Friday, November 20, 2009

Leaving Rwanda


The time is quickly approaching for me to leave this city and country and continent. Just 7 more sleeps, as John would say! So at this juncture it seems appropriate to reflect on my stay here: what I have brought, what I have learned and what I will do next.

As to what I have brought, first and foremost I came with information that the women who are beneficiaries of Tubahumurize did not have before. I have given workshops in first aid, hygiene, women’s reproductive cycle and nutrition to several groups of women as well as to the sewing students. All were well received, but if I had to pick three things that were most useful to these women, I would choose the following.

First, each and every woman, young or old, was totally entranced by how their bodies function, especially their reproductive organs. Women in their childbearing years were super-interested in their menstrual cycles and how to avoid getting pregnant! Everyone wanted to know how twins came to be. Most were delighted to learn that it is the male sperm that carry the sex of a child. Women approaching and in menopause were very interested in all the changes taking place in their bodies. I think all the women were really relieved that pretty much everything they experience is normal. As well, it may have been the one and only time these women and girls have had a chance to talk about such matters frankly in a group.

Second, in the first aid course, they were completely absorbed by the large charts I brought that illustrate the digestive, circulatory, nervous and skeletal systems. (These charts, by the way, I plan to donate to a free clinic nearby.) They loved discovering their pulse and having a glimmer of the miracle that is the human body. There is so much that can go wrong, it is truly something that most of the time, it works like a charm! I think they have a much better understanding about preventing illness, through good hygiene habits and assuring the care of wounds and burns. As a sidenote, in Rwanda, the custom is to put oil and sugar on a burn to help it heal faster! This is pretty counter to anything I have ever heard, so I simply told them what is standard practice in Canada. They were all also very interested in learning how to cope with diarrhea, especially in children.

Finally, in the course on nutrition, everyone was very interested in the three major food groups, carbs, fats and proteins, but especially interested in the whys of foods that are not very good for us, especially in the prevention of diabetes, which is rampant here, and heart disease, which is no doubt rising along with obesity. Because meats and eggs and cheese are relatively expensive here, the main sources of protein are from beans and peanuts. The women seemed reassured to learn that beans are actually a very good source of protein and of carbs. Thus, even the poorest women can feel good about how she feeds her family.

I was amazed to learn that here, where just about everything is cooked on wood or coal, which is either hard to find or not cheap, it is not the custom to soak the beans before cooking them! Thus, learning to soak the beans the night before you want to cook and eat them was a real eye-opener, because they can see that this will save them money since the beans need less time to cook over coals. Such a small thing will make quite a difference.

Another thing I believe I brought is a small understanding of the use of herbs and spices in cooking. In Rwanda, basically the only flavouring is salt. And oil. And a spicy oil called Akabanga. Even Jeanne, who has travelled all over the world and eaten all kinds of different foods, here in Rwanda feels limited in what she knows how to cook because she doesn’t know how to use herbs and spices. She and her husband Aaron have loved everything I or Simone cooked and Jeanne pines after this knowledge. Since I brought a bunch of spices and have added to them here, that will be my gift to her: a bag containing all these spices and herbs and condiments plus a few recipes and some information about where herbs and spices are normally used. I think it will please her.


In the sewing area, I have dazzled more than one young woman (in reality, the whole class!) because I know how to sew, and on a treadle machine. I actually used a hand crank for a couple of years in the Yukon, but that is another story. I was sewing something in the sewing room here, with the whole dang group watching me with huge eyes, and I ran out of thread in the bobbin. They were amazed to see me wind it up on the bobbin thingy (I can sew, but I don’t know the names of the parts of the machine… :(). They, including the instructor, had been winding the bobbins by hand because they didn’t know that there is a small groove in the bobbin that allows it to stay in place for winding “automatically.” Again, such a small thing, such a big difference.

As well, my small project using old discarded fabric to make a quilt has become a real item here. They are amazed by the look when different colours are juxtaposed in patterns, random though they may be. Jeanne is completely taken with the idea of this sewing school having a specialty. To be honest, there are hundreds and hundreds of people throughout Kigali who sew, but mostly dresses, skirts, tops and such. She feels that if they can make quilts and sell them overseas, like in Canada, using African fabrics, then the students will both have a specialty and a source of income while they are in school. With luck, I will bring home their first quilt next week when I fly. That is the plan anyway. This knowledge of mine has the potential to really make a difference in the lives of the sewing students -- this class and those to come.

Also to the sewing students, Simone and I brought a sense of imagination through art and through English class. For example, we played Mystery Guest during English class; the students had to guess the identity of another student who was pretending to be someone else, based on the name written on a piece of paper they drew from an envelope. They had a lot of difficulty imagining how the person in front of them could possibly be someone else when it was so obviously Rosette or Jeannette or whoever. But they finally got the hang of it and thoroughly enjoyed trying to figure out the various identities! They have had very opportunities in their lives to imagine things beyond what is directly in front of them or to play.

Finally, in terms of what I brought to Tubahumurize (in addition to the funds and supplies donated, which came from all of you!!), I would have to say I brought a lot of love, understanding and happiness to these women. Jeanne has told me that before Simone and I came, many of the women were unhappy and listless. She has noted the difference in their attitude and their sense of joy and even playfulness since our arrival, with the introduction of English classes, workshops and yoga. In English class one evening, Simone and I were a bit stumped about what to do next and we decided to teach the women to sing Head and Shoulders Knees and Toes, a nursery school rhyme for preschoolers as you know. Well these grown women had a blast singing the song and acting it out! It is as though they hadn’t had enough time to play in their lives and were just happy to have ten minutes of complete fun! Our English classes are especially like that – lots of fun!

In terms of what I have been given, I don’t think I can begin to do justice to it using words. But of course I will try. The whole point of a blog, hello! I think the main thing is love. I have most certainly been loved here, for who I am. Nothing more and nothing less. What a gift! So many women have shared their deep gratitude to me for tiny things I have done. Hugs beyond belief. And what a gift to raise someone’s spirits with a word of encouragement or praise. Even remembering people’s names means so much to each person. How is this a gift to me? I think because what makes them feel good makes me feel really good, not for having done the thing but for having made their lives a bit better, even for a moment. The moments actually add up into something significant. I believe that.

As for what comes next, well I understand that returning to a developed country can be quite a shock. I am prepared to have a slow reaction of some kind. And it will take time for me to process my experience here, to make sense of it, the good, the bad and the ugly as it were. I am certain of that. And of course, I will have to send photos and gifts and letters and so on to my new friends here, asap.

But after all that, after I rejoin my friends, my husband, my great, big, growing family, my mother, my puppy, my cat, my book club, my granny group, my choir, my co-workers at the op-shop, after most of the dust has settled, I will be able to focus on the future. The future of me and Tubahumurize. What could I do next? What will I do next? I have a million ideas but am not ready to make any decisions or promises. But I think it is safe to say, “to be continued…”

Jeanne Mwiliriza


So much happens here at Tubahumurize and in general that it is easy to forget that Jeanne Mwiliriza is the sole reason this association exists. It is time you knew more about this amazing woman.

Some of you may know that the reason Jeanne started this organization was because a dear friend of hers, constrained to a wheelchair, had called, afraid that her life was in danger from her husband. Jeanne talked with her and reassured her that it was just idle threats again. They planned to meet the next day. But by then, her friend had been murdered. Very shaken and filled with guilt, she suffered for a few months. But when she made some kind of peace with herself, she also made a decision to start a centre for traumatized women who had lived or still lived with violence. She wanted to do something so that her friend’s death would not be repeated.

But perhaps that is leaping forward somewhat. Jeanne had been married to a successful doctor, Joseph Butara. They had three children: Eloge, Valentin and Sandrine. Prior to the genocide, they had lived in Kigali, but when a new ruling Hutu party was elected, Tutsi families such as their own were no longer welcome in Kigali. They moved around quite a bit searching for a safe place to settle.

In April, at the time of the genocide, her children were ten, eight and five. During this time, the family’s story takes two paths. One results in the murder of Joseph Butera and the escape of the two boys to a refugee camp with their Aunt Charlotte where they lived for about seven months. The other results in Jeanne’s miraculous survival and that of her young daughter.

Over the course of the genocide, Jeanne was taken at gunpoint seven times to be killed, but each time (except the last) there was an argument over whether she was a Tutsi at all. (At this point in Rwanda, identity cards had become a moot point: it was all about madness and murder and how people looked.) Jeanne is not a tall woman, and Tutsi women tend to be tall; thus, the soldiers argued over her “identity.” Each of these six times she was spared and was released.

The seventh time, several soldiers came into her home determined to kill her. The leader was especially intent. He ordered Jeanne to get into the wardrobe in her bedroom so he could kill her. She refused. Her lack of fear really annoyed him and he was hell bent on her death. So instead of the wardrobe, he told her to get in the closet. Again she refused. Finally, he flung open the door to the closet and swept aside the hanging clothes. His abrupt actions caused a photograph of Jeanne and her husband on their wedding day to fall from the top shelf to the floor in front of him. Startled, he looked at the photo and paled.

He asked Jeanne if the man in the picture was her husband. When she replied that it was, he said that he could not kill her because her husband had operated on and saved his own badly mangled leg when he was a young boy. Other doctors had wanted to cut the leg off, but Joseph had wanted to heal his leg because he was still so young. “Without your husband,” he said, “I would not have been able to walk in here to kill you.” Thus, he reasoned, he could not kill her.

He left with all the other soldiers, telling them and everyone else that she was to be left alone as though dead. For the remainder of the genocide, Jeanne and Sandrine were untouched and unmolested.

Rwanda is not that big and people have connections everywhere. Through these, Jeanne finally found out that her husband had been killed, as well as her parents and two sisters, but there was no word of her two boys. She was sure that they too were dead along with her sister Charlotte. She cried all the tears she had, dried them and turned the page onto a new life as a widow and mother to young Sandrine. She also took in children who had become orphans overnight, and whose parents had been Jeanne’s friends and neighbours. Eventually, she “adopted” five orphaned children.

Only in December did Jeanne discover that her boys were alive and well with her younger sister, Charlotte. She was overjoyed to welcome them home into the family. However, Jeanne was never able to find her husband’s body, though she looked frantically for many long months. His bones were never recovered or identified, and to this day, her greatest sorrow is to have been unable to lay him to rest in the ground with a proper burial.

Jeanne is a beautiful and charismatic woman of fifty now. I can only imagine her in her thirties, even after three children. She was, no doubt, still a beauty, filled with intelligence and sparkling charm, despite her many sorrows. She met her second husband, Aaron, a few years later through the church where he was pastor. His own genocide story is of utter loss: his wife, his siblings, his parents and all seven of his children were killed. I cannot conceive of the loss and emptiness he must have felt and, no doubt, still feels from time to time.

Jeanne and Aaron married and continued to raise Jeanne’s expanding family. Memories of the genocide haunted them both, and Jeanne began meeting with other women to share stories and hardships and to comfort one another. They healed slowly, in the knowledge that they were not alone and that their stories mattered.

After the death of her friend, after Jeanne had determined that she would open a centre for traumatized women who were once or were still victims of violence, she began taking the steps she needed to take to be able to do a good job: a sociology degree, courses in trauma counselling, youth training, first aid, health education, Grameen banking and micro-credit loans. Jeanne has founded several associations of women as well, but since opening its doors in 2006, Jeanne has worked full-time for Tubahumurize. She works without a salary to this day and her own home is used for the centre, thus forgoing the rental income she would otherwise have recieved.

One thing Jeanne is really passionate about is that the future of this country depends on letting go of ethnic divisions. Thus, the mandate of the association is specifically inclusive of all women, no matter their religion, ethnic background or economic status. Everyone is welcome. That does not always sit well with some women, but in order to build something new, something old has to be left behind. Jeanne is a devout Christian actually, but is not narrow minded. Indeed, I believe Jeanne has captured one of the great strengths of Christianity, perhaps its best, and that is a belief in the equality of all people.

I witnessed her listening to a young woman recently, a sewing student, who was relating some information to her about her family situation. Jeanne was totally present for this young woman, listening attentively, gazing at her with her warm eyes, asking questions, saying reassuring things. It was a joy to behold. Jeanne, filled with boundless energy and enthusiasm, filled with ideas and plans and dreams and more ideas, sitting so quietly in the presence of this young woman. This is an example of how she works. A whirlwind sometimes, not always organized or on point, but always, always has her priorities straight when it comes to the women. She is there for them.

Jeanne certainly cannot run this place alone, nor should she, but she has many qualities that assure this organization’s success. I am certain that through faith and determination, she will make sure this happens. One dream at a time.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Sub-Saharan Flora


I inherited my mother’s love of flowers. Here, I find it amazing here that there are always flowers blooming on the trees and shrubs, flowers that I have never before seen. Flowers of all shapes, sizes and scents, some so powerful and fragrant you could just lie down and drink in each breath and never stop inhaling. Avocado trees so tall that the fruit is completely inaccessible.

I have taken a little time with my camera to photograph just a few of the trees and shrubs that have caught my eye. Because there are no real seasons, except two rainy and one dry, there are even trees blooming at the same time that fruit is ripening! Amazing, eh? Or perhaps that is something that other people have realized and I am the last to know. Whatever...

Just in the front yard here at the association there are three small orange trees, one mango tree, a guava tree, two large lemon trees, a vine called ‘prunes du japon’ and an avocado that is still a baby but growing rapidly, having just been rescued – fertilized and disentangled from a crop of weeds – so it is now in full sun. It is a charming garden, especially because each of the plants gives something delicious to eat! Charming and useful, a great combo.

As I tried to describe in my blog about the gorilla trek, the cultivated fields abut the wilds of Rwanda. Anything left uncultivated reverts very quickly to jungle and weed, the result of plenty of sun and rain and very rich soil.

We put in a small garden here at the centre, growing carrots, beets, beans, spinach, celery, garlic, zucchini, cucumber and leeks. This will supplement the diet of the sewing students, giving them a bit more variety than just beans, rice, sorghum and bananas. After two weeks, everything had sprouted and now is growing rapidly. Soon, some things will need to be thinned! I imagine it would be easy to have two or three crops per year, although I don’t think that is the custom because it is too dry for several months and too costly to irrigate.

It is heartbreaking to me to see the farmers (both men and women) at work in their fields, barefoot, using very crude implements. Every blessed field and crop is cultivated and weeded by hand. They often walk long distances to reach their fields. These rural farmers work so very hard every day and remain very poor. I don’t know if there is resistance to change in these communities, preferring to use traditional tools, or if there is simply not enough money to purchase anything more efficient. Also, I don’t know if the traditional ways of planting various crops produces the highest yield it could. From my perspective, there is a lot of space between rows that is wasted, but likely to make room for humans to weed the crops.

I leave you with a few photos, which give just a hint of the beauty that is around every corner.





Monday, November 9, 2009

Another Atypical Day


My niece Marie mentioned recently (complained?) that she still has no real idea of what Simone and I do all day, here at Tubahumurize. So this blog perhaps will give a clearer idea of our daily activities, although it must be said that one day is never the same as the next so there is no truly clear routine. And to be honest, yesterday, Friday, the day I am going to describe, was a very busy day.

Our day began in earnest around 8:00 am, with the arrival of the sewing students who bring a lot of excitement and energy and chatter. Simone was already up, doing yoga in the morning sunshine with Simeon, who is a natural. Though I usually stay in bed as long as possible, just listening and thinking and gathering up energy for the day, yesterday I got up quickly, knowing it was to be a full day.

By 8:30, Simone and I had cadged a lift from Aaron to go to the huge indoor market at Kimironko, about a half hour walk from the centre. I even skipped my cup of coffee to leave early! We spent about an hour there, buying a few items to bring home as presents, and of course, I had to fondle all the fabric and buy some too. Then we tipped the young man who helped us find things and we hopped on moto-taxis back to the centre.

After my coffee (!!)(half hour to prepare and drink), Simeon and I walked to the local market to look for a woman named Anatalie. She had been ill and had come to the centre to see if I could help fill her prescription. I had called a nurse who works in a free clinic; she was able to fill the prescription and had dropped it off at the centre the day before. At the market, we asked a few people where to find Anatalie, who works there sewing. I ran into Prosperine, one of the beneficiaries at the centre, who told us that actually Anatalie had gone to Tubahumurize to see me!

But before returning to the centre, Simeon and I needed to buy some vegetables. I found another lovely woman I know, Febronie, who sells tomatoes there. She filled our bag with fresh tomatoes and helped us get potatoes, garlic, carrots onions and rice at a good price. She seemed very proud to be able to help me and for sure we were surrounded by a great gaggle of people the entire time, all clamouring for me to buy whatever they had for sale and just wanting to shake my hand or greet me.

I actually love this environment, so full of smells, sights and sounds, the hustle bustle of people working and chatting and arguing. It feels very relaxed, and though people want me to buy from them, they accept when I make a choice and don’t seem to hold a grudge against me or their “competitor.” I guess what I am saying is that the atmosphere does not feel at all competitive. Just noisy!

Bags full, Simeon and I walked home. I went to tend to Anatalie, giving her clear directions about the medications and putting in the first dose of eye ointment that was prescribed in her eyes. I think she has a touch of pneumonia actually, so I hope the antibiotics she takes will kick in. I told her if she does not start feeling better in three days, she should return to see her doctor.

After this, I had promised Valentin that we would (finally) build a composter for the garden. Two days before, we had gone to several shops down the road to find some stiff wire mesh (about ¼” holes) and some heavier wire for attaching things. Mission accomplished, we had returned with 2.5 metres of wire mesh and a roll of heavy wire.

So Friday, we began by cutting four stakes from wood that had been stored in the garage. Then, we prepared the area where the composter was to go, digging a shallow round hole, into which we inserted the ring of wire mesh and bury it a few inches. We covered all the edges with duct tape to avoid the nasty cuts that wire can give (though it is not sticking that well, so we may need to find another solution).

Valentin drove in the stakes, I cut wire to attach the stakes to the mesh and in about an hour, we had our composter up and running! I even started to fill it with some garden waste. Several people watched this process, especially Simeon and the two Erics from the sewing class. It is going to reduce the landfill wasted generated by the centre and will also enrich the garden soil. As a sidebar, the garden seeds we planted are all sprouted and growing away!

Then, I sent Simeon up the lemon tree with gloves on and a pair of secateurs in hand to prune off a few ridiculously tall branches – so tall it was impossible to harvest the lemons. Also, the two lemon trees need pruning in other ways, but that can wait for another day. We started with the tall branches. So he did that. It looks much better already.

During this time, Simone was busy working on the newsletter and finishing a funding report. Jeanne was off having her hair done. Epiphanie, the sewing teacher, called me to try on the skirt she is making for me, which I did! It fits perfectly. No more of that off-the-rack stuff for me! Made to measure rocks! Simone and I consulted a bit on the day ahead, especially a project we were planning with the sewing students and we divvied up the work.

I took a few minutes to read my email and especially to read Sarah’s blog, about her (my daughter-in-law) amazing, excellent and thankful recovery from brain surgery! Another story for another day, but she is doing well. I spent some time organizing all the photos of the sewing class into one large folder as we were going to present a slide show after their class. Jeanne had returned and prepared a meal of leftovers, which we all ate with gusto. It was almost two o’clock after lunch and we had a class with the sewing students at 3:00 pm.


What we wanted the sewing students to do was to write to the many individuals who were part of a large fundraising effort in Alberta. A program called Green and Gold out of the University of Alberta, had planted an enormous organic garden and had given away all the produce, only asking for a donation. This raised over $16,000 CDN and all the proceeds are to come to Tubahumurize! (The connection to Simone is through her boyfriend Eloge, who is the son of Jeanne, who runs Tubahumurize. Networking, networking…)

Simone and I got the paper, pens, pastels and coloured pencils ready, as well as a template for the students to follow when writing their letters. Valentin and I hooked up my computer to a larger flat screen monitor and Simone got together some music to accompany the slide show.

Shortly after three, the students finished cleaning up for the weekend and came around to get their “lesson.” They were very diligent in their work. Once completed, they took some time to add illustrations to their “cards”. I think these notes will be very much appreciated! They are really sweet. Then, everyone came inside to watch the slide show. They loved it! Laughing and hooting and pointing, seeing pictures of themselves and each other. It was a great success! Something to be repeated for sure. Everyone wants copies of these pictures and that is something I plan to do on my return. It is too expensive and complicated here to make prints.

After the students left, Simone and I got busy in the kitchen, baking a chocolate cake for the birthday party we were invited to that evening, the now-13-year-old son of one of Jeanne’s sisters. One hour later, we had two lovely round Ultimate Chocolate Cakes, covered in chocolate peppermint icing.


At this point, I took a short nap! Shortly before seven, Jeanne, Aaron and Sandrine (Jeanne’s youngest daughter) arrived to pick us up. Simone looked stunning in her new African outfit! We spent a pleasant evening with a very nice family, mostly eating and chatting quietly. All very subdued and dignified. The cakes were a hit! We did not stay late as everyone was tired.

On our return, Simone and I sipped glasses of wine and talked for quite awhile pretty much about life, the universe and everything. She is feeling a bit sad about leaving but also excited about a two week stint in Europe with friends and then her return to Montreal – and Eloge!

I have no idea what time it was when I untied my bed net and arranged it around my bed. I only know that I slept soon after and stayed that way till morning. I think Simone is still sleeping, a wonderful thing as she often has insomnia.

So that was one day. Not typical, but frankly, none of them are. Hope this helps you picture our lives a bit better Marie! Over and out. Elaine

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Hidden Secrets


Kigali, for a quasi-tourist, is somewhat of an enigma. You can certainly tell that the culture has not had to tolerate people from different cultures, and also that a large number of people have never lived or travelled anywhere else. It is very much an oral culture, a place where you know all that you need to know by living here. Everyone knows where everything is and how everything works. Although, frankly, not everyone has the same information, so someone is actually wrong! Many assumptions are made about foreigners, but especially that strangers cannot comprehend the things that are so evident to Rwandans. As I have mentioned before, the buses have no sign on the front to indicate their destination. This remains a mystery to me and I have to ask every time. Another example is that streets have names, but rarely will you see a street sign. This is very frustrating for a visitor who wants to know how to get to x or y or z.

People are somewhat bemused when they are asked where you can buy this or that. They will tell you that that kind of store or business or product is everywhere. But if you don’t speak or read the language, if you don’t know one road from another, if you don’t know all the landmarks, if you weren’t born here, how can you tell? And the Rwanda guide books are filled with mistakes. Even the tourism office is not always able to help. The last time I was there, I needed more information about something. I got vague information at first and when he saw I still didn’t understand the details of what I had to do, he explained a bit more. And finally, after a third stab, I had enough details to actually be able to follow through. At the tourist bureau! And the sad part of that is, they think tourists are stupid to need so many details! Ethnocentric, do you think?


A couple of weeks ago, Simone and I had a plan to visit Nyungwe National Forest, where there are several species of monkey troops as well as chimpanzees. The forest is large and you have to have a vehicle to be able to appreciate all the various aspects of the park, especially to track the chimps. Also, we wanted to make a few short side trips, to a cheese factory and to a coffee roasting business. I wanted to rent a car; not a car and driver, just a car.

I saw a sign (in English!) that advertised a Rav 4 at $50/day. I thought that sounded affordable. When I went in to inquire, it turned out that that price was for long-term rentals of more than two weeks. Furthermore, to rent a car for two days to go out of town, I needed to have a driver as well. Why, I asked, when I have been driving for over forty years, accident free, including in Paris, including on the ‘wrong’ side of the road in England? Why? Well, this is Africa, she responded. People could just drive away with a car to Burundi or Tanzania. In other words, steal it! And this is pretty much the status quo everywhere. Car plus driver for two days, between $200 and $300US. Yikes! How on earth do we manage in other parts of the world to keep theft from happening?

I googled car rentals at Kigali international airport. It listed Avis, Alamo, Hertz and some other companies as having services there. But trying to actually connect with one of them was impossible. In fact, I am skeptical that there are actually any there at all because none of them show Kigali or Rwanda as a location.
I googled car rentals in Kigali and up popped a map with dozens of downtown locations and decent prices, but we are back again to street names and business signs! As far as I have noticed, there is nothing recognizable to see, like perhaps a fleet of cars out front that might indicate you could rent a car there.

We have tapped into our friends, acquaintances and even strangers to try to figure out a way to rent a car without a driver without costing an arm and a leg. We have even stooped so low as to ask to borrow. Probably totally inappropriate, like asking a neighbor in France to borrow his lawnmower. (He mowed our lawn himself rather than let us touch it.) I am completely stymied. But I have not given up. Somehow, we will find a way, figure something out.

But meanwhile, it is somewhat frustrating. And to be fair, this society, though perhaps insular at some level, really works very well. Plus everyone is very helpful, always. If I sound a bit frustrated, well I am, but only because I have not yet cracked the code to the information I need. And I may never, and I will just have to learn to live with that.

Lessons from Rwanda


There are a lot of things here in Rwanda that really are quite amazing. For a country that was so very recently leveled to the ground, without infrastructure, without services, without hope, without peace, Rwanda has achieved a great deal. The economy is booming, at least here in Kigali. The infrastructure is back in place – not perfect, but there is running water, electricity (with random interruptions), sewers and garbage collection. The schools are functioning and more are being built, even as I write. Health care is available for about two dollars per year per person.

The courts continue to be very busy with genocide cases, but they too are functioning well, albeit slowly. The government is stable, with severe penalties for anything that smacks of corruption. It seems Rwanda has gone from being the scourge of Africa, a blight oin the eyes of the world, to a model country that is the envy of most other African nations.

How was this achieved? I am not an historian, but I have talked with many people and observed a great deal during my stay here. First of all, I would have to credit a deep faith as one of the primary factors in Rwanda’s recovery. Largely a Christian nation, the country’s despair has been replaced by hope, which many Rwandans see as the return of God to bless this country, having abandoned it for a long time. You cannot talk for long with a Rwandan before God is mentioned as a huge force in his or her life.


Second, it seems to me the government has taken some extraordinarily courageous steps in reconciling the past with the present. Gacacca courts are a primary example, where crimes by more minor players in the genocide are tried and sentenced. By minor, crimes are those of property as well as murder, but no more than some number of people, perhaps ten. The implication is that these criminals were mere pawns (and young pawns at that) in a much larger agenda of genocide. This community court process is due to end in November this year so there is a great deal of effort to complete the cases currently before the courts.

This is a particularly difficult process for those who were the victims in the genocide, because they have to accuse the perpetrators. The perpetrators have to admit their crimes to the accuser(s) and ask for pardon but very often their sentences are not severe. There simply is not enough room in the country’s prisons to jail everyone who participated in the genocide, even if they committed murder. What is expected is that the victims pardon the perpetrators of the crimes. This is the difficult part. But somehow it is working. Victims pardon the accused, at least in word. Their own private thoughts and feelings are set aside, at least in public. As one woman said to me, I have pardoned (him) because I have to.

I find this a very courageous journey towards reconciliation. If people are able to live together in harmony again, if their children are well-educated and not inculcated with divisive ideologies about ethnicity, if the economy continues to grow and everyone has opportunities to prosper, then people can look to the future rather than the past and there is real hope for long-term success.

In addition to this overarching system of reconciliation, there are other ways in which the Rwandan government has taken some remarkable steps. A small thing, but something that has grown much larger in recent years in the Western world as our sensibility about environmental issues has grown, here in Rwanda, plastic bags are forbidden. If you travel here and put your shoes in a plastic bag, that bag may be confiscated at the airport. People carry reusable bags of all kinds and paper bags are the norm in grocery stores and markets. Household garbage is stored in empty bags that once carried coal, or sorghum or grains. When garbage is collected, the bags are emptied into large trucks and the bags are returned to the owners. If Kigali was to start a household composting program, there would be very little garbage at all!

Another interesting feature that has been inserted into the lives of the Rwandan people is called umuganda, which translates as “community work.” During the morning of the last Saturday of every month, everyone is expected to participate in their community’s well-being, at least one person from each household. The buses stop running, the streets are closed and everyone remains in their own community. Roads are repaired, schools, churches and other public buildings are built, even young children participate in this process, carrying bricks and lumber and water.

To me, this half day per month of community work, while compulsory, is a reminder that we all have a responsibility to make our country better. That we are the state, as my friend Sandi never tired of saying. Can you imagine such a mandated day in your community?? Perhaps you are lucky and live somewhere where people actually do take that responsibility seriously and actively participate in their communities voluntarily. But I fear that all too many of us just expect someone else to take care of it, whatever “it” is.

So to me, with these few examples, I believe Rwanda has taken stock of the rest of the world, and learned something from the things we don’t do so well, and from the things we have done badly. And Rwanda has taken advantage of being able to build something from nothing, or something from a very broken something else, incorporating the best of the rest of the world, and inserting and inventing things that are entirely new. Go Rwanda! And God bless.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Turning Sixty in Kigali


On October 30, I turned the big six-oh. That is a pretty big number and I had some feelings about not wanting it to go unnoticed, even so far from home. And it was noticed, for sure!

When I got up, Simone prepared me a delicious omelet and toast for breakfast. Plus my morning latte! I was banished from pretty much everywhere in the centre for much of the day so I amused myself in my room, having occasional wafts of deliciousness intrude from time to time. I did know that Friday was the day for the students to reveal their secret friends, which they call ‘cacahuètes,’ a game of stealth present-giving that had been going on for over a week. Simone and I had agreed that this would also be a celebration with cake and ice cream. Thus, I had already laid in two tubs of chocolate ripple ice cream and the supplies for Simone to make cake. Simone and Valentin, Jeanne’s son, had also worked hard to finish a solar oven in the hopes of using it to bake the cake. But it rained all morning so toaster oven it was.

Around three o’clock, I was told to get ready for the sewing class party, so I put on a skirt and blouse and walked into the main room, which was decorated with streamers and signs. To my astonishment, everyone stood and sang happy birthday in English, French and Kinyarwanda. Then I got to wear a birthday crown. Everyone was all dressed up and seemed just delighted with their surprise. There were gifts, cards, applause, tears (mine) and great joy all around.

Secret friends were all revealed as well, and there were many more hugs. After that, we enjoyed cake and ice cream, which was utterly delicious to the last lick! For our finale, we danced and sang Rwandan songs with great gusto. At 5:30, Simone declared that everyone had to go.

I was again banished to my room but invited out again when guests started to arrive for the next party. Another kind of surprise, as I had asked for a party but had no idea what it would be like. Lots of people came to wish me well, people I had met maybe once or twice before. Adrienne, from Oregon, and her husband and children, whom we had spent a few hours with one day, came. English Sarah came from Ruhengere as did Jeannette, our Rwandan host from last weekend. There was a feast of food. Then cake and ice cream. Again! Conversation, dancing. More cards and small gifts. The whole event was truly lovely.

I was truly blessed to be among all these people on my birthday. I felt truly loved, honoured and special. Who could ask for more?