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.