a learning community

Some wise friends have asked (and I hope future interviewers will too) what I've learned here.  As the year is nearing it's close, I am happy to reflect on the many lessons that the learning community of Agahozo-Shalom gave me.  In a couple of categories, here's some of the things ASYV has taught me.

some really tangible lessons:
1) How to jimmy a lock.  I break into my and others' rooms extremely frequently, as well as my own, just to get my work done.
2) How to save frogs, and why to save frogs.  A lizard in your room can survive, but a frog will die without moisture and that is gross and sad.  Saving frogs is no easy task, as they hop around a lot, but with some skillful maneuvering every frog can make it back outside. 
3) How to hoe.  Thank you members of Patrice Lumumba family.

some less tangible, but potentially more important lessons:
1) Even if my ideas are excellent, and will make everyone happy, everyone still would likely rather not be told them.  Everyone likes to be heard, so give everyone a chance to speak up and have their ideas considered before making a change that affects them.  Someone remind me of this when I have kids and again when I'm just a few steps away from achieving world peace.
2) I don't work in the clinic. In other words, there's nothing life or death urgent in my work.  So I should walk rather than run, as a good friend once told me.  In the end it usually takes the same amount of time, and if I run I spend more time waiting and cursing, whereas if I walk I get to see the birds along the way (this is both metaphorical and very literal).  This is a big jump from my "everything is urgent" mentality of the DC activism world, and it will be interesting to reconcile the two.
3) I have a culture that I got from my upbringing and history, and it's very different from other people's cultures.  While I still believe that people are the same, more or less, and have the same basic goals, I've learned that cultural differences are very real, and should not be underestimated.  That doesn't mean that they should ever impede collaboration, but they should certainly be honored if collaboration is to work.

I've learned much more, including how to expect the most from people, how to teach about the present perfect tense, and how to find family in 16 teenagers.  Mostly I've learned that most things I thought I knew were only partially true, at least here, and that if I want to keep knowing things, I'd better be prepared to keep learning, probably forever.

Would You Like Tikkun Olam with that?

Giving ain't easy.  As a cash-strapped 20-something I frequently feel compelled to give to causes, but can't bring myself to give more than the occasional small donation.  And, I'm sure, many 20-somethings join me in occasionally failing to give because we think that our small donation is "too small to make a difference."

Well, here at Agahozo-Shalom, our kids find no such obstacles.  Par example:

This winter our director told the kids about a country not unlike theirs that had been devastated by an earthquake. Within a few weeks and with a few starter ideas from the staff, the kids were well on their way to raising money to help the kids of Ha-i-ti (how we pronounce it here).

The kids gave up meat for two weeks, asking that the village instead donate the money to Haiti.  The kids and staff donated their personal funds, and the canteen gave all pencil sales profits to the cause.  In the end a village of Rwandan orphans raised $800 for Haiti.  We sent the money, along with cards from the kids, with the JDC's envoy to Haiti.

Amazed?  Me too, and it continues:

My co-adviser to the Canteen Club and I had just completed interviews of all of our club members asking them what they most want to do in life, in hopes of getting some ideas about how we can use the club to help them learn about things they are interested in.  Many of the kids expressed interest in helping other kids like themselves, with some even explaining that they wanted to be like Anne Heyman, the founder of our village.  As we created new projects for the canteen based on these interviews, we asked these kids to be in charge of the canteen's tikkun olam (more on this phrase later).

They handily took on the challenge deciding to collect money for school supplies for kids in the surrounding village of Rubona.  Now, whenever the canteen is open, the kids ask customers (or sometimes sternly encourage customers) to give their change to the cause.  They've also increased the price for Fanta such that 10 Rwandan francs from each Fanta sale goes to the tikkun olam fund.

Why are these kids so awesome and able to give?  I could hypothesize for hours, but two environmental factors surely contribute:

1) Rwanda is a country in which giving is not seen as optional.  It is not uncommon to meet a woman with 2 or 3 surviving biological children and 3 or 4 adopted children.  It is not uncommon to for distant relatives, or even strangers to pay an orphaned child's school expenses.  Whenever I express my amazement at this giving culture, they explain that it is what they must do in a country where needs are immense. 

2) Tikkun Olam, or the concept of repairing the world taught in Judaism, is a major tenet of the philosophy here at Agahozo-Shalom.  The village encourages the kids first to practice Tikkun HaLev, or repairing their hearts, and then Tikkun Olam, repairing the world.  We talk about the concepts a lot here in the village, and the kids also live them through therapeutic activities and, as they get older, through programmed Tikkun Olam activities in the community surrounding our village.  Every Tuesday, our older kids go out into the community and plant gardens for people with AIDS or fix walls for widows.  They help out at the local clinic and teach kids at the nearby school.  Every term we hold a fundraiser to fund the kids' Tikkun Olam projects and the kids and staff have a ball getting the funds together.

Wow, right?  These kids didn't let their small donations scare them away from giving, and now neither can ours.  In such spirit, where's your favorite place to donate your small change?

A Very 5th of July Blog

As you can see by the title, I wrote this blog a long time ago.  BUT, who doesn't want to read about what we once thought about the present?  Rwanda's presidential election already happened, with almost no opposition to the incumbent President and with some upheaval beforehand.  You can read about it here, or just check out my post that I wrote about 5 weeks before the election to give you a sense of politics in Rwanda.

Normally I wouldn't write a blog post in the middle of a work day like this.  But, today isn't a work day.  It's a holiday.  Who knew?

Yesterday was Rwanda's Liberation Day - the 16th anniversary of the RPF's entry into Kigali, marking a key endpoint to the 1994 genocide.  My friend explained that for years and years before that date many were barred from entering Kigali, especially Tutsis (interestingly, on the way to Kigali this weekend, we were barred from entry until we showed a guard our IDs...and one man without an ID was removed from the bus).  So today, in his morning radio address, the President announced that everyone should take an additional day off for the holiday today.  Since I'm not so excellent at listening to the radio here, especially in the early morning, I showed up at a mostly empty office today.

Sound a little different from what you are accustomed to in the U.S.A.?  It is different.  Rwanda's democracy faces a lot of obstacles, and even without those, the vision for a Rwandan democracy is different from what we'd likely yearn for. 

A few weeks ago, in an effort to educate the kids on civics in advance of the August presidential elections, the village celebrated "Democracy Day."  The kids had spirited discussions on what sort of democracy they value.  In one group conversation, one of the kids remarked that an electoral result of 60-40 is a big problem.  How, he wondered, could a ruler say he is the leader when 40% of the country oppose him?  I piped up, saying that I value a strong opposition, as it keeps the leader from thinking he or she can do anything.  Other kids questioned whether in a country of diverse viewpoints it would be possible to have a leader elected with more than 90% of the vote.

Also at issue was political parties.  In the last year, a number of political parties in Rwanda have been barred from registering to participate in the upcoming presidential elections.  One woman's campaign was called off after she was arrested for promoting "genocidal ideology."  While some Rwandans lament the lack of a multitude of options among political parties, while others noted that in a post-conflict state, it was hard to tell which political parties were actually masked militias, and thus supported the limitations.

I like to compare Rwanda's current status to America's in 1796.  Right now the incumbent President is running for his second term, of two he is currently allowed to hold.  In seven years his time will be up, and we will see if he gives up power, and if it's done in a contested election.

Muchakamuchaka and Cultivating

Last Saturday, I arose to the sound of teenage boys yelling "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO".  At 5am.  And so I was awake, and my beloved neighbors (really - I love the excitement of living next to these guys) unknowingly got me to rejoin a Saturday morning ritual in the village that I'd been skipping (in favor of sleep...a right I reserve to keep in the future) - Muchakamuchaka.

Every Saturday at 6am, the kids in the village (often begrudgingly, but sometimes not so) gather outside their houses for an early morning run.  A staff member - usually a security guard - leads them in some stretches, and then they are off.  I am not ever one for running, but I think I could make running part of my life if I was always ran surrounded by 40 kids doing cheers.  As we run (at a very Micaela-acceptable pace, by the way) the kids take turns leading the cheers, which, according to my crude translation, seem to be about water, Rwanda and who knows what else.  I never really know what they are saying, but I try to yell AMAZE  (water) at the right times like the rest of the kids. It's awesome.  By the time we've run around the village twice, I'm exhausted, yet somehow exhilarated...enough to get me to blog at 7am!

After muchakamuchaka is farm - an activity I also attend only periodically (for both of these traditions both attending AND not attending are rewarding choices for me...sometimes much needed sleep and sometimes much needed fun...talk about win win!).  

A lot of times farm time is a time for the kids to get a good haha out of my mediocre hoing skills (improving, improving) and a time for us to swap songs (Rwandan ones for English ones).   It's also a time for us to make a lasting impact on the village, as we clear the weeds from the football field or plant jacaranda trees that will someday path the walkway to the school (please note that farm time does not always involve the farm).  Last week, as we hoed away massive amounts of brush (Bush was right...it is fun) a kid and I discussed entrepreneurship in a place with diminishing resources.  As we cleared brush on top of a mountain, he and I brainstormed about what new jobs could be created in Rwanda's cities.  The kids often call what we are doing during farm time "cultivating" (a word made significantly more beautiful if you hear it in a Rwandan accent).  I think it's an excellent way to describe the goal of Saturday mornings, and it's usually how I feel when I fall down into my bed after I've been cultivated.

Jobs in the Gulf of Mexico

Dear Mr. President,
I know you don't have so much time to read my blog (maybe only once a week, right?), but, when you get the chance, I have a story and an idea for you.

While traveling around Rwanda over the last month, I've seen a curious sight.  Hundreds of workers digging ditches, taking work breaks midday, and holding cables that look like red, gold and green ribbons along the side of the road. 

Why do these workers and ribbon-cables flank my rides to and from Kigali, you ask?  These workers are laying fiber-optic cables with the purpose of bettering Rwanda's internet connectivity.  This big investment may reap big rewards if it encourages more businesses to work in Rwanda, but I'm more excited about the immediate rewards.  Hundreds and hundreds are being employed to lay these cables, so this investment is improving lives in the short-term. 

This leads me to our own country.  I am, like so many others, worried about the long-term effects of the oil spill on our Gulf's ecosystem and the surrounding environment.  But I'm even more worried about the people who've lost jobs that depended on the Gulf's healthy waters.  After Katrina and the recession, another setback was the last thing the Gulf Coast economy needed.

While many fishermen and others no longer have livlihoods due to the spill, they do have something else quite unique.  They have a deep understanding of the waters the oil is currently polluting. While oil spill clean-up and tracking may not be their original training, they are particularly well suited for this task.  They know their way around the Gulf and its wildlife.

I see that in your proposed legislation you provide for funding for further inspections and environmental studies, as well as unemployment benefits and training for those who have lost jobs.  Can we instruct the employment training centers to train workers with the skills needed to address, track and ameliorate the spill's environmental impact?  Can we get these former fishing experts jobs in clean up, environmental tracking and seafood inspections? New skills are needed in the Gulf, and the recently unemployed men and women who once sailed and fished those seas are well-prepared for the job. 

One more step, to turn this short-term job solution into a long-term community strengthening plan.  How about getting these workers together to start to plan long-term development for their area?  We don't know how long it will be before the Gulf can have a fishing economy again, but something innovative can replace this economy.  Let's let these guys begin to work on it.

Thanks for your time.  Let me know how I can help.
Micaela

PS-Also, thanks for honoring Paul McCartney. Watching the White House rock out to the Beatles was too awesome!

Murambi Genocide Memorial

Last weekend my belief that we can prevent conflict was shaken while my desire to figure out how to do it was strengthened.  After my visit to Murambi Genocide Memorial, all I could think was "this could happen again."

Murambi was supposed to be a technical school, built on a beautiful hill in southern Rwanda.  During the genocide up to 65,000 Tutsis from the region took refuge there after they were told that the church they were hiding in was unsafe.  In reality, it was a plot to concentrate them.  They stayed there for two weeks without water or electricity, and on April 21st, a mass attack left almost 45,000 dead as many more died after an initial escape. 

The memorial consists mainly of the school itself, and inside, on bed frames and tables, hundreds of preserved skeletons and remains of the people they had found in the mass graves that were created.  It is horrifying to see, as you can clearly distinguish children, clothes, and even hair.  Perhaps the saddest part of the memorial is the people who have family there. I've met a number of people, including our guide, whose families are there, sometimes unidentified due to bodily decay, but somewhere visible to the public.  One survivor, whose story can be found here, explains why he works at the memorial (taken from the memorial website):

"I endure it because there’s no alternative, but it’s really hard and scary for us to describe the things we witnessed. I also felt the need to take care of my family until they are buried, so I protect them. And there are people who need to know what happened here at Murambi and I explain to them."

It seems like the massacre at Murambi happened a little too easily.  Tens of thousands, in just a few days, concentrated and killed, a full two weeks after the mass killing in Rwanda began, and even more weeks after UN officials were warned of weapons stockpiles.  If the Murambi massacre could happen so easily even while the world had warning, what's to say that anywhere, where the right confluence of factors occurs, can be safe from atrocities, that develop quickly to a massive scale?

Having met the people who work there, I can only say that my own burdens that drive me towards preventing mass atrocities, feel like feathers compared to their burdens.  I also know that my own conviction to prevent this from happening again is stronger, and will be followed with greater resolve.

Someone else we know also wants to prevent conflict, but with pelicans to save and elections to stump for, he might need some reminding.  Read Obama's leaked National Security Strategy, and make sure he knows we all have an interest in him following through on his commitment to preventing mass atrocities.

New Birth Control

As discussions of Don't Ask Don't Tell's implications and possible repeal abound back home (write your Congressperson here), we too discussed homosexuality here at the village this week.

Every Wednesday the debate club chooses a topic and each family has a hearty discussion around it.  In the past, debates have been about uniforms and government and this week, homosexuality.

I was a little nervous about how this debate would go down.  I've heard some pretty anti-gay statements in the village, and, in nearby Uganda, a bill recently considered punishing homosexuality with death.

To my surprise, although many of the kids had deeply differing views, they agreed on one topic.  Respect.  After they offered their initial views, ranging from "it's wrong" to "it's an illness" to "is it an illness?" to "God didn't intend it" to "its great" to "why not?" I offered my own view.  I told them the same story I told in preschool (ok probably a lot more eloquent), about how in my family and in my community being gay is normal, and to me, it's not about whether you think it's wrong or right, but that you have to respect everyone, and create a tolerant space for everyone (ok I admit it, I think in preschool I just yelled A MAN CAN MARRY A MAN!...so not so similar).

The kids were totally into it.  "Of course we must respect them," they explained.  So obvious to them, when it is so not obvious to so many others.  Then, after a very curious question and answer session, where they asked about gay adoption and things of the sort, they resumed the debate.  My favorite answers included:

-Being gay is a good thing, because you won't get pregnant if you don't want to.  Pretty relevant answer to Nicholas Kristof's recent article on the effects of little birth control in Africa. 

-Why not experiment?  It is how we found straight sex too!

And my absolute favorite, of course was

-I can't say if it is right or wrong!  It's someone else's belief and hope.

Basically they were open minded, respectful, and curious.  Of course some of them believe homosexuality is wrong, but they seem to understand that that doesn't mean we can treat homosexuals poorly.  To me, this is a huge deal, and a huge lesson for so many others. 

Weekend Amazing

As my kettle soy sauce and peanut butter noodles cook, I thought I'd give a "what I did this weekend" typa post.  Tomorrow I'll be back at meetings and such, but this weekend kept me on my toes (one time literally).

Friday, after some morning meetings and challah making, the volunteers were treated to a mid-year excursion to a nearby lake for food and relaxation.  The most notable part of this lovely trip was that I saw an otter!  Sea mammal spotting is a favorite activity, so you can imagine my happiness!

Saturday, ASYV was hosting a regional competition in traditional dance, karate, songs and poems and 10 secondary schools came for the event.  Since the event was all in Kinyarwanda, I naturally needed a translator.  Much to my delight, one of the girls who has never translated for me took a turn at it!  I was quite lucky too, as because of her I learned that one of the slam poetry-esque performances was about bettering the world, including Rwanda, America and Israel.  This was NOT one of our kids (who live with Israelis and Americans), but one from another school.  The global perspective these kids have is pretty impressive.

I spent the rest of the Saturday watching kids in karate outfits and traditional headdresses perform.  By five pm, the canteen, which I and a couple other staff oversee as a group of kids run it, was supposed to open, but the event was still going and many staff wanted fanta at the event.  The kids adjusted quickly, setting up a table from which to sell Fanta, Coke and Chapati (a cross between pitas and pancakes) to everyone at the event.  The rest of the night at the canteen was busy as always, but it was fun to watch the kids adapt and innovate.  The next effort: figuring out how to make lines...or some orderly method so everyone who wants can buy food at the overcrowded but busy place.

This morning I went on a hike with two other volunteers with the goal of reaching a nearby spring.  We walked down the main road for a bit, but then veered onto a path down into a valley, and soon we were surrounded mostly by scenery of lush farms, wild flowers, awesome birds and astonished kids.  We made our way into the valley and met a farmer with some neat cows (African ones, with horns like viking hats) who, through some charades and three languages gave us some advice about how to get to the spring.  After more hiking we reached the spring, which was mainly underground water run-off, and through some miscommunication tried to proceed home by going up a steep hill, this time surrounded by acacia trees.  Near the top we realized we went the wrong way and followed a 4 year-old, bringing a small jug to fill with water, back down to the spring, where we continued our journey towards a road that we thought would lead home. 

Soon we could see rice patties covering the valley, big flat expanses of light green and yellow, with paths and straw huts for the women and men who work to the fields to take breaks in and let their children play in.  We meandered in and out of paths around the patties, getting lost, wondering why the workers were all yelling (likely to get rid of birds), and getting friendly directions from little kids and elder women...all in Kinyarwanda.  Finally, thanks to the varied input, we decided to cross the rice patty valley to reach the opposite ridge.  Since the rice patties are very wet and muddy, we had to walk along a mud ridge, basically the size of a curb, for 70 yards.  This ridge was NOT meant for walking on as it was covered in grass and not very stable.  We walked along tightrope-style, and when we made it to the middle divide (where it looked like potatoes were growing or a more raised bed) without falling in, we felt good. Upon turning right, however, the the ridge again became small and slippery and eventually we all had fallen calf-deep into rice-patty mud.  Adventure! Finally we made it across the patties with our friendly child guides and walked along the other ridge to our road.  Motos (like mopeds) picked us up and we headed back to the village, muddy but happy about our grand journey!

Upon returning home, practicing some new kinyarwanda words with the kids (the word for rice, especially), and washing off, I headed over to Family 7's house - the family I'm assigned to be a "family friend" to.  I like to check on their homework, but often have trouble coordinating schedules with them during the week, so it was great to get a big chunk of time to work with many of them.  They are a joy to be around, and it was great to translate math terms into kinyarwanda, quiz them on geography and just sing songs with them.  AND, as I get to do at least once a week, I got to pull out the all-important math order of operations pneumonic device - Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Sally (parenthesis, exponents, multiplication, division, addition, subtraction).  Any good week in the village includes getting to use this phrase.

So that was the weekend.  Pretty excellent.  My friend here recently said that it seems like I'm new to earth, given my enthusiasm over many things...and when we have weekend as diverse and interesting as this one, it seems to be no wonder that I act martian-like!

Friends, Countrymen, Send me your Shoes, your Whiteboard Markers, your ESL Books

Ever read my blog and think, wow, these kids are amazing, I want to help them!  I wonder how???

Well worry and wonder no longer.  If you like, we would LOVE for you to host a supply drive to fill up our container (leaving in July) with things the kids need.  All you need to do is contact Rachel Olstein at Rachel@asyv.org and she will help you get started.  See the flyer below to read what we need and for tips.

Here's a little story to inspire you.  Sports are very important to our kids, and we offer a number of opportunities from track to karate to basketball.  But, like all teenagers, these kids go through sports shoes amazingly quickly.  Last week, since most of our recent shoe donations had been used to go to the kids who arrived in the village without shoes, we were struggling to make sure that those whose shoes were completely worn also got them.  Happily, a volunteer had JUST arrived with a crate of sports shoes and when I brought them to the "store" (where the kids get clothes from the village) the kids happily found their sizes and brought them home to wear for sports that day.  Shoes on feet.  Excellent!

I could tell you a million similar stories about other items, but the basic point is, your donations make a direct impact in the kids' lives.  So read the flyer, and e-mail Rachel.  Don't worry about how much you get - even just putting a box in your office is a great start.  And good deeds are contagious...maybe you can get a number of workplaces/schools/shuls involved! 

Marakoze Cyane (thank you very much)!

Pretty pretty

Shalom! Muraho! It has been so long! 

I’ve been quite absent from this blog, mostly because I 've been quite absent from the village.  I went home for family matters for a while, and then jetted off to Israel for a seminar with the other JDC Jewish Service Corps members from around the world.  Now I’m back at Agahozo-Shalom, though, and I’m already getting back to work!

While I realize I must update you about Israel and home culture shock, I want to take advantage of my chance to look at the village with fresh eyes to give you a feel for the amazing environment I'm in.

As you may or may not know, that’s the “village” up there on my blog heading.  It’s situated on a hill above some of the thousand hills Rwanda is known for.  We have a view of Lake Mugesera and also the many many farms that dot the landscape.  My favorite is the banana farms because they look like a bunch of stars bursting from the mountainside. 
 
Walking around the village is a sensory experience that often helps clear my mind.  The clouds here are almost fake in their billowy-ness and when they darken I always rush to wherever I’d like to be stuck during the rainstorm (or I fail to rush there and I end up stuck on a dirt road or something).  There are always flowers popping up due to the heavy rain, and they are always beautiful.  More than once I’ve tried to save them from those who find them to be weeds. If I'm walking in the morning, dew covers me entirely and it reminds me of running in the fog on early Palo Alto mornings.

The sounds are also particularly unique.  During the day you can hear the “whoo whoo who who who” of some bird and at night it’s the frog noises that I only ever heard before in computer error noises.  Mooing cows and whining goats are also part of the soundtrack...especially when the cows wander right over to our houses!  And most importantly, in the morning, and really anytime the power is on, I get to hear the blasting of Rwandan music (and if I’m lucky, happy teens singing along), which you can sample for yourself at inyarwanda.com (I recommend starting with "Inkaramutima" by Meddy). 
 
To get an even better feel for the beauty that surrounds, check out this picture of my FAVORITE BIRD in the village – one of many exotic ones that fly around and escort me to lunch.  When I have a chance to sit and look at this bird, or watch the kids play volleyball against a striking sunset backdrop, I often think of this place as some sort of earthly paradise.

Getting back into the swing of things - including blogging!  Expect more on my return, Israel and more soon!

Of Bricks and Budgets

A few weeks ago President Obama released his proposed budget to Congress - which to econ and public policy nerds, is a pretty exciting moment, often more so than the State of the Union.  Sure, in the State of the Union the President explains about his dreams for the year, but its in the budget where he really  puts his money where his mouth is.  While talking about things does make a difference - inspiring others to act, massaging through conflicts and disagreements - a lot of decisions are made based on where the money is, and in the end, if there isn't money for public housing, there isn't going to be enough public housing. 

The reason I bring this up is because learning about budgets in Rwanda, and thinking about my own budget here, has really brought to light a key difference that makes Rwanda that much harder to navigate for me.  Budgets are different here, with significantly different priorities.

Case in point:  For the past few weeks I've been working with some of the other staff here on getting a big donation of bricks from Kigali to Agahozo-Shalom so we can start using them to build a science center.  As part of this effort, we need to hire workers to load the bricks, and initially, I was involved in the negotiations over their pay.  On the one hand, it seemed silly to negotiate with the workers, when the difference in pay would be only a few dollars, but on the other hand, I knew that any money we overspent was money that couldn't go to the kids at Agahozo-Shalom.  I felt pretty weird as I tried to explain the concept of a non-profit budget to them (all in French and Kinyarwanda, by the way), something that was even harder when my skin color just kept shouting "Amafaranga" (money) at them.  In the end,  I even helped them load about 100 of the bricks (they loaded 12,000 that day) explaining that I wanted to contribute to the science center, to try to get across the point that this was for kids, not some super rich foreigner.  I kind felt like the Republicans I used to lobby in Congress who always was telling me that there wasn't enough money, and so when I could no longer load bricks, I drew diagrams on my notebook to re-convince myself that I was a Keynesian.

After a couple of days using the Kigali workers, we decided to bring our daily workers from the surrounding village, whose lower living costs means a more affordable day rate.  We'd take them to Kigali to work, with a bit of a bonus to cover lunch and dinner in Kigali.

On the first day they were down there, around the time they were supposed to be picked up and brought back to their homes in Rubona, I got a call saying that instead, they were going to spend the night at the brick yard.  I was horrified.  Why?  Can't we find them somewhere else to sleep?  Who dropped the ball? I didn't understand why the plan had changed such that they wouldn't be going back to their families that night.  I frantically called all those involved trying to figure out what to do.  Finally, I understood what had happened.  They WANTED to spend the night in Kigali.  Many of them had never been to Kigali before (which is an hour away, and which I travel to almost weekly), and wanted to spend more time there.  In fact, they decided to stay the next few days, and some even chose to spend the weekend there, with their wives sending blankets back on the brick truck.  I thought these workers were stranded in a brick yard, and they saw themselves getting a chance to explore the big city and make extra money.  Different priorities, different budgets.

Avocado Scavenger and other food stories

So whenever the rain starts pouring here (almost daily), I think of one of two things.  Either I think of singing "Umbrella," a favorite here and a song I've used to discuss friendship and learn English words with the kids and one we frequently reference in the rain, or I think AVOCADOS!

That's because next to my house is a tall tall tree that, at unreachable heights, bears avocados.  There's no way to get them except to wait for a rainstorm to shake them down for you. When it does I run around the bottom of the tree looking for dropped fruit, careful to leave some for the other scavengers.  Then I bring them back to my room, putting one at a time in paper bags to ripen them for future guacamole lunches.

I bring this little lovely occurrence up because I realize I've been withholding important information from you.  What am I eating??

Let's begin.   As you know the village has its own farm, where many of our veggies come from.  We also have a bakery where we get to bake fresh challah on Fridays and buy delicious rolls if it is open.  All the meals are cooked in the kitchen by some awesome chefs who peel tons of veggies and cook tons of rice in big vats to serve around 300 people breakfast lunch and dinner. 

Lunch and dinner are generally the same, although lunch occasionally also means a side of fresh avocados or pineapples (which are about 879430 more delicious than pineapples you eat at home).  Every meal features rice, some sort of bean concoction that often involves sauce or cabbage or green beans or all of the above, and some kind of potato - either sweet or regular - or cooked banana dish, or if you're lucky, sweet potatoes.  It's all fine tasting, and sometimes, when the cabbage is in tomato sauce or the green beans are in peanut sauce or the potatoes are fried, its really delicious.  But of course its repetitive, and its meals for 300 so no veggie gets the attention you'd want it to get.

In order to not get too sick of the same food, and to give myself some sense of choice over what I consume, I've also started cooking a few meals a week for myself and friends.  I've transformed part of my desk into a very awesome makeshift kitchen that rivals that of my friend Kate, who lived in a kitchen-less studio in DC.  I have utensils, cups, a bowl, and a kettle that originally just boiled/sanitized my water but now has become a very convenient pasta-cooker. If I really need a pot (like for hard boiled eggs or corn), I can head over to my housemates' kosher hot plate. 

Having this kitchen makes every day a little bit more of an adventure for food.  When I have a few hours, I walk to the market in the surrounding town and buy whatever vegetables and bread I can find - which usually means trying to shop with no common language with the sellers, a huge crowd of laughing kids, and an understanding that one always buys 10 tomatoes at a time (my walk home is always considerably more burdensome, though fulfilling).  When I or someone else heads to Kigali, we buy cooking supplies that need not be refrigerated (biscuits, chocolate peanut butter, laughing cow cheese, soy sauce and ramen are most important to me).  And when I'm back home with my bounty of food my friends and I try to determine what meals we can fix up. Recent successes include guacamole sandwiches, egg salad, israeli salad and noodles with veggies.  I've figured out the best way to store the veggies and rolls, to ripen the avocados as I want them to be ripened, and to use the salt and sugar as bookends. 

As my friend Mara explained, I've involuntarily become almost vegan, almost a fruitist (is that what you call people who eat only fallen fruit?) and almost a local, organic-only eater. But never has cooking and buying food been so satisfying or therapeutic.  I have an hour each for lunch and dinner, and even though my days are booked, since everyone eats at the same time there's almost no chance I'm "too busy" to eat a good meal, either at home or in the dining hall.  And on a broader scale, I know I'm sharing meals with hundreds of kids who's lives have been hard enough and should be able to count on regular meals, and that's even more exciting.

Ok time to get ready for a dining hall dinner tonight!  Wish me squash or peanut sauce! 

Happy Birthday Dr. King! English Class

What a two weeks!  All the kids are here now and have been getting to know each other and the village and preparing for school starting on Monday.

Part of this preparation means that the other volunteers and I have each been teaching four hours of English class every morning for the last two weeks.  WAIT, you say.  Why are you forcing our global language on these vulnerable kids? Good question. Let's go into language in Rwanda:

Almost everyone in Rwanda speaks Kinyarwanda, which I am slowly learning.  Since Rwanda is so small it does not host tons of local languages like many other African countries, and Kinyarwanda (or maybe Swahili on the borders) can get you anywhere.  Rwanda also uses French, especially in school, as a national language which makes sense based on the colonial presence that was here.  English was also an option in school, and has been a national language for 15 years, but was used less frequently.  In October 2008, however, Rwanda's government decided that they would switch all education from French to English (click this link to learn more about the political undertones associated with this switch).

So in any case, while some of the kids here do know some English and some knew none, they all needed to review as much as possible before they were to start all-English classes this upcoming Monday. 

Teaching ESL (a new subject for me) for four hours a day was pretty daunting, especially since I'd started my other job in the acquisitions office as well.  As the days went on, though, I had a great time learning with the kids, bonding with them, and having my respect for them grow.

In class we did everything from parts of speech to persuasive writing.  My classes were for fairly strong English speakers and we had a lot of fun increasing our vocabulary and using grammar rules.  For adjectives I brought in pictures on my computer and they described my friend Paul's tall stature, Chris's beard and Malia Obama's curly hair.  For adverbs they wrote short skits and then had to do them over and over again in the style of various adverbs that the class suggested (a la Bean skit, if anyone knows it).  We sang "Penny Lane," analyzing the intent of the Beatles (almost ALL the kids' first Beatles experience.  Amazing) and writing and acting out our own thoughts on what happens next (after the "fireman rushes in, from the pouring rain, very strange").

My favorite classes were the ones where I gave the kids debate topics and corresponding vocabulary and had them prepare debates for the class.  The topics ranged from "When is the appropriate age to begin dating?" to "Should Rwanda preserve its National Parks?" (Check this debate out in the picture above)  The kids had been very shy and reluctant to speak in English in the beginning of the two weeks but by debate time they were mostly excited to express their opinion, and were too interested in getting people to hear their view to worry about their English.  During the debate "Which language should school be taught in: English, French or Kinyarwanda?" I had to laugh as they explained, quite clearly and eloquently, that English was too hard. During this debate they also wisely pointed out that instead of using English, perhaps they should preserve their culture and strive to make Kinyarwanda the next international language.

Another favorite class I did with the old kids (who were here last year) included analyzing an op-ed by the President of Rwanda about international investment in Africa.  We learned great vocabulary, and then when I asked them to write their own persuasive pieces, I learned tons about the problems they see in Rwanda and the village.  We practiced peer review asking each other "so what?" and "why?" after each statement and discussing whether their pieces embraced the complexity of the issue (or, as I explained when defining embrace, hugged the complexity). 

Today, for the last class, and in honor of his birth, I played the kids the video of Martin Luther King giving the "I Have a Dream" speech (worth another listen, if you feel like getting chills, inspiration and a little teary).  The new kids had mostly never heard of Dr. King, although they did know about racism in the U.S.  Even though the vocabulary was certainly the hardest we'd ever seen they were rapt in attention to the video and they followed along in the text, occasionally cheering!  When the video wouldn't load anymore, we read aloud the end of the text, in the same spirit as Dr. King!  The kids then wrote their own dreams, for the school year, their next four years, and ten years from now.  It was really cool to see them enthusiastically writing many sentences in English when, just a few weeks ago, they're responses to my assignments were often simply no response at all.

One thing that I frequently forgot in the business of teaching two big ESL classes, but was occasionally reminded, was how truly awesome these kids are.  A friend from home asked if they hated going to class.  While they were typical teens, talking out of turn, zoning out, etc, they mostly were happy to be in class or at least trying to be present and respectful to me.  But of course, teaching high schoolers is hard and I frequently had to push them to participate or respect each other.  Once or twice I became frustrated when they would question what we were doing in class - we'd never do that in America, instead we'd just zone out - until someone reminded me how importan it is to have people questioning authority.  And during the debates I had to pinch myself to remember that these kids, who are willingly and passionately discussing complex ideas about development and globalization, are also some of the most vulnerable kids I've ever met, with some of the hardest backgrounds, and that they were having this discussion in their third language.  They are resilient, unique and eager and its pretty humbling to be around them. 

Now it's off to bed for me, as I am going on a picnic to Lake Mugesera (you can see it in the background of my header picture) tomorrow, which means four hours of hiking.  I imagine this also means learning a lot more Kinyarwanda, as sadly, the longest phrase I've learned is "imfite inama ninjoro," which means "I have a meeting tonight."  Too telling. 

 Wishing nzozi nziza (sweet dreams) like Dr. King's to you all!

Fragile Growth

This weekend I took a short vacation to Gisenyi, a little beach town situated on the shores of Lake Kivu.  I was a little apprehensive about the trip, both because of the town's proximity to the Democratic Republic of Congo and the the eventuality that Lake Kivu will explode due to a build-up of gases in its waters (as far as I can tell this explosion is not going to happen for quite some time, but I'm not sure.  Geologist friends?).

But the trip was a big success!  We stayed with my boss' family and thus were treated to easy and comfortable lodging and a delicious dinner with many more dishes than any thanksgiving dinner might offer in the states.  We had breakfast at a resort surrounded by lush and dramatic mountains, the lake and beautiful flowers and I could have sworn I was in Hawaii (or my dad's backyard).  We made our way through the market to buy lunch (bread, peanut butter, bananas, avocados, cookies) and even found a friendly bartender who allowed us to have lunch in his bar when, after buying the delightful picnic lunch, we realized that due to the taboo of eating in public here, there was really no appropriate place to sit down and eat it (even without the taboo we likely would have attracted more attention and kids than would have been comfortable).  Saturday evening we walked along the shore of the lake watching kids swim and practicing our French with one of our French-only speaking hosts (although that walk did end with the slightly overwhelming appearance of hundreds of bats swarming over our heads).  Even the travel to and from Gisenyi was nice - on the way I sat next to a Rwandan university student who was on his way to study the gorrillas for four months (the gorillas and monkeys are about an hour from Gisenyi).  On the way home a "rest stop" included traditional dancing and deliciously barbequed potatoes to snack on, as well as views of tea fields, eucalyptus groves and the always dramatic Rwandan hillside. 

Amidst these adventures and vistas, the history, memory and effects of the genocide frequently manifested themselves.  A memorial on the road to the Hawaii-like resort marks where, for some time after the genocide, buses would be stopped and Tutsis killed.  This continued until the bus riders would refuse to separate between Hutu and Tutsi and the whole bus would be torched.  Throughout the province signs articulated a critical mission in Rwanda, saying that there, they fought genocide ideology with their hearts and minds.

But most poignant for me was seeing how the land, the actual geography of Rwanda, is so related to the memory of genocide and violence.  We stopped to look at a beautiful winding river from a cliff, and upon learning about it, found that it is where many were drowned during the genocide.  While gawking at the bright red sky around the still-active volcano on the Rwanda-DRC border, we were told that perhaps it wasn't a reflection of the active volcano spewing fire, but rather a reflection of houses burning in the DRC, something common in the country still ridden with violence, much of it related to Rwanda's past.  Standing on the shores of beautiful Lake Kivu I couldn't help but remember that it was where many bodies were dumped during the genocide.

Lake Kivu is located on a rift that is expanding, or in other words, as far as I understand, it is under Lake Kivu where the Earth is literally growing. This growth probably makes the beautiful mountains I enjoyed that host acres of farms and house gorillas.  But this growth is also related to the build-up of gases that will one day cause the lake to explode, unless some method to remove the gas is put in place.  For now, there are efforts to turn the gas into an energy source for Rwanda.  But, the volcano which currently only erupts into the DRC, could easily trigger an eruption of the lake in Rwanda.  I don't want to read too much into the geology, but it seems like the fragile balance of growth and energy production and building gas pressure and nearby volcanic activity occuring at Lake Kivu all too closely mirrors the fragile, hopeful, possibly tourism producing, calm that Gisenyi and the neighboring areas are trying to maintain.

Ok enough geographic/political metaphors and time for bed - tomorrow morning I teach English for four hours in a house named "Benazir Bhutto!" 

But first, some photos of the trip:

Beautiful Lake Kivu

Picnic Lunch!