done a total of nine interviews thus far. It has been an intense experience. Each boy’s story is upsetting to hear, although it makes me really thankful that they are at Umuryango now. They are lucky to be there, and they all know it.
(names taken out to respect their privacy)
One of the newest boys, talked about how he didn’t know why but his father never lovd him. He would abuse him, and one time cut his lip with a knife. So, he decided to run away. This is one of the sweetest kids I have ever met. When you look at him, you can’t imagine anyone ever hurting him. He is always smiling, and always happy to give you a goohoeberana (hug). Another interesting thing about him, is that he is always the last one eating. He eats so much…whatever is leftover from others, he will shovel down…most likely has to do with his days living on the streets. Several of the kids talked about how they would go days without eating. I have been working on the stories and will try to post them when I get finished. Here are just two other things that have stuck with me:
One of the older boys told us about one of his earliest memories was being carried on the back of his mother and seeing dead bodies everywhere on the ground.
Last year, we nicknamed another boy the bulldog because he is really little and acts very tough, but has a huge heart. Last year, during Genocide Memorial Week, JP played a video on the genocide which we watched with some of the kids. Half way through, I was crying uncontrollably. Seliac pushed his way through the other boys and grabbed my hand and held it the rest of the movie.
On Wednesday, he told us about how he was abused and how there were many times when his parent would refuse to feed him. One day, he was so hungry that he decided to run away and go to the streets to try out his luck there. He was around six years old at the time and lived on the streets for years before coming to Umuryango… It certainly brings new understanding to his tough exterior.
On a happier note, tomorrow, our friend Pascalene is getting married! We just bought Rwandan fabrics so that we will have the right thing to wear! For our gift, we are going to take pictures and put them in an album for her. Weddings in Rwanda are a complex process. We are joining for part 3: the final ceremony and reception. From what I have heard, the last two were very long. We met some other kids from Florida State who are working to teach English to the teachers in the schools. On their first jetlagged day in Rwanda, they attended the first and extremely long wedding ceremony. I feel so much pain for them!
On a side note, this past year, the Rwandan government made the switch so that all classes went from being taught in French to being taught in English. Unfortunately, most people’s English is NOT good. Even the teachers do not know it very well, so I am glad that the other muzungos are helping there. I was hoping to help out with that, but we have gotten really busy between the art therapy groups and the individual interviews. Writing each of their stories is going to be extremely time consuming, but I hope it will be helpful for Umuryango!

Thursday June 24, 2010:

Daily I read a devotion written by Mark Nepo, from his book The Book Of Awakening: Having the Life you Want by Being Present to the Life You Have. His words are honest and beautiful. Yesterday, the wisdom he shared confronted our human tendency to want attention instead of to give attention. Reading this in a culture void of individualization, it strikes me that this is universal. Kids here do not hear that they are special. They do not get attention at the level it is given in the United states. Yet, when there are muzungo’s around (ie. Caroline and I) it seems that their desire for attention drastically increases. The situation that creates for me here is multifold: the kids want attention often, and will do various often annoying and insignificant things in their attempts to get some. For some of them, when attention is not received, pouting and ignoring ensues. We have experienced this with both a 9 year old and a 24 year old. On our part, it is important to give an equal amount of attention to every boy, of which there are 23. We also strive to give attention when it is due, and not when it is begged for. All of this is juxtaposed against our pseudo fame for being white Americans. Everywhere we go people are staring. There gazes are often accompanied by shouts of “muzungo!” and sometimes “give me money.” While we are relatively used to this, it can sometimes be more than overwhelming. We are getting attention for something we cannot control. It is almost as though this is negative attention, along with the other attention we receive here, which always seems to be work, or be because someone else can’t believe that we are white. In fact, we try to hide so that we don’t have to get attention, but that rarely works. Fine. I don’t mind, but I can’t do it all the time. This is one of the reasons that I have found myself spending several hours every day in our room either reading, writing, drawing, or sleeping. For even when it seems like I am getting attention, Ultimately I am giving it, and in an effort to find peace, I must likewise give attention to myself.

In addition to myself and other people, my attention goes to things such as nature. Everywhere we go, there are so many plants and animals. In the village, there are cows and chickens and goats and babies running around everywhere. It has become normal, but I have an occasional moment during which I am grateful for their close presence, and sorrowful for their absence at home. Caro and I both love the goats, especially the baby ones, and we keep joking with Dama that we are keeping two in our room! Yesterday when Dama and I were running, we came upon two people herding a cow. In one brief moment, the cow found an opportunity to run away from the herders, who then tried to chase him, only allowing enough space for him to sprint backwards towards home. Dama said the cow was scared because he knew he was going to get turned into meat. I took that moment to be happy that I am not eating meat right now. likewise I notices thankfulness for the natural process of obtaining meat here, and devastation at the reality of the meat market back home. The run was good however!! We beat our time again by 7 minutes. It was a push though, and I was exhausted.

Also in reference to attention, it becomes quickly difficult to give attention when attention to my attention is fleeting. This happens at an increased level here due to the language and cultural barrier. Thus, I find it increasingly challenging to maintain my level of peaceful attention giving for long periods of time. This was particularly difficult this past Saturday, when we working with each of 4 group of boys for 1 1/2 hours each: 6 hours total. It was a long day to say the least, but I think all the boys enjoyed it. Which leads me to...

***Work Update***

Saturday was long, but productive. We worked with each group of boys for an hour and a half each. Each session began with some time for the boys to make up a song for their group. This was followed by the making of portfolios to house and protect their future work. They then decorated the portfolios in a way that represented their personalities. They had many materials available, including stuff to collage with. They all seemed to enjoy this greatly, and each meeting, time ran out. Because of this, that night we held and open work time, and many of the boys came back to work more. For 2 of the groups, we had a chance to talk about their work, but this remains challenging.

This weeks activities include a warm up which consists of each person making up a movement to express how they are feeling. We then put them all together and performed them to music, so that it became like a dance. Everyone really love it! Afterwards, we did some doodling exercises. These involved closing one’s eyes while scribbling mindlessly, then opening one’s eyes, identifying any objects, and highlighting them. They boys all had a great time scribbling which I thought was interesting, as it has seemed difficult for them to draw anything they did not already know how to draw. It was as if being able to scribble allowed them a sort of freedom. The process of gaining back control by highlighting identifiable objects, however, resulted in the identification of all the same simple shapes. Perhaps this is because of their minimal exposure to the media, and their resulting lack of exposure to things they could possible identify. Whatever is containing them in this box is certainly influencing the enjoyment and effectiveness of anything we do. It is exciting to see them get out of that box, and I look forward to challenging them more in that way soon. It does seem like some of them are maybe getting a little bit more comfortable with it, so that is good.

Sunday night, we had each group of boys perform their song for each other. It was wonderful to see them so excited and laughing all together! We finally learned what their songs were about, which absolutely surprised us. Their apparent love of rap music was not in anyway reflected in their lyrics. Examples:

-Boys of Fire: sang about how they love to dance, and then throw their hands up and praise the lord

-V.I.P. Boys: sang/rapped about how they were smart, and powerful, and loved God, and would do good things.

-Tough Gang: Theirs was the most ironic. They rapped about how they loved everyone, and if we didn’t believe them, just ask.

Since then, all the boys have been walking around singing each others songs. What a great ritual to bring them all together!

Caroline and I have also been interviewing the boys. We have now talked to 9 of them, and none of their stories are without pain. This is intense for us, and we have been talking about what we can do to process it all. So far, writing and drawing have been doing me good.

A note on eating:

I have noticed my tendency to write about food, do I will not leave you wondering... When we met the other muzungos, we discovered that avocados are sold daily at the school, and that they had been making guacamole! We are looking greatly forward to trying it ourselves. We have also experienced corn, which is in plenty during the current summer months. It is roasted over a fire, and then eaten, at which point it remains chewy. Apparently the corn here is different than at home. The other muzungos told us of their efforts to boil it, and their ultimate disappointment. So interesting! Yesterday, the younger boys all made fires and cooked corn on them. This only reassured us of the need for a fire safety lesson...It is odd that Dama etc. didn’t seemed concerned, but we did.

I have been thinking more about eating lately. I am reminded of a class I sat in on this past semester called “the art of being human.” At one point we discussed eating, and how it is an act of internalizing the external. In this way, eating here is a way of becoming Africa. Everything we eat is Africa, and when we eat it, it becomes a part of us. This understanding is reciprocally humbling and elevating. In a way, it is a bridge over the large ravine between our cultures.

Another experience of becoming Africa has been found with the traditional dance troupe that practices here every Saturday. Learning their songs and dances is an act of learning their culture. Becoming part of the larger group is become part of Africa in a way. This is what ritual does. While this is blatant due to its stereotypical reflection of Africa, Africa is becoming part of us every moment. Realizing this reminds me of my humanness, which re-directs me to reverence. This makes sense, as it is the ultimate formula for reverence according to Paul Woodruff, the author of a book called: Reverence, Renewing a Forgotten Virtue, that I have been reading. Thinking about reverence has opened my heart to many more opportunities to experience it. This in turn has facilitated overflowing gratitude. I am so thankful for the infinite reasons that have brought me to this place, and the infinite reasons that will come from it.

A particular moment of awe occurred this past Saturday. As we were watching the girls practice a dance, the wind picked up in just the right way to create a small tornado. It wasn’t just a little one that stayed on the ground. It was narrow, but strong, and maybe about 11 feet tall. It proceeded to dance among the dancers, touching no one, and returning to its source on the other side. Tornados are often feared, but there was nothing fearful about this tornado, which emphasized the awe which with I perceived it.

Something else I am in awe of is the amount of noise that these boys make! Sometimes I actually cannot believe how loud it is. They run around playing and yelling and crying and singing, loudly! It is wonderful noise of happiness, mostly, but it is loud, and leaves me with such great gratitude for ear plugs, which are necessary for sleep.

It seems like we have been sleeping a lot. We eat dinner late, usually between 8:30 and 9, after which we usually get right in bed. Sometimes reading occurs, but we are exhausted, and don’t stay up long. In the morning we try to get up at 8, which means we are getting around 10 hours of sleep. Somehow, we continue to find ourselves tired. Maybe this is because of our diet, and with that in mind, we have been trying harder to swallow any number of the 8 giant raw vegetable pills we are supposed to take each day. They smell and taste like rabbit food, and are difficult to swallow, but perhaps they will help...we will see...today I took all 8!