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!

June 18, 2010

Terrific T-shirts!!!

So far on our trip we have seen 3 t-shirts whose ironic humor is worth mentioning.

1. On Daniel, about 9 or 10 years old: and image of a squirrel standing in front a a pile of nuts with a bat, reads: “protect your nuts.”

2. On a man in the city of Gitirama: “one tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor.”

3. On Hadija, our house mother: “Something about about you attracts me, I wish could put my finger on it.”

Found: other muzungos in Byimana!

It was quite exciting to run into 3 other Americans on a walk through the village recently. They are part of a group of 8 people here from FSU and are working at the primary school. Today we met the rest of them in the primary school library where they were painting things like stars, and flowers, and fish, and grass on the walls. It was really nice to speak so much english! I think tomorrow they are coming to Umuryango to see the traditional dance troupe.

We were at the school in order to watch a football match. The team playing represents the secondary school, and three boys from Umuryango are on the team. Caro had warned me that it would be overwhelming, but I was still not prepared. As we approached the field, we saw that is was entirely surrounded by people several rows deep. They were mostly children, and the younger ones surrounded us as we approached, and proceeded to follow us in a big clump wherever we moved. It was a pretty bizarre experience, topping our ordinary experiences of being stared at and called “Muzungos!”

Before we left for the match this morning, we began to organize the supply closet at Umuryango. There is tons of stuff in there! A lot of it is trash, but we began the process of going through it, and making it accessible. It is a huge project though, and will not be completed until tomorrow. It reminds me of growing up. Periodically my mom would declare the day to be for cleaning out closests. My sister and I would then slowly go through all the junk that we considered treasure hiding in our closests. I was always excited at the beginning, evidence of my ocd I suppose, but I tired quickly, which was likely the first clue for my tendency to start projects easily, but have a hard time finishing them. Luckily, I am learning how to fight that, though it continues to haunt me. The closet here remains half clean as it is, but it must be finished, and will be soon.

I am missing Franny today! For those of you who don’t know, this is my puppy dog. She is not really a puppy anymore, but she still acts like one. She is black and soft and fluffy, and full of love! I try to think of the last time I saw her. It was in the backseat of Amanda’s (my sister) car on the way to the airport. She was lying halfway on the seat beside me, and halfway in my lap. She couldn’t keep her eyes open: she loves sleeping in the car. And she is such a snuggler! While I am here, she is at doggie obedience training camp at this fantastic kennel in Temple Ga (down I-20 w). The first few nights I was here, I had terrible nightmares about her, but since hearing from Kristie (of the kennel) that she is doing great with her training and having a lot of fun with her friends, they have stopped. I still miss her though. The plethora of black goats everywhere only reminds me of her more. The good thing is that when I get home, she will be much better behaved!

Now, in addition to Pineapple and banana, we have also been blessed with oranges (which are as sour as lemons), a sort of passion fruit that looks like it is bleeding when you cut it (explaining its name), and papaya. We have also eaten rice and beans many times now, which we are ultimately happy about.

Yesterday I went for another run with Damascene. Maybe it was rest, or cooler whether, or the absence of my camel-bak, but we completed the same route in 25 minutes less than the first time. Dama said next time we will run to the mountain, but I am pretty sure I am not ready for that...Dama also said that girls do not play sports here, but then we found out that three of the boys (Frank, Edison, Olivier, the same who play themselves) coach a girls team, and yesterday they won the cup!!! That makes me feel better about being a white girl running through Rwandan hills.

***Work Update***

Today we conducted our first interview! That means that we have had success in finding a translator. This was not painless, however. Yesterday, JP brought a woman back to Umuryango from Gitirama because he thought she would be good. It did not take talking to her long, however, to learn that her english was not compatible with ours. We had to tell her this, which of course she debated, and then we had to sit there with her while she waited for JP to finish eating his lunch. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but it did result in JP later connecting us with a friend from last year named Bosco. He has just finished University, where he studied languages, and his english is good! We succeeded in hiring him last night over the phone, and today we conducted our first interview. It went well for being the first one! Monday Bosco will come again, and we will keep the momentum going for the succeeding two weeks. After which we will have time to write their stories.

Yesterday we worked with the final group of boys on the first art session. They are at that great trouble making age of adolescence, and the session was quite difficult. It is proving even more difficult than I thought it would be to do this sort of work in such a different culture. We are doing our best to understand their world-view, and to adjust our work style accordingly, but it is a process, and an often frustrating one. They did enjoy it though, and we now have four groups names: Arsenal, Boys of Fire, V.I.P. Boys, and tough gang. Tomorrow we are going to meet with each group again. Each group will come up with a short group song, following a discussion of which, the boys will decorate portfolios that will hold their future work. The theme is to do so in a way that represents them and their life. We will introduce collage, which they can use in addition to drawing materials. I am looking forward to it!

Updates on our work! (6-17-2010)

It has been difficult to determine exact schedules for everyone. This is something that we have become used to here, but it has forced us to be clear about what we need and want. We have developed a plan of what days we will work with which boys and will meet with the groups beginning tonight. JP (the director and person who speaks the best English) is not at Umuryango right now, which has put the process of finding a translator on hold. Hopefully, he will be here tonight or tomorrow. We are going to begin anyway with the help of our friend Damascene, who is one of the main people in charge of the kids and speaks decent English. We will need to work out a schedule of the individual assessment process and development of stories for the boys when we find out how often a translator will be available. My plan is to begin with the eleven boys who currently are without sponsors, and then work with the rest.
I am excited about beginning our work, and am hopeful that it will positively impact the boys.



June 16, 2010: We have begun the initial sessions with two of the groups and will do two more today and tomorrow. The boys have really like it. It’s been really cute. Each group created their team flag. We discussed it, but in the end, there seems to be a small miscommunication, as each boy proceeded to draw a miniature flag. When we tried to expain that it was a group flag, one boy drew a flag in the center and they all proceeded to color it in at the same time… really cute! Hopefully pictures will come soon, but uploading is challenging

Monday, June 14 2010

Every day normal, sprinkled with bizarre on top

It seems as though my patterning of showering dictates when I write. This is about right though, as writing and showering occur about every three days... That being said, I am lying in bed, clean, and tired. This morning I went for my first run with Damascene. We were gone for an hour, running/walking up and down hills dotted with fields of crops and tiny paths. Only towards the end did we find ourselves on main roads, or for that matter, any road wide enough to fit my feet side by side. It was hot, and exhausting, but it was exercise, and it was good. Before coming here, I had schemed to initiate a ritual of running to a specific spot, where I would bury a journal and a pen, and return often to sit and draw/write. After today’s run, I realize that is unrealistic. I will just have to find a spot around here...which might mean our room if it is to have any privacy. Rwanda, which is about the size of Maine I believe, is populated by 10 million people. In other words, there are people everywhere, and the concept of personal space is non-existent. Speaking of Exercise though, yesterday Carolina and I did a pilates pod-cast in our room. Slightly hilarious, but sort of beneficial.

Aside from Exercising, we have been working to figure out the boys schedules. It is confusing, because some of them go to school in the morning, and come home in the afternoon, and some of them do the reverse. The kicker is that this switches everyday, and there are 30 of them. This morning, however, we finally arrived at a completed schedule of when we will work with the boys. We divided the boys into 4 groups according to their age, and we will meet with each group one day a week from 5-6 pm, and on Saturdays we will meet with each group again for 1 1/2 hours. We have yet to secure a translator, and so our work this week will be basic, butIt will be good to start!

A few days ago, we accompanied Damascene to a small lake in a village called Morhororo, which sits across and adjacent to Byiamana, our village. This was an adventure planned on our last visit, and as it never happened, Dama was excited to go as soon as we got here! The walk/hike was nice, and the lake was beautiful. We saw two boys fishing with bamboo poles. They had a string of small fish displaying their prize!

Along the way Damascene showed us many plants, including coffee. One of the highlights though, was seeing a Twa woman making traditional pots. The Twa represent 1% of the population, and have been here the longest. They are known for the beautiful pots they make, but we managed to pass our whole previous trip without seeing any of their art. On our walk through Morhororo, however, we came upon an arrangement of beautiful pots, just made. The artist was a Twa women who sat diligently working in the background. On our way back, we found the courage to ask to take a picture. At first the answer was “amafaranga,” which means, money, but when we declined a man, assumed to be her husband, convinced her, and we were allowed to take some photos:

Saturday was an exciting day as well! The traditional dance troupe practices at Umuryango, and there were a bunch of kids here singing, drumming, and dancing. It was really neat to watch them! Emmanuel, who is the cook for Umuryango, is also the president of the troupe, and earlier in the day, he had expressed excitement about teaching us how to dance. I was intrigued, but not prepared for a lesson in front of everyone, which was apparently his intention. We managed to communicate that we would rather not, and so tomorrow I will have a private traditional dance lesson with Emmanuel.

We have surprisingly been eating a decent amount of fruits and veggies. Bananas are certainly reigning in that role, but pineapple is a close second. We have also had green beens and cabbage on several occasions. This increase is likely due the summer season we are here during on this trip. We also eat a lot of eggs, and white bread (often stale and/or assuming the shape of a hot-dog bun on steroids), rice, noodles, and tomato sauce.

We have also been working on learning the language. Kinyrwandan is very difficult, but we are adding more phrases to our vocabulary daily. Aside from the basic “hello,” “How are you?” “Good-bye,” etc., we can now say more complex things, like: “where are you going?” “what are you doing?” “what do you like?” among others.

Yesterday I dug out the guitar from the musty storage closet, and proceeded to string it surrounded by about 10 boys, all trying to get as close as possible. It is a dinky little beginners guitar, I think from Target, but it plays! I am hoping to work with some of the boys to play some music. Music is ever-present here, and a couple of the boys are especially interested in pursuing it as a career.

While the above mentioned manages to convey a decent idea of our normal day-to-day, We have had some odd experiences as well. Today when we were running, Dama almost stepped on a small green mamba! He told me that lots of people around have the medicine for snakes though, so I should not worry. It was still freaky.

Another bizarre incident I will mention now occurred on our trip back to Byiamana from Gitarama. We went there Saturday morning to access the internet. The mode of transportation used most often from village to village, is taxi bus. These are basically long vans, and they are typically stuffed with more people than they are intended to hold. On the way home the other day though, we sat for about 3 whole minutes, already crammed in a row of four, while another large women tried to fit on the end. It was literally impossible. Dama insisted that we hold our ground, which we did, ultimately resulting in being shoved over and over, with nowhere to go! In the end, the woman next to caroline was replaced by the larger woman...and the money collector. After literally shoving us without success, the money collector proceeded to sit on the woman, who was sitting on caroline!!! It was beyond bizarre, and comfortable. We made it though, in time for a late lunch, and likely a nap!

Rwanda's future...contradictions

I just had an interesting, but challenging conversation with one of our friends here. I told him that I had questions, but I was not sure whether or not it was okay to ask them, because they were sensitive. He said I could ask. Below, I have put the conversation. It was just upsetting to me, because while I feel completely safe here, I am really worried about the future of these boys and the country. He was just much more pessimistic about the future of Rwanda. What it makes me realize is how important the next seven years are for the future of Rwanda. Now is the time that transformation has to occur in people’s hearts and minds. The election (in 2017?) when the current president is supposed to step down will be a real test to that stability and transformation. I quoted an article in our proposal that seems particularly relevant here: Philip Gourevitch, author of We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will be Killed With Our Families, has said that “Rwanda's future lies with the country's younger generation, which will refuse to inherit the world that the older generation will leave behind." I’ve been trying to really think about what can be done to ensure that the pain and hatred of the generation who experienced the genocide is not passed down to future generations…I think that Umuryango is making valiant efforts towards this cause. I’d also really like to learn more about the work being done in the schools.

The conversation:
I started by asking about the President. He said that he would vote for him, because he was a strong president and he kept the peace. I asked him whether he thought he would step down after this term (After this election, he is supposed to step down according to the Constitution). He said he thought he would, and mentioned that maybe his son would run.
I asked if he thought that it would be okay in Rwanda after the next election (in seven years). His answer was really pessimistic and upsetting. He implied that he thought it might go back to war depending on what happened in the election. He said, “maybe it will go back to war, maybe we will die…I don’t know” and laughed…Kind of making light, but noticed about Rwandans, and Africans in general is that they seem to laugh at uncomfortable moments.
When I asked what could be done to make the peace stronger… less fragile, he didn’t have many answers.
He said there was peace now because the president was strong, but that there were problems. He told me that several months ago there was an incident between two families involving a grenade, right near the lake that we went to visit yesterday. I was surprised because the only incidents I have heard about have been in Kigali, however, this one was not the same. It was unrelated to the elections. I think maybe it was two families who have been fighting for a long time. It is still scary though, because it is just an indication of how fragile the peace is here.

I asked him, I know that now, you are supposed to say we are not Hutu, we are not Tutsi, we are one, we are Rwandans, do you think that people believe that? Surprisingly he said yes…he said he believed 95% of Rwandans believed that. But, maybe the five percent that were extremist would influence the others in a bad way.

He said that the organizations trying to “change the minds in a good way” are not getting to everyone, they aren’t getting to the people in the villages, they are located mostly in the cities, and the people in the villages don’t have TV, radio etc…

Rwanda re-visited: remembering home away from home

We’re here, finally...!

The trip was long, very long. It took three days to be exact, for us to reach Umuryango, located in the small town of Biyamana, Rwanda, which is an hour outside the capital of Kigali. There have been many opportunities for practicing patience; in other words, frustrations. Once our delayed flight from Kenya finally landed in Rwanda, and we figured out how to contact JP, our ride, we learned that we would be staying in Kigali, the capital for the night. We proceeded to sleep, a lot, and the next day we finally headed to Umuryango in Biyamana. That journey was of course not void of interruption. We stopped to buy a mosquito net and groceries, then to eat lunch, and then 20 feet from Umuryango for JP to talk to a friend. At that point, we could see the boys, and we couldn’t stand it any longer, so we just got out of the car!

The ride from Kigali to Gitarama, which is the city nearest Biyamana, is about an hour and a half through rolling green hills. Caroline and I both fell asleep, and when I woke up we were in Gitarama. It has changed a lot! When I say changed, what I mean is grown. There are more buildings being used, and some of the road work has been updated. There is even a new round-about! As soon as I awoke, I felt like I was home. Last year when we were here, I wrote a blog entry about finding home. It was about that moment when something shifts, and you feel that comfort that accompanies home. Last time, it took a few weeks to find that feeling on the dusty roads through town, but this time, that moment was instant. Seeing the many distinctly Rwandan people dressed in their beautiful fabrics walking in the streets, carrying things on their heads left me feeling so, normal. I try to live life fully in each moment, so I hadn’t thought much previously about arriving. Then it happened, and it was very exciting. The familiarity washed over me in a calmness that soothed my travel weary bones and energized my passions for coming back.

Seeing the boys only enhanced this. The older boys knew we were coming, but the younger ones did not. As we sat in the stopped car waiting for JP to finish talking, we glimpsed Siliac, one of the smaller, and cuter boys, straight ahead. It took him a moment, but once he realized who was in the car, he charged towards it. It was at this point that we abandoned patience and jumped out into hugs from Rwandan arms, small and large alike. Moraho! We exclaimed, meaning “it is good to see you, after so long!” Even the neighbors were happy we were there. It wasn’t long before kids were climbing all over me, which was quite overwhelming on such a low tank of sleep. Somehow I managed to escape, and then I saw Hadija. Hadija is the house mom. Here everyone calls her “mamma doe” (spelled phonetically of course). Though we did not get to know her on a deep personal level during out last stay, she took care of us, and we bonded with her as one does to a surrogate mother. As I have been a daughter in this world without a living mother for some time now, any experience of being cared for by any form of a mother is profound. I believe that my experience of losing my mother at a young age, has allowed me repeatedly, though only after much inner work and grief, to be especially receptive to the particularity of mother love. This being said, it was joyus, to say the least, when we greeted Hadija. She was so excited, yelling “carolina, meghaney!” Later she called us her girls as she proudly showed us our room, fitted with bunk beds, a small table, and a large comfortable chair we now refer to as our throne. These are gifts of abundance, and we are very grateful for them.

We did move the furniture around, in order to organize our room into small sections we like to call rooms. We have closets, and a bathroom, and a kitchen, and a library! It is like being a kid again, and playing house, which takes me back to many favorite memories of growing up with a wild imagination and a spectacular sister.

Once we moved everything around, even the bunk beds, we had to hang up the mosquito net. It took a day and a half to acquire a hammer, but we finally did, and now, our mosquito net hangs over the “double decker,” as they call it here. We hung my small buddhist prayer flags from the top bunk, which adds more color to the already bright teal room, complete with a red curtain.

I speak of wonderful reunions, but have yet to mention one of the most special. Damascene is our best friend here. He is about 23 years old, and part of the founding family of Umuryango. Once he was a boy here, but now he is in charge. He speaks the most english of anyone, except JP, so when we come, he is by our side often. He walks with us to the store, goes with us to the city, and takes us on adventures. He is super silly, and his big, goofy, beautiful grin is impossible to resist with seriousness. It did not take long for us to find that nook of silliness, and to feel that soft space of good friendship. Later today, he will take us on a walk to the “small lake.” This is an adventure we didn’t manage to get to on our last trip, and so he is eager for us to go as soon as possible. I am quite looking forward to it!

Another wonderful character that has graced our experience is Pascalina. She is the cousin of Dama, and speaks english very well. She lives in Butare, which is about an hour and ten minutes away from Biyamana in the opposite direction of Kigali. There she works in the hospital. Her brother is Gatera, who is likewise a friend from our previous trip. Gatera lives in Kigali where he is in university, and so we have not seen him yet. Earlier this year though, he invited us to attend his sister, pascalina’s wedding. Luckily, we will be here for the third and final ceremony of her wedding. In Rwanda, there are three event thats comprise a wedding: the traditional wedding, the civil wedding, and the church wedding. Earlier today Pascalina showed us pictures of her civil and traditional weddings. Everything was so elaborate and beautiful. I asked if the details had meaning, and she said yes, but the conversation did not go further. Weddings have been a prevalent theme to this trip so far, as Genereuse, JP’s wife, showed us pictures from their recent wedding as well. This is interesting in perspective of my goal to learn about Rwandan ritual during my time here. It is especially interesting that it is the ritual of getting married that has presented itself so prevalently, as I was intending to learn about rituals of healing. Marriage is certainly a ritual of healing, as it is a union, a making whole, which is the foundation of the word health. It is not, however, the healing I had in mind. Who knows where this insight will lead, but I am excited to be a part of Pascalina’s wedding none-the-less. We get to wear traditional clothing, which is something I have wanted to do for a long time. Earlier today, Caroline and I were discussing how we are part Rwandan, in our hearts at least.

Our work with the boys is starting slowly. We have yet to procure a translator, but we hope to get that situated by today or tomorrow. Up to now, we have been busy planning, and are anxious to start the work. Until then, we are enjoying spending time playing and getting to know the boys, and are happy and healthy in our teal Rwandan palace!

Recipe for taking a shower: 30 steps to getting clean in Rwanda

Ingredients:

-one large shallow brightly colored plastic basin (but any bucket will do)

-one washcloth

-one cup (or in our case, the bottom of a large water bottle cut in half)

-bar of soap

-shampoo

-conditioner (optional, though suggested for long locks)

-a large towel, or 3 small ones

-flip-flops

-enough clothes so as to appear appropriate when walking in front of 30 young staring boys

1. Alert house mom to your desire to shower...tomorrow

2. Once it is tomorrow, remind her you want a shower, a warm one

3. Tell Damascene

4. When it is nearing the time you told her you want to shower, remind her

5. Remind Damascene

6. Gather your towel, clothes, and flip-flops, placing towel carefully on ledge in shower

7. Once water is hot, pour into plastic basin (this may be done for you)

8. Place basin on floor of tiny shower in a closet

9. Fill up the jug that used to hold oil with cold water

10. Pour the entirety of the jug into the basin

11. Mix water until homogenous

12. Get undressed, carefully placing clothes on ledge with other toiletries

13. Use cup (or plastic bottle in our case) to get your hair wet. Use minimal water

-you may do this with your head upside down, or standing up with your head leaning back

14. Use a lot of shampoo to make sure you hair is thoroughly soapy

15. Use cup to rinse hair. Try to get all the soap out, but expect some to remain

16. Repeat steps 14 and 15 with conditioner if preferred

17. Clump washcloth into a ball and Submerge in water

18. Squeeze water from cloth onto body, repeating, yet using as little water as possible, to ensure you are fully wet

19. Fill the cup with a tiny bit of water

20. Use the water in the cup to get the bar of soap wet

21. Lather body fully

22. Repeat steps 17 and 18 to rinse the soap off

23. Fill the cup with water and pour from it to rinse important or especially soapy places

24. Hang up the washcloth

25. Dry off

26. Dress appropriately

27. Return basin and jug to house mother to be put away or filled for next person

28. Return to your room and get fully dressed

29. Brush your hair

30. Say thank you a million times for having warm water!

in kenya

Hello!
I am writing from the Nairobi airport. Our flight, which was supposed to leave at 8:10 am was "downgraded". Not exactly sure what that means, except that we could no longer fit on the plane and have been booted to the next flight which is four hours and does not put us in Kigali until somewhere around 2 pm. Meghan says that this is "an opportunity to practice patience", but I told her I'd rather not. We will see the kiddos eventually, but it is frustrating to have to be delayed another five hours. Anyway, all is well other than that.

Flights were long, but fairly smooth. etc...

Will update once we get to Rwanda.