When you have time alone...

Here are some of the stories of students who are a part of ORI, the organization where I am currently volunteering. Please, read them with reverence. Be thankful for their journeys as well as your own.

http://www.orphansofrwanda.org/our_students/student_profiles.php

Over the greatness of such space
Steps must be gentle.
-Hart Crane

The Market in Nyamirambo

Not frequented by tourists, it is one of the largest markets in Kigali. A small entryway led to a maze of stands; cobblers sewing sandals by hand; meat vendors waving the flies off slabs of meat; charcoal distributors covered in soot. Emily, one of my coworkers who speaks French and Swahili, graciously served as my ambassador. The women at the vegetable tables greet her with warm embraces and me with affectionate amusement. They sell the expected goods: carrots, bell peppers, garlic, tomatoes, etc. There is, however, one great exception. The beans. One of the women had a massive pile of beans resting in a wooden bowl. Some were orange like earthen clay. Others were bright blue lightly speckled by white and pink. Light green with dark green lines running from crown to base, like a mountain goat with a few extra sets of horns. Red with subtle veins coursing underneath the skin. All mixed together, almost soft enough to eat.

While walking through the market, three boys were never more than a few feet from me. Even when the whispered to each other, they kept a visual contact on the tall stranger with a sunburn. When I made eye contact, they would say, “Give me a job,” in sound English. They wanted to carry my bag of groceries.

We finally came to the sugar cane man. Squatted in from of sections of sugar cane 8 to 10 feet long, he laughed and shouted a greeting as Emily and I approached. Without looking behind him, he grabbed one of the spears and listened to Emily’s request for a 3 foot section. The cane was segmented like bamboo but much denser and less rigid. He cut off our portion with a handle-less blade, a rag wrapped around one end. Emily was the first white person to ever buy from him.

We went to Emily’s rented room in Nyamirambo to enjoy the fruit. Sugar cane is a fibrous plant with a thick, almost black bark which you have peel to get to the pale yellow innards – no small, or safe, feat when using a dull knife and your thigh as a cutting board. Once peeled, the best way to eat sugar cane is to break off a piece, gnaw on it for a while to release the juices, and then throw that piece on the ground. Repeat until the cane is gone or you collapse in a diabetic stupor. When we were finished, Emily simply swept the discarded cane into the pit latrine.

Two ways to get noticed in Kigali...

Method 1: Wear a Barak Obama t-shirt and let the shouts of "Oh-Bam-a!" commence. Rwandan men smile as they exclaim that name, with heavy emphasis on the vowels. The "O," comes from their gut, a deep, resonate opening and then they linger on the ending "ah." I wave and smile in reply.

Method 2: Be a foreigner within eyesight of child beggars. They sit outside of shops or linger on busy sidewalks but when they see a foreigner they approach with intent, hand extended. First in French, then Swahili and finally to simple English, they mutter, "100 Francs for food." 100 Francs is less then 20 cents. They are not addicts, nor drunks, nor is their need as a result of foolish actions. They are children of the children of war, the poverty it creates. My best attempts to remain detached and stare forward falter when they brush my hand with theirs, a gentle caress in hopes of getting my attention. There can not be enough money and so I give each a silent blessing:

May you be well. May you be at peace.
May you be well. May you be at peace.

A selfish and inadequate benediction.

Protests in Kigali

On Wednesday, November 19th, there were city wide protests in Kigali in opposition to France's arrest of a promenent Rwandan woman. Starting around 8:30 am, throngs of citizens walked the streets, many following pick-up trucks stacked with speakers, a bousterous man leading chants and singing from the bed of the "malori." For most of the morning, I stayed in my hotel room and watched from the second story window. Although Rwandans are renown for thier civility, orienting myself with the city could wait until after the tens of thousands citizens had returned to thier everyday lives. Near noon, one of my coworkers met me at my hotel and we spent an hour meandering through the capitol before heading to the office. Many of the protestors were on their way home and in pleasant spirits. We, my coworker and I, were the only "muzungus" and I cautiously celebrated being in such a minority. In an ironic refersal of my previous assimilation priotiy, I tried to look as American, in order to less French, as possible. Good thing I didn't work at the Fleur De Cocoa for more than 3 months. It was a lesson in humility and being deliberate in what attitude I presented as a guest in this country.

Journal Entry from 11/16/08

I left it on a bank of phone booths in the Detroit airport. Finished on the flight from Pittsburgh, the book no longer had any use to me and so without breaking stride, I set it down in a public place and hoped someone else would find it to enjoy. A definite physical sensation occured when I let go of the book, a lightening of both burden and spirit. Not only did I no longer need to carry the 6 or so ounces, but it was also a tangible expression of this journey. Of letting go. Allowing events to unfold and relishing the experience. I am not trying to shape this adventure but more making myself open to it shaping me. The book offered me what it could and having accepted its gift, I gave it away to some unknown. What else can I shed during the next 6 months? In the midst of this uncertainty, I am more at ease than I have been for months. This feels right. This fits.

Safe arrival

I arrived safely in Kigali after 40 hours of uneventful traveling. It feels good to be here.

Aztecian Prayer

But for a little while,
we have been loaned to each other.
We are breathed into,
sung into,
loved into,
but only for a little while.

Almost time to go.

Yes.
That will be my foremost word and mentality for the next 6 months.
Whatever comes along, I will welcome it as a friend.
Yes.