I apologize for how long it took for this update to appear. It's been an exhausting week! 5 days left :(
Day
21
When we crawl out of our beds at
5am, it’s still dark outside. Judy points out Jupiter and Venus in the northern
hemisphere, explaining that we can tell they are planets because they don’t
twinkle. Breakfast is rough, since we’re not used to eating so early.
As we load the bus, we get a burst
of energy; Nicole dances in the aisle of the large van, her disco fingers
pointing to the ceiling as we shove backpacks under seats and stack them in the
back seat. We stop at the Nakumat in Kigali, use the restroom, and get snacks
for the rest of the trip. Then, we all pass out in the van.
Steve sleeping on the bus and using his Kinyarwanda flash cards as a pillow
In Butare, we visit the old palace
of King Mutara Rudahigwa III. As we step up on to the cement, we look up at the
intricate tiles bordering the palace. We remove our shoes before entering the
bedroom of the King’s mother. In Rwanda, the king’s mother was always ruling by
the side of the king.
Unfortunately King Mutara’s mother
was moved to a different house when Belgians felt that she was affecting their
relationship with the King and their position of power. When the Germans gave
King Mutara the gift of a Volkswagen Beatle, which he was almost too tall to
fit in, the car disappeared. It’s suggested that the Belgians poisoned Mutara
for resisting Christianity; they asked him to follow the “king of kings,” which
he did not understand because he was a king. He died just before he could move
into his new palace, a large modern building with brick red roofing that sits
on a hill above the old palace.
Inside the mother’s room, there is
no furniture, because it was stolen during the genocide. This is also the case
for the rest of the palace. In the King’s study, a chair the size of a futon
sits to represent just how important the king was. Black and white photos of
kings, sometimes standing with random muzungus, decorate the walls. We peer
into a glass case filled with ivory presents which are also visible in an old
picture of the original sitting room.
When we enter the bathroom, our
guide tells us that he’s curious about how the king fit in such a small bathtub
since he was around 7ft tall. A cell phone is plugged into the wall, “Is that
the king’s cell phone?” we ask, laughing. The king’s toilet is said to be the
only place that he went without driving his car.
After touring the palace, we tour a
replica of a traditional hut palace. At the entrance, the tour guide explains
that two guards used to stand at the entrance with spears and would only let a
person in if given the proper signal from the king. Some people would wait for
days, weeks, months, just to speak with the king.
Once the guests entered the yard of
the king, they would stand in front of the hut where a clay barrier, painted
white, separated them from the king. They had to walk around the barrier and bow
in front of the king before speaking with him.
Inside the hut, straw walls
separate the meeting room where fires were built. On one side of the hut, women
stayed, and in the front of the hut, men stayed. The king’s room consists of a
king sized bed and woven baskets which act as armoires. The bed is the size of
four modern king sized bed. The guide calls the room “the king’s playground.”
Then we tour the two huts behind
the main hut. One hut, where a girl was selected to stay at a young age, was
the milk hut. The girl was not allowed to have male visitors and had to remain a
virgin for fear that someone might poison the king’s milk. The girl had to
work for the king throughout his entire reign, which sounds like no big deal,
except that one king ruled for 42 years.
The other hut, where a man was selected to
stay, was the beer hut, where many men came to visit and taste-test the beer.
Sounds like a great job! There were three types of beer: banana beer, honey
beer, and a mixture of the two. The beer they’re talking about is so high in
alcohol content that they taste more like wines. I imagine a crowd of young men
sipping beer from gourd cups with hollow sticks and shouting.
“How did the milk maid remain a
virgin with all of these rowdy men getting drunk next door?”
It was said that if the milk went
bad, it was proof that the milk maid had sex.
Afterward, we visit the traditional
cows. When we reach the corral, we see the rusty brown cows with their long
horns pulling their heads toward the grass. A man, we’ll call him the cow
whisperer, whistles for one of the cows to come to the fence. He recites a poem
in Kinyarwanda and dances for us, pinching the cow’s skin as the cow stands
majestic. He calls the cow to step through a gate and we rub his long horns and his dusty fur. When we leave, the cow whisperer hitches a ride with us. On
the bus, he performs something similar to slam poetry in Kinyarwanda.
We head to Butare for lunch, where
we find a Chinese restaurant. We order brochettes and rice. In other words, we
eat Rwandan food in a Chinese setting. During lunch, Judy asks our Rwandan
tagalongs if they have girlfriends. Rogers, Teddy, and Olivier do not have
girlfriends. Somehow we get into a conversation about the role of a mother in
marriage. In Rwanda, the mother has always been a force behind a man, as within
the monarchy. The opinion of the mother, for some, reigns over the man’s love
of his girlfriend.
After eating, we go to the national
museum which displays traditional Rwandan culture. In history, Rwandans have
always been pastoral and agricultural people. One room shows the different
agricultural and pastoral tools. There were few hunters and when the people
hunted, they rarely ate the meat, but instead used the furs of animals.
Another room shows several basket
styles, their uses, and stories. One room shows an array of traditional
clothing. The fur loin cloths are much different from the modern conservative
culture in Rwanda. In one picture, a woman wears a calf full of iron anklets,
and this shows traditional Rwandan jewelry which was eventually deemed to be
unhealthy.
Another really interesting picture
shows a woman holding her naked baby and putting a straw up to the baby’s butt.
The title of the picture: “Washing.” Yeah. There is a lot to learn at the
museum.
We don’t have time for a sit down
dinner, so we head to Kigali and go to the mall which contains Nakumat. Some of
us order pizza and burgers, though we realize that the pizza is the worst thing
ever and there isn’t even sauce on it.
At night, we check into our hotel,
“One Love.” It’s a slightly shabby place but multiple kittens are running
around the yard, climbing up trees, and hiding under banana leaves. The showers
have decent water pressure and the beds are rock solid! Then, we head to a club in Kigali. Lindsey and I both get
pick-pocketed and lose our wallets, our I.D.s our credit cards and money.
Luckily, our passports are safe.
Day
22
In the morning, we eat breakfast
which consists of some scramble egg and a piece of dry bread that tastes like
paper. However, we get to meet with Judy’s friend Ariel, who has been a Peace
Corps volunteer in Rwanda for two and a half years and was part of the first
group when Peace Corps returned to Rwanda. She tells us to think about the
bigger picture, about how building relationships and surveying the Gashora
community is useful for the future. It’s an inspiring talk.
We ask her questions about family
planning, and she tells us about the ABC teaching plan: Abstinence, Be
faithful, Condom. She explains that some organizations, including her own,
occasionally only teach A and B. Ariel is knowledgeable about Rwanda and even
draws us a map of places we can shop and visit in Kigali.
We head to Kigali, taste some milk
shakes across from the Nakumat which are made without a blender and contain the
freshest bananas ever. We say goodbye to
Steve, grateful for all of the structure and support he provided for us in the
first 3 weeks of the trip. Before heading to the hotel to settle in, we make a quick
stop at co-ops, where we get a taste of bartering in Rwanda. Most of us decide
to wait to purchase things until we have more Rwandans present to help us.
At the hotel, many of us nap
because the previous night was rowdy, but Lauren and I swim in the pool, which
is freezing cold.
“I hate it; I hate it,” I say, as
Lauren, who used to be on a swim team, swims across the pool like she’s
floating in heaven. She even jumps off the diving board, and I’m surprised
because the ratio of men to women in the pool is about 15:1, so it’s a little
uncomfortable.
We head to dinner and finally get a
variety of food which we’ve been craving: Mexican! The restaurant, Meza Fresh,
is owned by a man from Santa Barabra and attracts many westerners. The walls
flash vibrant colors of green and blue, and a taco bar rests at the front. We
stuff our faces with large burritos, tacos, and chips and salsa. In Rwanda,
chicken is more expensive than beef, so many of us get steak. We take way to
much food, but it’s so good.
After dinner we go out in Kigali
again to a restaurant/club called the Sundowner. The atmosphere is classy with
an outdoor seating area where umbrellas privatize discussions, a bar beneath an
overhang, and a wood-fire stove for pizza. As the night goes on, people filter
in from all over the world including: Brazilians who play on the Rwandan
national soccer team, a Guatemalan and a Nigerian who are managers of Tigo, a
phone company, and a Rwandan who works for Brussels Air.
Everyone is dressed smart, which in
Rwandan means to look professional or nice, and the lights outside set a
glowing atmosphere that leads to great networking and dancing with many
brilliant and interesting people.
Day
23
In the morning we return to the co-ops
where we spend an hour and a half haggling with owners for local art. Each room
at the co-op contains similar items, so we feel that we need to look around for
the best prices. As we walk down the row of vendors, Rwandas call to us,
“Sister, come see.” The shops are small and stacked with statues,
baskets, pictures, and stone replicas. By the time we get in the van to leave,
we’re exhausted from bartering.
We head to Meza Fresh for lunch
because we know it’s a quick stop. SO GOOD. Then we head to a neighborhood in
Kigali called Nyamirambo. The area hosts diverse range of people, sports a
mosque, and colorful shops line the main street. It’s a quick tour, but it’s
interesting to see another area of Kigali which is so vibrant.
Then it’s on the van and back to La
Palisse in Gashora!
When we reach the hotel, most of us
return to freshly made beds. Carrie however, calls a hotel worker to come and
sweep her room, because bat poop speckles her floor. “Apparently they just had
a little party while I was gone, a little fiesta,” she says, laughing.
Day
24
Today, we have our usual schedule,
except it’s Carmelle’s birthday! At Covaga, the women stand up in a circle and
sing “Happy Birthday” to Carmelle in Kinyarwanda and in English. She blushes,
but claps along and sways her body in her typical two-step way. Her 21st
birthday starts out well.
When we get to the Health Center we
realize that we are replacing Steve. Those are big shoes to fill. We start the
lesson by discussing our weekends and the students enjoy practicing their
English. We review body parts by standing in a circle and taking turns saying
one body part. One man says “goatee” and plays with the hair beneath his lip;
Brooke rushes over to give him a high-five, because she taught him the word. Anyone
who can‘t think of a body part has to sit down, but the only people that sit
down are in our group!
We celebrate Caremelle’s birthday
with a spongy cake after dinner smothered in frosting. Then we head to the
Green Hotel, a local hotel that plays music, because Carmelle loves to dance.
Unfortunately, the power is out and they can’t play music! This is the village.
Despite the music disappointment, the stars are plenty.
Day
25
In the morning, Carrie and Judy
measure the temperature of the solar dehydrator at Covaga and start some new
experiments. They put thinly sliced tomatoes, bananas and mushrooms in the
front middle and back of a few trays. The temperature is not where it needs to
be in the morning or by 2pm, but the food still manages to dry successfully.
While some of us brainstorm
marketing ideas at Covaga, a new nutritionist named Christophe from the Health
Center takes Filimon and Carrie to three houses in Gashora, and shows them what
the nutritionists teach the community about food and health. He interviews the first woman on her daily
diet which, thankfully, includes protein-packed beans and veggies from her very
own kitchen garden. Her children help
with food preparation and eat with her as much as possible, which is great to hear,
because that is not the cultural norm. The second woman struggles a bit more
with getting a good diet, but with Christophe’s extensive knowledge, she will
be helped. Then, we talk to three young mothers
sitting in the shade with their children.
Christophe asks the same questions and explains the importance of
boiling water, especially for their children’s health.
All the hosts are very gracious in
answering Filimon and Carrie’s many questions.
It is inspiring to see a health-educated person working with the
community in a hands-on fashion. We have a lot of hope for Gashora and the
Health Center.
At Covaga, we brainstorm marketing
ideas for Covaga which include: creating a catalog so that products can be sold
internationally, product ideas, website ideas, and price ideas. Kristi leads
the discussion and keeps track of ideas on a black board. Only some of the
women are willing to participate, but all of them like the ideas we share.
We head to the Health Center where
our students have prepared presentations about themselves for class. Hilarity
ensues as each person presents and the rest of us ask questions. The Rwandan
men ask us if we’re married, and when we say no, one man insists that he would
like to marry us. When asked which one of us girls he likes best, he says he
likes us all. We sit on the small benches, rocking them as we laugh and clap.
It’s a riot!
After the Health Center, Carmelle,
Carrie and I head back to Covaga for a potential house visit with one of the
women named Vistina. We are unable to find a translator so we walk
with her to the market. A smile spreads across her face for the entire walk.
Once at the market, we walk through
the vendors and Vistina purchases pineapples, “inanasi,” she says, and we
stumble over the word. Children start to close in on us, but a vendor shoos
them away. Bright red tomatoes decorate a mat on the ground along with huge
bunches of green bananas. Bees swarm around bags of white powder, which we
think might contain corn-flour. One woman sells handfuls of tiny, silver
slivers of dried fish. We leave the market with children trailing behind us and
Vistina lugging three pineapples.
Day
26
In the morning we head to Big Dog’s
house to build a kitchen garden. We follow a dirt trail up past some clay
houses and stop, lost, at a crossroad. Then, through a forest of banana trees,
Big Dog comes running, his small bright beneath the shade. When we reach his
house, we meet his grandmother and see inside his house.
When we realize there aren’t enough
sticks, a child, probably around age 10, climbs up into a tree and begins to
machete the branches. I start taking pictures of him and am suddenly swarmed by
children who want their pictures taken. Big Dog rushes to the rescue and pulls
me to the back yard where we begin clearing a spot for the garden.
Harvesting local resources
The Love of having your photo taken
Then, five or six bicycle taxi men
show up to help. They clear the space and dig up soil from the front yard in no
time. We watch as their hoes reach toward the sky and then crash down to dig up
mounds of soil. Soon they’re cutting and sharpening steaks at an incredible
rate, and we’re sitting beneath a banana tree in awe of their speed.
Rwandans are so good at what they do!
Children keep us busy, dancing with
us and playing with us. I sit near the wood shavings that remain from when the
men sharpened the steaks and I start to build a platform for a house. Children
gather around me, curious about what I’m doing, and start to gather materials.
I use a machete to sharpen small twigs, and we try to hammer them into the
soil. The children gather large banana-tree leaves and we use them as a
ceiling. When we take a picture of the kitchen garden, the children gather in
with us.
Lauren being entertained and entertaining
Carrie and children
Twig-banana leaf house
At lunch time, Cedric makes a short
speech because it’s his last day with our group. He has to return to school to
finish up exams. He gives each of us a bracelet with our name on it to remember
him by.
Carrie and I go to Vistina’s house
for a visit. Her husband, Hassan, treks
behind us with his bike, their son Fils strapped on. When we enter the house we
find a sitting area with a few chairs surrounding a small coffee table. The
power has been out for a while, so we leave the door open so we can see.
Children swarm the door, staring at us. Vistina tells them to go away and shuts
the door. Moments later, children return saying, “Where are the Muzungus?” and
Vistina says, “What Muzungus?”
Hassan shows us pictures from
Vistina’s wedding. There are pictures of the swearing process, where the
husband and wife swear to God and to Rwanda that they will not hurt each other
and that they will love each other. In one picture, Hassan lifts Vistina from
the ground, cradling her in his arms as she smiles, embarrassed, behind her hands.
Carrie, Me, and Fils
Hassan cuts us pineapple and we all
grab a fork and dig in. Pineapple juice drips down our hands and on to the dirt
floor. We ask questions about their youth and families as Fils plops down on a
straw mat and shoves pineapple into his mouth. They give us each Rwandan names;
Carries receives the name Mutoni, which means lovely and cared about, and I
receive the name Keza, which means beautiful. Before we leave, we exchange
information.
As we walk outside, we hug and take
a photo. We look like a family. Hassan walks with us to the main road where we
say goodbye. The sun starts to set as we return home, bright orange and sinking
like a giant fruit.
Hassan, Me, Carrie, Fils, Vistina, and Random child
Day
27
In the morning, we go to the primary
school to visit Abel’s English Club. When we enter, we take seats in the wooden
desks and join in as a Canadian, Correy, from the group “Developing World
Connections” leads the children in singing Bingo. She then looks to us, to see
if we have any ideas for the English club. We decide to play Simon says. We
circle up, and though translating the game is difficult, once the children
understand, we have a blast. We play other games, inspired by the children’s
desire to learn, and their infinite ability to smile.
Day
28
It's Judy's last day, so several of us wake up early to go birding with her. The sun is glowing and king fisher's are staring at their reflections in windows when we meet her near the lake. She shows us some eagle nests which weigh massively at the top of trees. When we walk along the lake, we see the nests of weaver birds, a colonial species. Judy explains that the birds weave their nests at the end of branches to make it more difficult for snakes to reach them. We see a hippo footprint and Judy leads us around the La Palisse property, through their farming area, and up to a path where we see several mouse birds. It's a great opportunity to connect with Judy since she's been an important addition to our team. We miss her immediately as we walk to town and watch birds flit across our path.
African weaver bird nests
 |
| Hippo foot print |
Judy leading us sleepy-heads on a birding trek
Then, some people from
the group meet with about 45 of the 56 bicycle taxi co-op members that provide
transportation for Gashora. Amazingly,
after making their living pulling people on bike, many are in their soccer
uniforms. They thank us for meeting with them, and we share how great it has
been to have such great company on our rides.
They’re always smiling and having fun with the language barriers. They explain
their co-op and their business scheme to create an office. Once roads are paved
in Gashora, they wish to become Moto Taxis. They do their best to help each
other out, and if someone doesn’t get enough business and is in need, they
gladly share profits. They pay a
membership fee, and most of them are intelligent young men who had their education
cut short.
They ask how we like Rwanda, and
Lama makes sure to explain that Americans work very hard to come on these
trips, both financially and academically.
They jump at the opportunity to take a picture and are very gracious for
our business. They ask Tim the usual question: “How many kids do you have?” He
replies. “None; I’m a priest.” Even the bicycle taxis laugh. He goes on to explain that there is less
pressure in the United States to get married and having kids is more of a
choice than a cultural duty.
Meanwhile, Lindsey, Brooke and I
visit the primary school again. We sing Bingo, have all of the children talk
about what they like (all of them like English lessons), and then we play a
game in which a representative from each of two teams must come to the
blackboard and answer a question with complete English. Although the teachers
will be on vacation on Monday, the children are excited to see us for English
club again.
Afterward, we meet at Covaga where
we make friendship bracelets. The women sit close to us and try to learn how to
make the bracelets. I lie down on the top stair and take a short cat nap,
feeling safe because I know the women at Covaga will be sure that no one
bothers me. It’s a short day, but we’re exhausted from the week, so after
lunch, many of us nap.
By nighttime, we’re ready to go
downtown. We go to a bar called the Good Samaritan which is paved nicely, is
nicely lit, and has a television which replays one music DVD over and over
again, complete with Whitney Houston and Celine Dion. “I wanna dance with
somebody! I wanna feel the heat with somebody! With somebody who loves me!”
We order brochettes, more than
ready to taste some delicious goat. What comes to us is nothing like we
imagined. 15 shish kabobs rest on the table. Sara takes one bite, her face
contorts and she returns the stick to the pile. Nicole, who has been waiting
for brochettes all day, looks severely disappointed. Some of us pull a stringy outer
layer off of the meat and place it on the table. “What is this!?” We soon find
out that the meet is beef ribs wrapped in cow intestine. Lindsey eats an entire
brochette, and Jon eats two and a half- the champions.
A disappointed Nicole
We stay out later than expected,
trying to make up for the beginning of the night with weird shit brochettes. On
the walk home, the fact that we’re leaving starts to set in; it’s our last
Friday beneath the stars, walking down the dusty road hand in hand, with our
flashlights making the leaves glow.
