Today was the Fete National de Jeunesse.

It was basically a day of awesomeness, in which each youth group in the church did a small performance.  Lots of singing, some dancing, and some zumba as well!  I went to "do a repetition" with a handful of classmates, then we waited till it was our turn to go.  But when it was our turn, our group had dramatically downsized…I'm not sure where everybody went but there were only 5 of us who performed. 

Nonetheless, the crowd loved it and asked us to do a second song, even though we were told to only do one since we were running behind schedule.  We did.  And an old lady who, sadly, does not have shoes and asks for money a lot and has some kind of story about the hospital, came and joyfully danced right along with us, and some other groups too.  At first it was really funny, but they told her to move because she was getting in the way.  We also had a kid pretend to video us using a large rock as a camcorder. 

The crowd was laughing hysterically, as were we as we danced.  Sr. Charlotte jumped out of her "seat of honor" and joined in to zumba with us. 

It was a fantastic time!  Afterwards, we had the usual "afterparty welcome" in which selected guests are given a Fanta. 

There was singing and some of us got up to dance with a bunch of kids, me included. 

Love it!

Kigali visit #2: visa retrieval

        On Wednesday I received an SMS update from the Immigration dept on the status of my visa.  It read: "Please, you have to pay 60.000 FRW (about $110 USD) because you have been working without a permit since October.  Please pay this at the Rwanda Revenue Authority no later than tomorrow."  Good.  I'm now back in Gisenyi and I need to go pay a fine in Kigali, 3 hours away, by tomorrow.  Good.  

        Thankfully, Sr. Gisele suggested that we try to have one of the Sisters in Kigali pay it for me.  It worked out just fine.  I called to make sure that someone else could pay on my behalf, and they said its ok.  So Sr. Lumiere paid it for me.  The next day I received another update that said that my visa application had been approved and that I should come pick it up the next day.  So I never needed the police clearance form…I guess they just assumed I've got a clean record.  Really though, the government is just a money-thirsty enterprise.  Throw the rules out the window and make her pay a fine, that's the solution.  Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I didn't have to request the police clearance form, but I find it very peculiar that they would just agree to accept my application without this very important document, in exchange for a couple of pretty pennies.  This is probably not at all unusual, sadly.

            So we had to cancel two of my classes (which means Sr. Charlotte went to meet my students and tell them to go home…we have no way of telling them beforehand to save them the trip).  Sr. Delphina's two brothers from Italy were visiting her, and they came with Sr. Lumiere to see our mission here for the day.  So I went back to Kigali with them.  That worked out very nicely.  I also lucked out that I came on the feast day of St. John Bosco, the founder of the Salesian Sisters!  All the students at the Sisters' school came for a party.  First we had Mass in the gym, then Sr. Rosaline explained that today is a day for a celebration, so we will have some dancing.  And at that, all of the children leapt up in the air for joy and let out squeals of glee.  Some of the teachers put on a mix for them with popular Kinyarwanda songs mixed with some popular American reggaeton (Gasolina and Rompe were among them).  And they just went at it.  It was kind of like a high school dance with circles of children busting their moves, but there were also some who were just in their own little dance zone, workin it by themselves. 

Some of the girls came to dance with me, so that was fun.  But truth be told, I was a bit shocked.  A lot of the kids really just want to imitate what they see on tv, so naturally, they all tried to look like strippers.  There were even girls humping the poles of the basketball hoops.  Pre-teen pubescence and the negative impact of the media really is a global thing.  Well anyways throughout all the dancing, I was semi-participating if I had a partner to dance with.  But I was not about to go just join a group and start poppin and lockin with them.  Oh no, I am not about to make a spectacle of myself.  But that's exactly what most of the kids were expecting.  Lots of them came up to me and said "Dance! Dance!  You must dance!"  And then they'd just look at me, watching to see if I'd put on a show for them.  Yeah, that's totally not what I do.  It made me miss the good times going to UWMBDA’s with friends back home :(  But after that we did some zumba and they sang and danced to some English Christian kids’ songs with accompanying motions.  That was really cute and they were very into it. 

    

         But after that we did some zumba and they sang and danced to some English Christian kids’ songs with accompanying motions.  That was really cute and they were very into it. 

        I gained even more practice getting around on my own, as I had to take a moto-taxi from Rugunga (the Sisters' place) to Immigration, and then from Immigration to the bus station.  I successfully picked up my passport with visa inside!  Yea!!!!!!  But the guy told me that now I need a green card.  Thankfully he said I can do that at the immigration office in Gisenyi, which handles smaller things like that. 

        I also met up with Emmanuel, a guy I met on the bus last time I was in Kigali.  It turns out he works in the Ministry of Education, which is right smack next door to immigration!  So he gave me a little tour of his building (nothing too exciting, pretty much your typical office) and we hung outside and chatted for a while before I caught my moto to the Virunga station.     

        Also I forgot to mention that I had a roll of fabric strapped to my back this whole time.  Yes.  The Sisters back home apparently needed Sr. Lumiere to buy them some kind of fabric for school uniforms and send it home with me.  So Sr. Lumiere threaded a piece of cloth through this long roll of fabric (don't worry, it wasn't too heavy), and I wore it like robin hood probably carried his quiver of arrows.  I felt like a real traveler.  It was also nice to get a call from Aimable, Clementine's brother whom I spent most of last Saturday with, who just wanted to say hello.  When I told him that I was in Kigali but heading home very soon, he immediately said "Ah!  Why didn't you tell me you were still in Kigali?!"  I had to explain that I did in fact go home to Gisenyi last week, and I just came for the day.  And to top off the events of the day, I made another random friend while waiting for the bus at the Virunga station.  P.S. - I really must commend the bus drivers.  Their parking lot is really small, and the driveway is this narrow alley between all the crammed-in shops in the heart of the city.  So these drivers really know how to maneuver their way around pedestrians, moto-taxis, other cars, cars parked randomly along the streets (basically you just shove your car wherever it fits, and in any orientation.  There really are no designated parking spaces.) and other buses.  But anyways, I had a nice time meeting a guy named Rodney from Uganda, who spoke very good English.  It was cool to be able to talk a bit faster and more colloquially.  

One other thing I wanted to mention about transportation in Rwanda: road rage totally does not exist here because drivers are happy!  The road is just a 2-lane 2-way thing from Gisenyi to Kigali.  And whenever anyone passes another vehicle, you always either tap the horn lightly or put on your signal.  This is simply to greet the driver, because frankly, there aren't that many of them out on the road.  There are quite a few semi's, often hauling crates of Primus (a very popular locally-produced beer) and they move pretty slowly.  So when you come up on the tail of one of them, he gives you permission to pass by putting on his blinker.  Then you blink him back as you pass him, or give a little honk to say thanks.  I've also seen drivers just stick their arm out the window to wave to the oncoming cars.  I got a very nice vibe of "lets share the road" during all my trips to Kigali and back.  Too bad there are so many cars on the road at once at home…if I try to bring this back it'll only lead to mass confusion :(

I've noticed that things that were at first real shockers do not phase me as much.  That makes sense I guess, since I've been here 3 months.  Amidst all these trips to Kigali, I remembered my very first time driving this route with the Sisters, from the airport to Gisenyi.  I remember being shocked at how inefficient it was to drive.  The whole way was incredibly slow because the road was in such terrible shape, filled with potholes.  Well, now I see that actually most of the way is a nice, smooth road.  There are a few stretches of crappy road, but they are certainly not the majority.  So my perception has changed a bit.  And of course, those things that at first were so totally "African" are now commonplace.  Like seeing a lady balancing a huge jug of water on her head, or people saying weird things like "Good appetite" with a rockin accent, (meaning enjoy your meal), or seeing concrete houses with steel roofs and no glass on the windows.  I sometimes need to take a step back and remind myself of what a blessing it is to be here, and to pray for the people who live in these conditions every day.  It certainly makes living daily life easier, but I must not overlook the things right under my nose. 

It’s a good thing and a bad thing to be habituated.  

"Teacher, I want to study with you."

- 1/26/10: Today I was teaching the public school teachers (only three of them came, which is kind of the norm for this class.  I don't know why more of them don't come. Probably they're busy at home or something, but it bothers me because I know they need it, and its much easier to create effective activities for a larger class.) 

Naturally, we began a half an hour late. I actually showed up 10 minutes late, not entirely on purpose (but sort of) because I was sure that they would be late too.  Well even those 10 minutes didn't do much good. I still hung around and tried to chat with some kids for like 15 minutes.  Well, when we finally begin class, we go to the really rickety old part of the school with the busted floor and birds nests in the ceiling. 
This room actually had a pretty nice chalkboard that didn't have many cracks in it.  Of course, a group of kids sat outside to peer in.  But this time, a group of older kids were standing there too.  They were all sort of murmuring to each other, a bit disruptively actually.  Eventually one of them knocks on the door (they all knock on the open door when they walk in late.  Its just what you're supposed to do to greet the teacher who's in the middle of teaching).  So one of the teachers in class says "What do you want?"


"I want to ask your teacher a question." he responds

I motion for him to come in.

"Teacher, I want to study with you."

This is a perfect example of the way that Rwandans are really eager to learn.  The humility of this guy to come in and ask me, in English, if he can come study, really inspires me.  They really really really want to improve their English.  Sure, they could choose to play soccer or do any number of things, but they see that education is the key to a successful life, and the major roadblock for academic success is now the English barrier.  So he just walked right in during the middle of a lesson to ask.      What courage. 

So I told him that he can come to my Wednesday and Friday class, and to bring all his friends who were outside listening intently to my answer.  They seemed pretty content.  Most of them disbursed, but a few lingered outside for the rest of the lesson, trying their best to follow it and to study along with the teachers.  I could hear them saying sentences that I had written on the board out loud to themselves. They are really hungry for an education here.   And seriously, who am I to be giving it?!?!  I am not an ESL teacher!!!!!!!

Most of my grammar-related lessons are really bad, and when they ask me questions, I answer them so insufficiently and I almost always have to tell them that I'll get back to them next time.  But to them, it’s a huuuge opportunity to learn English from a native speaker.   I think a lot about what its like to get an education in the U.S.  And about how being exposed to many "choices" really makes you critical.  I mean, its very good to have choices between things.  Competition is good and healthy.  I prefer Skippy peanut butter to Jiff.  But its very easy to then point out all the things that are "wrong" with Jiff, and to overlook the inherent goodness that is found in this delicious spreadable food.  It’s the same with education.  How many classes did I not look forward to because the professor was super boring or talked too slow or was way old-fashioned or didn't use Power Point and I wish he would have?  Any of my Rwandan students would have never even perceived these "flaws," but instead gobbled up every bit of information that came from the mouth of that professor. They really are like eager, ready sponges just looking for a source of water. I'm trying my best to give them a nice big lake to soak up.

These are people of gratitude, who don't take things, like their education, for granted.

Kigali for a Visa…Easier Said Than Done….........1/22/10 – 1/25/10

I went to Kigali on Friday morning. I traveled by myself because the Sisters all had to continue with formation for the teachers.  So, I hailed my very own moto.  First time I've done that, all the other times I've had someone else with me and they flagged down the guy for me.  I got one on my first try!  For some reason I was afraid that they wouldn't see me or something and then I'd just look like a idiot waving my hand sheepishly in the air with no result. 

But, this was the scariest moto ride ever.  The driver did not give me a helmet, which they don't always do for short distances.  This was a considerably short distance from the house to the Virunga Express bus station.  But I would have gladly taken the helmet!  This mo-ped was junk.  It was super old, the seat was crappy, and there were not proper pegs for my feet.  And normally you don't need to hold onto anything (aka the driver) because physics just does its thing and you stay on.  But the whole time I wanted to grab onto this guy because I thought for sure I'd fall clean off the back.  The stretch of road is in poor condition too, so there were lots of ups and downs as we navigated around/over potholes, not to mention the need to dodge people, bikes, and other moto's.

I prayed Hail Mary's the entire ride.  And She got me there safely!  My leg muscles were very fatigued from subconsciously gripping the seat with my thighs.  Oh man.

Joselyne called in my seat reservation, so I had to go into the office and pay.  I did that without too much difficulty.  I had to ask several questions though, but now I understand the system.  The bus ride was pretty enjoyable.  Its three and a half hours of impressive views, endless green rolling hills, and several scenery changes as you pass from rural village into slightly more developed towns.  I sat next to a man who was the director of a primary school, so we discussed all things education-related.   It was very good.

Grace, Clementine's friend whom I met when she came to visit the U.S. before I left, came to pick me up from the Virunga Station in Kigali.   I was really grateful for my traveling companion's kindness.  He waited with me for about 15 minutes until Grace arrived (we got there earlier than I had expected).  I was really happy for that.   I would have probably been fine just waiting there by myself.   But its difficult to keep your eyes peeled for someone who you're pretty sure you remember what she looks like, while you have tons of guys come up to you to sell you newspapers, phone cards, world maps, or to just ask your whereabouts.   So I was happy to have the solid presence of a wise African man to keep the salesmen at bay.   I noticed Grace right away, and she noticed me too! Yay for not missing each other! She drives a pretty nice SUV.   I knew that she was a successful businesswoman, because #1, she came to the United States, and #2, she was dressed very nicely when I met her back home.   But I figured she worked in an office for some company or something, so I really didn't want to disturb her workday.   When she agreed to come pick me up at noon on a Friday, I thought ok, since it’s a Friday its probably not a big deal.   She also agreed to take me to Immigration to apply for my visa, which I thought was extremely nice, and I was very grateful for that.  Well, she actually owns a small quincaillerie, or a hardware store.   It’s a very small shop, much like all other small businesses in Kigali.  The city is filled with big complexes of small shops that people rent out.  Usually these complexes are three stories high with shops on all three stories.   So you drive past big stretches of windows, signs, and doors.   Grace's shop is in a small 1-story strip-mall, next to another hardware store and a shop that seemed to sell random household items.   So she is her own boss, and its no problem at all for her to leave the shop in charge of the woman who is working at the desk and come fetch me.

So we first go to Immigration.   I present my prepared documents.   Let me preface this by saying that before I left for Rwanda, I did a fair amount of research on what I need for a visa.   The info on the internet was not very precise.   But what I found was that you can stay for 90 days without a visa.   After emailing the Sisters and some previous volunteers, everyone said that you should just go, and towards the end of your 90 days, you'll go apply for your visa in Kigali.    So I downloaded the visa application, typed up a request letter explaining my whereabouts, and fortunately I had one passport photo with me from home. So I went with all this stuff, and my passport and my 25,000 RWF.   It was 12:30pm.

Well, there were several other people waiting in line, and they all had taken numbers.  There were signs on the wall that said "Please take a number" but I did not see where these numbers were coming from.  After asking somebody, I finally learned that they stop giving out numbers at noon.  Oh good.  Outside the building there are all kinds of flyers posting tons of info, and yep, there it says that they accept visa applications from 7am till noon, and you come back to pick up your green cards between 2pm and 5pm. Thanks for putting that on the website and saving me this trouble. Hm.

This is a really little office. There's a small waiting area, and a desk with two people staffing the place.  One of them is helping people, and there is a girl doing some stuff at her computer.  So after consulting with Grace about what I should do now that I've missed the cut-off by a half an hour, I go ask this girl some questions.   I start explaining in English, but she asks me if I speak French, so I try my best to explain in French.   She was very nice, but really didn't have answers.   The other guy is the head honcho, so it turned out he was the one I needed to talk to.   But the girl took my papers, read through them for a few minutes, asked me very nicely and curiously if I'm a Sister and what kind of work I do with them, etc.   Then after asking Mr. Head Honcho a couple things, she tells me that volunteers need to pay 50,000 RWF's. Hm, ok. I had no idea there was such a thing as a volunteer visa.   Again, thanks for putting that on the website.   The visa application that I found online only had 4 types listed, and they all cost 25,000 RWF's.   I also assumed that I could probably pay with traveler's checks, or at least with a credit card.   Luckily I brought 25,000 RWFs just in case.   But she tells me I have to pay double that.   I asked the girl if I can pay with traveler's checks, and she tells me that they don't take money at the Immigration Office.  You must first go pay at the Rwanda Revenue Authority, then they give you a receipt, and you bring the receipt.  So I ask the girl if I can go pay it now, and bring the receipt back today.   After learning that they stop accepting applications at noon, I was afraid she'd say that I'd need to return on Monday.   But she said yes.   Now I feel bad that Grace needs to drive me across town to the RRA. S he takes me, and even waits in line with me for about an hour!   There are lots of other people there paying parking tickets, license plate registration, random fines, and all kinds of other things.  This is another small office with a few rows of benches for the people who are waiting, and again there are only 2 people working behind the panel of plastic that separates us from the stash of cash.  I decide that I should first just try to pay the 25,000 with the RWF's that I brought, and if they say that a visa costs 50,000, I'll ask if I can pay with traveler's checks.  I finally get up to the window, give them my visa application, they read it over, and accept my 25,000. Yes!

Back we go to the Immigration office.   Its like 2pm by now, and I see the number-dispensing machine.  They hid it at noon so people would stop taking them.  So I grab one, and Mr. Head Honcho calls me up when its my number.  He looks at my papers for quite some time, then starts hashing out to me all the documents that I'm missing.  He speaks very good English, but is a very matter-of-fact, this-is-how-it-is kind of man.  A prototype "government official."  So he tells me that even though I'm not earning money, I am doing work.  I need a work permit.  In order to apply for an employee's visa, I need a resume, a signed contract with the school where I teach, a letter of recommendation from my "employer," official college transcripts, and a police clearance form from the authorities back home.   Eeeeegads. I do not have any of these things.  And a few of these things will take at least a month to arrive here.   Again, I could have planned this before I left if you had only PUT IT ON THE WEBSITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry…It was just very frustrating to experience the inefficiency with which many operations work in Africa.   So he tells me that I will need to contact the director of visa issues to explain that I am waiting for documents to arrive from America, and that I will need to pay for a temporary visa while I wait.   And oh by the way, you do need to pay 50,000 RWF's, so go back to the RRA and get another receipt for 25,000.       See you Monday.

I explained all this to Grace, and then called Sr. Gisele, who tells me to call Sr. Lumiere (one of the Sisters in Kigali).   Sr. Lumiere tells me to come to their house and she'll help me straighten this all out.   Now I really feel bad because I was going to stay at Grace's house this weekend, but instead she's just chauffeuring me around!  And I won't even be staying at her place, at least not tonight.  Well, its about 3pm and neither of us have eaten lunch.   So we go to the Simba café before heading to the Sister's house.  Simba is a very modern supermarket, with a chic, ultra-European café.  I could have sworn I was in Paris.  I ate the most delicious ham and cheese melt ever.   Grace takes me to the Sisters' and tells me to call her tomorrow and let her know if I would prefer to just stay at the Sisters or come to her house.

It was soooo good to arrive at their house, it really felt like home.   I had stayed there a few weeks ago for Salesian Family Day, and "my room" was still exactly as I had left it.   And the Sisters were so welcoming, they (except for one) had no idea I was coming, I just showed up!   But they were so loving, and they gave me food and made me feel very comfortable.   After dinner, Sr. Lumiere and I worked for a few hours typing up letters and contracts, calling here and there, arranging things to be sent to Sr. Gisele for her signature and school seal, working out all kinds of details.   She is an extremely resourceful, humble woman who I'm sure had many other important things to do to prepare for the upcoming school year.   But here she is making time to help me.

Well after Friday's hassles with the visa, I actually had a fantastic weekend in Kigali! I spent most of Saturday with Aimable, Clementine's brother.  We spoke on the phone a bit around Christmas, and he said he was very happy to hear from me and that he would love to show me around Kigali whenever I will be there.   So I called him up, and he took me everywhere!   I saw the whole city, and we ate lunch again at the Simba Café.   We walked around in the supermarket also…it was interesting.   There are a few aisles of foodstuffs, then there are kitchen utensils and appliances, then there are tv's, radios, treadmills, cabinets, and shelving units.   There is a small clothing section as well. And then there's the bakery, deli, and produce section.    All that jammed into a room a fraction of the size of your typical Pick–n-Save.   We then drove around more to see the stadium and the Université Libre de Kigali campus where we picked up two girls whom he used to work with.   They drove around with us for a while and we stopped to have a Fanta at one of their houses.

She lives in a really nice house on the outskirts of the city.

It was the first house I have been in here that has a tiled floor. It was an awesome day out and about, and my tour guide was excellent!   He was so nice, I can't even describe it.

Sunday was also fantastic. I went to my first English Mass in three months! It was at the cathedral, St. Michael's. This is not a very ornate church, as most cathedrals are, but instead is pretty simple with the usual bare concrete floor, exposed steel support beams for the ceiling, huge windows to allow the sun to do its thing, and many old-school plastic chairs anchored to the ground in stadium-seating fashion.   The walls are decked with lots of colored draperies. The altar is a huuuuge octagonal platform, and there is a choir donned in gospel-y type choir robes.   They sing some English songs and some Swahili.  They sway back and forth in unison a lot, its pretty cool to see.   I also met up with Felicien, a Salesian collaborator who I met at Salesian Family Day a few weekends ago.   He works for one of the Salesian priests' projects on the budgeting team. And guess where we went?   The Simba café.   It must be the most stylish place to go in Kigali.   A few of the waiters certainly recognized me from my three separate, consecutive, yet unrelated visits…I wonder what they were thinking…but anyways it was very nice to hang out with him, he's a fun guy.

Then I returned to the Sisters' house and I had a blast with the girls who were staying there during their vacation! Seriously, I loved playing with them and I could have stayed the whole week!

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There were about a dozen girls, ranging from about 8 years old up to 16. We played hide and seek, a few of us built an obstacle course out of chairs in the gym and ran through it as fast as we can, we watched Dennis the Menace, I had a small dance party with one of the older girls who was listening to music and dancing by herself, and they braided my hair. It was amazing.   They also wanted to call Dianne and Mary, two former volunteers who stayed at this house.  I agreed, even though it was the middle of the night in America.  Well, neither of them answered their phones, but we had a good time leaving fun voicemails.  Then a bunch of them just came and lingered in my room for a good hour or so taking pictures and being goofy.

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It was soooo much fun!

So it was back to visa business on Monday morning.   Grace was again very kind, and agreed to pick me up in the morning and take me to the RRA to pay the additional 25,000 RWF’s.   There was a big long line, like there was last time I was there.   So I expected to wait at least 45 minutes like last time. But all of a sudden, one guy comes out of the front door that leads to the office behind the front desk, and like three quarters of the people in line got up and followed him.   So the line was drastically shortened, and I ended up only waiting about 10 minutes! Woohoo! Then I took a moto-taxi to the US Embassy to ask them about how I can do a sworn affidavit.  I read on the website (this ended up being inaccurate, go figure) that the embassy can certify sworn affidavits of good conduct, basically replacing the need to request this police clearance form.  

Well, I got there, and you first have to enter a tiny security building with a metal detector.  When they asked me what department I needed, I said, “um, you tell me…” just kidding I didn’t say that, but I pulled out my printed-off info sheet and explained everything, and after all that explaining, the guy’s response was “You are an American?  Services for American citizens only operate on Tuesdays and Fridays.  We have to keep a schedule.  The other days are for Rwandan citizens wishing to travel to the U.S." Good, yes.  Like I’m just gonna leave and try again tomorrow.  Right.  So I talked more with this guy and asked if there was really nothing I could do today.  He got somebody on the phone and I explained again to her.  She told me things that I already knew, but I kept re-iterating my questions, so she gave the phone to somebody else.  Finally this person answered my question.  I can come back tomorrow and fill out a form (the affidavit) that says that I testify that I have not committed any crimes.  They will certify that I am testifying that this information is true. But when I asked if this is a valid replacement for the police clearance form, she said that I need to ask at Immigration because they don’t really know what they accept. So I thanked her, and I walked the 2 blocks or so to Immigration.

Well by this time the guy at the Immigration desk and I are good old pals, minus the friendliness that accompanies a typical friendship.  Bummer.   After haggling with him for a while to see if this affidavit will suffice, and not receiving a clear yes or no, I decide that probably they would not accept it as a replacement to my police clearance form.   I'm gonna need to request it, wait for it to arrive, and in the mean time get a temporary visa.   But, all of a sudden, the guy asks to see my file of documents.  He pages through it, talks to the other girl at the desk, and says that they will give me a tracking number.   The girl gives me a number and I just look at her stupidly like "aren't you gonna tell me what I'm supposed to do with this?"  The guy explains that they are going to present my case to the director of visas.  They will get back to me within three days with what I need to do.   Hm, I guess that's a good sign.

I call the Sisters to tell them about this new progression in my visa quest.   Fortunately, Sr. Lumiere is coming to Gisenyi in 2 days and will return to Kigali that same night.  So she said I should take the bus home, and if I need to come back to Kigali after hearing the director's response, I can drive back with her.  I was relieved to hear that! Grace had also asked that I call her when I'm finished at Immigration, and she'd come pick me up and take me to the bus station.   She was so so so accommodating, its incredible.   She came to get me, and we went first to buy my bus ticket.   Then we had about an hour to kill, so we went back to her shop for a few minutes, then she took me to a bookstore where I bought a bible in French.  Then she again took me back to the bus station where I headed for home.  I learned even more about Rwandan hospitality from my weekend with Grace chauffeuring me around.   I kept telling her that I can take a moto-taxi, its no problem, and she kept telling me that moto's are dangerous, and that its no problem for her to drive me.   And when I kept thanking her incessantly, I think she was actually a bit insulted, or at least just sick of hearing me say thank you.   She explained that when you have a visitor, you do EVERYTHING for them.  Whatever they need, you stop your day to help them. "Its our culture," she said.  I was very honored that she even considered me "her visitor" after spending such little time with me, and only really doing visa-related things! 

So I told her how wonderful I thought that was, and how for Americans we tend to want to stay out of the way, to not disturb other people's schedules, and that's why I felt bad about having her take me everywhere and why I felt it was necessary to thank her so much.  It was good to communicate these cultural differences so that we didn't both finish the weekend with an incorrect impression of what the other was thinking.  She said I'll have to come back to Kigali one weekend without any other plans, so that I can really be a "visitor." I think this kind of hospitality is something truly unique.   I'm sure I wouldn't find it anywhere else!

Also throughout my weekend, I became a lot more confident with my ability to get around on my own. Yes, Grace did drive me a lot.   But I also had to run here and there on my own quite a bit.  I became very proficient with taking moto-taxis, and I even bought some cookies, all by myself, to give to Grace, Aimable, and the Sisters.  Overall, this weekend of hassles has made me a lot stronger and more confident.

I had a very nice bus ride home where I chatted with a guy named Emmanuel who was sitting next to me.  He is fresh out of university, and therefore speaks good English, and has been working at a few temp jobs. We exchanged numbers and decided to keep in touch.

When I finally arrived in Gisenyi, it felt sooo good to be home!  Kigali is super busy and loud and crowded, and Gisenyi is just a lot calmer.  Even in "town," its bustling with activity, but the atmosphere is different because there aren't tons of cars jamming up the streets.  The second I step off the bus, there are a bunch of motos waiting to take us to wherever we need to go.  One of them apparently recognized me, because he said "Muhato?"  I thought that was funny…but weird because I don't know him…but I declined his offer because I first wanted to try to cash my traveler's checks at a bank while I was in town.  This was unsuccessful.  They told me to go to a different bank, a bit further away.  It was already late, so I decided to just go home.  I had a really nice moto driver who was asking me if I speak Kinyarwanda. I know how to say "No, I don't speak Kinyarwanda.  I speak French and English." in Kinyarwanda.  So I always say this and they are really impressed.  Then they assume that oh, since she knows how to say that, she must speak Kinyarwanda!  So they start asking me all kinds of other things that I don't understand.  But it’s a really enjoyable time so I just laugh along with it and say "Sinumva…" (I don't understand)  And then we usually resort to French.

I've had many a pleasant moto ride such as these, they're often really fun!

Joselyne Gave Me a Haircut

Joselyne gave me a haircut! Took off about 4 inches I think. It looks very cute, I'm extremely happy with it. Sr. Charlotte, however, was very upset.  Many other girls around here have responded similarly with question like "Why did you cut your hair like that?"  Women here really like long hair because for many African women, their hair doesn't grow.  Sr. Gisele said the last time she got a haircut was 11 years ago.  So having hair that grows quickly is a luxury.  

And when I wear my hair down (which is not often), I always got lots of compliments from the Sisters.   So when Sr. Charlotte walked into the laundry room and saw Joselyne cutting my hair, she said "Noooo! Les cheveux de Jacqui!"  And put on a total pouty face and was whining like a little child.   She refused to take a picture of us in the process, so we had to wait till Joselyne was finished and re-stage the cutting and ask Sr. Gisele to take it for us.   Joselyne said if she were me, she would not cut her hair because she also likes it long.   But she empathized with my reasoning: its just not practical because it takes too long to wash.  

For a missionary girl who is trying to conserve water and who has lessons to plans and things to do, hair is not a top priority. So snip snip we went.   I really love it, so I'm happy!

I love these Sisters so much.................

I love these Sisters so much, I can't even describe how much fun they are.  For those of you who think of uptight, ruler-wielding, penguin-resembling, nonsmiling old ladies when you think of the word "nun," think again.

You have got to meet the Salesians, they are crazy!  Today we danced in the kitchen for half an hour.  Sr. Charlotte, Joselyne, Sr. Rose, and me.  We were singing these Swahili songs (rather they were singing, I was just dancing) that Sr. Rose brought from Congo when she went home for her father's funeral.  She brought back a dvd of this one Christian-pop singer's videos.  We were trying our best to imitate the moves that the Congolese are known for.   It was soooo funny.   Apparently its common knowledge that the Congolese just go  "Tout le monde en position……..(stick your butt out)…." and then the drumming drops in and everybody starts booty bouncing.  We were just dancing around while sharing stories of Congolese Salesian priests who are excellent dancers.  Sr. Charlotte recounted one especially funny story of a really fat priest (here, the word "fat" is actually more like a compliment)  who danced with all his might in extremely Congolese fashion and made his belly shake like a big bowl of jelly.  I want to meet this man.

I Went Swimming in Lake Kivu Today!

went swimming in Lake Kivu today! It was so wonderful.  I went with Sr. Charlotte and Joselyne.

Sr. Charlotte didn't go in with us – the Sisters are only allowed to go swimming in private pools, like if they had their own pool on their property.  But they are not allowed to be seen in public in a swimsuit.   So Joselyne and I went.   She wanted me to teach her how to swim, and I realized how swim lessons are something that I took for granted!

Remember how the very first thing you learn as a little tyke in level 1 swim class is to put your face in the water and blow bubbles? Well, even that was difficult for Joselyne. Think about it – it’s a whole new sensation to breathe against resistance.

So if you don't have years of experience going to the lake or swimming in your neighbor's pool, you feel really weird exhaling under water.  So she was practicing that a bit.  I also taught her how to flutter kick, and then we tried to combine a few different arm movements to learn a few strokes.   In general, she stayed in the shallow parts and didn't really swim out much.   But man oh man did we laaaauuugh!   She is a very light-hearted person, so her difficulty in mastering these things were always followed by laughing at herself.  

We tried putting her on my back for a piggy-back-ride swim, which failed but resulted in even more laughter.  And she had some really hilarious facial expressions as she put all her effort into matching her legs to her arms with the tickle-tee-touch.  We swam for about an hour, then laid on the beach for a while. I got a little sunburned :)   We were at the private beach of the Kivu Serena Hotel.

Usually you have to buy something, like a soda, or be a guest at the hotels to use their beaches.  Sr. Charlotte knew one of the waiters, so we didn't need to buy anything, but she bought herself a Fanta anyways while watching us swim.   This beach was nice, and this hotel was very fancy.   I kind of didn't like being there…Sr. Charlotte said she'd prefer if we go here rather than the public stretch of beach because there would be tons of children disturbing us.   And I'd surely be the only muzungu swimming there, so the kids would not leave us alone.   I would eventually like to go swimming on the public beach though, I would really like to swim with the kids!   It was hard to be at this private beach in all its luxury, yet know that just a few feet outside its gates you'll find educational disparity,  poverty,  people in need.   All the other patrons of this beach were foreigners, many of them probably hotel guests.   So it was cool to not stick out like a sore thumb, but I'd rather go ahead and stick out and be one with the people who live just beyond the five-star luxury.  

I think St. John Bosco (our founder) would have.

Today Was a Real Saturday-Saturday

I worked in the morning, tutoring Sr. Rose, and then I had the afternoon off.  This is how its supposed to be for me, but often I spend my Saturday afternoons cleaning or doing laundry or planning next week's lessons. But today I hung out with John, and it was ridiculously fun.  He was supposed to come over at 2:30 to learn to say the rosary in English and to teach me a new song in Kinyarwanda.  Well, after I tried calling him a couple of times at 3pm ish, I decided I might as well go ahead and begin a project, because it'll probably be a while.  So I fixed a few of my shirts that had holes in them.  Then at 4pm John finally called me back and came over.   I gave him a little brochure of  "Say the Rosary Daily"  in English, and we went through each prayer and each mystery.   It was very beautiful.  

Each mystery he would pause and think of the Kinyarwanda equivalent, and then say that he knew which one it was, and would often give a little commentary on it, such as "Ah! When Mary said 'Faites ce que lui vous dites.'!"  And I learned the "Our Father" in Kinyarwanda.  Its so much fun being taught by your students.  I've noticed that they get really heated about correcting my pronunciation and my attempted spelling.   So when I try to sound out a word phonetically, the response is often "Not!!" And he writes it on the board. Then we wrote an email to Kathryn, and let me tell you, this was really where the laughs came in. So John dictated (in English) what he wanted me to write, and I typed. I had brought my laptop into the classroom where we were teaching/learning.  So, being that his English is not that good, I had to fix many of the sentences.  But I tried to leave the general sense.  Example: "Me, I am studying only.  And then I will go to become a Salesian Man."  I cracked up when he said this, and inserted "aka – priest" after Man.  He also had me write "You can respond by emailing Jacqui, because I do not have my own email.  I don't know why."  He meant "I don't know how."  But I left both in, and then added  "But Jacqui will show me how to get an email address." And he got suuuuper excited as I explained that we can go to the Cyber Café and create an account, that its really quite easy.   I typed an example email address that he could choose if he so desired and he was very pumped about it.


So a few weeks later we went to make this happen.  Oh. My. Gosh.  The internet at the café's here is as slow as the day is long.  I can't tell you how many times I thought of how much easier it would be to just use the Sisters' internet, but I didn't feel right about using their pay-by-the-minute modem for this kind of errand. We went to this internet café that is on the 2nd floor of a big building of tiny businesses.   Its a small room, probably the size of a typical bedroom in the States, filled with small semi-private desks with computers.  And it was HOT.  So sticky…uck.  The connection failed twice and we had to re-try.  Finally on the third try we succeeded to make John a yahoo account, but it took an hour and a half.  Can you believe that?!?!  Each page takes like 5 minutes to load, no exaggeration there.  It was annoying.  But it makes me very grateful for the ease with which we have access to information at home.  I am also amazed by the patience of the Rwandese people.  Waiting for web pages to load is just the tip of the iceberg here…people wait for lots of things.

People wait for class to begin when only a few students are there on time, they wait for the school director for 3 hours in order to ask about employment opportunities, they wait to speak with priests/sisters/anybody really, and often the fruit of their waiting is that they must come back tomorrow.   And in general, they don't seem to get as frustrated about this as an American would.  They're used to it.  I'm sad and disappointed when I see the inefficiency with which things work around here, that it becomes the norm for someone to waste their day waiting for nothing.  But the easy-going spirit of people around here truly is a positive by-product.

- 1/16/10: Today we watched a dvd that a member of Sr. Rose's family had made of her father's funeral.  It was very interesting to see the cultural differences between acceptable forms of showing your grief.  I've been told that in Rwanda, you should not cry in public.  So at a funeral, people are very stone-faced, and if they become emotional they go sneak out and get away from everybody to let their tears fall. 

Well, Congolese funerals are totally opposite.  If you do not cry at a funeral, it will be perceived as you not caring that the person has died.  Especially those who were closest to the deceased, you must unleash even greater expressions of grief.  I actually find this beautiful – I mean, why shouldn't you feel free to cry your eyes out?   Although I will say that it was strange how "scripted" the crying seemed.   Everybody would burst into tears and wail loudly only at certain times.  For example, when the casket is first brought out of the car that transports it (which, by the way, is a vehicle that is mostly windows.  You can see right through that there is a casket inside, they don't cover or tint the windows at all).  So when the car with the casket comes, all the people come running, in tears, letting out loud cries of anguish, and some even come right up to the car and bang on the windows.   When the casket its brought out, everybody ran to crowd around it and the men carrying it had to put it down on the ground and open it to allow the people to see the body.

The mourning crowd continued to let out loud cries.  After a few minutes, the people compose themselves, and the ceremony continues.  At the end of the ceremony, everyone goes to the gravesite for the burial, and again there is much crying.   After saying the proper prayers, the casket is lowered, people throw flowers, and dirt is tossed on top.   All the while, people are again wailing out and crying, and they show no regret at all that the cameraman is recording their tear-streaked faces or capturing their big emotional outlets.  

Another example of how I admire the way that Africans don't care about others' opinions of them, or rather, that they simply don't make rash judgments about seemingly "unusual" behavior.

Salesian family day and horror stories

Today I went with Sr. Gisele and Joselyne to Kigali for Salesian family day! It is a big rendez-vous of all the Salesian Sisters, Brothers, priests, former students of Salesian schools, teachers, collaborators, and volunteers.

So I was expecting this to be a huge event with hundreds of people, but it was actually small and cozy. Many were invited, but only about 30 people were present. It was really great though, I had a fantastic time and I'm very happy that I went. I met 2 other American volunteers who are staying with Salesian priests in Kigali! One is from Iowa and another from New Jersey. They live in a house with about 150 other boys who are supported by this mission. It was very cool to talk with them and exchange info about what each of us is doing here. The atmosphere at this family gathering was really one of welcome. Everybody comes to greet you, introduce themselves, ask your whereabouts. I felt very at ease. Then the speeches began…ugh. This event was all in French, plus, the speakers were (excuse my bluntness) some of the worst public speakers ever. There were 2 priests, one who gave opening remarks, and one who was supposed to give a "small commentary" (it was 45 minutes long) to give the background of a short film we were going to watch.

Well, both of them spoke extremely slow with barely any animation or enthusiasm in their voices. So I was gone. I tried bringing myself back time and again to really focus, but because the language was more elevated, this being a formal event and all, and in French, and being downright boring, I just couldn't do it. So I kind of daydreamed a lot. The film was cool though. It was the "Recteur Majeur," who is to the Salesians as the Pope is to the Catholic Church, presenting the new theme for the year 2010. It was a nice, modernized video surrounding the theme "Sir, we want to see Jesus," taken from a certain passage of Scripture. It was a bit weird actually to hear talk about evangelization in this modern world with computers and ipods and stuff – in general this video was geared toward Salesian activity in these types of environments.  This is exactly what St. Paul's is all about, but I left that world 2 months ago! I felt very distant, and it seems that in Rwanda, the problem of kids and teens filling the "God void" with technology and fashion and creating their own identity really does not exist. But I'm sure the task at hand is just as great here in the developing world as it is in the developed.

After all the speeches was when my real fun began. We proceeded outside to head to the chapel for Mass, taking our jolly sweet time and mingling more with other Salesian family members.

I had a really great time meeting Felicien, who says he was friends with Mary, a volunteer from Chicago who was in Kigali about 4 years ago.  Her and I communicated quite a bit before I left and became good e-friends! So he was really excited that I knew her, and was also excited to teach me Kinyarwanda.  Actually many people today were teaching me new words.  It is really a blessing that I have this love for languages, and that my brain likes them (meaning I'm pretty good at learning them, not to boast or anything, but they come pretty easily to me). So we had a good time teaching and learning in a nice vocabulary exchange.

Then we had a really nice Mass with songs in several languages. I loved it. Although, there were drummers totally off-beat with the singers.  If this sounds familiar to you, you're right…this same thing happened at Muhato during our Christmas Masses.  So I think it’s a Rwanda thing…weird.  Probably they just don't know any better, because there are very few opportunities for music education here.  Then we mingled around outside some more, and I had more fun making new friends and learning words from them.  Most of the people at this event were basically fluent in English, French, and Kinyarwanda, which was pretty cool because that's a big change from life in dear ol' Gisenyi. I had a great time just chatting with people in a mélange of all these languages.   Its funny because for them, they just switch from one to the next without really thinking about it.  In any given sentence they might use all three.  So that means for me I might hear complete gibberish, and then my mind lights up when I understand a few words, and then it tunes right back out when the complete gibberish comes back. Or sometimes it’s the other way around – I understand everything except a few words. The pleasant conversation continued through lunch, which was a tasty dish of meatballs, pork, bread, and potatoes.

Then the entertainment began. There was a whole afternoon planned of dances, songs, presentations, etc, but we had to leave after the first dance performance.

I was bummed. But we were going all the way back to Gisenyi, a three and a half hour drive, so we had to make sure to get out of there at a decent hour.

And the ride home was delightful, as was the ride there. This country is indescribably, captivatingly beautiful. (insert DSC 01013 and 00826)

And the whole way we listened to/sang to these cassette tapes that Sr. Gisele brought – Italian, French, and Kinyarwanda songs about Mary, and one of English kids' songs. It was just so beautiful, I can't describe it.

After attending Salesian Family Day, I'm very happy to say that I am a part of the Salesian family! It was great to see just how vast this congregation is, and how the structure is very ordered and intricate, and how there is a whole hierarchy of people that make it work. They really do tons of incredible things for young people all over the world.

The greatness of this day continued when we arrived home that night and sat down at dinner. We stayed at the table till 9pm - Sr. Charlotte, Sr. Gisele, Joselyne, and me. They retold stories from the 1994 genocide, during which all of them were kids, around 10 – 12 years old.

An extremely brief background on the genocide: in three months, nearly one million people were killed. A group of Hutu extremists who hated the Tutsis grew huge and influential. They nearly succeeded in achieving their goal of eliminating all Tutsis. Many Hutu were also killed in retaliation which eventually ended the conflict. This was perhaps the most concentrated massacre that has ever occurred in history, even moreso than the holocaust in Nazi Germany.   I basically just listened in disbelief, adding what few words my mind could conceive of saying.   I was mostly speechless.

First I heard the story of when the president ordered that all Rwandans in Congo be killed.   A superior came to evacuate one of our Rwandan Sisters residing in Congo and 2 others.  There were "checkpoints" all along the road, and at each of them they were miraculously allowed to pass.   One Sister was told to not lift her head up, because the shape of her forehead would give away the fact that she was Rwandan.   Another had to bury her nose in a handkerchief for the same reason.  The militia at each checkpoint could have ordered all of them to get out of the car, and they could have been killed on the spot if someone would have pointed out their Rwandan features.  But Providence brought them safely home.

This seemed really terrifying, but I soon realized that I ain't heard nothin yet…Sr. Charlotte began re-telling her horror story.   How can someone witness and survive such inconceivable things, and still be full of joy, love, hope, laughter?   When I asked her permission to put her story on my blog, she said   "Yes of course!" with no qualms about it.  This woman is the person I feel closest to here.   We have a very fun time together, and if I have a problem, she would probably be the first person I would talk to about it.   And she loves the Lord so much, and loves the children entrusted to her care as a Salesian.   How can you "get over" something like this and still have such joy in life?   The only answer is God.  She held fast to her faith, and Jesus pulled her through.   This is a perfect example of how God can ALWAYS make something beautiful out of even the most terrible tragedy.  It is also a testimony of how He will be victorious in the end: here we are today, alive and well, living comfortably in a beautiful and peaceful Rwanda, retelling the days when everything was the 180 degree polar opposite. Even though such atrocity occurred, the Lord still has faithful people (and lots of them) here.   He is a Healer, that's for sure.   I don't even have the right words to say…

Sr. Charlotte was 10 years old, and her sister, Verraine, was 3.  They were being "hunted" along with all other Tutsis.  She was forced to march I don't even know how many miles, with a bunch of other Tutsi captives.  In summary, Sr. Charlotte walked basically across the country during these terrible events.  They were led to a big clearing, encircled by Interhamwe, and shot at and hand-grenaded.  Those who ran made for easy targets, so ingenius 10-year-old Sr. Charlotte just hit the deck.   She was unharmed by bullet or grenade.  She had her little sister strapped to her back.  Miraculously, she too was unscathed.  Those who lived lived, and the Interhamwe moved on.   Prior to this, she saw her own mother, father, brother, and probably other family members murdered before her eyes.  With the help of a Hutu friend who found her along the way, and claimed that she was her cousin and therefore Hutu, she managed to take refuge in a church with other Hutu refugees.   But the soldiers were always reluctant to accept the testimony of this little girl, because Sr. Charlotte apparently has obviously Tutsi physical characteristics.   So she and little Verraine went to hide in an abandoned school with her Hutu friend and some others.  Soon though, this too was attacked.  Everyone fled, but Sr. Charlotte and Verraine hid and stayed there.  They never heard from the kind Hutu girl again.  She said it was a good thing she stayed behind, because everyone who ran away from this abandoned school was killed; no one escaped.   She lived in this school for about a week and a half with her sister, eating raw maize because that was all that was available.   It was very quiet during this time of hiding, so after several days she peeked outside.   She did not know it, but she was seen by someone.

Fortunately, praise God for this, those who saw this little girl come out of this abandoned building were the Tutsi retaliatory front who eventually ended the fighting.  They waited a few days before coming to get them, because they too were risking their own safety, not knowing if there were Interhamwe nearby.   When they came to rescue her and Verraine, they sang the Interhamwe song in order to scare the girls into running outside.   I have no idea why this seemed like a good tactic…maybe I misunderstood. (this recounting was in French)   And Sr. Charlotte said that of course she knew by this point that running = death.   They knocked at the door, and said "open up!"  She gave her baby sister a little speech, knowing that they must open the door or allow the door to be opened by force.  She was a smart girl and just opened it for them.  She told Verraine that she should not be afraid.  "They might kill us, and if they do, we'll just die like the others.  We'll see Mama and Papa and all our family again.   So don't be afraid."   She could tell that Verraine was scared, because she started gripping more tightly to Sr. Charlotte, so she calmly responded,  "What did I just tell you?"  Then she opened the door, and the soldiers said  "Do not be afraid, you will live."   They were visibly moved with pity for them, and asked them all kinds of things – how long have you been here?  What have you eaten?   Do you know where your family is?  These soldiers put Verraine on the back of their bicycle, and Sr. Charlotte walked, and they went back to their camp.

The soldiers took good care of them, gave them food, a bed to sleep on, clean clothes.   From here on out they were safe.

Speechless = Me.

Run for your life!!!

1/2/2010 – Run for your life!!! just kidding…


Tonight we had some volcanic activity! I did not see it though :( Sr. Charlotte came inside to call me to come and see the lava spew, and I ran out in disbelief. But all that was there was the usual red glow, a bit bigger this time.

I guess Sr. Iwona had seen some lava spray up into the sky a few minutes ago. Apparently the Sisters in Kigali called us to see how we were doing and if we needed to flee. I don't know how the message got there so fast…I think the radio was broadcasting something. So I was a little scared and had lots of questions, but I was also just extremely excited to have almost witnessed such a phenomenon.

Sr. Gisele explained to me that the lava that spewed out had gone over onto the other side into the bush. Goma was fine, as the direction of the spew was not into the city but into the forest. She said that if it had sprayed in this direction we would have had to flee because everything would burn!

But if that were the case, there would be tons of rumbling and the earth would tremble. That wasn't happening, so we knew we were safe. They have an evacuation plan and know what to do. It seemed to me that this was a pretty minor "eruption," if it is even considered an eruption.

Since I didn't see it I don't know how much lava came out, but from the way we talked about it I got the idea that it wasn't much. We went inside and ate dinner, joking about it. They said we'd better eat well, because then we'll have more energy to run away if we need to! All in good fun.

Pretty amazing.

How Can I Be so Blesed???

1/2/10 – How can I be so blesed???


How can I be so blest to have best friends in Rwanda?! I remember the first week or so of mission. When I learned that this was only a secondary school and not an orphanage, I was a little disappointed. I had to remind myself frequently that God made no error in placing me in Gisenyi rather than Kigali. In Kigali, I would have "little sisters" all over the place. I had prepared interiorly to accompany girls, to teach them English but also to teach them the rosary, to give them big sisterly advice, and to be their role model as they grow up. So realizing that none of this would actually happen was a bit of a downer.

But I remained optimistic and never let it get the best of me. More and more, and today especially, I've seen that truly, Gisenyi is where I belong.  And I came at the perfect time. If I would have arranged the dates differently, I may not have been here for Patronage and would have never met the animators, who have become my best friends here. They are usually the cause of the big smile on my face, and they are often the distractions going through my mind when I'm trying to pray. It’s a beautiful problem (but a problem nonetheless that I must work through) to have – to be distracted in prayer because I'm too preoccupied with beautiful memories spent with friends.

We had a thank-you party today for the animators. Sr. Charlotte was running behind schedule picking up the food for this party, so we began about an hour and a half late. I showed up with the boom box and my zumba cd's, but we did not have a place to plug it in. So we basically lingered around for an hour and a half, but man alive did we have a ball! I have a great time just talking with these guys and gals. They are so very friendly, and even though there is a language barrier, we have managed to work around it quite effectively. We took lots of pictures, actually they took lots of pictures. They were being a bit too grabby with my camera, so I tried to be a bit more assertive. But still, Marietta walked away with my camera and I had no idea where she went. I cannot allow this. Fortunately we found her by the stadium, and she still had it. They really love to take pictures of anyone, any pose, and there was tons of laughter in the air as we captured scenes and looked at them.

Then, we started singing Kinyarwanda songs. When I joined in during one I knew, everybody cheered and Fabrice was so impressed that he tried to give me money (as a joke). Then they all wanted to see what else I knew, so we basically sang all kinds of mass songs and they were really wowed by how much I knew. It is very cool when people are ecstatic over the fact that you are attempting to speak their language. I loved every second. After more hanging out, talking, taking pictures, meeting other kids from my class who were at a different meeting at the church, Sr. Charlotte and the Fathers finally came back. By this time, we were able to get into a room and plug in the boom box to zumba. But I had to go help assemble the secret gifts that they would each receive. But I think they probably had their own zumba party because they're just that awesome. So I went to help assemble gifts.

Each animator received an expandable portfolio filled with notebooks, a math set (protractor, compass, ruler), a pencil, a pen, an eraser, a box of crayons, and a rosary.

(insert DSC00794, 805)

This is a very good gift, as it is something that all of them need. I'm very happy that we were able to give them these things, especially if any of them would have had difficulty purchasing them on their own. When we finished this, we rejoined the group and ate samboosa (a tasty meat and onion-filled fried triangle of dough) and drank fanta. Next there were some inspirational talks given by Fr. Antoine and Sr. Charlotte in Kinyarwanda, I'm pretty sure it was to thank them and send them forth as they begin the school year soon.

We then did Chin Chin and Barb's Cumbia, and this was pretty much the best we've ever done them! Almost everyone joined in…I wish I would have invited those who were sitting. All it takes is a simple invitation. Epimathe joined right away when I beckoned him, so why didn't I do the same for the other two or three who were sitting there? Especially Fr. Antoine, who I know really wants to learn. So next time I'll seize that opportunity. We took a fantastic video of Barb's Cumbia in all its glory. It was the bomb. People were making crazy facial expressions, singing or humming or whistling along since they know the beat very well now, and hooting and hollering up a storm. And Edouard and Fabrice were pretending to be drunk off Fanta…hilarious. I had so much fun that I can't even describe it.

After this we closed the party off with some more thank you's to all the animators. Fr. Antoine also thanked me in English for coming here freely, without expecting any kind of payment. He said that I have surely changed the lives of these animators in some way by giving an example of love, of leaving my country simply to help. I was touched. At the end of the talks and the thanks, I also thanked them for their work and told them that I was very happy to be here specifically in Gisenyi, and especially that I came at the right time in order to meet all of them and to become good friends. I feel that my word choice was crap and did not at all convey how much I love them. But I wanted to speak simply and slowly so that they would understand my English. They all clapped afterwards, so I think that means they got the picture.

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First promenade in 2010

1/1/10 – First promenade in 2010


I had a great New Year's Day! I went on a 4-hour walk with John, one of the Animators, and an exceptional one, as he wants to become a Salesian priest. What a holy guy he is. It was so great to talk to him about Patronage and hear how important it is for children to have something like it to form them in their faith.

We walked from Muhato into town, which took probably an hour, and we met up with Jean Paul, one of my students, on the way too. They had lots of questions about how we celebrate New Year's in America, and just in general, things in America. John and I also had a funny discussion about when/if I will return to Rwanda. He was really insistent that I will need to come back in 6 years after I am done with med school and residency, and that I cannot get married until after I go back to Rwanda, because it would not be good to uproot my family to come back and visit. Ha.

We waddled around on the beach for another hour or so, taking pictures and me learning more Kinyarwanda (insert DSC000748 and 751).

A few other people sort of joined our Kinyarwanda lesson, as they really like to teach me and to hear my attempt to pronounce some of the very difficult words with nasal-y sounds that I can't produce. He taught me the rest of Nibuhora ho, the song that Martha taught me the dance to. So for a good while we just walked around and sang. It was very cool. On our way back, Félicien called me to wish me happy new year, and to talk to his mom. It was great. I've never met her or anything, but he said he was with his family and can I talk to them? She was very nice and said in pretty good English, "Will you come visit me?" So I'm gonna go meet Félicien's mom someday soon. Excellent. But on the way back, it rained the whole time. We stopped twice to take shelter under an overhang. People here are so accustomed to the rain that everybody just gets out of the street and goes under an overhang. Except for those who are really determined, they keep on walking and just deal with being wet. We had an umbrella, but it was kind of small to share. But about 2 hours later, we finally arrived back at Muhato. And I was really hungry, a bit wet, and my feet hurt. So it was good to be home.

But I really had such a good time today, I'm so grateful that John invited me!