I Saw the Rains Down in Africa

Greetings from Gulu!!! The following is a recap on my last few weeks in Rwanda and the first few days here in northern Uganda. It's QUITE long, I'll try to keep posts shorter and more frequent, but power is down quite oftern so I'll try my best. Peace and Love!!

15/09/2010
Where are we, what the hell is going on?
I’m surrounded by so much life here. The hills are breathtakingly beautiful and the earth it so green that it just exudes peace and inspiration, yet I know that this has been a place of unimaginable hell. I can’t understand how a place of so much beauty could have set the stage for so much bloodshed. Yesterday, we visited the Murambi Memorial site, a hill that was intended to host a high school. Before the building was finished, however, it had become the final resting place for the 50,000 people killed there in the span of a couple weeks. The trenches carelessly dug for them were so many bodies deep, that when finally exhumed, many had been well protected from the elements. For this reason, hundreds of bodies have been preserved in limestone. Mainly women and children, their shrunken corpses are laid out on tables in what feels to be endless hallways of would-be classrooms. The smell is inescapable, and the shells of what should have been happy children were heartbreaking. We met one survivor. His name is Emmanuel, and his wife and five children were killed on the hill. He was shot in the head but somehow managed to escape. He’s there everyday. I wonder why he chooses to stay in such a hopeless place, but I can’t say he would have anywhere else to go. When he sat in our circle and told us what had happened to his family, none of us could say anything. Saying “sorry for your loss” just felt so meaningless to try to communicate to someone who had his entire world stolen from him. I started to imagine my own father and how he would do absolutely anything for my siblings and me. I can only begin to imagine how helpless Emmanuel felt. A man should have the right to protect his family. Instead, he stays at Murambi. If he couldn’t save them, I guess he will have to settle for ensuring that they won’t be forgotten.
We visited the Women’s Association, a co-op comprised of surviving widows and the widows of convicted perpetrators, and though none of them spoke a word of English, their eyes reflected so many stories of pain and perseverance. I realized that some of the women I saw today could have very easily been some of the corpses I witnessed yesterday at the Murambi Memorial, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of bravery and strength these women have demonstrated just to get out of bed every morning, much less having to rise from the ashes as a homeless head of household. I wonder if these women can ever truly know peace or if they are continuously haunted by the horrific days of ’94. I feel haunted by the dozens of limestoned victims that I saw yesterday, and I never even heard their cries for mercy. I didn’t smell the thousands and thousands of instances of rotting and forgotten flesh I will never know the fear that they must have felt on the top of that hill when they realized there was no escape.


22/09/2010
Change your Words into Truth and then Change that Truth into Love
The musical universe is very much on my side, I feel. Last night, I saw a video of George Michael and Mary J. Blige covering Stevie Wonder’s “As,” absolutely one of my favorite songs. And then right before my mom called me, the Spice Girl’s “Mama” video came on, and totally rocked my world. But then Michael Bolton’s “Can I Touch You…There?” came on and though it was HILARIOUS, I felt super awkward watching it with Papá, so I went to bed. Random music videos have definitely become one of my favorite parts about Africa.
Getting to more important things, we just returned from a local NGO called Uyisenga N’Mazi (roughly translated into Hope for those in the dark) concerned with orphans of the genocide, young people affected by HIV/AIDS, victims of sexual violence, and I’m completely inspired by what they are accomplishing and their dedication to this imperative cause. Many of the staff members are widows themselves and their drive to help others is so contagious that we all left the office feeling amazing. Though I also feel like my life up to this point has been completely insignificant because I haven’t really done anything to help people on the scale that this small group of committed individuals has accomplished. The woman in charge of planning and advocacy is widowed, but has managed to raise her two daughters along with eight additional orphans, four of whom are currently attending university, not to mention the fact that she was able to get her degree as well. Isaac, their legal counsel, is an orphan himself and has raised three siblings with the help of this organization’s services. Their vision for the future and the progress they’ve been able to make in addressing trauma paints a beautiful picture of the incredible hope this country has shown in the face of so much pain.

23/09/2010
If you like Piña Coladas…
I’m sitting in Shakola right now while the sky is beating down around us—the sweet smells of apple, coffee, and rain are wafting through the air while shadows from the lanterns and a candle light flames dance in between the earth-toned cushions. No one else is really here except for one or two customers. Life is such a blessing right now. I feel like one can only be allotted so many moments like this in a lifetime. There’s a peace here in Kigali that is completely illogical. The resilience and strength that permeate these hills feel like such a beacon of hope. Yes, some days I feel like the tragedies here are very nearly swallowing me whole, but then moments like this just come and kiss you on the forehead and wake up to the new world that is tirelessly being created here.
Last night, I had the best conversation with Papá, first about gay rights and discrimination and then about dating norms. I was pleasantly surprised by his open-mindedness, but then again, I haven’t seen any side of him that would indicate any different. Contrary to many of his Ugandan neighbors in the Northeast, Papá was very adamant that if one expects others to respect our own culture, one must be respectful of other people’s cultures and choices. He told me that the idea to make homosexuality illegal had come up in Rwanda’s Parliament until someone brought up the simple fact that the government does not need to be concerned with what people do in their beds. I was so relieved to hear him say this. I was under the impression the homophobia was just a part of Africa, but I’m happy to know now that that is not entirely the case.

26/09/2010
Got me Workin’, Workin’ Day and Night
Yesterday, I participated in Muganda, the monthly community workday in which all of Rwanda works from 8-11am on local projects. We walked down the hill from our house and helped with the digging of a trench for drainage along side the dirt road. Others cut down a few trees to restore a bridge that was falling apart. Most people were really surprised to see a foreigner working on their neighborhood, but what I initially thought was just friendly support, sort of turned into, “Let’s watch the mzungu attempt manual labor,” and I felt a little more than embarrassed. I guess I had never really used a hoe before, and I think my learning curve was just holding up the entire process. I was able to briefly help shovel out some of the soil though. Papá was worried I would injure myself for lack of experience, so my muganda experience mainly turned into moral support and getting to meet a lot of neighbors. I felt like a jerk for not really doing much, but Papá explained that muganda is just about showing your support for the community and contributing what you can. Everyone takes turns doing the labor, though I still felt less than helpful. Despite my minimal contribution, however, I still ended up with a small blister on my hand and an extremely sore shoulder this morning… It’s safe to say I’m in need of some practice. I think the best part was sitting down and chatting with a group of local women. With Papá translating, they asked me questions about myself and we exchanged some small English/Kinyarwanda lessons. I was astonished at what was accomplished in less than 3 hours with no more than some shovels, hoes, and machetes; they started and finished a trench for the entire length of the road and built a bridge out of three standing trees. The value of this civic duty was unmistakable. It was just another indicator of the incredible spirit in Rwanda. I guess after going to hell and back, people come to understand the value of working together. I know much of it is government tag lines and positive propaganda, but I feel a sense of genuine compassion and brotherhood here. It makes me sad and frustrated for so many of the societal norms in the US. We’re taught that the American Dream is take equal opportunity by the reins and get as much as you can, but we’re missing the collective effort. It feels like as Americans, we are supposed to get as far ahead in life as possible and then part our guard up so that no one can bring us down, but witnessing the transformation from hatred and nothingness to prosperity and harmony in just 16 years shows the hidden potential of human kind. There is still much damage to be repaired here—I don’t want to completely romanticize a post-genocide society, but the future is looking bright.

28/09/2010
Don’t Blame it on the Good Times, Blame it on the Boogie
I found out what I love the most about my homestay—having dance parties with little Garnaud in the kitchen to Michael Jackson. I had been reluctant to bring out my ipod and speakers due to my siblings’ affinity for grabbing and pulling at things, but it became an easy way to connect with my brother Cyuzuzo when conversation is otherwise extremely difficult. At first it was Chris Brown and Beyonce, but when I started playing my favorite MJ tunes, Garnaud’s eyes completely lit up, and he started twitching around with his baddest Michael moves. I could not be happier about this. Clementine, our house girl, even came inside to dance with us, and it was one of the few times I’ve seen her genuinely smile. She is always so terribly quiet and shy that it was amazing to see her coming out of her shell. I should have done this as soon as I got here, though 7 yr. old Cherabin has already dropped my camera once fighting over it with his sister. I just put the speakers on a high shelf and we get down. Now, Michael Jackson is the only thing Garnaud wants to hear whenever I bust them out, and I’m absolutely alright with that. He loudly sings along with random syllables in whatever key he feels fits, and it’s awesome. Hearing him sing “Heal the World” is my new favorite sound, and my obsession with music has just continued to expand since I crossed the Atlantic. I am never surprised but continuously inspired by its ability to connect people and make any occasion better. It’s usually just Garnaud, Cherabin, Kirezi, and me on the dance floor. Clementine joins in sometimes in between cooking as well, and sometimes we’ll get a few glimpses of Cyuzuzo working it out. I’ll be sitting around, just hanging out, and Garnaud pulls on my arm and says “Michael Jackson!” After that, it’s on. Cherabin has some pretty legitimate MJ dance moves, and Kirezi is completely sassy. I love when Cherabin and Garnaud tag team it, and start mirroring each other. They get this attitude that’s far beyond being too cool for school. Life would be much less fun in Rwanda without our random dance parties, so I’m glad to say it has become practically a daily tradition.
I’m honestly scared for when I have to leave my family. I don’t know when I’ll ever get to see them again, though I have a strong feeling that this won’t be my last visit to Rwanda. I wonder if Garnaud will even remember me. Other than Papá, I definitely spend the most time with him and already have so many games and inside jokes. I know I’ll cry having to leave them, and I sincerely hope we will all be able to keep in touch. I’m going to need emails, letters, and photos on a regular basis. I’m so grateful that I actually feel like a part of the family. I’m starting to freak out about having a different family in Gulu. I know I shouldn’t have too many expectations, but my Rwandan family is just so amazing that I can’t just trade them in for a new family in a new country. It’s going to happen; I’m just a bit reluctant for it.


17/10/2010
I Felt the Rains down in Africa

I can’t really believe I’ve been here for 2 months already. Am I seriously almost half way done?? Leaving Rwanda was extremely difficult, but I’ve felt completely enchanted by Gulu since we got here last week. I only wish I didn’t have to leave my Rwandan family. I must have cried 5 times the day that I left. I just wish I knew when, if ever, I’ll be able to see them again. I became so close with Garnaud, and I’m scared he won’t even remember me. I had to spend a brief night in the hospital with a bacterial infection, and Mamá and Papá spent the better part of their afternoon keeping me company. Mamá came back the next morning with Garnaud and hung out with me till they finally let me leave. My blood pressure had gotten dangerously low, and I had a crazy fever but was good to go after an IV and some rest. The next day was my very sad departure, and though I wasn’t expecting it, my family had gotten me a few sweet parting gifts. Papá even wrote me a letter and read it aloud in front of all of us—safe to say that I didn’t exactly keep it together. It’s difficult to articulate the phenomenon that is family. It was less than one month that I spent with them, but I truly love them all and felt genuinely loved in a situation that could have easily been utterly isolating. It definitely helped that Papá spoke such good English, but I couldn’t say how much of my communication with the rest of my family was linguistic. It became all about the shared experiences, shared meals, and universal gestures. Cultural boundaries seemed to just melt away. I absolutely have to make it a point to keep in touch with them, and keep these ties.

I’ve been with my new Gulu family for a few days now, and I feel so lucky to be becoming a part of this family. I have a mom and a dad, 5 year-old and 9 month-old brothers (Jerry and Jesse), a 16 year-old sister who is actually their niece (Docus), and a 23 year-old cousin who stays with them (Joseph) and we live on a small compound with 11 other families. The housing situation is kind of hard to explain, but our rooms are connected by an outdoor hallway so I walk outside to get to the sitting room. I share a small room with Docus, and though I’m spoiled with a bed and a mosquito net, I’m usually woken up by small cockroaches in my bed :-/ I didn’t do any cooking in Rwanda, but today, I helped cut up and cook some very bloody liver, chopped some veggies, and peeled a bucket of potatoes. My family is very patient with me and doesn’t seem to mind explaining how to do things the right way. Power goes out a lot, so I’ve taken two showers by candle light in the rain. I’ve found that a bucket of warm water and a candle is more than enough for a lovely bathing experience. Add in the light from all the lightning, I could have practically read in there. Though this isn’t the coush life of Kigali, but the skies here are absolutely incredible, and I’ve felt nothing but love from my new fam. Everyday is a new adventure, and I’m so grateful I have this opportunity.