Rwanda

I was blessed to get to take a trip to Rwanda a couple of weekends ago. It was an amazing trip, a juxtaposition of unbelievably beautiful scenery and unbelievable horrors of their recent past. 

So the thing that I’m sure comes to your mind when I say “Rwanda” is the genocide in 1994. It was an outbreak of tribal rivalry that had been brewing for years. In a period of 100 days, almost a million people were murdered by their neighbors, friends and some even by their families, in brutal, torturous ways that reach far beyond any understanding I could ever have about the dark recesses of the human heart. That’s a rate of 10,000 people per day. Can you imagine? One of the greatest tragedies of the situation is that the world simply watched as this nightmare unfolded, when organizations like the UN should have intervened and could have stopped the madness. Neighbors killed neighbors, friends killed friends, an entire nation suddenly gone mad. Weapons were largely farm tools, anything people could get their hands on. 

In many ways, Rwanda has made incredible leaps and bounds since then. The current president has brought a lot of peace, stability, and order, and has done a lot of work to completely erase tribal identities and instead unite the people as simply Rwandans. However, just about anyone over the age of 17 either lost someone they loved, or brutally murdered scores of people. 17 years is so recent, that in a lot of ways I saw that Rwanda is still a country that is very much rubbing salve on open wounds. How can the people who survived ever fully recover? They will be affected for the rest of their lives, and of course their children will be affected, and so on for generations. The country will never be the same.

How do you go on? How do you go to the butcher to buy meat for your family and hear the sounds of hacking and see the gleam of the blade slinging up and down, tearing through the meat, and not just have a complete flashback and breakdown? How do you carry on with work and school and daily life after something like that? How do you go to church and sing praises that God is good and has plans to prosper us and not to harm us?

So we went to the genocide memorial in Kigali, which gives an account of the events leading up to the incident, stories of when it took place, and the aftermath. You can give some factors that contributed to the tragedy, but where can you find answers to what turns an entire nation into madness? One day, people were neighbors and friends. Not to say they were necessarily peaceful, but the next day they were killing each other in ways I don’t even want to mention here now. The accounts of “he was our houseboy,” “they were our neighbors,” “he was a student of my father” ...“and he looked at us as though he didn’t know us, and refused to hide us/ killed my family/ etc” were so numerous, it leads the whole incident far beyond any comprehension I could ever have of evil manifested in the human spirit. 

Towards the end of the memorial exhibit, they had a room dedicated to children who were massacred. I braced myself, not sure if I would be able to handle it. They had huge photos of each child, with a plaque of sweet little things about the child such as their favorite food, best friend, what they wanted to be when they grew up-- what they would never grow up to become. Many of them had their method of death listed. I made it through maybe 4 or 5 stories, choking back tears, until I reached a child who died from being stabbed in the eyes. I couldn’t take anymore. I just had to get out of that room. The other girls told me about another child highlighted in the exhibit, a baby died from being thrown against a brick wall. Again, it’s such evil that I simply cannot comprehend. 

Mass graves of victims at the genocide memorial

We also visited a church where 10,000 people sought refuge, but were turned over to the hands of the murderers. The church we went to is supposedly untouched for the most part since the genocide. The benches of the church are piled high with clothes of the victims, and in the courtyard outside are crypts with the skulls and scattered bones of the victims stacked on shelves. I guess there's no way to know if the placement of the clothes is real or staged, but even if it was staged, it was no less powerful. Many skulls were cracked or half missing, leaving no doubt about how they died. It was impossible to imagine that the rows and rows of skulls were once people with a name and a story, and someone could have actually done this to them.

Our trip wasn’t all about the genocide, though. The scenery of the country was simply stunning. Really, just the bus ride into the country was a highlight of the trip. It’s very mountainous and extremely green. 

We took a trip a few hours outside the city to a small town with a Volcanoes National Park. We didn’t get there in time to actually go into the park, but the volcanoes surround the town. It was a very hazy day so we didn’t get to see them too clearly, but it was beautiful all the same, and nice to see a small town outside of the capital city. 

We also went to several craft markets, and I won’t lie, I went a little crazy buying beautiful fabrics. The were all so gorgeous, I could barely restrain myself from buying all the ones I liked! At one of the markets, we gained 2 little friends against our will, 2 boys around the age of 10 who followed us closely and wanted to be our personal translators and negotiators. At first I was very annoyed with them, and wanted them to leave us alone, knowing that they would expect a little money in return for their unsolicited assistance. But when I realized that the women in the market didn’t speak French or English, I let them go ahead and translate for us. They very quickly grew on me, and were super cute and amusing. 

We got very excited when we noticed that one of the boys was wearing TOMS Shoes. If you don’t know about TOMS, they’re a one-for-one organization, meaning that for every pair of TOMS shoes you buy, they donate a pair to children in need around the world. This boy said that they came to his school and donated shoes to 1,700 kids!! I have TOMS shoes at home, and it was encouraging to see them on the other end of the deal! 

We also had a spontaneous trip to Burundi! We stayed with some fellow AIM missionaries in Kigali, and one of them was kind enough to drive us to some places. After the memorial church, he asked if we wanted to go for a drive to see more of the scenery. After half an hour or so, he said we were close to the Burundi border, so asked if we wanted to go. Why not? He was kind enough to ask if we would be allowed to walk across the border and get a photo with the welcome sign, and they let us! So there you go, I’ve been to Burundi. So random. 

The thing that struck us about Rwanda that was in stark contrast to Uganda is how clean and orderly it is. In Uganda, litter rules the road, while in Rwanda, plastic bags aren’t even allowed into the country, greatly reducing litter. They search your bags at the border and confiscate them. The country had a little more infrastructure, so most of the roads in Kigali were paved, whereas in Uganda, a lot more of the roads are dirt, which means much much more dust. While apparently Uganda has rules such as “all boda drivers and passengers must wear a helmet,” “only one passenger allowed on each boda,” “only 14 passengers allowed in each taxi van,” the rules are largely not followed and will only occasionally, randomly be regulated by a police officer who really just wants a bribe. In Rwanda, however, they actually follow the rules. It was really just weird to see such order next door to the chaos of Uganda. 

A few prayer requests: 

1. We have recently been looking at the Exit Program and some of its strengths and weaknesses. I am so inspired by Denis, our Exit Coordinator, who has such a strong passion for successfully helping the kids. We're really looking at how we can re-focus the program to ensure we're preparing the youth to live on their own. Please pray for God's guidance as we work through the challenges we're facing. 

2. Thank God for safe travel to Rwanda, and seriously every day on the bodas! I've been completely safe so far. Praise God, and ask him to continue to protect me!

3. My Luganda teacher is hoping to plant a church, but seriously has no money. Currently the only income he has is what we give him weekly for our lessons (we pay him about $10/ lesson, and either have 1 or 2 lessons each week). He has such a passion for creating a God-centered church and is really facing some broken relationships in his current church, on top of his financial struggles. I want to help him, but I want to do it in a way that empowers him and involves the community, rather than just giving a handout. Please pray for God's guidance as I move towards that!

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore...

I’ve traveled to some places that I expected to be vastly different from America, then arrived to find that with globalization these days, I felt like I could have been in America. Sure, things were different. The food was a little different, maybe they spoke a different language, and the architecture was slightly different. But things were developed and bustling, people mostly dressed the same, American music blared and most things were fairly familiar.

I supposed I expected the same before my trip here. “Oh, don’t be naive,” I thought. “People have this stereotypical view of Africa, but it will be less ‘African’ than I’m really expecting."

Wow, was I wrong! I’ve been thinking about this lately, how I could never for an instant be fooled into thinking I’m in America. I think about my boda ride to work, and about the things that flash before my eyes, several things each second that are constant reminders of where I am.

First of all, even being on a boda, a motorbike taxi. The greetings to my boda driver in Luganda. Out the gate and onto a paved road with more potholes than pavement. Then up the hill on a dirt road with poor drainage, with a canyon cutting through it about a foot deep that gets deeper each time it rains. Don’t fall in! Goats, chickens, cows roaming around the roads. Huge bunches of green bananas ready to make matoke. Piles of trash on the road. Boda men washing their bodas in the ditch. Women and children drawing water into jerry cans and carrying them on their heads. Rows of dukkas, little shops, all selling the same items. Stores with random combinations like “Stella’s Salon, Video Store, and Phone Charging” or “Electronics and Dry Cleaners” because one business usually isn’t enough to keep the family fed. Children playing freely and entertaining themselves in the most amazing, simple ways. Children running around with knives. Don’t worry, they’re only off to peel some matoke. Houses left midway into construction, probably because there wasn’t enough money to finish it. Everything constructed of mud bricks, cement, sticks, and sheets of metal. Women with children on their backs, wrapped tightly in a piece of cloth. Women carrying the most amazing things on their heads. A field with huge storks roaming around. Bodas hauling the most unimaginable things, maybe their passengers carrying a door, holding it vertically. Or my personal favorite sighting, a whole other boda hoisted up on the seat of another boda, strapped on and heading probably for repairs. Women hand washing clothes, dishes, or children in plastic tubs on their porch, or sweeping with a homemade hand broom. Children yelling “Bye Mzungu!” Dust flying if it’s dry, mud flying if it’s wet.

I could go on. There’s maybe one place I could maybe feel like I was in America, and that’s a huge shopping center which I refer to as “Mzungu Land.” It’s very Western. I hardly ever see another mzungu except for those I work with, then when I go to this shopping center, I’m like, “Where have all the mzungus been hiding??” (At that shopping center, apparently.) But even there, my dirty feet and face, and my exhaustion from figuring out transportation, haggling down prices, the language, etc, ensure that I don’t forget exactly where I am.

sweet Juma, one of our kids at the rehabilitation home, playing one afternoon

The girls at the rehabilitation home peeling green bananas to make matoke, one of the local staples

a local market along the side of the road

Prayer Notes:

1. My prayer lately has been that God would open my spiritual eyes. DP is a Christian organization, but that doesn't mean everyone who comes across its path is a Christian. In fact, it in a way makes it an easy place to hide, to just blend into the background so no one will bother you. Please pray that God will show me those who are in need of him and how I may minister to them.

2. Please pray for Jeremy, my boyfriend, as he begins his deployment in Iraq. He left Monday morning and will be gone for about a year. I said goodbye to him on a bus from Rwanda to Uganda. Not your typical relationship! Pray for safety for him and that the year will go by quickly!

3. Part of my work here is working with the youth in drama. I would like to lead them in writing their own play, pulling from their own experiences. The truth is... I don't really know how to do that! Pray for guidance as I start this project soon.