neighborhood kids

hanging with the neighborhood kids

Noticing the Night

Sitting out back this evening with Sarah and some of the girls as they prepared supper, I gazed up and noticed the stars. A short ways outside of town there is little light to block out their brilliance. The only light present in fact is the one gleaming from within the house, providing just enough visibility to cook upon the little coal stoves, but scarcely to write.

It’s amazing how vast the sky appears and how bright the stars shine. How beautiful they appear on this peaceful evening with only soft chatter around the kettle and the occasional fir of laughter breaking the steady hum of the grasshoppers. Leaning against the cold stone wall of the house, sipping my boiling hot cup of English tea [I have not fully become African yet] listening to the now familiar sounds of the lunyankole conversation being carried out around me – a warmth and joy overtook my soul as I realized how fully I had been incorporated into this vibrant family. What a joy and blessing it is to discover a new home nearly half way around the world.

Oh Sunday's!

Waking up and going to church on a Sunday morning is usually quite the typical and predictable affair. However, this Sunday was anything but ordinary...

Being informed the evening before that I was to accompany Pastor Emmy on his visit to one of the rural churches the next morning, we woke and left early for the ONE HOUR drive out of town down the long and windy stretches of dirt road that divide the countryside. Naively thinking I would be able to accomplish work during the car ride I brought along my journal to write it. After fighting to legibly scribble down a few of my thoughts I gave up and simply sought to enjoy the view. Driving for an hour and a half and stopping several times for no apparent reason it became clear that we actually didn't know where we were going. It wasn't that we were lost, as we knew where we were and we knew where we wanted to go, but the route in between was a bit fuzzy.

The further out we journeyed the more rugged the 'roads' became. At one point as we jerked and stalled our way up the hillside, I felt as though I was actually on a roller coaster making my way up to the top before the giant drop on the other side. However, on an amusement park ride it is all thrill, knowing that you will survive... being jostled along the Ugandan landscape the thrill is fun, but the question of safe passage is a bit more questionable. I will have to say though that our Driver, also named Emmy, is one of a kind and definitely displays impressive skills on a daily basis!

Clearly we survived our 2.5 HOUR! trip to the church, making a few U-turns and venturing down dirt pathways (forget roads!). Pulling up to the half finished church I was confused by the empty scene before me. With essentially no communication in English (I am in the only foreigner in the bunch) I was left to my own devices to determine what was unfolding before me. Slightly dazed by the journey, I stumbled out of the matatu and into the brilliant sunshine. Welcomed by the pastor we were escorted to a neighboring building, directed into a very small room and invited to take a seat. "Ah, we are having a quaint little Bible study, this will be nice," I thought to myself.

Oh NO! This was only the prelude to the day's concherto. Within moments a tray of coffee cups passed by, then the all telling teapot, and the smell. My stomach churned. That smell could only mean one thing, African Tea! Usually quite the tea officianado, I have not been able to handle tea in this region which really isn't tea at all, but spiced milk. Fresh from the cow unrefrigerated unpasturized milk that curdles my stomach at the sight. I prayed for strength as a piping hot cup was plunked down in front of me. Reinforcements were thankfully on the way in the form of plates piled with bread and bushels of bananas.

Plan of attack: swallow down a swig of the toxic tea and then inhale a piece of banana to cover the taste. Great in theory... not so effective in actuality.

The tea tasted as bad as I remembered from my village experience in Rakai and the banana did nothing.

Plan of attack take 2: dip bread into tea thereby dispersing the taste and lowering the overall level of liquid in my cup. Another brilliant theory... another unsatisfactory attempt.

The soggy sweet bread was slightly more tolerable then the tea itself, but hardly decreased the quantity of tea.

Plan of attack #3: swap cups with the small child who was sitting next to me who had all but finished her drink. Perfect in prospect but the only drawback was making the switch without 1) the host noticing and 2) the child saying anything.

Alas, I knew it could not be done. Trying to avoid eye contact with our host who noticed my lack of enthusiasm over breakfast, Grace thankfully came to my rescue offering to drink my tea and my stomach was saved!

Church began shortly after that, or rather, we entered into the already started service minutes later. Praising, singing and dancing commenced, followed by the obligatory long winded introductions, the "few words" by the mzungu and then Pastor Emmy's sermon. The service was actually quite pleasant and I didn't miss anything given my front and center placement before the church.

Retracing our tracks home we arrived shortly, thus concluding our 8 hour church excursion. Minutes later I was being ushered out the door once again, this time for a music event. Excited to be out in the evening for the first time since arriving I had no idea what was in store. All I knew is that it was supposed to be a night of Christian music. Entering the large rustically created gymnasium type room, I was instantly ushered to my seat. As you may have already guessed, front row center located immediately behind the table of honor - since being the only white person in the entire place I didn't already stand out enough!


The evening was certainly entertaining with an overzealous MC who looked like he escaped off some corny oldschool game show and the songs with choreographed backup dancing. Sitting through over two hours of music in other languages and being recorded close to a hundred times on camera I was rapidly growing weary of the evening and was just determining hour to make the least spectacle of a departure when the music stopped and three chairs were placed on the stage for 3 special people. "I'm safe," I thought, "no one here even knows my name so there is NO way I could be called on stage." Oh, so SO WRONG! "Pastor ____ can you please come forward, and the only mzungu white lady in the front row..." Yes, that would be me, just in case there was any question or confusion! Lets think of a more awkward moment shall we. I unwillingly made my way up onto the stage and took my place in the center chair. Three dancers were then brought up onto the stage to dance before each of the selected people and baskets were placed in front of them as a competition for a CD. I felt like I was trapped inside some very awful and very wrong international television program. Thankfully my dancer was an adorable little child who looked just about as confused and intimidated as I did. At first count the mzungu was leading (yes, purely out of pity and because of my skin color). New dancers were called to replace the first set and the music played again. Recount. Still leading, but barely. At this point I was the only one still sitting my chair and so I awkwardly stood, vowing that I would simply stand there but would under no circumstances be moved to dance. The music played again, the amusement of the situation had long sense worn off and just wanting the incident to end I joined in with my dancer much to the amusement of everyone present. The contest was then halted for cheating (no rules had ever been given!) and another tally of the baskets was taken. I was barely in the lead, still, but was just shy of the 50,000 shillings needed (when that number was decided I have no idea). The announcer turned to us and asked how we should settle this before turning back to the audience and stating that the CD could not be given for less than 50,000. Taking matters into my own hands I handed my nearest opponent a 20,000 note, giving him more than enough to be declared the winner. This was clearly unexpected, but after a bit of debating had the desired effect as I was finally allowed off the stage and back to my seat. Needless to say I departed the assembly a few minutes later.

Exploited as a fundraising tool for my skin color. Always makes a person feel good.
I do not even know what they were trying to raise money for. Hopefully it was a worthy cause.

Christmas Came Early

There is nothing like getting into the Christmas spirit - the spirit of joy and the spirit of giving. Spending numerous hours with the orphaned and needy children at the Parental Care School and Orphanage in Mbarara, Uganda in the days leading up to Christmas it was hard not to fall in love with each and every one of them. From their precious smiles to their uncontainable laughter, you would never know that most of the children present grew up separated or were abandoned by their families.
Taken in by the ever welcoming and warm arms of Supermom Sarah and Pastor "Papa" Emmy, the children at Parental Care School are raised up in a simple but loving setting where they receive a wonderful education, a safe and warm place to live and a large family to call home. Beginning as a dream and vision of this husband and wife team, they sacrificed a great deal to help the beautiful unwanted children in their community.

(How anyone could turn away or mistreat one of these most precious beings is beyond me.) Last year they even sold their own home as a "seed" to finance the construction of buildings for the school and dormitory. Trusting implicitly that God would provide for each and every one of their needs they have refused to turn back even in light of tough economic times and their own large ever-growing family, currently 30+.
Talking to Pastor Emmy in the weeks leading up to December the ministry was severely strapped financially and they were struggling to find money to feed all the children properly. Never losing hope or faith, prayers were continually sent out. Thank you so much to everyone who joined in prayer with them and donated precious resources. The Christmas celebration would not have been the same without you!

Christmas actually came early for the most needy of the children at the school who remained without any relatives to return to over the holiday break. Working for several days earlier in the week, Sarah had secured new outfits for the children from all over town to present to them as their Christmas gift. Pulling into the school on that bright and sunny afternoon, the children could hardly contain their excitement as they raced to welcome the van and warmly greeted us all with tremendous hugs.

Assembling in mass in the middle of the compound each child sat in anticipation was their name was called and new clothes were brought forth. Order quickly transformed into a frenzy as the excitement simply could simply not be regulated. Within moments each of the children were holding up their new garments for examination. Pausing momentarily for a few pictures it was then off to the races as each rushed off to adorn their Christmas presents. Emerging from the buildings, the compound was awash with color as the children ran about with glee. Over a hundred photos later the festivities were winding down and it was time to say that day's goodbyes, followed instantly by a "see you tomorrow."
The joy, gratefulness and humbleness this children express is inspiring. One new outfit completely made their day and their Christmas.

Reading

My heart was deeply touched today as I spent the afternoon with some of Pastor Emmy's kids. I pulled out a simple children's storybook that I had salvaged from the junk pile at the International School in Rwanda, the kids loved it and must have read it 5 times each. It was "If You Give A Mouse Your Lunchbox," from the If You Take A Mouse to School series - great simple little book actually. My heart nearly broke though when after reading through the story once, Roger, a boy of 8 or 9, went off to dig through an old box to find their only storybook. It was a well worn Baby Bop (from Barney) paperback picture book where all the pages were falling out. He then read that one over several times, until I brought them an additional book from my secret Christmas stockpile. I could not even imagine a childhood without books. It was crushing and humbling all at the same time.

Vowing to find additional children's books for both the family and the kids at the school, I searched the entire downtown section of the city but was quite disheartened when the few bookstores I managed to find sold only dusty school books and outdated language primers.

A Different System of Communication

“Today you will teach a Bible lesson to the children”

This matter of fact statement came early this morning (I suppose early is relative, but I had barely finished breakfast) from Grace as she was informing me of what I would be doing today. I couldn’t help but appear slightly stunned, not so much by the request as its delivery. Shock quickly turned to a smile and then a barely audible laugh. Emmy, one of the oldest ‘boys’ in the house was sitting at the computer across from me and asked if something was the problem. It wasn’t so much the request, I can tell a Bible story, but the way in which it was delivered which is entirely African and still an assault to my American sensibilities.

Accustomed to being asked rather than informed to help out, share, speak and the like, I have no immediate frame of reference to shelve such a statement in. I am used to being asked days or at least a day in advance, not that several hours isn’t more than enough time, but more the expectation that because I am here, I will. Tonight will be fun though, I love being with the kids at the school and to get an opportunity to encourage them in their walks with God is even more of a joy than I could have asked for.

However, I am still not used to the abruptness in which information here is so often communicated. I guess it is still one of the many ways I have to learn to adjust and adapt.

Taking it with Time

“Here we don’t take meals with time,
you, you are used to taking meals with time.”

Yes, in America, time is truly everything. We schedule our days, our meals our comings and goings by the hands of a clock, growing frustrated and aggravated when an unexpected event forces them to deviate. We get impatient waiting in lines, waiting for food and waiting at all. We expect quality, quantity and quickness. We have created a word for extreme impatience in traffic, road rage.

Living in Africa these past 6 months my patience has been continually cultivated as I have spent the better part of most days waiting, sitting, standing, simply being. Here people are more important than punctuality. Relationships are valued above all else and the need to sit with others overtakes any rush to move along.

This morning after dropping Pastor Emmy off in town, the Driver, also named Emmy, took me over to the post office arriving at five to eight. With a few minutes to spare Emmy began to share his life story and how he came to be a part of the family. Watching people start to walk in and out of the Post I found myself getting antsy to go, but Emmy quite right on talking, seemingly oblivious that is was time to complete the task we had been waiting on. As the minutes passed I realized how my anxiousness was growing and how in the grand scheme of life the mail could wait another 20 minutes while anothers life was shared with me.

In the business of life it can be so easy to put tasks in front of people.
Take time today to be present with those around you, seizing the opportunity to share life with them instead of pushing past them as an interference to your plans. You might just be surprised in the ways your life is blessed.

Sometimes You Can't Please Everyone

There is nothing like making small children cry in the morning. It is just past 7am and I am sitting in my new favorite spot on the cool cement floor of the balcony. Sarah isn’t up yet to make me move to a mat. She is a sweetheart, and has clearly adopted me in as one of her children. With five biological children, 18 adopted directly in and over 150 more at the school, which she cares for diligently, it is amazing that she could have room in heart for any more. Her love is truly endless.

I have been getting along very well with all the kids at the house and school, yesterday afternoon was my best day here thus far, more on that to come later though…

One very simple thing about me: I love kids! I have been helping take care of children since I was a kid and to this day I cannot think of a single one who didn’t like me. Usually we hit it off instantly, at times it can take a little warming up to, but NEVER can I recall a child who has so adamantly hated me as the Driver’s youngest daughter does.

Hate really is the wrong word though, because that implies that she knows me. The child is TERRIFIED of me. I know I am not supposed to take it personally, as she is scared of all “whities,” but still. She is adorable with her beautiful black hair all up in braids with beads dangling off the ends, all I want is to be friends.

Since arriving at the house she has cried nearly every time she sees me. I thought we were making a small amount of progress yesterday when I was able to walk by her several times without her immediately sobbing. Clearly I was mistaken! Just a few minutes ago she walked in with her father and the waterworks began again.

It has become part of my mission to get this beautiful little girl to like me and act which has not put me above bribery with candy, movies, crayons and colored paper. More than anything though it simply breaks my heart to see her cry, even though everyone else in the house thinks the entire situation is hilarious. Hopefully after 3.5 weeks she will realize that I am not so bad, hopefully!

Living in Black and White Where Color is Everything

Waking up this morning I faced the usual dilemma of what to wear for the day. Eyeing my bag strategically packed to maximize space but not accessibility I wondered how I was going to dig out the necessary components for a new outfit. Conquering my backpack and walking out to face a brand new day I was instantly humbled when I realized nearly everyone was still wearing their same clothes from yesterday. I was worried about what others would think if I wore the same outfit two days in a row when the reality is that there are so many greater situations to be concerned with. Aside from the fact that everyone is so focused on my whiteness that I doubt they would even notice if I wore the same clothes for a week. :o)

On the subject of color, a seemingly politically incorrect topic to discuss in the States but an inescapable part of my life here as everyone sees fit to remind me that I am white, foreign and therefore rich. (Clearly they have not seen my bank account!) The realization of racism in this region was unavoidable today as I accompanied my friend on an errand where the store owner quoted her a price 30% higher than normal purely because I was there. On later discussion, as the story was repeated about a hundred times over, it was astutely put that “even you, you pay for your color.” Yes, I certainly pay for my color in a land where I can be spotted from a mile away. However, at the same time, I am often given preferential treatment over others because I am white and thus somehow better? I take issue with both situations and wish that we could all simply treat one another with equality regardless of ethnicity, gender and socio-economic status. Only in a truly perfect world though, right.

Being away from my friendly American bubble down here in southern Uganda the discrepancy in my color seems to have multiplied ten fold. Everywhere I go I draw attention, crowds and stares. I don’t mind so much when the children yell out mzungu (white person) but when it comes from an adult, I guess I feel they should know better. Attending a funeral this afternoon, I couldn’t help but question if my presence there was more of a distraction than a blessing. With nearly half the audience keeping a curious eye on me I felt the focus shift from the tragedy at hand to speculation of the new person. The young lady who died was only 19 years old and was also 7 months pregnant. She leaves behind two young children and the uncertainty of who will care for them now.

Tired by 10

It ceases to amaze me how even though I felt like I did nothing today but sit and stand I am incredibly tired and it is only 10pm! What has happened to me, I must be getting old!!!

Sweating Through Christmas

Saturday evening, the dining room was once against decked in red and green, the sweet aroma of cinnamon filled the house as cooking had just commenced for the day and dessert was finishing up in the oven. In many ways it was deja vu from Thursday nights supper. However this dinner took on a more adult feel, kind of like when you finally move up from the kids table to the regular table at family meals. Alcohol and appetizers lined the table as guests walked in. A tiny tree with lights and several local decorations helped bring the Christmas feeling closer to home.

About the only unwelcome addition to our evening Christmas celebration was the heat. I have never been to a Christmas party before where a fan was blowing out of necessity. Needless to say, sweating in Christmas has become a very new tradition and one I hope is not repeated many years over.

Go-ED Christmas

“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane snow is glistening”

“In Uganda, the sun is shining,
and tomorrow we’ll be goodby’in”

What better way to celebrate the joy of the season and our final meal together then with a home cooked Christmas feast!

Giving our lovely cook Grace a night off for once, we divided ourselves up into groups and each took on a dish. Vegis, Potatoes, Meat and Dessert - we set out to planning several days in advance, creating a budget for what we would need and then setting out to get the necessary supplies.

Once the afternoon of cooking was complete it was time to sit down at our festively decorated table and enjoy the hard work of our labor. It was delicious!

Candlelight Concert

Friday came all to quickly this week, as our final days in Kampala as the Go-ED '08 semester came to a close.

For many, the day began early, as two angelic Saint Lucia's made their way from room to room bearing hot tea and christmas cheer. Startling most sound sleepers, they did not receive the warmest reception by all, but those who did rise to the occasion were treated to breakfast in bed, Julia's bed that is.

With warm drinks in hand we followed the floating candlelight down the stairs and into Julia & Kenny's room, where all us little ones piled into the bed to share in this very early Christmas tradition. (It was 5:30am - after most people had been up until 3am, need I say more).

Losing power in the middle of the morning, hardly anyone noticed as the last minute shopping and packing frenzy commenced. With little to do but stay out of the way, I watched and helped as eleven of my closest new friends prepared to depart.

By 1pm their ride was here, as none other than Patrick and bus with cheatah printed seats entered the compound. Oh Patrick - the stories we have to tell. Forty-five minutes later all the bags were stacked in the back and the final hugs were being bestowed. As the engine started rain and tears began to fall. Sarah and I stood out front watching our team pull away, what a semester it has been.

With an emptiness in our house and hearts Sarah and I found it challenging to keep occupied. To hot to be outside, no electricity to run computers, we resorted to writing Christmas cards and then decided it was time for a nap. Being the graduates of the bunch, we treated ourselves to a celebratory dinner at Indian Summer and then cemented the joy of the evening with a trip to Ciao Ciao's for ice cream.

Making our way up the street and back onto the compound the air was silent, too silent. Our trusty generator was off and we were now staring up at the darkness of our empty home. Panicking for a moment when we thought we'd been locked out, we carefully entered and made our way up through the darkness to search for our flashlights.

Finding them with little pain and anguish, we soon discovered how ineffective they were. Remembering the candlelight wreaths of the wee morning hours, a mini Christmas 'campfire' was created on the table upstairs illuminating the room just enough to see one another and share in a pleasant evening concert. Sarah strummed away on her guitar as I sat and wrote.

What an unexpected ending to a very empty day.

Go-ED team '08 you are already missed

Forever the Greatest Go-ED Group EVER!

Beneath the Tree

Before there were classrooms people would often gather at the base of trees to take shelter from the heat and share life with one another. In this way the history of peoples was passed from one generation to the next.

Arriving in East Africa we have been inundated with the history and culture of these different peoples as we have learned both within the classroom and walking down the street. One class in particular focused on the literature of East Africans in a post-colonial time frame, examining how the writing of the author characterized and illuminated their own view of life and tradition.

Additionally, as we were all split up and dispersed throughout the region for practicum, we were entrusted with the act of researching and gathering a selection of oral literature reflective of the culture we found ourselves in. Through conversations with elders in the community our teams gathered proverbs, songs, stories, legends and more to bring back and share with our fellow classmates.

In our afternoon of Oral Literature Presentations colors and laughter abounded as we reenacted the history that had been so lovingly passed on. In keeping with tradition, one group entertained under a tree, allowing us all to gain a glimpse of the beliefs held within Uganda.

Picture Problem

Due to our poor internet connectivity, my blog with be devoid of all new pictures for a while. I will post more once life returns to normal. Thanks for understanding!

Rain, Rain Go Away...

... Come Again Another Day! 

The afternoon rains have come again, this time catching me between houses as the first few warning drops felling signaling the unstoppable down pour.  Musical and calming, the sounds of rain falling at different volumes and times is a refreshing reminder of the wondrous world in which we live. Yesterday I was overcome by the sheer volume of it all as it sounded like I was trapped behind a waterfall. On other occasions, the sound of the water rushing down the metal sheets on the roof have been so deafening that all conversation is forced to cease. 

Today it is simply a pleasant downfall as I am tucked warmly inside babysitting our wireless internet device and trying to wrap up the last of my undergrad assignments.  Graduation is only 11 days away, but who is really counting! 

In and Out of Connection

Opening up my laptop these past few days, I am continuously confronted with one overriding question: will the internet work again? 

Having gone the better portion of 6 months with clear, fast, reliable wireless internet connection throughout the different countries I have been living in and traveling through, it has been a frustrating feat to rediscover the disconnected life. 

Rising up at the best moment possible - the final two weeks of school - apparently we humans are not the only ones tired of being worked to the max. Clearly the internet here has gone on strike working for only minutes at a time before requiring a period of rest.  Even now as I write this we have lost contact once again and I will have to save and repost during one of those brief glimmers of hopeful functionality. 

It is interesting how quickly we can become so reliant and dependent on technology and the instant connection to the digital world at our fingertips. What did we ever do before the age of cell phones, laptops and wireless internet?  

Happy Thanksgiving! ...and pass the chicken

It's Thanksgiving once again, the Ultimate American Holiday - A time for Family, Football and Food! 

Here in Kigali (Rwanda), Thanksgiving took on a slightly different meaning, or at least within our group. In honor of our American connections, we were given a long weekend with two days off of school. However, the rest of the life continued with on with the majority of our host nation completely unaware of the significance of this traditional Thursday. 

This year Thanksgiving basically meant two things: 

1) CHICKEN!!! 

A rarity in Rwanda, Turkeys are nearly unheard of and those few that do exist make a poor Thanksgiving feast.  Thus this year our protein was supplied by poultry of a different feather, cousin of the turkey, the Chicken! An imported expense, chicken has also made only selected appearances on our table during these two months in Rwanda, so to have a whole piece of chicken to oneself was quite a treat. 

2) TREE OUTFIT DAY!

Beginning a new group Thanksgiving tradition of our own we instituted Tree Outfit Day. Never heard of Tree Outfit Day you say? Allow me to elaborate: Tree Outfit Day is a day when everyone present is supposed to dress in a tree like fashion. Essentially, green on top, brown on bottom.  And, what does a whole forest of trees do once they are up and walking about, why take countless of randomly over-posed photos, Of Course!  Thus was tree outfit day - a day of Green fun that helped us all to feel a little more festive in this time away from our traditional family and friends. 

Dinner did not disappoint (even though many of us are looking forward to actually having turkey again next year)

and I think nearly all walked away with that overstuffed feeling.  Dessert was scrumcious with apple desserts galore - our pumpkin pie filling was confiscated by the TSA at the airport, apparently Thanksgiving goodness is a security risk of National importance! 

All in all it was a wonderful day, beautifully rounded out with phone calls home helping to shrink the distance.  

An of course the always awkward holiday "family" photo

An Organized Response

As violence has flared up once again in the DR Congo, Food for the Hungry International (FHI) and numerous other NGO's have sent assessment teams into Goma to determine what the proper course of action should be in the face of extreme tension, violence and need. 

Here is the latest report issued by FHI

November 2008
Fighting in the Democratic Republic of Congo

"After decades of war, the Congolese experienced a period of relative peace until fighting erupted between rebel soldiers and government forces in the eastern province of North Kivu in late October. A UN-brokered cease-fire held for a week before falling apart, leading to an escalation in violence and the displacement of at least 250,000 people. The province was already home to numerous camps housing as many as 1 million displaced people. Living conditions within the crowded camps are marked by lack of sanitation and food with an increasing threat of disease.

Food for the Hungry has been operational in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) since early 1995, in response to the Rwandan refugee crisis. Current work in the DRC focuses primarily on food security vulnerabilities, providing seeds, tools and seed protection packets, and developing fish ponds. Food for the Hungry also undertakes road rehabilitation, water and sanitation and health projects. However, the conflict has caused our programs in Minova, a region on the border between North Kivu and South Kivu to be placed on hold due to the security situation.

Staff members continue to monitor the situation and a team from Food for the Hungry's relief unit is currently conducting an assessment to determine the necessary response. In addition, Food for the Hungry staff members in neighboring Uganda are conducting an assessment to assist Congolese refugees who have fled to Uganda.

Please pray for wisdom as Food for the Hungry workers decide how to respond to the current situation. Pray also for an end to the fighting and for the Congolese people who have already suffered from years of conflict. "

Talking Myself Into Trouble

Embracing the culture and seeking to thrive rather than simply survive,

I have reached that troubling point in learning language where I now know just enough to get me into trouble and not enough to get me back out! 

Working in the community of Cyeza each afternoon conducting interviews for our community development assessment, I have had ample opportunities to improve my limited kinyarwanda. Walking from the bumpy, dusty dirt road, about twenty minutes down one hill and up another to our assigned cell, I pass the time by talking to every person I met along the path. Over the past week I have become a pro at the greetings and basic responses. Our interpreter has found great joy in teasing me over this fact and even stated that the people are going to start calling me "amakuru" (how are you) because I say it to everyone. 

However, on our last walk out of Cyeza I found myself in a bit of a situation. Walking through a group of people resting on the hillside I greeted them and asked the very few questions I knew. This sparked great excitement and delight from them all and caused one woman to even jump up, embrace me with joy and then rattle off a list of questions of her own.  Catching maybe one of the hundred words she managed to spew forth I was overwhelmed and helpless. Resorting to English, I informed her that I did not understand and then made my way onwards, apologizing with what little French I knew, hoping she understood and did not mistake my silence for rudeness. Walking away, I wished that my communication skills were more advanced. 

This seems to be a common problem that I have now encountered in nearly every country I have lived in during this trip. Oh to be a walking talking language book - maybe one day!  

*Photos in this blog by Roshanda Cummings

Surrendering to the Sunrise

After a restless nights sleep for the second day in a row, waking up this morning the last thing I wanted to do was to hit the pavement for a run. However, as I talked myself off my army green coat and out from beneath the sheets I decided that I would be able to sleep better the rest of the morning if I just spent a few minutes up and about. Walking out into the main room of the office I was taken about by two things: 1) an abundance of 3 inch flying bugs that sounded like little airplanes dying (making it nearly impossible to sit at my computer by the table) and 2) the magnificent colors of the sunrise as morning was just arising. The pull of the beauty of the earth was just enough to win over my body's desire to retreat back to bed and before I knew it I was inching my way across the ridges that line the horizon of Rwanda.  

A beautiful way to began what looks to be a very productive and fulfilling Friday.

COMERA!!!

COMERA! - the small child shouted at our packed to capacity white land rover as we bounced down the bumpy dirt road and rounded yet another corner on our way to slightly removed community of Cyeza. 

"Be Strong." Our interpreter Paul offered up in explanation of the child's exclamation.  

Be Strong. Comera. As these words reverberated through my wandering mind lectures from last weeks classes came fluttering back. Comera, as was previously defined for us, means to pull someone up from the ground; in essence, to have strength and continue on. 

Comera. Be Strong. How fitting those words are on a day when all I feel is tired, weak and lonely. After five and a half months of being away from friends, family and the familiar, I am homesick. Yes, I admitted it. While there have been other moments throughout this journey where I have missed elements of home, today has certainly been the most intense.  Waking up more exhausted then when I laid down to sleep, the whole day seemed to be off to a rough start.  While nothing extraordinarily bad happened it was simply a long, rough and emotional day.  By mid-morning all I wanted was to go home, workout, eat stir-fry, drink a smoothie and FINALLY feel healthy again.  

Reflecting on my emotions of the day, I have begun to realize more than anything that I miss being and feeling healthy.  Living in a glorified summer camp setting for the past several months has been fun and highly entertaining, but I have no control over my schedule, the food that is served or how it is prepared.  I long to be independent once again.  Living in an apartment, walking to the fruit and vegetable stand daily, savoring the reward of eating a meal prepared by my own two hands.  It truly is the simple parts of life that make it all worth while. 

Today's discoveries:

- distance is hard to overcome

- love is not easy

- uncertainty is frustrating

- life will go on

8 Days in Gitarama

For the next 8 days our team will be living and working out of the FHI Office based in the neighboring city of Gitarama, conducting development research in the community of Cyeza.

So, where IS Gitarama?
"Gitarama is the second-largest city in Rwanda, with a population of 84,669 (2002 census estimate). Although a part of the Southern Province, it is situated in the centre of the country, to the west of the capital, Kigali [about one hour away]. It is the capital of the district of Muhanga." - Wikipedia

Beginning in Irony

French Toast for breakfast. 

Innocent in itself. 

Ironic in its appearance. 

Today, of all days, we are served the tasty delight of French toast. 

Today is a National Day Of Protest against Germany and France our Rwandan cook decided to serve us french toast for breakfast. Sitting down I couldn't help but smile at the timing of it all.  

In a sign of solidarity for their comrade in Germany who is still being detained by the government on an International arrest warrant issued by a judge in France, the Government issued a country wide day of protest. 

Not permitted to venture outside during this time, our leader Aryn stated "The students have the morning free." An FH employee then chimed in, "and by free you mean, in Prison!"

National Day of Protest

Arriving in the city of Gitarama this afternoon, one hours drive from Kigali, the first news we heard as we were walking down the dirt back road to the FHI office, was that tomorrow was declared a holiday.  Upon further discussion, this statement was revised to be that we as foreigners had a day off, because the government of Rwanda had just declared Wednesday, November 19th as a day of Protest.  

On Monday, November 9th, Rwandan President Kagame's chief of protocol Rose Kabuye was arrested on arrival at the Frankfurt airport. Detained for a 2006 international warrant issued by French anti-terrorism judge Jean-Louis Bruguiere, Kabuye found her self facing charges for alleged involvement in the shooting down of then President Juvenal Habyarimana's plane in April of 1994, the act which officially started the genocide in Rwanda.  In response, Rwanda expelled the country's German Envoy and removed their own Ambassador from Germany on November 11th until the matter is resolved. 

Since that time, numerous protests have been staged in Kigali and throughout the country as a national tensions with France have intensified.  Following the arrest, Germany has also been added to the list of countries falling out of Rwanda's grace.  Yet, with the recent election of Barak Obama, it is actually better to be an American in East Africa than a European.  Who would have thought?!?

So what does all this mean for us? Basically our program is continuing to keep us under house arrest (they call it staying inside) while the demonstrations are going on.  Something about safety and what not, as the majority of people cannot distinguish Americans from Europeans, in one huge generalization, we are all MZUNGU (white people). My sarcastic solution to that is that we all wear American flag shirts and Obama pins to clearly identify our nationality and solidarity with our host nation.

Saturday Afternoon

Having survived another week of classes and a most unwelcome Saturday morning session, Becca and I decided it was time for a celebration.

Lunch at Bourbon (comparable to Starbucks with a full food menu as well) and then of scoop of rich flavorful ice cream in a warm waffle cone - delish!

Beautiful Tension

Walking home for lunch between classes today I rather unexpectedly found myself in a very contemplative mood.  However, the overwhelming exhaustion that has been growing for days finally felt larger than life and sitting down on the couch all I wanted to do was be. Sliding a dvd of Friends into my computer (our newest thing here - no idea how that started) I prepared to just tune out every thought for 20 minutes.  Yet I did not even make it to the intro...

Joined by a friend we unexpectedly began talking and one question from here prompted a rather disjointed explanation of the different pieces of my life I am currently sorting through.  Graciously listening as my words tumbled out in spurts and stops, she responded with a lovely description of me; of what is going on in my life and the process of working through it all. As though her words afforded me the opportunity to breathe, to view my own life through her eyes... beyond wonderful.  I was particularly struck by one comment she made, that of living in beautiful tension.

Beautiful Tension

When I hear the word tension the last thought to enter my mind is anything of beauty, yet as I pondered her words and description I realized what a fantastic coupling these words form. Straddling countries, my concept of home is being reformed and reshaped. 

Building new relationships while maintaining old. 

Struggling with the knowledge that I am missing out on key events in friends lives. 

Regretting not being around for those in need. Looking forward to new adventures in distant lands. 

Excited for the opportunity to help even more children and interact with new cultures. Wondering if the work I am engaging in is truly greater than the unintentional consequences formed from it. 

Realizing that I am in a situation without any control.

Trusting that God will work everything out for His purposes. 

Living in Beautiful Tension. Standing in the middle of a web of people, places and events, learning what it means to find balance and joy even when life is not as simple as I wish it to be. 

A Perfect Description Of Where I Find Myself Today

And I Would Not Choose To Have It Any Other Way

Protesting in Kigali

Let me begin by saying that I am completely fine, safe and well looked after. The Go-Ed program and FHI staff are monitoring the entire situation closely and we are all taking the necessary precautions.

Now that my disclaimer is over, I am sure you are all wondering what on earth I am talking about. As most of you are probably not aware, the Rwandan Protocol Chief, Rose Kabuye, was arrested in Germany on a French warrant in an alledged connection to the shooting down of former President Juvenal Habyarimana's plane, the event which triggered the 100 day genocide in Rwanda killing 1 million people.

The Rwandan Government already has strained ties with the French Government, on whom they place a good deal of blame for their actions and inactions in Rwanda leading up to and during the atrocities. Tensions are now high again between the Government of Rwanda and the Governments of France and Germany.  The Rwandan Government recently expelled the German envoy from the country and protests have become a daily afternoon occurrence in the heart of Kigali. 

All is remaining peaceful at this time, but tempers are short and questions are high

Please keep us all in your thoughts and prayers

A Forgotten Crisis

While America's eyes have all been concerned about Palin's wardrobe, Obama's celebrity appeal and other hot topics like 9 million dollar poker winner's (Yahoo's current story of choice) an entire continent goes unnoticed.

Africa. Most commonly addressed as though it were one unified nation, Africa indeed is a diverse mix of cultures, languages, religions, conflicts and more. Living over in the relatively stable region of East Africa we have very keenly become aware of the continuing crisis ravaging our neighbors to the west in the DR Congo.

Being confronted with the realities of the atrocities occurring in the country a few weeks ago in Uganda, they now seem to hit even closer to home as just across the lake hundreds of thousands are engaged in a fight for survival.  When did this all begin? This is news to me?  The conflict in DR Congo has been running in spurts for years. As the '94 genocide in Rwanda came to a close, the last remaining rebels were pushed out of the country and into the Congo stirring up ethnic rivalries a new. Since that time war has been in full swing.  

Over the past several years more than one million people have been displaced. In recent days, another 250,000 people have been forced from their homes as violence erupts once more on the Eastern side of the country. As fears of another humanitarian crisis loom, food, water and safety are all of top priority. 

Thousands have fled into neighboring Uganda, crossing the border just days after us. 

Goma is now the setting for shaky peace deals, momentary security and a humanitarian corridor. 

BBC has the best up to date reporting on the situation and more of its history.  

The Best Show In Town

Pulling up to the shore after our peaceful trip out to and around some of the islands on Lake Kivu, we looked up at the multiple tiered balcony of our hotel and were met by the gaze of three floors filled with men. Apparently a big football (soccer) match was on this evening and our resting place was the hot spot in town. Being tracked all the way from the beach up the varying levels of stairs and even on to our balcony, thankfully the highest level of them all, we quickly became the best show in town. 

Today I am simply done with being a spectacle and wish I could just blend in.

Lake Kivu

Escaping the city for a long weekend, we headed out to Lake Kivu on Rwandan's Eastern Border

Here are a few of the sights we took in:

"the view from our balcony"

"evening sky"

"disappearing sun"

"hard at work Saturday morning"

"drifting"

"Sunday morning sunrise"

10 in the Bed and the Little One Said...

...let's add 3 more!


On our recent weekend getaway, our group spent a night in Butare at a guest house where we were placed in huge rooms with two large beds. Not wanting to be so far apart, Sarah and I rearranged our room and this is what transpired next.

Despite the fact that we have grown together as a family over these past few weeks, we did not end up sleeping like this even though it was a Fantastic photo op!

"A Skinny Boy With A Funny Name"

Yes, as most of America cast their ballots on this historic day and the tallies began to roll in I was sleeping half a world away.

Fast Forward to Wednesday morning which seemed to come ever earlier than expected and the clamor from outside my window told it all... the election results were in. Now to find out who won or at least was leading in the pools.

When asked by my children years from now as they have to complete their reports on historical elections where I was when the announcement was made I will have the pleasure to say Kigali, Rwanda. Finding out first through a declaration on a yahoo banner, having it confirmed by Facebook status updates (where I also learned about McCain's concession speech) and finally making my way over to join the others in the living room to watch BBC's continuous coverage of the election results. Cheering, crying, a world at attention and an answer given.

7am - Breakfast time.
With bowls of cereal and tired eyes we watched as all eyes turned to Chicago State (as someone referred to it here) and out walked the next First family. "How American." How Classically True. President-elect Obama took the stage and his commanding presence consumed the stage. Delivering a gloriously crafted speech he spoke to the world, even throwing out props to those "gathered in the forgotten corners of the world huddled around radios," its nice to know we were let out.

Going through the heat of the election in selected areas throughout the world and continent of Africa has been rather interesting. Continuously accosted with conversations of American politics I have been systemically "voting" in the elections since early June when I was first met with an abrupt shout on the street, "You're voting for Obama, right?" As if a question like that really provides you an opportunity to say otherwise. On rare occasions the question is flipped, but always as assuredly stated. It seems that nearly everyone is passionate about the US elections, but could that ever be said about American's in regard to foreign affairs? Traveling around, I am ashamed to say I have encountered hordes of people who will never step foot on American soil, but who know more about American policy than most citizens ever will.

"Change has come back to America"

I admittedly have become a growing cynic throughout these elections wishing more for them purely to end than any particular desired outcome. Perhaps that makes me un-American. Perhaps that makes me lazy. Perhaps it speaks most for my growing disgust at the system, the mud slinging, the money wasting and the great divide.

Either way, the votes have been cast, a verdict rendered, parties celebrated... and now we wait

We wait to see if Change will truly come
We wait to see if Tomorrow will be a better day
We wait to see the impact of our Decisions
We wait

and... I wonder
I wonder if Africa will have found their Savior that they have been clamoring for
I wonder if the World will come together or stand further apart
I wonder if America can heal from their partisan divides
I wonder if the woman on the street in south LA will still go unfeed
I wonder if the man on his knees in grief will ever reclaim the house and the job and the security his family lost 6 months ago
I wonder if the child just brought in to the States will ever be freed from the life of sexual slavery she was just traded into
I wonder if Change will truly come
I wonder if one Man could bring it all or if it is really up to the American people to take a stand, seek change and actively transform this country and one day the world.

I wonder if after the honeymoon is over if people will continue to fight so diligently for justice, or if we will all simply return to drinking our doubletalltwopumpwhitechocolateamericanoswithroom and focusing on ourselves.
I wonder

Yes We Can!
Yes we can
yes we can?

Can We? Only time will tell, but here is hoping.

Another Trip To The Doctor

High Fever. Body Aches. Sweating. Tired. Headaches. Dizziness. Nausea.
All classic symptoms of the flu. Apparently, also all classic symptoms as Malaria.

"The general symptoms include: flu-like symptoms"

Having never actually had Malaria before, but my fair share of flu's, I was all but convinced that what I was suffering from was a simple bout of Influenza. However, at the guest house there was growing concern from people who had resided in East Africa for quite some time that lurking under the guise of a common flu was really Malaria.

This concern resulted in a trip to the doctor, which, truth be told, by the time the moment arrived I was more or less ready to go. (If you know me, that is a big enough deal since I will wait [as my mom can attest to] until I am doubled over in pain before conceding to go). After several nights of hardly sleeping and waking up before dawn I was more than ready to be done with whatever it was that I had.

Informed I would be driven to the hospital after Saturday pancake breakfast I was slightly apprehensive about going, but more than ready to be healthy. Arriving at the King Faisal Hospital in Kigali, I was pleasantly surprised by the exterior of the building, but not as impressed with the lack of direction given once inside. Directed from the main desk downstairs to the Emergency area it once again became unclear as to where we were supposed to go and what we were supposed to do. Walking in, I made way down the hallway and into the corridor that was the receiving area for 'Emergency Care'. Stopping in at the reception desk we were handed forms to complete to open accounts at the clinic, much of which we were forced to leave blank as we are not from Rwanda.

Returning to wait in the corridor, I was quickly ushered in to the 'triage' room where the nurse gave me the standard barrage of questions. However, working with the metric system I had very few accurate answers and engaged in a small math lesson working on conversion of lbs to kgs, and inches to centimeters. Trying to make me more comfortable with the entire process, the nurse sought to engage me in small talk, which was less than eventful.

Finally finished, I was escorted to a stark room and sat on a hospital bed waiting for the doctor to arrive as the blue curtain was pulled around for additional privacy. In the bed next to me I could hear a woman talking in kinyarwanda with the doctor and nurse, sounding quite well for someone stuck in the hospital. I sat sideways awkwardly on the bed with feet dangling looking over the paperwork the nurse had just filled out. When the doctor finally arrived, he asked all the same questions and then informed me that he didn't think I had Malaria, but would order me a test anyways. Grateful to see the end in sight, I waited patiently behind the blue curtain for someone to come and draw my blood.

The doctor returned a moment later apologizing for not informing me that I needed to go to the lab. Giving me very confusing directions, I wound my way out of Emergency and up the stairs to what I thought was the "lab". It wasn't. Instead some very nice lady working at the hospital directed me to the "last door at the end of the walkway." Making my way down the outdoor walkway, I arrived at the final door which was already open as though they had been expecting me. Deserted and silent I approached the man behind the counter and hand him my papers. Saying nothing he takes then and I sit, waiting. A while later the man signals me back to a little cubical with two chairs and everything necessary to carry out the task. Seeking to explain my history of fainting when getting blood drawn, I proceed to ask if there is somewhere I can lay down. After two attempts to make him understand my point, I gave up and simply prayed that I would stay upright because then we really would have an emergency on our hands. Thankfully I survived the experience even though it was one of the most painful and I walked away feeling worse than when I went in.

Making my way back through the maze that is most hospitals, I returned to the waiting area in the Emergency section evermore convinced I was suffering from Influenza. Not willing to wait the hour plus that we were informed the results would take, it was asked if I could just call in to receive them. A concept completely foreign to nearly every attendant we spoke with, it was finally determined that it would be an acceptable course of action. Paying Mzungu prices for mzungu service, we were actually moved along fairly quickly by African standards. Perhaps the most amusing part of my entire time there was the distinction my friend and I were given on all pieces of our paperwork: "Patient Type: Casualty". Obviously meaning something very different to them then to us I nearly burst out laughing when I originally came across it. I am not sure if i am 100% okay with being considered a "Casualty" upon entrance.

After all that the test results came back negative and as suspected I simply have a very severe case of the Flu.
And I have decided that I greatly prefer the clinic in Kampala to the one here in Kigali

Slippin' & Slidin'

thunder lightening and rain all morning
rains subsided but left muddy roads in their wake

Driver said "we wouldn't see any animals, they don't come out in the rain"
went out for Safari anyways
saw water bucks, buffalo, kobs, birds and then the climax - lions eating breakfast

throughout the entire ride we were slipping and sliding all over the road
Bus fishtaled severely, slide to a stop still standing upright but lying perpindicular across the dirt turned mud road blocking all potential traffic

tried to fix it, didn't work, but did move forward several feet
pushed in the mud, we were victorious
slid out again a little while later but were able to self correct
made it back muddy but empowered,
final game drive, the best of all

Border Crossing

Traveling between countries is always an adventure, however this is the first time I have driven across a border. Receiving basic instructions as we rolled to a stop just inside the first barrier, we stumbled off the bus with our "border buddies" and began the paperwork to transition over to our new home.

Encountering an empty crossing, we proceeded with ease, yet we weren't home free yet.

Climbing back on the bus and settling in for the final few hours drive to Kigali having officially entered Rwanda, our bus was stopped by an official just as we were pulling away from the border. In a concerted effort to come off as incredibly friendly tourists we all greeted him warmly and smiled brightly as he asked to see our passports, this is what he saw...



...it is a good thing he wasn't American, because our overeagerness to please certainly would have caused a complete search of the bus. Instead he waved us on, walking away with a smile.

Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?

Making its debut early in 2007 on American tv, Are you smarter than a fifth grader? is a game show based on asking grade-school level questions to adults. Having only caught a few minutes of the show one evening shortly after it came out I always smirked at the notion, confident that I could easily win against a fifth grader.

A recent turn of events has led me to rethink that opinion...

Sitting in on the 5th grade english class at KICS one day a spelling assessment test was given to all the students and I decided to participate with them. Easily sailing through words like "go" and "think" I lasted well past the 35th round, however as the words increased in length and complexity I began to question my spellings. Stopping the class at word 50 or thereabouts, the students were eager to hear what score Miss Christina received. The teacher graciously stated that I aced the test, obviously without looking, since I am nearly certain I misspelled two of the final three words. Confusing myself with the 'i before e except after c' rule which doesn't actually hold true all of the time, I realized just how dependent on Word's spell check I truly had become.

No longer sure I am Smarter Than A Fifth Grader... but certainly more knowledgeable!

Building An Empire

Taking over the 6th grade history class for their entire unit on the Fertile Crescent, I was given the task of creating a project for them as well. At first a bit overwhelmed by the prospect, I soon found my footing in the classroom and created the Build An Empire project. I figured since we were spending most of our time learning about empires which dominated other civilizations I would give them a chance for a little global conquest of their own.

Taking over the world one imaginary country at a time...

Outfitted with the basic requirements of the project, the students were off and running with creativity taking the helm as they took all that they were learning about conquest and success to make a little history of their own. Forming their own groups they were given the responsibility of naming their own empires which produced such civilizations as Putasia and the Klaudriens. Each group also had to create a flag, map, currency, system of laws, a government structure, a religion, a language and an economy. To establish their place in history each group had to give the date and name of an existing empire they conquered and how they were able to sustain their rule.

The students really enjoyed the project and made it their own as they found new ways to expand and grow their empires.

My favorite quote from this project and my time with the 6th grade class had to be when one of the students piped up and said,

"No Miss Christina, we don't want to play a game, we want to work" - 6th grade history class.


If there was anyone capable of convincing me to become a teacher or return to KICS it would be that 6th grade class!

Subbing In

While working at KICS was undoubtedly one of the greatest experience in Rwanda thus far it also helped me discover one of the hardest jobs in the world, Subbing. Why anyone would chose to be a substitute teacher day after day is beyond me.

With a wave of illness sweeping through the school, it wasn't merely the students who were falling to its effects. Too small to have substitute teachers, KICS instead utilized Kati and I to our fullest during our time there, a taskt that neither of us minded, but returned me to my special agent status. Showing up to school each morning, it was always a surprise to find where I would be placed next.

Overall enjoying my subbing experience there were moments that were less than enjoyable as several upper level students sought to test my limits and understanding of school policy. In the end everything was ironed out, but not without a couple of close calls and frustrating moments.

Perhaps it is an acquired skill, but after having stood in their shoes I now feel bad for some of the torments we put our substitutes through... oh yes, even the good kids in school can have it out for the subs, especially the mean ones with weird names.

The Next Step

The end of college means only one thing... ultimate freedom with endless possibilities. 

As the end of my college career is rapidly coming to a close, I have been forced to face my least favorite question: "What are you going to do with the rest of your life?"

Starring that question down from afar, I have decided to reserve my answer for a time.  Also taking into consideration the fact that no plans that I have made for myself in the past 4 months have really worked out the way I expected, I am beginning to see the futility of planning out the details of the rest of my life.  Instead I am taking everyday one step at a time, knowing that what lays before will undoubtedly be the greatest adventure of my life.  

Looking ahead, I have been presented with a host of incredible opportunities and it has been a constant pull back and forth between several of them. At this point I have made preparations to stay overseas a bit longer. Taking life one step at a time, waiting on God to see what doors He opens next. Here is the plan as it stands...

Dec 12th - Program Ends in Kampala, Uganda
Dec 15th - Jan 10th Work in Mbarara, Uganda with Parental Care Ministries
Jan 11th - Feb 11th Work in Kitale, Kenya at a school and orphanage

I am so excited to see what new adventures will come next!

Life in an International School

Practicum. The best part of the Go-Ed program. 

For three and a half weeks our team was divided up into pairs and sent off throughout parts of Uganda, Ethiopia and Rwanda. I was placed as a "teachers assistant" at the Kigali International Community School (KICS) in Kigali, Rwanda. Choosing it primarily as a career building experience, I debated m decision up until arriving on campus. I had always seen myself in a career where I was working with severely impoverished people, but the more time I spend exploring the world, the more I have discovered that people of every economic background have needs and there are endless opportunities to serve. 

Meeting with the director of the school our first day a loose schedule was created for the pair of us, with Kati focusing on passion, Elementary Education, I went up to the middle and high school. After 3 days of observing at least one class with each teacher and grade, I was generously given the opportunity to take over the 1st period 6th grade history class, the 7th period high school art class and teach a smattering of classes and grades throughout the rest of my time. 

With nearly 200 students from over 3o nationalities, KICS boasts quite a unique environment for both its students and teachers. Having began in a basement in the Rwandan FHI office 4 years ago with five students and a parent overseeing the teaching, KICS has quickly erupted into a sought after institution with its anglophone instruction and American based curriculum.

Watching out the window one afternoon I saw a car from the UN, World Relief and several other NGO's arrive to pick up their children from school, just a small reminder of the work being carried out in this small country and the important need the school is meeting for this community. Taking in students from Embassies, NGOs, church work as well as Rwandan families, the school is home to a wide mix of backgrounds. 

This multi-cultural and lingual composition makes for unique experiences within the classroom. Working from a required english base, language itself is not a large barrier for understanding. However, sitting through multiple classes, it became apparent that examples are not universal. Listening to the American students explain the concept of tug-o-war to the local East Africa students during a physics problem on force was almost comical.  Math problems also seem to present their own challenges with units in miles and concern over trains departing from Chicago headed for St. Louis. Descriptions so far outside of their realm of daily understanding that they hold no significance for the majority of students. 

After spending three weeks teaching all different subjects and levels I am closer than ever to giving in to the long standing call on my life to teach. 

I could honestly see myself returning to KICS in the fall, but we will leave all future planning to God. 

Unsettled

Moments ago (okay several minutes ago) I was working away on my latest blog when I felt as though I was shaking.  Unsure if it was just me or the entire couch, I quickly rationalized that it must have only been my imagination.  

What must have been 30 seconds later the whole house was shaking and I was trembling like crazy.  Living in the Great Northwest I have lived through my fair share of earthquakes, but this was different.  Out of my element and completely unexpected it sent chills down my spine.  Failing to react, I just sat it out and then remained, paralyzed by shock.  

Scrambling through the latest news reports I have found nothing to confirm what I most vividly just experienced, leaving me to question whether it was actually a tremor of sorts, or some amazingly large vehicle.  I suppose only time will tell.

Still no reports anywhere online for Rwanda, but after talking with our host, apparently they are quite common in this area.  Glad to know I am not losing my mind!

Buenos Dias!

Why is it that after not being able to focus my mind all day enough to write a blog or email update that at 1 something in the morning it decides to be wide awake?!?!  I wish I could blame something like jet lag, but after 4 months of being away from the West Coast, I hardly feel it is fair to claim that as my reason (probably because its not).

So, if you are keeping up with the latest Time Zone count, I am currently 9 hours ahead of PST (Pacific Standard Time) on the West Coast.

At Home in Rwanda

So its been a while since I posted and I wish I could blame a poor internet connection or lack of power, but except for a few minor and temporary outages, we have been very fortunate with our housing locations.  

After wrapping up my first term of classes in Uganda a week ago Friday, I was off to Practicum on Sunday, which just so happens to be in Kigali, Rwanda.  For those of you who may not be aware, Practicum is a period of about 3.5 weeks where are team is split up to work throughout Uganda, Rwanda and Ethiopia working on various projects consisting of everything from research, to agro-forestry, to media communications and working in schools.  For my Practicum project, I am in Kigali (the capital of Rwanda) working in the Kigali International Community School, a position I am very excited for.

Rwanda, pronounced over here as 'randa or rwanda (ironically enough as it is spelt), versus the American version of Ru-wanda or Ra-wanda.  A small landlocked country that is home to over 10 million people, Rwanda reportedly hosts the densest population on the continent of Africa.  Perhaps most known in history for the Genocide in 1994, Rwanda is so much more than a series of tragic events.  Surveying the land and driving around this past week, I am more apt to think of Rwanda in regards to its title as "Land of a Thousand Hills."  

Waking up each morning I get the joy of looking out across a valley spotted with homes and winding red clay-dirt roads.  Breath taking skyscapes fill the vastness of space more often than not and I find myself continually marveling at the beauty of it all.  Quiet, slower and more orderly than life in Kampala, Kigali has brought some much needed peace that was previously allusive.  Enjoying each place as it is, I have found the adjust to our new home in Kigali rather painless.  While I don't know if it is ever a place I could live long term, it is somewhere I could see myself coming back to. 

Dear Family, Please Don't Be Shocked

For those of you who know me well I highly recommend that you take a seat and a deep breath before reading this.

For those of you who know me, but not necessarily all of my strange habits, you may or may not understand the enormity of what I am about to say.

For those of you who have merely stumbled across this blog, this probably won't make any sense, feel free to read anyways...

Something beyond words, explanation, and comprehension occurred tonight.  I really don't understand how it happened, or what came over me.  Even now I am trying to decide if it was the right decision or if I should have left it all well enough alone.

But perhaps I should elaborate... 

It all transpired over dinner.  Walking in I already knew what would await me.  6 chairs seated around an oval table with banana woven placemats, plastic cups filled with ice water and an empty white plate laid out with care for each of us.  Amazingly Normal.  But there, amongst all the familiar they stood.  Little round puffs of bread with menacing pieces of brown meat protruding from all sides.  We were having HAMBURGERS for dinner!  Of all the meals I could have dreamed up, this was only trumped for scariness by the meatloaf we had partaken of a few meals earlier (Helen, I am sure you would have loved both meals, you just know my aversion to all things beefy).  

You see, for as long as I can remember, I have refused to eat beef.  I was told that as a small child I stopped eating the stuff sometime between age two and four, caving only occasionally to my dad's homemade burgers during that time.  From then on, I was a white-meat girl only.  In fact, my color distinctions between proteins seemed to swim over to my fishy friends as well, as I refused to eat salmon, the "pink" fish.  

Yes, I know I am strange, but its what makes me so loveable!

Growing up in an Irish meat and potatoes family, I liked neither (but potatoes will have to be a different story), making meal times an interesting experience.  However, I never let it phase me and I continued in my persistence against meat, at times completely forgetting why I didn't eat the stuff, but adamantly knowing that I didn't like it.  

My beef history as memory serves...

- stopped eating the stuff sometime between age 2 and 4

-The Spring of 2001 on the 14th of April I ate beef while in Mexico, partly because I couldn't make out if it was pork or beef and mostly because I was eating with my host family and didn't want to be rude.  Taking one bite, I instantly knew it was beef and that I didn't like it.  

- one day after going through a Taco Time drive through where they mistakenly gave me ground beef instead of chicken.  

- (not beef, but close) July of 2005 I ate lamb for what is most likely the first time ever in South Africa, it then made the migration from banned to approved protein products.

- June 2008, upon entering Morocco and more specifically Africa as a whole I began to adapt a new policy with food, "Don't ask, don't want to know." There are purely times where it is better not to know what is on your plate or what you must eat with a small and a prayer (whole fish, with heads in Uganda - case in point!).  Meaning, that beef has been making scattered appearances, this does NOT mean I have converted to liking it, but my tolerance is higher.

- 3 October 2008 - A Day which will live in Infamy! ... the day Christina ate a hamburger

Please note, that while I did indeed manage to eat a hamburger, this does not mean I have converted.  Nor was I all that thrilled.  If I had to, yes, I would eat one again.  However, I would not go searching for one, I have no desire to eat another one, nor would I pay for it.  

The hamburger is still low man on the totem pole in my book of food preferences, but at least he has finally made his way back onto it. 

So there you have it, alert the media, print and save this article, this truly is a history moment!