I have gained much from my near 3 month stay in Rwanda. Of all the things that I have learned and experienced, my new found sense of appreciation for the many things commonly taken for granted is the greatest reward that I may take away from Africa. The simple life of an African farmer fighting daily battles for food and water for his family was more than humbling; it helped me to put into perspective the truly important things in life. In Rwanda, they have an understanding of what is important that we in America should long for.
I have learned to appreciate working electricity. This is a luxury in Rwanda, and commonality in the US.
Canned food packaged for quick and easy cooking is unheard of in Rwanda. We complain about its price in the US.
Water from the tap can make you ill and even kill you in Rwanda if you drink it (that is if you are lucky enough to have tap water.) In the US, we drink bottled water because the tap water isn’t flavored.
If you are hurt or sick in Rwanda there is no medical or social security to help you through times of need. Only the strong survive, and even then, sometimes the strong do not. In the US we go to the doctor to fight the common cold. People falsely make a living off pretend accidents and injuries.
We toss out more food from our refrigerators than entire families eat in Rwanda. We complain about the smell coming from our disease free, pre packaged goods stored at 34oF in an easy access refrigerator. The Rwandan farmer gives his child the last spoon full of sorghum mush hoping to find more the next day.
The Rwandan mother and father hope that one of their 3 children will live to be 25 years old. The American mother and father will spend more money than the entire income of a Rwandan village paying for training camps, lessons, and uniforms so that their son can play for the winning T-Ball team at age 7. They will yell at his coach for not playing their son while the Rwandan family cries for help as their 7 year old stops breathing.
The Rwandan family gathers together in their small hut to pray to God that they may have food and water the next day. They haven’t had any food in two days and are becoming sick. The US family curses God out loud because some vehicle cut their $40,000 SUV off on the interstate during their summer vacation on the beach. They speed around the other vehicle and attempt to cut it off for payback.
Most of my emails and blogs were light hearted as that is what most people enjoy reading. I wish all could be light hearted and humorous, but it would be a lie. I have found a very sad thing about our world versus their world. We want more, more, more. They want only their daily bread and ask for nothing more.
I am excited to come home to the many things that I miss, but I don’t know how eager I am to accept the selfish and unappreciative manner that will also come with these amenities.
I am ready to drink a glass of milk, but I am not prepared to see so many leave a full class on the table to spoil.
I am ready to watch television and college football, but I’m not ready to see 10 men drinking beer and yelling at the top of their lungs at the television cursing everything Holy. My mind will only remember the Rwandans who walked miles to see and enjoy a soccer game that they listened to from outside the stadium because they couldn’t afford the $0.05 entrance fee.
I am ready to talk to all my friends and call them. I will be bothered by the many college students with phones attached to their ears too uninvolved to acknowledge another human being. I’ll picture Rwandans saying hello to everyone, both white and black, every time someone passes by.
I can’t wait to enjoy a nice Texan steak freshly grilled. I may loose my appetite when I see someone send their steak back because they ordered medium rare and not well done.
I am ready to drive my pickup again. I will cringe when I see a 17 year old girl furious at the traffic and flipping people off because it will take 10 more minutes to get to the mall.
I am ready to get back to West Texas and see the green fields after this wet year. I will be disgusted when I hear the farmers complaining about the rain because they will make too much cotton to receive their insurance check. I will only be able to think about the Rwandan digging through the dirt to salvage seed so that his family may eat these seeds as the rains didn’t come this year.
I will be ready to get back to A&M and finish school. I will be tired of hearing about how much this person or that person hates their class and refuses to attend. Most Rwandans are starving for education because it is not available to them even in the most basic forms. My fellow Aggies whose entire college is funded by mom & dad or the State of Texas will complain more about school than the Rwandans complain about not having enough to eat.
Lastly and most importantly, I will be ready to return to family and friends. I love my family and friends just as Rwandans love their family and friends. I can’t wait to see them as they mean so much to me. This is the same in Rwanda except unlike most Americans, Rwandans don’t need a three month stay in a foreign country to realize what is important in life. Their struggle to survive allows them to understand what is truly important on a daily basis.
I have learned that it doesn’t take complex theories, self help books, therapists, or some organization for a person to find what is important in life. The answer is simple because it requires simplicity. It requires removing from life all the things that we are told are important and taking the time to really think about what we can do without. Try doing without those things for a short time, and the few things that a person realizes that he or she cannot do without become their focus. Our luxuries, cars, large homes, and repackaged foods are things that this life does not require. I have realized this and I hope that when I return I can keep my attitude of being thankful for what I have and not worrying about what I have not.
1Timothy 6:17-18
17Command those who are rich in the present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. 18Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Milk (a luxury item)
I am writing this post in Microsoft word so that I may copy and post it into my blog when the internet starts working. It hasn’t worked for about 3 days now, at the time that my proposal is due. I am/ was (by the time this is posted) a little stressed to say the least.
The internet is a luxury in Rwanda, and I have taken for granted for too long.
There are many things that are luxuries in Rwanda (or don’t even exist in Rwanda) that I miss a lot. Things like:
Getting water from the tap
A glass of milk
Beef of any kind
Driving my pickup
Chocolate
Sweat tea
English Radio
Television (I don’t watch much back home, but the little I watch, I miss)
Mexican Food
Staying up past midnight and having a reason to
Dancing at the Hall of Fame
Hearing my friends play the guitar
Mi Cosina, the Chicken, and Lanes
Watermelons
A nice hot shower
The mobile mansion (I hope they are still using it)
Hearing the voices of friends and family
And of course Family and Friends...
But most of all, I miss blending into the crowd. People watch my every move here. I can’t go to a public place without 100 eyes watching my every move. I think that I will enjoy being normal (if I ever was) back in the US. I have a new found appreciation for “normal” and “average.” The average are a homogeneous product to which they can find comfort in their autonomy, yet they are the measuring stick used to determine the below average and the above average. I miss the comfort of being average. I miss being the measuring stick instead of having to set the standard.
I leave Rwanda in about 10 days (from writing this in word), and I will spend two days in London. I will be home soon.
The internet is a luxury in Rwanda, and I have taken for granted for too long.
There are many things that are luxuries in Rwanda (or don’t even exist in Rwanda) that I miss a lot. Things like:
Getting water from the tap
A glass of milk
Beef of any kind
Driving my pickup
Chocolate
Sweat tea
English Radio
Television (I don’t watch much back home, but the little I watch, I miss)
Mexican Food
Staying up past midnight and having a reason to
Dancing at the Hall of Fame
Hearing my friends play the guitar
Mi Cosina, the Chicken, and Lanes
Watermelons
A nice hot shower
The mobile mansion (I hope they are still using it)
Hearing the voices of friends and family
And of course Family and Friends...
But most of all, I miss blending into the crowd. People watch my every move here. I can’t go to a public place without 100 eyes watching my every move. I think that I will enjoy being normal (if I ever was) back in the US. I have a new found appreciation for “normal” and “average.” The average are a homogeneous product to which they can find comfort in their autonomy, yet they are the measuring stick used to determine the below average and the above average. I miss the comfort of being average. I miss being the measuring stick instead of having to set the standard.
I leave Rwanda in about 10 days (from writing this in word), and I will spend two days in London. I will be home soon.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Presidential Cabinets, Pick Pocketing, Preschoolers and Puppies
I had a meeting in Kigali, the capitol city of Rwanda, a few days ago. I was to meet with World Vision-Rwanda and the Secretary General from the Ministry of Education. My meeting with World Vision went very well, but I was unable to meet with the Secretary General due to the fact that he was out of town or something. Because my meeting with the ministry was cancelled, I decided to visit a nice little coffee shop in Kigali called Bourbon Cafe.
While I was there I ran into a friend of mine that owns a coffee washing station. He was trying to get some governmental business taken care of and was meeting with one of President Paul Kagame’s cabinet members. It was pretty cool to sit and have coffee with one of the advisor’s to the president. The coffee was good to.
After visiting with the presidential advisor in the coffee shop, I headed to the bus station to purchase a ticket for the ride home. After purchasing the ticket, I exited the complex and started walking down the street to look for a book store that might have books in English. (I have read over 10 books since I have been here, and I am out of books to read.) I was a few feet from the bus stop when a Rwanda grabbed my right arm and started talking to me in Rwandan. I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me, but it looked like he was trying to sell me something.
As my mouth began to formulate the word “I don’t want it,” (In Rwanda I have learned to say ‘I don’t want it’ before even looking at the merchandise. It is a bad habit, but I am tired of people trying to sell me 20 year old maps, or mechanical parts to machines that I didn’t even know existed, and I am especially tired of people trying to sell me pants that are 3 sizes to small and one shoe...not even a pair...one shoe!)
“I don’t wa...” then my words were cut short as another man grabbed my left arm. Before I even knew what to do, the person grabbing my left arm had already removed the contents of my left shirt pocket. He them tried to reach around to my backside and remove my wallet. I started swinging my arms in all directions like one would do when being attacked by bees. I wanted to punch one of them in the face, but there were so many people around, I couldn’t tell who was robbing me and who was a bystander. My method of swinging my arms like a wild man worked as the criminals darted away like a child chasing a bouncing ball, running into the street without even looking at oncoming cars. They didn’t get hit like I hoped they would.
Before I could even yell, “I’ve been robbed!” they were gone. A Rwandan friend of mine asked me to describe their appearance. My reply:
Well, they were short, dark skinned, and had buzzed off hair. They spoke Rwandan, were skinny, and ran very fast....it wasn’t you was it?
All Rwandans look the same to me, and these were no different. The contents that these thieves escaped with:
One World Vision business card, a bus ticket, a piece of paper with two phone numbers and a little doodle of a house (I drew the little house), and one used phone card.
The only thing of value was the bus ticket, which I had refunded. I am already planning my next trip to Kigali. I am leaving my shirt pocket wide open with a role of 100 Rwandan Franks. Inside of these franks will be three razor blades, some super glue, and a note saying “enjoy the cash you filthy animal” in Rwandan of course. The total cost of this prank that will cause a lot of pain to both the hand and the moral of the next thief that tries to rob me: about $5 USD. Money well spent. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Kigali is not all bad as I have been there many times and never been pick pocketed until recently. I went there last week and played ball with some kids. They were a lot of fun. They are part of an orphanage that holds children that are HIV infected. They had never seen a white person before, so they loved playing games with me. They also sang songs and danced for me and some other visitors. It was a very enjoyable experience. I hope to see them again before I leave.
Lastly, to bring this blog full circle, my friend that was eating with the presidential cabinet member has a little puppy named “TGENDE.” Tgende means “Let’s Go!” I really like that puppy but it is a pain to deal with. Tgende as almost completely torn the bottom off one of my pant legs. They don’t have many dogs in Rwanda since the genocide, so it has been a pleasure to play with Tgende. It is funny to find the things about home that I miss. I miss a cold glass of milk, chicken fried steak, family, friends, driving, and until now, puppies. (Oddly enough I don’t miss my cell phone at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t really want one when I get back.) Now that I have Togende to play with, my list of things that I miss is a little shorter. I’ll be home in a few weeks, and I am now ready to be back.
Don’t take things from my pockets, or you might hurt yourself.
Peace, prayers, and parties to all of you.
-blaze
While I was there I ran into a friend of mine that owns a coffee washing station. He was trying to get some governmental business taken care of and was meeting with one of President Paul Kagame’s cabinet members. It was pretty cool to sit and have coffee with one of the advisor’s to the president. The coffee was good to.
After visiting with the presidential advisor in the coffee shop, I headed to the bus station to purchase a ticket for the ride home. After purchasing the ticket, I exited the complex and started walking down the street to look for a book store that might have books in English. (I have read over 10 books since I have been here, and I am out of books to read.) I was a few feet from the bus stop when a Rwanda grabbed my right arm and started talking to me in Rwandan. I couldn’t understand what he was saying to me, but it looked like he was trying to sell me something.
As my mouth began to formulate the word “I don’t want it,” (In Rwanda I have learned to say ‘I don’t want it’ before even looking at the merchandise. It is a bad habit, but I am tired of people trying to sell me 20 year old maps, or mechanical parts to machines that I didn’t even know existed, and I am especially tired of people trying to sell me pants that are 3 sizes to small and one shoe...not even a pair...one shoe!)
“I don’t wa...” then my words were cut short as another man grabbed my left arm. Before I even knew what to do, the person grabbing my left arm had already removed the contents of my left shirt pocket. He them tried to reach around to my backside and remove my wallet. I started swinging my arms in all directions like one would do when being attacked by bees. I wanted to punch one of them in the face, but there were so many people around, I couldn’t tell who was robbing me and who was a bystander. My method of swinging my arms like a wild man worked as the criminals darted away like a child chasing a bouncing ball, running into the street without even looking at oncoming cars. They didn’t get hit like I hoped they would.
Before I could even yell, “I’ve been robbed!” they were gone. A Rwandan friend of mine asked me to describe their appearance. My reply:
Well, they were short, dark skinned, and had buzzed off hair. They spoke Rwandan, were skinny, and ran very fast....it wasn’t you was it?
All Rwandans look the same to me, and these were no different. The contents that these thieves escaped with:
One World Vision business card, a bus ticket, a piece of paper with two phone numbers and a little doodle of a house (I drew the little house), and one used phone card.
The only thing of value was the bus ticket, which I had refunded. I am already planning my next trip to Kigali. I am leaving my shirt pocket wide open with a role of 100 Rwandan Franks. Inside of these franks will be three razor blades, some super glue, and a note saying “enjoy the cash you filthy animal” in Rwandan of course. The total cost of this prank that will cause a lot of pain to both the hand and the moral of the next thief that tries to rob me: about $5 USD. Money well spent. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Kigali is not all bad as I have been there many times and never been pick pocketed until recently. I went there last week and played ball with some kids. They were a lot of fun. They are part of an orphanage that holds children that are HIV infected. They had never seen a white person before, so they loved playing games with me. They also sang songs and danced for me and some other visitors. It was a very enjoyable experience. I hope to see them again before I leave.
Lastly, to bring this blog full circle, my friend that was eating with the presidential cabinet member has a little puppy named “TGENDE.” Tgende means “Let’s Go!” I really like that puppy but it is a pain to deal with. Tgende as almost completely torn the bottom off one of my pant legs. They don’t have many dogs in Rwanda since the genocide, so it has been a pleasure to play with Tgende. It is funny to find the things about home that I miss. I miss a cold glass of milk, chicken fried steak, family, friends, driving, and until now, puppies. (Oddly enough I don’t miss my cell phone at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t really want one when I get back.) Now that I have Togende to play with, my list of things that I miss is a little shorter. I’ll be home in a few weeks, and I am now ready to be back.
Don’t take things from my pockets, or you might hurt yourself.
Peace, prayers, and parties to all of you.
-blaze
Thursday, July 12, 2007
From Hippos to Heroes
We went on Safari last weekend. It was an amazing adventure. We saw giraffes, crocodiles, wart hogs (our guide called them Pumba’s like the Lion King), water buffalos, many birds, monkeys, baboons, and hippopotami (our guide called them Hypobopdomysises).
The baboon came up to us. His little butt looked as red as my brother Rocky’s butt after 6 week grades are posted. He was friendly baboon. We also got to be within a few feet of the giraffe. They are very elegant animals.
While we were on the shoreline watching the hippos come in and out of the water, a crocodile dove in the water not 20 feet from us. Our guide didn’t even bat an eye. He suggested that we move in closer. We democratically voted, and stayed in our location. The vote was something like 6 for staying away, 1 for moving closer. The guide voted to move closer.
We stayed in very nice lodge. There was even running water, right out in the middle of the savannah. When the music played from time to time, I would do some tribal dancing to entertain the guests. For some reason, there were not enough locals to do this dancing, so I had to do it myself. I also two stepped with one African girl. She said it was her first time to two step, and she thought that I was really good at it. In actuality, I am terrible; however, I told her that I was performing the dance exactly how it is to be done. If another young Texas boy comes to Rwanda and dances with her, I imagine that she will tell him, “You are not doing it right. A Texan named Blaze showed me the correct way!”
That’s how things are around here. I may not always do things the best way or the correct way, but I just tell everyone that it is the best or is correct. They don’t know any different. I am a hero down here due to ignorance. I guess that is how most heroes are formed anyway. Some of my heroes when I was young haven't turned out so well. It was my ignorance that made them heroes.
Tom Cruise: Turns out he is weird and maybe even bats for the other team....
Captain Crunch: He can only be found on cereal boxes. Although he almost made his way back into my hero book when Crunch Berry’s came out.
Zach Morris from Saved by the Bell: Is he even alive now? I guess he graduated.
John Madden: I lost faith in him when I was in the fifth grade and my vocabulary became larger than his...boom!
Hungry Hungry Hippos: They lost appeal after seeing real Hippos in the wild last week.
Harvey Wellman: I used to think he founded Wellman, TX, but then I found out he was just a coach when Wellman played 8 man football....ok, he’s a small town Hero.
Mr. Moon of McDonalds: Wait, Actually, Mr. Moon is still my hero!
I know I won’t be a hero in Butare Rwanda forever, but I am for now. At least until some other Texan shows up and tries to teach them the two step. Then I might as well be one of my past heroes listed above. Well as they say in Rwanda. “....*#&$(^^^$ART^%*...” To pronounce it just do a few clicks and slurps.
Posted:
Blaze “The Two Step Texan”- Real Rwandan Hero
The baboon came up to us. His little butt looked as red as my brother Rocky’s butt after 6 week grades are posted. He was friendly baboon. We also got to be within a few feet of the giraffe. They are very elegant animals.
While we were on the shoreline watching the hippos come in and out of the water, a crocodile dove in the water not 20 feet from us. Our guide didn’t even bat an eye. He suggested that we move in closer. We democratically voted, and stayed in our location. The vote was something like 6 for staying away, 1 for moving closer. The guide voted to move closer.
We stayed in very nice lodge. There was even running water, right out in the middle of the savannah. When the music played from time to time, I would do some tribal dancing to entertain the guests. For some reason, there were not enough locals to do this dancing, so I had to do it myself. I also two stepped with one African girl. She said it was her first time to two step, and she thought that I was really good at it. In actuality, I am terrible; however, I told her that I was performing the dance exactly how it is to be done. If another young Texas boy comes to Rwanda and dances with her, I imagine that she will tell him, “You are not doing it right. A Texan named Blaze showed me the correct way!”
That’s how things are around here. I may not always do things the best way or the correct way, but I just tell everyone that it is the best or is correct. They don’t know any different. I am a hero down here due to ignorance. I guess that is how most heroes are formed anyway. Some of my heroes when I was young haven't turned out so well. It was my ignorance that made them heroes.
Tom Cruise: Turns out he is weird and maybe even bats for the other team....
Captain Crunch: He can only be found on cereal boxes. Although he almost made his way back into my hero book when Crunch Berry’s came out.
Zach Morris from Saved by the Bell: Is he even alive now? I guess he graduated.
John Madden: I lost faith in him when I was in the fifth grade and my vocabulary became larger than his...boom!
Hungry Hungry Hippos: They lost appeal after seeing real Hippos in the wild last week.
Harvey Wellman: I used to think he founded Wellman, TX, but then I found out he was just a coach when Wellman played 8 man football....ok, he’s a small town Hero.
Mr. Moon of McDonalds: Wait, Actually, Mr. Moon is still my hero!
I know I won’t be a hero in Butare Rwanda forever, but I am for now. At least until some other Texan shows up and tries to teach them the two step. Then I might as well be one of my past heroes listed above. Well as they say in Rwanda. “....*#&$(^^^$ART^%*...” To pronounce it just do a few clicks and slurps.
Posted:
Blaze “The Two Step Texan”- Real Rwandan Hero
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Sit Down Bus Driver!
I went to a party this past weekend in a distant part of Rwanda. There were a lot of Mzungus at this party, so it was pretty fun. A girl met the A&M Interns shortly after we arrived, and she is the person who put on the party. The party was interesting; however, it was not as interesting as the bus ride to the party.
The journey to this party would be a long one. We took a large bus from Kigali to Butare. We have taken this bus before, and it is a pretty good ride. The bus is large, and even though it is crowded, this bus is pretty comfortable. After arriving in Butare, the other Interns and I went to a nice restaurant and had dinner. We also did some shopping and a few other miscellaneous tasks. It finally came time for us to ride to this distant village in Rwanda. The bus we would have to take was not like the Bus before.
I saw the bus pull up to the bus top, and I was taken back. It was about the size of a small van. It was a white bus with green stripes painted on it. The seats were covered in plastic as well as the dashboard. This bus was not bus...it was a small van. Poorer families back in the US would probably have purchased this bust for a family of about 7 or 8. This is about how many people it would comfortably fit. We had about 18 on our bus....Van. They were all excited to be seated in a bus with white people. It was an interesting ride. It was dark when we left.
Just when I thought that we could not physically hold any more people in this VAN, we stopped a picked up 2 more. I had a window seat, so I could breathe. We were trucking a long just fine. It was to be a three hour ride. It would have been a two hour ride, but we had to stop several times so that people could pee on the side of the road. It was pretty uneventful except for the short stops for urination until our driver almost killed a guy.
In Rwanda, vehicles have the right of way. When our van was scooting down the highway, it would honk for people to get out of the way...they usually did. At one point on this trip, we were going through a small village. Another van was coming our direction on a narrow road. On this narrow road there was also a gentleman about 20 years old walking down the right side of the street. Usually our Van would have simply gone around him; however, this time it could not because another van was coming. This young man was standing on the right side of the road, the side that we were traveling down. He was with his back towards us, and he was not moving.
Our driver honked for the man to get out of the way, but the man would not move. Our driver continued to honk again and again, but still the man did not move. Finally our driver slammed on his breaks and all of us fell forward smashing our heads against the plastic covered seats in front of us. The bus driver came to a complete stop just in front of the man. The man’s back was facing us as he walked, but after hearing the screeching of breaks and a loud horn made him turn and face us.
After our driver stopped the van, he slowly put the Van in park. He opened the door very slowly as if something was wrong. Once he stepped out of the van, the man that we had almost hit started walking away. Our driver started chasing him. He was moving at a speed that I had never seen before. He would have lapped a Kenya Olympian. He was making ground, and the only other person in the world faster than him was the man that we had almost turned into hamburger meat. The driver was fast, the pedestrian was faster. The driver chased him for about 5 min before returning to the van and taking us on our journey. I still wonder what he would have done if he would have caught the man. I know that it would have been painful. When he returned to the van I started shouting, “Komera, Komera!” This means, “Power and Strength to you!” All of the Rwandans laughed at me for yelling this. At that moment, the bus driver was my hero. He had all the road rage of a New Yorker during rush hour, but twice the courage and 10 times the speed.
The moral to the story is:
Even if you don’t get hit by a speeding van carrying twice the legal limit of capacity,
you can still get hit by the fist of a disgruntle bus driver!
Look both ways before you cross the street, and be ready to run at any moment.
The journey to this party would be a long one. We took a large bus from Kigali to Butare. We have taken this bus before, and it is a pretty good ride. The bus is large, and even though it is crowded, this bus is pretty comfortable. After arriving in Butare, the other Interns and I went to a nice restaurant and had dinner. We also did some shopping and a few other miscellaneous tasks. It finally came time for us to ride to this distant village in Rwanda. The bus we would have to take was not like the Bus before.
I saw the bus pull up to the bus top, and I was taken back. It was about the size of a small van. It was a white bus with green stripes painted on it. The seats were covered in plastic as well as the dashboard. This bus was not bus...it was a small van. Poorer families back in the US would probably have purchased this bust for a family of about 7 or 8. This is about how many people it would comfortably fit. We had about 18 on our bus....Van. They were all excited to be seated in a bus with white people. It was an interesting ride. It was dark when we left.
Just when I thought that we could not physically hold any more people in this VAN, we stopped a picked up 2 more. I had a window seat, so I could breathe. We were trucking a long just fine. It was to be a three hour ride. It would have been a two hour ride, but we had to stop several times so that people could pee on the side of the road. It was pretty uneventful except for the short stops for urination until our driver almost killed a guy.
In Rwanda, vehicles have the right of way. When our van was scooting down the highway, it would honk for people to get out of the way...they usually did. At one point on this trip, we were going through a small village. Another van was coming our direction on a narrow road. On this narrow road there was also a gentleman about 20 years old walking down the right side of the street. Usually our Van would have simply gone around him; however, this time it could not because another van was coming. This young man was standing on the right side of the road, the side that we were traveling down. He was with his back towards us, and he was not moving.
Our driver honked for the man to get out of the way, but the man would not move. Our driver continued to honk again and again, but still the man did not move. Finally our driver slammed on his breaks and all of us fell forward smashing our heads against the plastic covered seats in front of us. The bus driver came to a complete stop just in front of the man. The man’s back was facing us as he walked, but after hearing the screeching of breaks and a loud horn made him turn and face us.
After our driver stopped the van, he slowly put the Van in park. He opened the door very slowly as if something was wrong. Once he stepped out of the van, the man that we had almost hit started walking away. Our driver started chasing him. He was moving at a speed that I had never seen before. He would have lapped a Kenya Olympian. He was making ground, and the only other person in the world faster than him was the man that we had almost turned into hamburger meat. The driver was fast, the pedestrian was faster. The driver chased him for about 5 min before returning to the van and taking us on our journey. I still wonder what he would have done if he would have caught the man. I know that it would have been painful. When he returned to the van I started shouting, “Komera, Komera!” This means, “Power and Strength to you!” All of the Rwandans laughed at me for yelling this. At that moment, the bus driver was my hero. He had all the road rage of a New Yorker during rush hour, but twice the courage and 10 times the speed.
The moral to the story is:
Even if you don’t get hit by a speeding van carrying twice the legal limit of capacity,
you can still get hit by the fist of a disgruntle bus driver!
Look both ways before you cross the street, and be ready to run at any moment.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Me Rwandese, Me Play Joke
I have said before that the word “Mzungu” means “White person.” I have heard this many times while I have been here. People point at me and say “Mzungu! Mzungu!” as if I didn’t know I was white. I have gotten very use to it and usually reply back, “Rwandese! Rwandese!” It is a lot of fun seeing the response from children.
Baby’s cry when they see white people. Usually when they are about 5 years old or older, they like seeing the white man, and they ask for candy and things like that. When they are under 5 years of age, seeing a white man usually makes them cry. I was told that an old Rwandan folktale says that the White man catches and eats little Rwandan children. Kids tell their little brothers and sisters that even today. I can understand why the kids are scared; that is a horrible story!
Usually when I go out into the rural areas, I scare the children the most. They are out of touch with civilization and still use the old methods of agriculture and medicine. They have very limited technology, and folktales run ramped. They have never seen a camera before. When I, or one of the other students, take their pictures, they never smile. When you show them the picture they laugh and scream like it is some sort of Mzungu Magic. I guess to them, it is! Children love it the most. They always want their picture taken.
I was using a video camera for an American couple that wanted video footage of themselves working with the kids. When I showed the kids the video footage, they asked if I was going to put them in an American movie. Some of the children walked around like movie stars and put on the Americans’ sunglasses. I know that those kids will remember that moment for the rest of their lives. The day the Mzungus came and video taped them. It was a big deal for a small town Rwandan child.
The funniest thing that has ever happened with children was on a ride home from one of the Rwanda rural areas. Usually as we ride home, children shout “Mzungu” at us from the roadside. We have gotten use to this, so we usually don’t pay much attention to it. We just wave at them.
Yesterday, the children were yelling something different. Our driver, Martin- an English speaking Rwandan, started laughing at what these rural children were yelling.
I said, “Martin, what on Earth are these children screaming! It isn’t ‘mzungu.’”
Martin was laughing so hard he could barely answer.
“They are yelling ‘The Chinese are coming! The Chinese are coming!’”
Martin said that they had never seen white people before and that they thought we were Chinese.
So I can now quote the words of the famous Gus Chiggins in truth when saying:
“Well I’ve been called crazy, goofy, smelly, spooky, shifty, and Chinese, but never dumb!”
Baby’s cry when they see white people. Usually when they are about 5 years old or older, they like seeing the white man, and they ask for candy and things like that. When they are under 5 years of age, seeing a white man usually makes them cry. I was told that an old Rwandan folktale says that the White man catches and eats little Rwandan children. Kids tell their little brothers and sisters that even today. I can understand why the kids are scared; that is a horrible story!
Usually when I go out into the rural areas, I scare the children the most. They are out of touch with civilization and still use the old methods of agriculture and medicine. They have very limited technology, and folktales run ramped. They have never seen a camera before. When I, or one of the other students, take their pictures, they never smile. When you show them the picture they laugh and scream like it is some sort of Mzungu Magic. I guess to them, it is! Children love it the most. They always want their picture taken.
I was using a video camera for an American couple that wanted video footage of themselves working with the kids. When I showed the kids the video footage, they asked if I was going to put them in an American movie. Some of the children walked around like movie stars and put on the Americans’ sunglasses. I know that those kids will remember that moment for the rest of their lives. The day the Mzungus came and video taped them. It was a big deal for a small town Rwandan child.
The funniest thing that has ever happened with children was on a ride home from one of the Rwanda rural areas. Usually as we ride home, children shout “Mzungu” at us from the roadside. We have gotten use to this, so we usually don’t pay much attention to it. We just wave at them.
Yesterday, the children were yelling something different. Our driver, Martin- an English speaking Rwandan, started laughing at what these rural children were yelling.
I said, “Martin, what on Earth are these children screaming! It isn’t ‘mzungu.’”
Martin was laughing so hard he could barely answer.
“They are yelling ‘The Chinese are coming! The Chinese are coming!’”
Martin said that they had never seen white people before and that they thought we were Chinese.
So I can now quote the words of the famous Gus Chiggins in truth when saying:
“Well I’ve been called crazy, goofy, smelly, spooky, shifty, and Chinese, but never dumb!”
D.W. I Don't Know!
If I die in Rwanda it won’t be because of lions, tigers, bears, oh my! I am as safe from the beasts of the Jungle as I will ever be. Even though I have been in areas that had high amounts of Cobras, I am sure that I will be safe from them. Even as I walk home alone on many nights, I feel as safe as a seven year old on a McDonalds Playground. If I am hurt or killed here, I am positive the only cause will be a hit and run by a car.
The drivers here are ridiculous. Rush hour traffic in Houston, Texas is like a herd of kittens compared to the morning traffic of Butare, Rwanda. There aren’t very many cars on the road, very few actually, but the cars drive like mad! They weave in and out of each other at fast speeds dodging bicycles, goats, motorbikes, other cars, and me. I always think that I am going to get hit but never do.
Crosswalks are just suggestions in Rwanda. They mean nothing. I advise against them. A crosswalk gives a person a false sense of security like:
“Oh, this is a crosswalk. I bet it’s safe to walk here. Oh, look at that nice little building across the (WHAAAM)!” then hit by a fast moving European block of steel on cheap rubber wheels.
If I had to choose, I would take my chances in the jungle. Things are much safer their. Most animals don’t move at 90KPH. Animals rarely attack, and if they do, people will usually help you. If you are hit by a car, I don’t think they will help.
Rwandan logic says that if a person is hit by a car, it is the person’s fault. Why? Because people have eyes...cars don’t. That is what I was told.
My reply: Cars are made of thousands of pounds of metal and fiberglass....people aren’t. Their answer: “You’re right. Cars don’t have feelings, so you better get out of their way!
And that is what I try to do every day. I have been lucky so far.
Another funny fact is that there are speeding laws in Rwanda. This is not funny, but the method for enforcing the law is quite funny. What happens is that there is a man in a police officer uniform just over a hill or around a curve. These men are Highway Patrol, and they hide like Highway Patrol in the States. The only difference is that these men don’t have cars or radar guns. Their method of speed detection is sound. The instrument used to detect the speed: The Human Ear. The police officer’s ear detects the speed.
Many Rwandans have been pulled over and told, “It sounded like you were going too fast!”
Can you believe it... “Sounded Like!” That is a little odd. If I were to buy a car in Rwanda, I would just buy silent tires. Sound is the only source of speed detection.
Also, because the officers don’t have cars, I wondered how they could stop someone who was speeding.
The answer: They shoot at them!
It’s hard enough to explain to an officer in Texas that you are on your way to an important event and can’t be late. Try explaining it to a bullet! I think that I would just slow down while in Rwanda.
Big military trucks drive at night down curvy, mountainous roads with no headlights. People pass on these curves and only honk their horn. (Which is as good as breaking in Rwanda!) Bicyclers are run off the road, people dive out of the way, and many goats never make it out alive.
We did hit a goat while riding in a Taxi a few days ago. He made good Rwandan Brochette for a local family...
I know that we have some drinking and driving problems in America, but it’s nothing like this. These people are down right dangerous...sober! Everyone Pray that I make it back safe. It is too bad that there are no seatbelts for the pedestrians!
The drivers here are ridiculous. Rush hour traffic in Houston, Texas is like a herd of kittens compared to the morning traffic of Butare, Rwanda. There aren’t very many cars on the road, very few actually, but the cars drive like mad! They weave in and out of each other at fast speeds dodging bicycles, goats, motorbikes, other cars, and me. I always think that I am going to get hit but never do.
Crosswalks are just suggestions in Rwanda. They mean nothing. I advise against them. A crosswalk gives a person a false sense of security like:
“Oh, this is a crosswalk. I bet it’s safe to walk here. Oh, look at that nice little building across the (WHAAAM)!” then hit by a fast moving European block of steel on cheap rubber wheels.
If I had to choose, I would take my chances in the jungle. Things are much safer their. Most animals don’t move at 90KPH. Animals rarely attack, and if they do, people will usually help you. If you are hit by a car, I don’t think they will help.
Rwandan logic says that if a person is hit by a car, it is the person’s fault. Why? Because people have eyes...cars don’t. That is what I was told.
My reply: Cars are made of thousands of pounds of metal and fiberglass....people aren’t. Their answer: “You’re right. Cars don’t have feelings, so you better get out of their way!
And that is what I try to do every day. I have been lucky so far.
Another funny fact is that there are speeding laws in Rwanda. This is not funny, but the method for enforcing the law is quite funny. What happens is that there is a man in a police officer uniform just over a hill or around a curve. These men are Highway Patrol, and they hide like Highway Patrol in the States. The only difference is that these men don’t have cars or radar guns. Their method of speed detection is sound. The instrument used to detect the speed: The Human Ear. The police officer’s ear detects the speed.
Many Rwandans have been pulled over and told, “It sounded like you were going too fast!”
Can you believe it... “Sounded Like!” That is a little odd. If I were to buy a car in Rwanda, I would just buy silent tires. Sound is the only source of speed detection.
Also, because the officers don’t have cars, I wondered how they could stop someone who was speeding.
The answer: They shoot at them!
It’s hard enough to explain to an officer in Texas that you are on your way to an important event and can’t be late. Try explaining it to a bullet! I think that I would just slow down while in Rwanda.
Big military trucks drive at night down curvy, mountainous roads with no headlights. People pass on these curves and only honk their horn. (Which is as good as breaking in Rwanda!) Bicyclers are run off the road, people dive out of the way, and many goats never make it out alive.
We did hit a goat while riding in a Taxi a few days ago. He made good Rwandan Brochette for a local family...
I know that we have some drinking and driving problems in America, but it’s nothing like this. These people are down right dangerous...sober! Everyone Pray that I make it back safe. It is too bad that there are no seatbelts for the pedestrians!
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Naked Night Guard
I have to be honest and tell all those who read this Blog that I am truly pampered in Rwanda. People have told me that America is a service oriented economy; those people have not been to Rwanda. If I order a drink at a restaurant like a Fanta or Coca Cola, they bring it in a bottle, open the bottle, and poor the drink into the glass. I am not allowed to poor my own drink because the waiters are expected to do it.
All my food is prepared by a cook who comes to our house at 6am and leaves at 6pm. She cooks, washes our clothes, cleans our house, and buys the needed food and supplies. I feel like a three year old child with a nanny...and I love it.
One of the most interesting services provided here in Rwanda is a night watchman. There is a young man named Mark who stays in this little brick building next to a gate that leads to our house. His job is to guard the house against any unwanted guests. Mark opens the door for me, closes the door for me, and makes sure that nobody comes into the house during the night. He doesn’t have a badge, gun, or even a nightstick. He reminds me of hotel security. Hotel watchmen guard the door, but if anything happens, they are helpless. Mark couldn’t defend us if his life depended upon it, but he brings comfort to us in knowing that he will be the first to be injured if something goes wrong. I live in the Motel de Blaze and he is my guard. If someone breaks in, Mark will....he will.....well, probably just get in their way for a few moments.
The funny thing about Mark is that twice I have got him with his pants down...in the most literal sense. Once, Bart and I were going to meet up with some new friends for an evening out on the town. They were to pick us up at 9pm outside of our gate, and they arrived just on time.
When they honked the horn of their car, Bart and I walked outside to our gate. Mark was standing there attentively waiting for us, and then he opened the gate to let us out. We jump into out friend’s car and headed out into the night.
I leaned over and asked Bart as we were leaving, “Did you notice something odd about Mark the guard? ...I don’t think that he is wearing any pants!”
Bart stated, “No way, you have got to be kidding!” Bart then looked out the window of our car.
In the distance our night guard was standing just outside the gate waving good bye to us. He was smiling and wearing a nice button up shirt. Below the shirt there were no pants. The important parts were covered, but his legs were not.
Last night we decided to go to the store for some cookies. Cookies are quite the luxury here, so we were excited to go and pick them up. After buying the cookies we headed back to our house. When we arrived at the gate, we knocked on the door. Sure enough, Mark unlocked and opened the door so that we could enter.
Katherine was practicing her French and asked Mark if he would like a cookie using her best French. Mark answered in French and seemed to really enjoy the cookie. While I was walking to the front door of the house, I noticed that Katherine was standing next to a night guard with no pants. She didn’t notice until it was too late, and she was but a few feet from his side. He didn’t seem embarrassed, but Katherine was. My worry is that he will now become pants less often for a cookie as that appeared to be his repayment from Katherine.
I hope that nobody ever tries to break into our house, and I doubt anyone ever will. This place is too safe for the need of a night guard, but we try to employ as many Rwandans as possible.
If a person ever does try to break in, I am sure that the first thing that the intruder will hear being screamed is:
“Mark, put your pants on! I think I hear someone is outside!”
All my food is prepared by a cook who comes to our house at 6am and leaves at 6pm. She cooks, washes our clothes, cleans our house, and buys the needed food and supplies. I feel like a three year old child with a nanny...and I love it.
One of the most interesting services provided here in Rwanda is a night watchman. There is a young man named Mark who stays in this little brick building next to a gate that leads to our house. His job is to guard the house against any unwanted guests. Mark opens the door for me, closes the door for me, and makes sure that nobody comes into the house during the night. He doesn’t have a badge, gun, or even a nightstick. He reminds me of hotel security. Hotel watchmen guard the door, but if anything happens, they are helpless. Mark couldn’t defend us if his life depended upon it, but he brings comfort to us in knowing that he will be the first to be injured if something goes wrong. I live in the Motel de Blaze and he is my guard. If someone breaks in, Mark will....he will.....well, probably just get in their way for a few moments.
The funny thing about Mark is that twice I have got him with his pants down...in the most literal sense. Once, Bart and I were going to meet up with some new friends for an evening out on the town. They were to pick us up at 9pm outside of our gate, and they arrived just on time.
When they honked the horn of their car, Bart and I walked outside to our gate. Mark was standing there attentively waiting for us, and then he opened the gate to let us out. We jump into out friend’s car and headed out into the night.
I leaned over and asked Bart as we were leaving, “Did you notice something odd about Mark the guard? ...I don’t think that he is wearing any pants!”
Bart stated, “No way, you have got to be kidding!” Bart then looked out the window of our car.
In the distance our night guard was standing just outside the gate waving good bye to us. He was smiling and wearing a nice button up shirt. Below the shirt there were no pants. The important parts were covered, but his legs were not.
Last night we decided to go to the store for some cookies. Cookies are quite the luxury here, so we were excited to go and pick them up. After buying the cookies we headed back to our house. When we arrived at the gate, we knocked on the door. Sure enough, Mark unlocked and opened the door so that we could enter.
Katherine was practicing her French and asked Mark if he would like a cookie using her best French. Mark answered in French and seemed to really enjoy the cookie. While I was walking to the front door of the house, I noticed that Katherine was standing next to a night guard with no pants. She didn’t notice until it was too late, and she was but a few feet from his side. He didn’t seem embarrassed, but Katherine was. My worry is that he will now become pants less often for a cookie as that appeared to be his repayment from Katherine.
I hope that nobody ever tries to break into our house, and I doubt anyone ever will. This place is too safe for the need of a night guard, but we try to employ as many Rwandans as possible.
If a person ever does try to break in, I am sure that the first thing that the intruder will hear being screamed is:
“Mark, put your pants on! I think I hear someone is outside!”
Monday, June 18, 2007
Bike Limos and Rappers
One part of the project that I am helping involves the Coffee Bike. The coffee bike was created and designed by Mr. Ritchey, a man who was involved in the design of the mountain bike, and is highly sought after here in Rwanda. The purpose of this coffee bike program was to create a bike that could handle the mountainous and rugged terrain of Rwandan while still being able to support hundreds of pounds of coffee. The coffee farmers would use these coffee bikes to carry their coffee down the mountains to coffee washing station where they would sell their coffee. The idea is that if the coffee gets to the stations as quickly as possible from the time it is picked, the quality of the coffee is increased.
It is an interesting project, but what is more interesting is the locals’ response to the coffee bikes. They are highly sought after and are almost a symbol of status. These coffee bikes are like a Mercedes Benz to coffee farmers in Rwanda. They ride around on the coffee bikes as proudly as Americans would ride through town in an $80,000 convertible. They use the bikes to give rides to their friends, carry produce, and of course, to carry coffee beans. It is interesting to see how proud they are of the $200 bikes. The bikes are pretty long and are the limousines of Rwanda. Receiving a bike (they get them through a micro credit loan) is like winning a brand new car for them.
The link to a website about it is http://www.projectrwanda.org/
They also like Americans. People are always waving and giving Americans the thumbs up. I don’t know what Americans taught them this, but when you say American, the give you the thumbs up and say, “Cool!”
Sometimes they ask if you know various rappers like 50cent or JayZ. They know all the rappers.
When they find out that you are from Texas, they always say, “George Bush’s home!”
We went to another movie at the same little theater. This one was Harry Potter and it was in French. I have never been through so much touchier in my life. Harry Potter was bad enough; having to watch it in French was almost unbearable. This was my first Harry Potter movie to watch, and I pray that it was my last to ever see.
We are allowed to ride the coffee bikes around town because we have no other mode of transportation. It has been very nice. All the Rwandans watch in amazement as we ride by on our coffee bikes. I feel like a king on a bike chariot riding through town. All of the townspeople chant, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” This translates to “White man! White man!”
They like to state the obvious here in Rwanda, but even the obvious is amazing to them. The small children rub my skin to see if the white paint will come off. They are also amazed by the size of Americans. Most of the Rwandan’s are shorter than me, which is very short. Most of all, they are amazed with my red cheeks. This is the same in America, Europe, and Africa. People just don’t know what to make of my red cheeks.
One Rwandan asked me, “Who kicked you in the face?”
I didn’t want to bother with explaining my dermatological symptoms, so I simply answered, “A stupid Mzungu on a coffee bike in Texas named George Bush did this to me. And no, he is not a rapper. He just makes up words like one!”
It is an interesting project, but what is more interesting is the locals’ response to the coffee bikes. They are highly sought after and are almost a symbol of status. These coffee bikes are like a Mercedes Benz to coffee farmers in Rwanda. They ride around on the coffee bikes as proudly as Americans would ride through town in an $80,000 convertible. They use the bikes to give rides to their friends, carry produce, and of course, to carry coffee beans. It is interesting to see how proud they are of the $200 bikes. The bikes are pretty long and are the limousines of Rwanda. Receiving a bike (they get them through a micro credit loan) is like winning a brand new car for them.
The link to a website about it is http://www.projectrwanda.org/
They also like Americans. People are always waving and giving Americans the thumbs up. I don’t know what Americans taught them this, but when you say American, the give you the thumbs up and say, “Cool!”
Sometimes they ask if you know various rappers like 50cent or JayZ. They know all the rappers.
When they find out that you are from Texas, they always say, “George Bush’s home!”
We went to another movie at the same little theater. This one was Harry Potter and it was in French. I have never been through so much touchier in my life. Harry Potter was bad enough; having to watch it in French was almost unbearable. This was my first Harry Potter movie to watch, and I pray that it was my last to ever see.
We are allowed to ride the coffee bikes around town because we have no other mode of transportation. It has been very nice. All the Rwandans watch in amazement as we ride by on our coffee bikes. I feel like a king on a bike chariot riding through town. All of the townspeople chant, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” This translates to “White man! White man!”
They like to state the obvious here in Rwanda, but even the obvious is amazing to them. The small children rub my skin to see if the white paint will come off. They are also amazed by the size of Americans. Most of the Rwandan’s are shorter than me, which is very short. Most of all, they are amazed with my red cheeks. This is the same in America, Europe, and Africa. People just don’t know what to make of my red cheeks.
One Rwandan asked me, “Who kicked you in the face?”
I didn’t want to bother with explaining my dermatological symptoms, so I simply answered, “A stupid Mzungu on a coffee bike in Texas named George Bush did this to me. And no, he is not a rapper. He just makes up words like one!”
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
new pics
I have posted some new pictures. I want to note that I didn't take these pictures. The other two Aggies with me took them. They are better at photography than me, so I borrow from them.
Enjoy:
http://picasaweb.google.com/blazecurrie
Enjoy:
http://picasaweb.google.com/blazecurrie
Monday, June 11, 2007
Welcome to the Jungle
It finally happened. I did get sick. Don’t jump to conclusions because it was not malaria, yellow fever, polio, Hepatitis of any letter, or typhoid. I received shots and medications for those; I simply had food poisoning of some sort. I’ll save you the gory details and simply say that if you are ever in Rwanda, and you visit the city of Butare; please refrain from having the Tomato soup from the Ibis restaurant. As Forest Gump once said, “That’s all I’ve got to say about that.”
I did go out into the jungle for the first time yesterday. It was a lot of fun! We toured a huge rain forest that lies within Rwanda. We did see many plants, but few animals. We did encounter some Mountain Monkeys from time to time. They didn’t really mind us all that much.
I did find some interesting things about Rwandan culture from our tour guide while in the Rain Forest. For example:
If a tree is hit by lightning and dies, you are not allowed to use the lumber as firewood because that wood belongs to the sky.
If a woman is hit by lighting, you are not allowed to marry her. She also belongs to the sky who claimed her.
There are some plants that men use as love potions on women. It is said that if a man puts one of these plants in glass of milk and gives it to a female, she will be his forever.
“I’m bringing back a garden full of these plants!”
There are some dried leaves that woman can use to seduce men. All they have to do is eat these leaves, and men will fall in love with them. “I also want to note that these same species of leaves are used as toilet paper when the Sherman ultra soft paper runs out. These leaves are very soft.”
And last but not least:
According to Rwandan culture, if you visit a public forest in which a public highway passes, and you are a white man, then you must pay $20.
If you are Rwandan, it is free.
If you want to stop and take pictures, look, or walk around the forest, and you are a white person, it is another $30.
If you are Rwandan, it is free.
Moral to the story:
If you are a white person and want to see the jungle in Rwanda:
Car ride to the jungle: $20
Entrance fee: $20
Guided tour: $30
Finding an African love potion…..$Priceless
I did go out into the jungle for the first time yesterday. It was a lot of fun! We toured a huge rain forest that lies within Rwanda. We did see many plants, but few animals. We did encounter some Mountain Monkeys from time to time. They didn’t really mind us all that much.
I did find some interesting things about Rwandan culture from our tour guide while in the Rain Forest. For example:
If a tree is hit by lightning and dies, you are not allowed to use the lumber as firewood because that wood belongs to the sky.
If a woman is hit by lighting, you are not allowed to marry her. She also belongs to the sky who claimed her.
There are some plants that men use as love potions on women. It is said that if a man puts one of these plants in glass of milk and gives it to a female, she will be his forever.
“I’m bringing back a garden full of these plants!”
There are some dried leaves that woman can use to seduce men. All they have to do is eat these leaves, and men will fall in love with them. “I also want to note that these same species of leaves are used as toilet paper when the Sherman ultra soft paper runs out. These leaves are very soft.”
And last but not least:
According to Rwandan culture, if you visit a public forest in which a public highway passes, and you are a white man, then you must pay $20.
If you are Rwandan, it is free.
If you want to stop and take pictures, look, or walk around the forest, and you are a white person, it is another $30.
If you are Rwandan, it is free.
Moral to the story:
If you are a white person and want to see the jungle in Rwanda:
Car ride to the jungle: $20
Entrance fee: $20
Guided tour: $30
Finding an African love potion…..$Priceless
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Babel
They have a small movie theater here in Butare. I went and saw the movie “Tower of Babel,” with Brad Pitt, there yesterday. It seated about 30 to 50 people in the Theater. It was not shown via film strip but rather by a computer projector. As a matter of fact, periodically the movie would stop and the word “Buffering” would come on the screen. A few seconds later the movie would start. The movie was in English, so Bart, Katherine, and I were probably the only 3 out of the entire theater that could understand the entire movie.
This is very ironic because the movie is about lack of communication. I don’t want to ruin the movie, but it does parallel the biblical “Tower of Babel.” The biblical Tower of Babel is about God’s people trying to build a tower to the heavens. God smashed it down and with it common language. After the Tower fell, different races and languages started. (This is a very short and possibly incorrect version, but look it up if your curious.)
What was so ironic was that I was watching a movie that is somewhat based on the Tower of Babel, a movie about miscommunication, while the theater was filled with people who couldn’t understand it. They either spoke Rwandan or French while the movie was in English. After the movie was over, they chattered away in Rwandan about the movie (trying to figure it out I assume) while I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
As a matter of fact, if there is anything that I am not enjoying about this stay here; it is that I cannot communicate with the local people. I can watch a movie in English with them sitting beside me. I can enjoy the movie (except for those few minutes that it is “Buffering”), and I can tell YOU what the movie is about; however, I cannot discuss this movie with those in the theater. We cannot communicate, and this time I am the outsider.
The worst part is that it is my fault. Most of the people in Rwanda speak at least 2 languages fluently. Some can speak 3 or 4 very well. I can only speak one language. (Refusing to learn more than English is as American as Apple Pie!)
I have promised myself to never say these words again, “Foreign people living America should learn to speak English!”Instead I shall say, “People who only speak English should live in America. It is the only place where you can get away with it.”
This is very ironic because the movie is about lack of communication. I don’t want to ruin the movie, but it does parallel the biblical “Tower of Babel.” The biblical Tower of Babel is about God’s people trying to build a tower to the heavens. God smashed it down and with it common language. After the Tower fell, different races and languages started. (This is a very short and possibly incorrect version, but look it up if your curious.)
What was so ironic was that I was watching a movie that is somewhat based on the Tower of Babel, a movie about miscommunication, while the theater was filled with people who couldn’t understand it. They either spoke Rwandan or French while the movie was in English. After the movie was over, they chattered away in Rwandan about the movie (trying to figure it out I assume) while I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
As a matter of fact, if there is anything that I am not enjoying about this stay here; it is that I cannot communicate with the local people. I can watch a movie in English with them sitting beside me. I can enjoy the movie (except for those few minutes that it is “Buffering”), and I can tell YOU what the movie is about; however, I cannot discuss this movie with those in the theater. We cannot communicate, and this time I am the outsider.
The worst part is that it is my fault. Most of the people in Rwanda speak at least 2 languages fluently. Some can speak 3 or 4 very well. I can only speak one language. (Refusing to learn more than English is as American as Apple Pie!)
I have promised myself to never say these words again, “Foreign people living America should learn to speak English!”Instead I shall say, “People who only speak English should live in America. It is the only place where you can get away with it.”
Monday, June 4, 2007
Motel Rwanda
We (the two other interns and I) went to Kigali for the weekend. Kigali is the capitol city of Rwanda. We had a great plan for the weekend. Bart and I were going to get our own hotel room, but unlike Katherine, we were going to stay in a “Cheap Place.”
I want to note that a “Cheap Place” in Rwanda is really cheap, like $8 a night. We talked to some people and got a reservation in such a place. We got bus tickets, $3 for a two hour trip, to Kigali. We left here at 5:30pm and arrived at about 8pm or so.
Bart and I immediately got a taxi to our motel so that we could check in. We were excited about our first adventure in Kigali. When we arrived, the motel had lost our reservations, and the rooms were full. Our taxi was gone, we were stuck in a place where nobody spoke English, we didn’t have a place to stay, and it was in a rough neighborhood. I was worried.
We finally found someone who spoke English, and he was a very nice man. He had a scary voice as he sounded like Gollum in the Lord of the Rings (almost looked like him), but he was nice to us. He was always looking for a “Precious Room” for us. He helped us get a taxi. At one point he took us into a potential motel surrounded by bars. After we walked in, we were surrounded by about 8 Rwandans. I was scared. There was Bart, myself, Gollum, and 8 Rwandans looking at us like we were trespassing. They then showed us a room, but the lights didn’t work, so we left. We finally found a place three motels later.
By place, I don’t mean a nice two bed room with a good bathroom; I mean a small twin bed for both me and Bart, tiny bathroom (the water didn’t work), in a neighborhood with some problems. It was called the Vedette or something similar.
The fluorescent light flickered like a strobe light while we checked in. If you’re trying to picture this room, just remember the last scary movie you have seen involving a place where the lights flickered on and off constantly. This was our room.
We left this room to meet with some friends and have dinner. It was a good dinner followed by a nice party at a friend of a friend’s house. The party was nice and I stayed too late, but only because I dreaded the place we would stay after. The inevitable happened, and we did go back there for the night. If there ever was an opportunity to jump two Americans in Africa, it was there on that night in our motel room.
Needless to say, we were not jumped and felt fine the next morning. For those of you concerned about our thoughtless actions, let me just say that Rwanda is one of the safest places I have ever been. Walking in the middle of the night is not dangerous here like in downtown Houston. Police are everywhere here, and their policy is: Shoot first, ask questions later.
We were safe and happy. As for the rest of our time in Kigali, it was wonderful. I would not mind living there in the least. I advise anyone who wants to visit Africa, to make a long stop in Kigali. It is a beautiful city with nice people. Even if you stay in the Verdette!
I want to note that a “Cheap Place” in Rwanda is really cheap, like $8 a night. We talked to some people and got a reservation in such a place. We got bus tickets, $3 for a two hour trip, to Kigali. We left here at 5:30pm and arrived at about 8pm or so.
Bart and I immediately got a taxi to our motel so that we could check in. We were excited about our first adventure in Kigali. When we arrived, the motel had lost our reservations, and the rooms were full. Our taxi was gone, we were stuck in a place where nobody spoke English, we didn’t have a place to stay, and it was in a rough neighborhood. I was worried.
We finally found someone who spoke English, and he was a very nice man. He had a scary voice as he sounded like Gollum in the Lord of the Rings (almost looked like him), but he was nice to us. He was always looking for a “Precious Room” for us. He helped us get a taxi. At one point he took us into a potential motel surrounded by bars. After we walked in, we were surrounded by about 8 Rwandans. I was scared. There was Bart, myself, Gollum, and 8 Rwandans looking at us like we were trespassing. They then showed us a room, but the lights didn’t work, so we left. We finally found a place three motels later.
By place, I don’t mean a nice two bed room with a good bathroom; I mean a small twin bed for both me and Bart, tiny bathroom (the water didn’t work), in a neighborhood with some problems. It was called the Vedette or something similar.
The fluorescent light flickered like a strobe light while we checked in. If you’re trying to picture this room, just remember the last scary movie you have seen involving a place where the lights flickered on and off constantly. This was our room.
We left this room to meet with some friends and have dinner. It was a good dinner followed by a nice party at a friend of a friend’s house. The party was nice and I stayed too late, but only because I dreaded the place we would stay after. The inevitable happened, and we did go back there for the night. If there ever was an opportunity to jump two Americans in Africa, it was there on that night in our motel room.
Needless to say, we were not jumped and felt fine the next morning. For those of you concerned about our thoughtless actions, let me just say that Rwanda is one of the safest places I have ever been. Walking in the middle of the night is not dangerous here like in downtown Houston. Police are everywhere here, and their policy is: Shoot first, ask questions later.
We were safe and happy. As for the rest of our time in Kigali, it was wonderful. I would not mind living there in the least. I advise anyone who wants to visit Africa, to make a long stop in Kigali. It is a beautiful city with nice people. Even if you stay in the Verdette!
Friday, June 1, 2007
Memorial
I would like to keep these posts reasonably upbeat, but I visited one of the Genocide memorials yesterday. I visited one that was close to Butare, and it is the most raw and realistic of the memorials. This memorial still has the bodies of the victims on display…not in a glass case, but openly sitting on tables in rooms of a former secondary school.
What I saw today was not for the faint of heart. The tour guide was a man who survived the Genocide and was left for dead on that very spot. His wife and children were all killed. He was shot in the head but survived.
For those of you who do not know the history of the Genocide, I would not do it historic justice by trying to explain it. I can tell you what little I know, what I feel, and what I think.
I know that somewhere around 1 million Rwandans were killed during the 1994 Genocide. The spot that we visited yesterday was the spot where about 50 – 60 thousand were killed. The smell of death can still be sensed as you enter the memorial.
Of the 50 to 60 thousand that were brought there to be killed, four survived. One of those being our tour guide who hid in the mountains after being left for dead. He told us that he could not leave the site because that is where his family, wife and children, lay dead. This poor man sees some of the killers on a daily bases.
This man sees them, knows what they have done, but can do nothing about it. He has no comfort. He has no family or friends left to explain this terrible tragedy, and everyone around him hates him because he knows the truth. He knows that men, women, and children were murdered on that very spot. He knows because he was there. It is his curse. He spends everyday of his life retailing the story of how he was shot and his family killed along with thousands of others.
Yesterday was a sad day for me. I still find it hard to fathom that this much evil can exist in our world.
Our tour guide said that he would forgive those who did this, but his torture is that they would never ask. He is one of many Rwandans trying to forget the past, but still facing it everyday.
What I saw today was not for the faint of heart. The tour guide was a man who survived the Genocide and was left for dead on that very spot. His wife and children were all killed. He was shot in the head but survived.
For those of you who do not know the history of the Genocide, I would not do it historic justice by trying to explain it. I can tell you what little I know, what I feel, and what I think.
I know that somewhere around 1 million Rwandans were killed during the 1994 Genocide. The spot that we visited yesterday was the spot where about 50 – 60 thousand were killed. The smell of death can still be sensed as you enter the memorial.
Of the 50 to 60 thousand that were brought there to be killed, four survived. One of those being our tour guide who hid in the mountains after being left for dead. He told us that he could not leave the site because that is where his family, wife and children, lay dead. This poor man sees some of the killers on a daily bases.
This man sees them, knows what they have done, but can do nothing about it. He has no comfort. He has no family or friends left to explain this terrible tragedy, and everyone around him hates him because he knows the truth. He knows that men, women, and children were murdered on that very spot. He knows because he was there. It is his curse. He spends everyday of his life retailing the story of how he was shot and his family killed along with thousands of others.
Yesterday was a sad day for me. I still find it hard to fathom that this much evil can exist in our world.
Our tour guide said that he would forgive those who did this, but his torture is that they would never ask. He is one of many Rwandans trying to forget the past, but still facing it everyday.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
End of Week 1
I have been here for a little over a week, but it feels like longer. Not because of anything bad, but only because I have learned so much in so little time. I finally figured out what “Mzungu” means. It means white man, but everyone one is saying to me all the time, so I thought it meant “hello”. That is first week stuff. Now I am a Rwanda veteran going on my eighth day here….ok so I really still know very little about Rwanda, but it does feel like a home away from home!
Yesterday a boy, that was no older than 4 years old, saw Bart, Katherine, and myself walking down the street. He then took off on a dead sprint running from his mother straight towards us. He did not slow down but collided with arms spread open to give the biggest hug I have ever seen to Bart’s leg. He then gave Katherine followed by myself a huge hug. He was smiling and giggling the entire time.
We had never seen this child in our entire lives, but he hugged us like he had known us forever. His mother embarrassingly pulled him away, but we didn’t mind. It was the highlight of my trip here so far!
On a sadder note, I finally did see extreme poverty. It is not seen here in the city of Butare as much as in the rural areas. I went out to a health center out in the Rwandan mountains and saw what poverty can do to people. It is one thing to see some healthy children playing in the street, but quite another to see a five year old in extreme pain and misery. Most of this sickness is probably caused by common colds, flu, stomach virus, or sometimes malaria; there are no cures for these back home, but there are medicines that help the pain. These medicines do not exist in Rural Rwanda.
I saw a mother with three girls (ages were probably 5, 2, and 6 months.) The 5 year old was carrying the 6 month old, and the mother was carrying the 2 year old. They all looked very ill. I also saw a young boy (probably 6) laying face down on the ground waiting for a doctor to see him. He did not have the energy to stand.
Some of the mothers (who looked malnourished) were holding small children (also malnourished) and they asked me for money. I realized that they don’t need money, they need an answer…and I don’t have it.
I have heard Americans say, “They bring it upon themselves. You can’t help the Africans.” I can confidently say that they do not bring it upon themselves. They are very hard working, kind, and moral people here in Rwanda. They are plagued with diseases that run ramped here due to the climate and nature of the disease. America would look much the same if we had similar rainforests, insects, and poor soils that cause poor production that cause poor nutrition. A lack of nutrition really makes the body more vulnerable to these diseases.
Don’t get the impression that they are doomed population. No matter the misery, I do not see faces of sadness, sickness, or depression; I only see faces filled with hope. The hope that tomorrow will be better. They have seen progress. The coffee production increase and price increase that Texas A&M has helped the coffee farmers with has already shown them that a decent quality of life is possible.
I am proud to do what I can to help those in need.
Yesterday a boy, that was no older than 4 years old, saw Bart, Katherine, and myself walking down the street. He then took off on a dead sprint running from his mother straight towards us. He did not slow down but collided with arms spread open to give the biggest hug I have ever seen to Bart’s leg. He then gave Katherine followed by myself a huge hug. He was smiling and giggling the entire time.
We had never seen this child in our entire lives, but he hugged us like he had known us forever. His mother embarrassingly pulled him away, but we didn’t mind. It was the highlight of my trip here so far!
On a sadder note, I finally did see extreme poverty. It is not seen here in the city of Butare as much as in the rural areas. I went out to a health center out in the Rwandan mountains and saw what poverty can do to people. It is one thing to see some healthy children playing in the street, but quite another to see a five year old in extreme pain and misery. Most of this sickness is probably caused by common colds, flu, stomach virus, or sometimes malaria; there are no cures for these back home, but there are medicines that help the pain. These medicines do not exist in Rural Rwanda.
I saw a mother with three girls (ages were probably 5, 2, and 6 months.) The 5 year old was carrying the 6 month old, and the mother was carrying the 2 year old. They all looked very ill. I also saw a young boy (probably 6) laying face down on the ground waiting for a doctor to see him. He did not have the energy to stand.
Some of the mothers (who looked malnourished) were holding small children (also malnourished) and they asked me for money. I realized that they don’t need money, they need an answer…and I don’t have it.
I have heard Americans say, “They bring it upon themselves. You can’t help the Africans.” I can confidently say that they do not bring it upon themselves. They are very hard working, kind, and moral people here in Rwanda. They are plagued with diseases that run ramped here due to the climate and nature of the disease. America would look much the same if we had similar rainforests, insects, and poor soils that cause poor production that cause poor nutrition. A lack of nutrition really makes the body more vulnerable to these diseases.
Don’t get the impression that they are doomed population. No matter the misery, I do not see faces of sadness, sickness, or depression; I only see faces filled with hope. The hope that tomorrow will be better. They have seen progress. The coffee production increase and price increase that Texas A&M has helped the coffee farmers with has already shown them that a decent quality of life is possible.
I am proud to do what I can to help those in need.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The internet is working
The Internet has been down for a few days, but it is back up now. I am having a blast in Rwanda. We have the best cook in the world. She is awesome.
Things are looking up. I have been interacting with some school children and different people in Rwanda. The people here are all so nice. They do stare at us a lot, and I don't mean that they look at us as we pass by; I mean that they stare you right in the eyes. It is part of their culture. It is somewhat strange, but I just stare right back at them.
Most of them try to talk to us in their best English. I have been asked if I know the Hip Hop star 50 cent many times. Apparenlty he has quite a following here in Rwanda.
This next week is suppose to be very busy with many coffee buyers coming into town. I have settled down, and now I'm ready to work.
Our house is a perfect place. There are three bedrooms (one for each student), a living room, dining room/ kitchen, and two bathrooms. It is a nicer place than my first dorm and apartment in college station by leaps and bounds. (We should have hot water by Tuesday). Not to mention that we have a woman who cooks three meals a day for us and cleans (washes and irons clothes too). We also have a night gard that watches our house.
It is amazing. I am becoming very spoiled with all the special attention, but it helps the local economy. Whatever I can do to help!
Things are looking up. I have been interacting with some school children and different people in Rwanda. The people here are all so nice. They do stare at us a lot, and I don't mean that they look at us as we pass by; I mean that they stare you right in the eyes. It is part of their culture. It is somewhat strange, but I just stare right back at them.
Most of them try to talk to us in their best English. I have been asked if I know the Hip Hop star 50 cent many times. Apparenlty he has quite a following here in Rwanda.
This next week is suppose to be very busy with many coffee buyers coming into town. I have settled down, and now I'm ready to work.
Our house is a perfect place. There are three bedrooms (one for each student), a living room, dining room/ kitchen, and two bathrooms. It is a nicer place than my first dorm and apartment in college station by leaps and bounds. (We should have hot water by Tuesday). Not to mention that we have a woman who cooks three meals a day for us and cleans (washes and irons clothes too). We also have a night gard that watches our house.
It is amazing. I am becoming very spoiled with all the special attention, but it helps the local economy. Whatever I can do to help!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
First Day
We (myself, Bart, & Katherine) all arrived in Rwanda yesterday. After traveling over 40 hours to get here, we were in heavy anticipation of arrival.
I can tell you that we look like complete ducks out of water; however, the Rwandan people are among the nicest that I have ever met. From the moment that we arrived, children would come running to us so that they could touch us. Katherine held here hand out of the car window, and the all came to her to touch her hand. They all seemed so happy.
We are staying in a nice hotel for now. We will move into a house in a few days. We start work tomorrow. They are giving us a day to adjust. It works out perfect because they are having a village court today, so nobody is working.
Our fist two meals here have been great. In two very nice and large meals at a local restaurant, I have spent about $7.00. We will hire a cook in a few days. He or She will prepare us three meals a day.
I am very excited about this stay here in Rwanda. A few of the locals speak English, so we have had some interesting conversations. They are growing corn and sorghum like back home. They even have Careless Weeds like back in West Texas. The only difference is the weather.
We will have a high of about 80 and a low of about 60 the entire time we are here, day and night. I could not ask for a more peace and beautiful place to spend a summer!
I can tell you that we look like complete ducks out of water; however, the Rwandan people are among the nicest that I have ever met. From the moment that we arrived, children would come running to us so that they could touch us. Katherine held here hand out of the car window, and the all came to her to touch her hand. They all seemed so happy.
We are staying in a nice hotel for now. We will move into a house in a few days. We start work tomorrow. They are giving us a day to adjust. It works out perfect because they are having a village court today, so nobody is working.
Our fist two meals here have been great. In two very nice and large meals at a local restaurant, I have spent about $7.00. We will hire a cook in a few days. He or She will prepare us three meals a day.
I am very excited about this stay here in Rwanda. A few of the locals speak English, so we have had some interesting conversations. They are growing corn and sorghum like back home. They even have Careless Weeds like back in West Texas. The only difference is the weather.
We will have a high of about 80 and a low of about 60 the entire time we are here, day and night. I could not ask for a more peace and beautiful place to spend a summer!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)