Freedom

So while most of my faithful readers likely woke up Saturday morning anticipating the evening’s big college football game and spent Sunday morning gloating (or sulking, as the case may be), my weekend differed a bit.  While I DID wear a bright orange skirt and a big tiger paw on my shirt to church on Sunday, I celebrated a more meaningful victory.

Saturday morning, I made myself presentable (as this often helps your cause dealing with official business in Rwanda) and headed out to attempt to bail one of my boys out of jail.  Thursday night at English lessons, the boys informed me that one of them had been hauled away that afternoon for selling a dictionary on the streets.  You see, it is illegal to sell anything on the streets here, and undercover cops engage sellers and then arrest them and haul them off, much like they do with drug dealers in America.  I asked the boys how long he’d be in jail and they said maybe the end of the year, maybe February.  Now, note he was not indeed selling drugs, but a dictionary.  I asked if there was any way I could get him out of prison and they asked me to please try.  So try I did…

I armed myself with documents proving he was a member of the troupe, documents proving that I paid the rent for their house, and photos of the boys at drum practice and in their home.  I was escorted to the door of a building that looked like a run-down factory.  A police greeted me at the door and I humored him with my broken Kinyarwanda and essentially said, “Good morning.  How are you?  I am fine.  My student is here.  This is a problem.”  He asked for the name of my student and then sent someone to find him.  The entire experience broke my heart.

The police officer informed me that my students were street kids.   I quickly showed him the documents proving I paid their rent and the pictures of them sitting in their living room and the promotional flyer for the dance troupe boasting of FORMER Rwandan street kids.  It broke my heart that these boys have come SO far from who they were when they really were street kids, but they are still viewed as the bane of society.  I thought of The Avett Brothers’ song “The Perfect Space” that says, “I want to have friends that I can trust/ who love me for the man I’ve become/ not the man that I was…”

I had a conversation with another man at the entrance who taught secondary school in town and said that part of their curriculum these days is to teach students that street kids are people, too.  While I didn’t see many faces, I imagined the look that would be on my own face if I received the message these kids were being sent everyday through their circumstances, and I assure you that message is not, “You are a person, too!”  I watched as a young teenage girl arrived with a baby on her hip.  She passed the baby off to another teenage girl inside the institution, presumably the baby’s mother.  As I witnessed the police officers mockingly asking both girls if they had husbands, I imagined Jesus telling those without sin to throw the first stone and refusing to condemn the girls.

I was grateful that the police released "my boy" to me.  His "brothers" were equally as grateful that I was able to get him out of jail.  I took him home to the open arms of the rest of the boys and went on my with Saturday.

Saturday night we had a staff Christmas party and sang various Christmas carols.  The leader of the singing encouraged us to really think about the words of the songs we were singing, and that thought crossed my mind as I listened to Josh Groban sing “O Holy Night” this morning before church.  As he sang, “Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother/ and in His name all oppression shall cease,” I couldn’t help but rejoice in the truth of that.

At church, we read Matthew 25:31-46 and I was reminded of the role we have in helping the oppression to cease.  Give food to the hungry.  Give water to the thirsty.  Welcome strangers.  Clothe the naked.  Visit the sick.  Visit the imprisoned.  You may not live in the middle of Africa where these things are so prevalent, but there are hungry, thirsty, strange, naked, sick, imprisoned people everywhere.  Do something about it!

Jesus was born to an oft-condemned teenager and grew up amidst the jeers of the authorities.  He came and broke chains so that we could be free from condemnation.  He loved the unlovely and served the servile.  And in His name, ALL oppression shall ultimately cease.  I eagerly anticipate that day!

Half a Weekend in Kibuye

This weekend, two of my fellow teachers and I decided to have a mini-getaway to Lake Kivu.  As every other African adventure, this one was eventful.  A few noteworthy moments:

1. The lady sitting next to Natalie on the bus got super sick, so Abby gave her a Ziploc bag (with a slice of leftover birthday cake in it), and she puked and puked and puked.  When she had eliminated the contents of her stomach into the bag, she threw the puke/birthday cake bomb out the window. Disgusting.
2. We ate Lake Kivu fish (not sure exactly what variety that is) for dinner.  The whole things.  Heads and tails included.  Delicious.
3. I slept in my hammock overlooking the beautiful lake beneath the rolling hills.  Delightful.
4. I was awoken at 1:30am by some tiny splatters on my hammock followed by some retching up above.  That’s right, someone on the balcony above ralphed over the railing and didn’t quite miss the miss in the hammock below.  I was a victim of vomit.  Luckily I was all wrapped up like a cocoon and didn’t actually get any spewed splatters on my person.  Dirty.
5. Ten minutes after the puke incident, I heard presumably the puker pee and then discuss (right loudly) the prospect of drinking his own urine, provided he were stranded in a desert with no water to be found.  He is the reason so many people around the world hate Americans.  Despicable.
6. We walked down to the nicer hotel and kayaked about the lake for an hour then ate lunch and walked back to our guesthouse.  Lots of fun, fellowship, and fitness.  Divine.

Now it’s back to the grind.  I have a unit to plan tomorrow and 2 more weeks of school until Thanksgiving!

Dumb and Dumber in Rwanda

So yesterday I took one of my students to Bourbon for coffee after school.  I drive a TVS Scooty Pep+ and I have a huge full-face helmet for me and a dainty little pink flowery one for my passengers.  Well, through a series of unfortunate events, my pink helmet ended up not being at school when I needed to give it to my student to ride safely to Bourbon.  I ended up giving her my full-face and using the decrepit blue helmet (with no face mask or chin strap) that’s been sitting around at school as long as I’ve worked there.  It was on this scooter ride that I reminisced back to 1994.

In 1994, something happened that changed the world forever.  Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels starred in the ever-popular film Dumb and Dumber.  As I drove down the road yesterday wearing my janky helmet, my student grasping my shoulders, I felt very much like Lloyd Christmas driving to Aspen.  Of course, I asked my passenger if she felt like Harry Dunne, but seeing as she was BORN in 1996, she had NO clue what I was referring to.

Later the same night, another Dumb and Dumber moment was lost on the people around me.  I was at “my boys” house teaching them English.  David’s smile warmed my heart.  His joy in the midst of extreme poverty and hardship never ceases to amaze me.  My smile broadened, however, when he said, and I kid you not, “we have no food.  We have no jobs.”  It was ALL I could do not to respond, “Our pets heads are falling off!”

These are not the only parallels one can draw between my life and Dumb and Dumber.  For example, there’s the obvious, “Why you going to the airport?  Flying somewhere?” as I fly somewhere on a fairly regular basis.  I can also relate to Lloyd when he says “I get 70 miles to the gallon on this hog.”  But, according to my calculations (which are likely less than accurate), I get more like 100 miles to the gallon on my “hog.”  (If you want to do the math, my tank holds 5 liters of petrol and I can drive 200 kilometers on one tank.)

Then there’s the aptly named pet store, “I Got Worms,” which is something I have been able to say on multiple occasions since moving to Rwanda.  Once I left English lessons a bit early to make it to the pharmacy before it closed.  I told the boys I needed to go because I had “snakes of the stomach” (as they call them).  One of them responded, “Everyone has snakes in their stomach!”  I informed him that, while that may be the case in his country, we westerners boast of worm-less stomachs most of the time…

The next parallel might only make sense to my fellow abazungu (white folk) in Rwanda, but the exchange between Lloyd and the elderly woman on the sidewalk applies to our lives here:

            Lloyd:  Excuse me, little old lady.  Do you have change for a dollar?

            Elderly woman:  Change?  No, I’m sorry, I don’t.

For, you see, finding change in this country (while it has been improving as of late) is NOT an easy task.  Moto drivers are infamous for not having the change you need and trying to get you to give up and let them “keep the change.” 

My last parallel might be a stretch.  Recall the last scene of the movie.  Harry gives a bus full of girls directions to the nearest town.  Harry then runs back and tells them different directions to the nearest town. This is how direction giving works in Rwanda.  You ask one person how to get to X, and he points you up the hill to the right.  When you get up the hill to the right, you ask another person how to get to X and he points you down the hill to the left where you find another person who points you straight ahead where you find another person, and I think you get the picture.  You never know quite where you’re going to be led.

So you may be wondering where I’m being led after this school year since my “commitment” ends May 29.  Well, if you’re wondering if I’ll come to the States for the summer and return to KICS next year, well, I’m “telling [you] there’s a chance!”

The DRC

Hello from the Democratic Republic of the Congo!  We have a week off from school, so I decided to visit my friends Lindsey and Blake in Lubumbashi, DRC.  I’ve thoroughly enjoyed home-cooked meals, going to bed whenever I want and waking up whenever I want, as well.

Just a few observations/broad generalizations about the Congolese:

1. Congolese people are, in general, more attractive than Rwandan people. 

I’ve noticed myself stopping and staring at numerous people since I’ve arrived here.  There’s just something about the faces I’m seeing that is like nothing I’ve seen in Rwanda.

2. Congolese people are, in general, more talented than Rwandan people.

The music coming from the church around the corner on Sunday morning stunned me.  The melody, the harmony, the rhythm… These Congolese have skills.

3. Congolese people are, in general, more stylish than Rwandan people.

The style also reflects on the talent a bit.  The African fabrics here are beautiful, and the Congolese take full advantage of the endless possibilities of ways to create fashion masterpieces with them.  I’ve wanted to steal so many dresses right off of their owners, but that wouldn’t cut it with the modesty standards ‘round these parts.

[Side note:  I feel right at home in my matchy-matchy obsession here in the DRC.  If you have a yellow hat, yellow shirt, yellow belt, yellow bag, and yellow shoes, why not wear them all at the same time?]

Some observations/broad generalizations about the Congo:

1. DRC is far dirtier than Rwanda.

There is trash EVERYWHERE in DRC.  They also burn their trash, so it smells wretched much of the time.

2. DRC is far more corrupt than Rwanda.

While currently the police are forced to offer grace to passing vehicles for two months, typically cars are stopped many times a day to show their documents.  We’ve only been waved down once since I got here, but Blake and Lindsey are not looking forward to December when the grace period expires…

3. DRC is far hotter than Rwanda.

It started raining in Rwanda not long ago which drops the temperature significantly and makes me wish I had a jacket much of the time.  The rain hasn’t come to DRC yet, and it’s well above 90 degrees Fahrenheit everyday and barely gets below 70 degrees at night.  It’s also SUPER dry, and thus I have major crusty boogers in my nose constantly. 

Well, those are all of the observations I care to share at present.  Perhaps I’ll share some more with you before I leave… but no promises!

Zebra Crossing

Yesterday, I received an SMS (a text message) from the Rwandan National Police that read, “RNP reminds you that talking & texting on phone while driving is a traffic offence.  Disregarding zebra crossing also attracts punishment.”  One hour later, I received the same message translated into Kinyarwanda.  Oh, what a country I live in!

A few thoughts on this text message…

1. I live in a country that is so small that the national police force can send a mass text message to every single person in the country to pass on information, however impertinent.
2. The Rwandan National Police disseminated this message to an entire country of 10 million people where approximately 2 in every 100 people have cars.  Some people in remote little villages, who may never have seen a car, have cell phones and likely received this message.  I can only imagine their confusion.
3. I teach American English in a country that is dominated by British and African English.  Note that being on the phone whilst driving is a traffic offenCe.  Teaching English here is a constant battle.
4. You might think it humorous that “disregarding zebra crossing also attracts punishment.”  While, yes, I do live in the middle of Africa, no, that does NOT mean you need to watch out for crossing zebras (pronounced here as if it rhymed with Debra’s).  For my American readership out there, zebra crossings are pedestrian crosswalks.
5. I appreciate the RNP’s active voice in the second sentence, but the word choice could use some help.  Eliminating passive voice is one of the skills I plan to teach my tenth grade English class next week, so I’m glad to have some additional fodder for my lesson.
6. All in all, I appreciate the reminder that "talking & texting on phone while driving is" indeed dangerous.  I drive a Scooty Pep+ around this fine town, and while I am always very aware of my surroundings, I notice that, 9 times out of 10, the people who don’t notice me on the road are, indeed, on their cell phones.  (The other 1 out of 10 is ALWAYS a woman!)

Every day I have to chuckle at the goings-on in my world.  Whether it’s a mass text message from the police or a comment from a student (“I am shizzle to be a man one day,” said one of my street boys last week, bringing back a slang word from a lesson from months ago...), I never cease to be amazed at the never-ending amusement around me.  While I sometimes envy you people who live in a land where pretty much everyone speaks your language, I don’t pity you.  You are missing out on LOTS of laughs!

Mom Comes to Africa

Last Friday evening, I picked up my mom at the Kigali airport.  Yes, she did fly ALL THE WAY to Africa ALL BY HERSELF.  I told her she was a big girl, and she could do it, and she did!  I took her straight from the airport to the national stadium for a basketball game between the AND1 Mixtape Legends and the Rwanda Street Ballers.  It was quite entertaining and a nice transition to life in Africa, what with all the American basketball players in our midst…

Saturday, we went to African Bagel Company for the most delicious donuts in the world.  Or at least more delicious than most in America and the only ones I’ve really come across in Africa.  Mom got to meet lots of people I know and we sat and chatted for a few hours before we headed to town to watch the LEAF Intore Cultural Troupe practice dancing and drumming.  They all loved having Mama Teacha in their midst and she enjoyed meeting the loves of my life.  Then we went to my friend’s business’s launch and saw all of her lovely accessories on display before riding on the scooter through the mist to meet some other friends for dinner at Zen.  It’s dry season here in Rwanda, but you wouldn’t have known it on Saturday night.  We got stuck at Zen for 2 hours waiting for the rain to die down enough to scoot home where we arrived to a house with no power.  I assured Mom it’d be back before the morning, as it never goes out for more than a couple hours…

Sunday morning we woke up to no power.  I feared for the 5 pounds of cheddar cheese in the powerless refrigerator that had just arrived from America.  We walked to church (where she almost fell asleep numerous times thanks to a bit of jet lag and the help of a dreadfully boring sermon) and then walked to meet Emma at Magda Café for lunch.  They had no power either, but they were still functional and we felt better about our lack of power at home.  We walked down to check out Ivuka Arts Studio and looked at all of the art and watched some precious little children perform some traditional dances for us.  After our jaunt to Ivuka, we loaded up two backpacks of stuff and walked to Rugando.  First stop was Jessica’s house.  I was taking her all of my maternity-esque clothes, you know, all my flowy hippie stuff…  Then we went to the Bennett’s and had a delectable meal with some fabulous fellowship.  After dinner, we opened presents like it was Christmas and made the girls’ lives by giving them cheese packets from macaroni and cheese boxes.

Monday, I dropped Mom off at the Genocide Memorial and went to teach a couple of my tutees.  I picked her up after a long, emotional tour of the super sad memorial and we went to Afrika Bite for a nice African buffet lunch.  Rwandan food is by no means exciting, but there is nothing super unordinary that she had to choke down just to say she did…  After lunch, we headed to town to do a little shopping at the craft co-op and Nakumatt.  We went to dinner with two other mom/daughter duos (well they both had dads, too…) at New Cactus and then came home to rest up for our early morning wake up call.

Tuesday was devoted to Butare, the home of the National Museum.  We stopped the bus before it got to town so we could go to the museum.  Shortly after disembarking, I realized I left my phone on the bus.  Mom freaked out a little, but I was confident I would get it back.  This is Rwanda, after all.  We hopped on motos and rode back to the bus station.  They assured us the driver would shortly bring the phone and so we went back to the museum, which is only closed on 4 major national holidays…and that particular Tuesday.  All that travel for nothing!  Bummer.  We walked to town, did a little more handicraft shopping and got ice cream at Inzozi Nziza, which is always a pleasure.  We ate lunch then hopped back on the bus for a 2 hour ride back to Kigali.  Tuesday night we took some shoes and some Fantas to the LEAF boys’ house and they hung out with Teacha and Mama Teacha.  A few of them gave her speeches in English.  I think the most complimentary thing they said was that she was very special because she gave birth to me.  I agree.

Wednesday, I took Mom with me to teach some of my tutees and she got some good ol’ Korean hospitality.  After English lessons, we went to Shokola for some internetting.  Later we went to Khana Kazana (my favorite place in Rwanda) for some tasty Indian food and then over to Heaven for Godfrey’s solo art exhibition.  He had some pretty incredible stuff on display. 

Thursday, we hit up the market for a bit which gave Mom a real African experience.  I dropped off some fabric to get a dress and some pants made.  After the market, we went to Lalibela for Mom’s first Ethiopian meal ever.  Then we went to the Hotel Mille Collines for happy hour brochettes.

Friday, we went to Akagera National Park.  Our driver picked us up at 5:00am then went to pick up our travel companions at their house.  He promptly fell asleep at the first stoplight.  He drove rather erratically and soon informed us that he had picked people up at the airport at 2am before he came to get us at 5, so he hadn’t slept very much.  Awesome.  We made it to the park and our park guide took over the driving responsibilities and let the driver sleep.  We saw lots of animals.  Giraffes, zebra, waterbucks, birds, impala, various other breeds of antelope, warthogs, hippos, etc.  I’d seen them all before on safari in Tanzania, but I had never been to Akagera, so it was nice.

Saturday morning we woke up early and took the bus to Gisenyi.  We sat out on the sandy beach most of the day and then took the longest moto ride ever to Kigufi to sleep at this super cute little cozy guesthouse on the lake.  There were 2 other guests staying there that night, so the nuns set the dinner table for 4 and we shared dinner with two Polish girls.  Only in Africa…

Sunday morning we hopped back on an early bus to Musanze and went to Sonrise, my old stomping ground.  We were told chapel was at 8, but really it was at 9:30.  So we sat around reading our Kindles for a bit before church started.  This week’s service was far more entertaining than last week’s as the preacher jumped and danced and jumped and jumped and jumped.  We hung out with some of my special students and ate lunch with them before busing back to Kigali.

Monday and Tuesday were relatively uneventful.  I made Mom eat goat.  We went back to the market.  Then she packed up, and we headed back to the airport.  I didn’t take a single picture.  If you want proof of her visit, you’ll have to make her put hers on Facebook…

Watch This!

Another video for you.  I didn't make this one, but I am in it.  See if you can spot me!

Kigali International Community School

This is where I work.  Well, where I worked until last week and where I'll work again come August.

I'll update you on my summer as it unfurls.