Gisenyi

With only 3 weeks to go in Rwanda, I decided it was time to leave Kigali and see a bit more of Rwanda. The last time I did so it was to drive up north, get lost and then climb a very cold, wet hike up Mount Bisoke, which should have taken 5 hours, but instead took 9. It was miserable and I was so muddy by the end of it that I needed professional help to get my hands a feet clean!

So, I decided instead to head off for a more relaxing weekend and I set my compass towards Gisenyi. Gisenyi is the second largest town in Rwanda and it sits right on the edge of Congo and Lake Kivu. Lake Kivu is one of the only lakes in the Great Lakes Region that you can actually swim in and the vast body of water surrounded by beautiful hills makes for a truly spectacular landscape. The temperature seldom gets above 25 C, but the lush greenery and tropical plants make it look like it belongs somewhere far more hot and humid. The weekend was complete with swimming, exploring the landscape, visiting some traditional hot springs and poking around a local dairy farm. I truly recommend a visit to Gisenyi if you’re ever in Rwanda.

Catch 22

You’d think that getting into Harvard is the hard part, but no, for broke international students there seems to be an unforgiving initiation period in which you have to negotiate the worst combination of school administration regulation, the US government and banks.
I’ve worked in International Development since I left school and let’s face it’s not a lucrative field. So while I might have worked for a salary, had a less interesting CV and not gotten into Harvard, I chose instead to work for pennies doing fantastic things in Ghana, Tanzania, Zambia and Rwanda, which gave me the credentials to get into Harvard, but not the savings to actually be able to afford to attend. So, I looked to loans but little did I know what a headache that would be.
Basically put, the school/government will not issue a student visa until they see a US bank account with the entire years living costs and tuition in it. However, for people, like me, who have to take out loans to go to school (I’m lucky enough to have a US co-signer) the banks will not give you any money until they see a student visa. Then, above that –if, for example you are lucky enough to have a benevolent uncle who can lend you money for a while, trying to open a US account if you are not in the US is next to impossible. How do you enter the US to open the account without the student visa, and how do you get the student visa with out the account with the money in it? Now, try to solve these dilemmas from Rwanda.
Anyways, sorting this out has taken me months and hundreds of dollars in phone calls, FedEx costs and faxes from Rwanda and sadly has taken me away from my blogging. Please accept my deepest apologies. Nice blogs of Rwanda are in the making.

Rescue

On Saturday, I was sitting by the Novatel Hotel pool with friends. Dressed in my jeans and silk tank top, I was hardly dressed for swimming but had dropped by anyways to say hi before going about some errands. I looked over to the pool and noticed a young Rwandese girl swimming underwater in circles. Something about it did not look right. I stood up to take a closer look and just then I saw her thrust herself on to her back and press her face up for air. I’ll never forget it the fight and panic expressed in that one desperate movement before she started to sink below again. Without realizing what I was doing until I was doing it, I dove into the pool. Underwater, I kept my eyes on her pink bathing suit, and I can still see her arms and legs flailing silently. I pushed her up to the surface and felt her small body gasping for air. As soon as I touched her, her body gave up and let me swim her to the side. Someone appeared to help pull her out of the pool and I followed in my wet clothes. The girl was 9 and her parents were inside the hotel having a coffee. As I assisted the girl to become calm and catch her breath, the adreline that had cursed through my body slowed down and as soon as her father rushed to the scene, I left, tears of relief streaming down my cheeks.

It was a truly humbling experience, to realize just how fragile life is and to be so thankful for my own. No one else saw the girl and I shudder to think what might have happened if I had not turned my head.

Walking a Mile in Woman’s Shoes

At what point do you realize that the neighbourhood in which you live has accepted you as one of their own? Is it when most of the women and children know you by name, and call to you as you walk, moto or drive by? Or perhaps, it’s when they show you the secret passage ways behind their houses and tell you to use them so that robbers cannot get away if you are mugged. Or maybe, it’s when they offer to let you borrow their shoes for a day!

Today, I was walking up the final hill to the main road where I normally get a moto to work. However, just as I got there, my flip flop broke. Reluctantly, I took my shoes off and began to walk back to my house, which is about 15 minute walk away. As I walked the villagers sympathized with me saying “sorry” as I passed. Then one woman stopped me and told me that there was a man who fixes shoes in the village. She took me back to the main strip where a man quickly appeared and begin to set up shop on the street. Meanwhile the woman turned to me and said, “You cant wear other shoes?” Thinking that she was asking if I would go home to get new shoes I replied “yes, I have to, I have to go to work”. But before I could leave, she turned to a group of women sorting beans on a ground behind us, and after a few words were exchanged, one of them appeared with a pair of sandals! She thrust them onto my bare feet and told me to wear them for the day and then collect my sandals from her house after work! I could not believe the generosity of that woman! I am currently wearing the shoes of a woman from my village and revealing in the ability of people who have so little to be so kind! Walking for a day in her shoes is definitely teaching a good lesson in generosity and trust.

The Road Less Travelled

The other weekend, my roommate, Stephanie and I decided to drive up north. She wanted to see the gorillas, and I, not ready to spend $500 on them, was going to hike to the top of Mount Bisoke (more on that later!). We borrowed a friend’s huge old red land cruiser, which rattled wildly at ever bump in the road, and headed off on Friday afternoon, Our friend had forgotten to leave his map in the car, but armed with what some vague directions from a friend, Stephanie and I headed blithely up north. The countryside in Rwanda is beautiful and we were enjoying the feeling of being two women taking charge of our freedom in Africa (not something we take for granted). It is very rare that you will see women driving, let along two foreign women driving such a massive car without a Rwandese guide or driver with them. But the fun came to an abrupt halt as we reached the border of Uganda and we realized we had taken the wrong road!

The roads in Rwanda are good, if you stick to the five main ones that spread outwards from Kigali, but if you want to get between those main roads, things look pretty grim. However, Steph and I, intreprid female nomads that we are, were not phased. The little road that joined us to the road we wanted to take was a mere dirt track winding up and down the mountains and without and map or signs. It was quite an adventure at every fork in the road when we’d have to stop, pull down the window and try to interpret various hand movements through a combination of Steph and I’s meagre Kirwanda, and Swahili.

A two hour trip turned into six hours. But taking the road much less travelled was a terrific opportunity to see the beautiful landscape and interact with some villagers who could not have been sweeter to two foreign women taking a road trip in Rwanda.

Rwandese Helmet!

A friend took this photo! I take a moto-taxi to work every day but luckily I've never had to wear a helmet like this!

India: A Treat for The Eyes

India is definitely a country of extremes. You can find the best there, and possibly, some of the worst. Some of the world’s richest people are from India, and definitely some of the poorest live alongside them. But, for me, and for many tourists, it is the juxtaposition of modern development and ancient tradition that stays with you after you leave. Within minutes of arriving in the city you begin to understand the dichotomies that India is famous for. Cows wander alongside modern trucks and cars and traffic, already bottlenecked by random construction will gently swerve around a sleeping cow who has chosen the middle of the highway as a good resting place. My Indian friend pointed out to me that wherever there is a free spot in the city, a temple is raised and indeed there is no shortage of beautiful shrines nestled among business centers and housing developments.

The “extreme” that I appreciated most in Indian culture is their penchant for all things beautiful and ornate. I never managed to take a picture to do justice to the magnificent decorations on all the trucks and auto-rickshaws, but the silver tassels and paint definitely added a cheer to the morning commute. Ancient artisanship and decorations on wood, marble and paper, plus the gorgeous fine fabric of the women’s saris certainly make India a treat for the eyes. Indians definitely know how to make life, however difficult, appear beautiful.

Delhi Development

Travelling to India from Rwanda was an extremely interesting experience. Having studied India extensively for my International Development degree, the India that I had imagined, based on the development literature, was far for the reality I experienced once landed in New Delhi. I suspect, that if I had never lived in sub-Saharan Africa and I flown from Canada to India, I would have been more affected by the poverty that is still pervasive in India. But instead, coming from Rwanda, I was more impressed by the industry and the wealth. Only 12% of India’s GDP is from imports, which means that a huge amount of their resources are found within their own country and their massive population both drives the demand, and supplies industry with the human capital to meet the demands. Within Delhi I was overwhelmed by the number of massive malls filled with retail activity, and then as we left Delhi, I was even more impressed by the large manufacturing centers where the world’s biggest brand names from all industries were sprawled on busy factory buildings. It became clear to me just how far Sub-Saharan Africa has yet to go before they can be considered global economic players.

Genocide Week

During the first week of April, Rwanda shuts down for Memorial Week to remember those who were killed during the genocide in 1994 and to say, as a country, “never again”. The theme this year was “hope”; an indication that even during a week dedicated to mourning, the country continues to look forward rather than backwards. During the week, commemorative events are held, including a candle light procession to the memorial in Kigali, and a service at the stadium in town. Music and dancing at any time are prohibited and the country takes on a definite feeling of mourning. It is a reminder to us all that while Rwanda amazes everyone with the strides it has taken to overcome its past obstacles, there is an important lesson, which is not to be forgotten, lying not far in its past. However, the word “hope” is a key message here, and one that Rwandans do not take lightly. Once the week finished, the call to go back to work was heard and the regular bustle in Kigali resumed with amazing efficiency as everyone kept their eyes on the prosperous future they so clearly want to realize.

Visit to the Taj Mahal

As if living in Rwanda is not enough, I recently jetted off for a week to India. I was fortunate enough to travel around New Delhi, Jaipur and Agra – the so called “Golden Triangle”

India was spectacular and I’m ready to write several blog entries from my first time on the Asian continent, but my favourite thing was by far the Taj Mahal.

The monument far surpasses any representation of it, not only is it huge, but the artistry and craftsmanship are phenomenal on their own, not to mention the fact that it was all done over 400 years ago. The Taj Mahal was built by 22,000 people over 22 years and has got to be the most spectacular monument built in the name of love on the planet. Usually when one considers the great monuments of the world they are feats of engineering and technology built by a male who wants to demonstrate how big his ego is. But the Taj is built in honour of a King’s wife; it’s a monument that symbolizes the generosity of love rather than immortalization of egoism. The reality of this hits you when you enter inside and look at the tombs of the King and Queen. The Queen’s tomb is perfectly in the center of the Taj and everything from the fountains to the entrance gate, mosque and guest house expand from her in perfect symmetry. The King, however, is squeezed into a space next to her, off center and clearly an afterthought to the design. Perhaps this was his last great gesture to her, even in the afterlife, to put her before his own royal ego and therefore immortalizing himself as a man best known for his extravagant devotion.

Lunch Time Conversations

One of the most interesting conversations I have had with Rwandese has surprisingly been about homosexuality. Here, as in many African countries I have been to, men holding hands is common, and done as a sign of close friendship. It’s reminiscent of children guiding each other along the road to school and symbolizes a spirit of close fraternity that I think, due to a fear of being seen as anything other than heterosexual, North American men are not able to enjoy. Most Rwandese I talk to have a firm belief that homosexuality is rare or something that happens to people they don’t know. This helps men to follow cultural practices such as holding hands, and when on the dance floor, even grind with one another. At a recent party in Butaro it was interesting to be a part of a dance floor in which the ratio of men to women was about 75 to 10 and most men were comfortable grinding and dancing closely to each other!

At lunch my colleagues and I have great discussions about issues regarding culture and relationships as it applies to young Rwandese; how does one address the conflicting pull of western influences and traditional values? Recently, my male colleagues were debating homosexuality. However they were not discussing whether homosexuality is wrong or right, but rather whether or not it even exists in Rwanda. Those who have studied outside of the continent say with confidence that does occur in Kigali and can even name the district in town known for its homosexual population. However, those who have not had the luxury of a western education vow that it cannot happen in Rwanda.

When I asked them all what they think of homosexuality though, there was no disagreement amongst them that it is a sin. I challenged them by asking what they feel about discrimination – a topic Rwandese know all too well – and asked them whether discrimination based on sexuality is any different from racial or tribal differences. Regardless of whether they ever embrace homosexuals as a normal part of their population, I think it is important to continue the dialogue, challenge and debate.

Umuganda - Community Participation Day

Rwanda is very interesting from a local government point of view. The country is divided down to very small community groups called Umadugadu (I have to check that spelling) and community leaders are responsible for taking care of their neighbourhoods. To start any community project in Rwanda, you need to work your way up from the local leader up to the ministries because without the local authority’s approval, nothing will get done.

On the last Saturday of every month, Rwanda has a community service day called Umuganda. For three hours in the morning, community members are suppose to work on a project designated by the Umudugadu leaders. It is a wonderful way for the community to work together to keep the neighbourhood in good condition and in the afternoon everyone get together to enjoy sports games and socialize.

Last month for Umuganda I was up north visiting Emily, friend of mine who works for Partners in Health (the public health organization started by Paul Farmer). She is helping to set up a health clinic and is very much a part of her Umudugadu. So, in line with community participation I headed out with the PIH crew to hoe some ditches.

I have to say, I am terrible with a hoe, and despite receiving numerous lessons on my technique I was more a comical display than a useful addition to the team! In the end, my hoe was seized by a more experienced hoer and I was left to dance, sing and practice my Kirwandan as entertainment to the locals.

The Expat Life

When living abroad I do my best to connect with the local population, to live in a manner that has a limited impact on my environment and to at all times I strive to be culturally sensitive and appropriate. However, I will admit that there is the odd occasion when I join what in Ghana we used to call “the Dip Life” (dip being short for diplomat) and enjoy a little of the more glamorous side to living abroad. For St. Patrick’s day, the Irish Ambassador was in town and the Irish community decided to throw a ball in his honour. In true Irish style there was lots of alcohol – including a shipment of Guinness from Ireland, great food and great company. These balls are the highlight for many expat communities in several many countries – I know of annual Irish balls in Tanzania and Zambia - but this was Rwanda’s first and it was a blast! Here are a few pictures to juxtapose to the previous ones I’ve posted. It was definitely a strange experience to be all dressed up in Rwanda and very far removed from the actual reality of life outside the ballroom. Nevertheless it was a wonderful evening and I was able to meet new people and break out a few dance moves.

The black velvet reception (champagne and Guinness) with Roomate Erik and Mike (above)

My wonderful and talented roomate Stephanie and I dancing up a storm (below left)

Pre-dinner coctails with Stephanie and Kate (below right)

I love my job.
Last week I went to visit a women's cooperative in the east of Rwanda. They make banana wine and I asked them if they would be willing to also start supplying my organization, Sustainable Health Enterprises (SHE), with banana fiber from the part of the tree they currently throw away. SHE would use the fiber to make the low cost, environmentally friendly sanitary pads for Rwandan women and girls (for more info on what I do see http://www.sheinnovates.com/)

The day was truly amazing. I drove up in a car with four women and we laughed and sang and danced to music (as best as we could in the rather cramped car). At the half way point between Kigali and Ngoma, we stopped for a breakfast of omlet, bread and "African Tea" (which is a special spiced sour milk tea drink) and I felt as though I was hanging out with my girlfriends back home. But the president of the coop, Christine, is not just a fun person to spend the day with, she is a sharp business woman and when, after a three hour drive, we arrived at her banana farm she had a tour and a demonstration planned to show me how they extract banana fibre.

Her banana wine cooperative was amazing to see, and learning that the coop ensures that the children of their workers all go to school emphasized the point made in so many academic articles I've read over the years - women don't just do business to take the profits and leave, they give back to thier communities. It was fantastic to see these women in action, to learn how to do their craft and to spend the day with such inspiring business women.

Christine, Me and Claudine inspecting banana stalk, and then, me taking my turn to learn how to extract fibre from the stem of the banana tree.

Where Your Old Haloween Costumes Are

Going anywhere from my house means walking for a good 15 minutes from my house to the main road up a very uneven dirt road that winds through a small village. It is impossible to walk through the village without collected a gaggle of kids, all wanting to hold your hand and people call to you, “Bonjour” or “Good Morning” (regardless of what time of day it is). Over the past three weeks I have made an attempt to befriend my neighbours and I have become good friends with one very sweet 11 year old who insists on walking me all the way to my door regardless of what he was doing before I showed up.

But my favourite are the babies. Yesterday, as I approached the main thoroughfare, a small child of about 2 spotted me and started to run, or should I say waddle, towards me as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was excitedly yelling “Mzungu, mzungu!” at the top of his lungs. He was made all the more adorable by the fact that he was wearing a pumpkin costume! Before he could crash into my legs, I scooped him up into my arms and gave him a kiss. A cute little pumpkin running to greet me - there could not be a better welcome home.

Genocide Memorial

When I mentioned to people that I was going to Rwanda, it is inevitable that they asked me if it is safe; the answer? Very. Many of us, myself included have images taken from the movie Hotel Rwanda – which I have actually visited – see below pictures of the Hotel Mille Colline – and hold onto impressions of war because for those of us who have never been in a war zone, it is hard to imagine both the violence and the life after it. We see it in movies as pieces of history, rather than the long progression it really is. That being said, of all the places I have been on this continent – I have never felt so safe, or met people so peaceful. Yet the genocide is still very much a part of the people’s history and important to learn about when trying to get an understanding of how this countries works.

On my second day, I went with Emily, a friend of mine from Tanzania/Boston, and my housemate Stephanie to the genocide museum. The museum was exceptionally well done, and in defiance of the way the rest of the world had ignored them in 1994, the exhibition refused to let anyone run away from any of the gruesome facts. Pictures, videos, and testimonies coupled with factual and historical information brought what to me is horrifying and incomprehensible into some sort of barely digestible form. However, within minutes of entering the memorial, the emotion, jet lag, sun and dehydration all began to accumulate at an alarming state and I fainted. Emily, helped me to sit down, drink some water and soon we were able to continue; nevertheless we did not make it to the second floor of the exhibit – it was just too much. Although I think it was an important thing to see and learn about, I am not sure I will be returning any time soon.

The picture of the three of us is taken outside the genocide museum - our smiles are a bit forced and a bit misplaced.

Tales of a Little Nomad

Welcome to my new blog!

I've finally decided to get on the blogging bandwagon and write down my insights and adventures as I make my way around the world – or at least, for now Rwanda. My only regret is that I did not start blogging four years ago when I left for Ghana and started this crazy life I have been leading. Just think of all the stories I could have been documenting!

I thought it best to start my new site off with a little background information on my current situation and activities. I am currently living in Rwanda and will be in Kigali for the next 6 months or so. Rwanda is my eighth African country and hopefully not the last. It is so different from other places I have been and has truly begun to claim a place in my heart. It is so small, so beautiful and so peaceful (not the image you had from movies like Hotel Rwanda eh? But this is 15 years after) Compared the bustle of West Africa, or the extravagantly beautiful coasts of Tanzania, Rwanda is the shy sibling who is working diligently in the background and will, at some point, spring forth to surprise all those who doubted her.

My work here is for an US organization called Sustainable Health Enterprises (SHE) and I am responsible for setting up the pilot phase of our first project manufacture and distribute low cost sanitary pads with the intention of creating income and jobs, solve women’s health and sanitation issues, and improve school attendance among girls. It’s definitely a challenge and a lot of fun. I feel like a true entrepreneur – alone in Rwanda forging ahead to implement an incredible idea and set up an entire organization in a new country. For more info go to www.sheinnovates.com

I hope you will enjoy reading and will feel free to comment and pass it along. My hope is that this blog will enable me to stay in better touch with all the wonderful people I miss who live around the world. I will do my best to keep things interesting, insightful and attach lots of pictures.