Reflections on Rwanda

After exploring the memorials in and around Kigali, Rwanda I become aware of how fortunate I am to have been able to lead the life I have. I have not suffered any great hardship in my life. I have not watched my family be tortured and killed before my eyes. I have never experienced fear for my life or for the lives of those around me. I have had no need to be afraid. As an American citizen, my passport allows me to travel essentially anywhere; I can learn about anything I want.There are countless opportunities for me to take and so many unique paths I can choose. I have the entire world before me. I am free to explore. Fortunately this means that I am able to educate myself about the horrors of the world, as well. If we ever want to reach a kind of peace I believe we all have to be aware of the disturbing aspects of life. We have to prevent them form happening over and over. We need to know how many innocent people have died for absolutely no reason at all. We need to see the churches in which thousands of women and children we killed. We need to see the blood stain and brain remains from the children under fiver years old on the brick wall in the Sunday school room. We need to see the clothes that the people were wearing when they died–the clothes piled on every pew in the church and on the floors reminding us that, less than twenty years ago, their wearers were murdered. They were shot, hacked, raped, beat, stoned, burned, tortured. One murder is bad enough, but in this case we’re not talking about just one. We are talking about millions. Everyone has been affected. Forgetting is not an option. Because of that, there is a glimmer of hope. The more people who know about these events the easier it will be to prevent them in the future.

Adjusting to life at Discover Rwanda Youth Hostel was fun. We all met and interacted with so many interesting people from all different places. All the perspectives and travel tips will definitely be taken to heart. It was nice to be able to talk to people in English, but not have them be American. Being somewhere foreign has really helped me appreciate fast, easy communication.

Our first full day was spent in the Kigali Genocide Memorial. We all felt like we should immerse ourselves in the history before we explored the modern city. Insight was definitely acquired. The memorial starts out by giving the general history then brings in the survivor testimonies, pictures of those lost, bones found in the area, an exhibit devoted to specific child cases and another informing us of other genocides that have taken places around the world. One of the hardest parts for me was seeing the walls filled with pictures. The difference between hearing a number and then seeing the actual faces of those who had their lives taken from them is powerful. I look at the pictures and I see lives; I see the lives they might have had; I think of their families, their hopes, their dreams. More than my brain can comprehend has been lost, but, somehow, the people here are still surviving. There isn’t a person in Rwanda who has not been affected by the genocide, yet, they are moving forward. Their hope for the future is inspiring. If they can continue on, anyone can.

The memorials on the second day were different from the first in that they were simply preserved churches in which the people sought refuge and then were killed. Around 10,000 people were killed in the first church. I have no idea how that many people fit inside. As I walked in I was immediately overwhelmed by the energy. It sounds crazy, but I swear I felt the people. Our group was the only one touring at the time but the air felt so crowded and heavy—filled with death and sadness. One whole side of the church was damaged by bullet holes. After the soldiers destroyed the door with a grenade the just fired into the building. I still have trouble comprehending the fact that I was standing where all of those people were killed.

Downstairs there were skulls displayed and a white coffin containing the body of a woman who suffered more than I can imagine They said that she was raped twenty times and then had a stake shoved through her vertically and then another through her chest. That was a pretty typical form of torture for women. I feel directly affected by events like that simply because I am female. My mind cannot understand some of the evils that are done to people in general but especially to women and children. Life is too precious to destroy.

The second church contained much of the same. There were more buildings but it was the same situation–the people had come to seek shelter and were then killed. Children were often burned alive or smashed against walls. The Sunday school room contained the remains of that. A section on one wall was stained completely. I do not know what would ever possess someone to pick up a baby and smash it into a wall. I understand that psychologically people can be made to do just about anything, but I hope that such extreme cases can be eliminated through further education.

Our guide there was a survivor of the genocide. He was nineteen at the time–a year older than me–and he told us that he fled home and hid in the swamps for two weeks to save himself. In his case, safety would not come in numbers. Some of his family probably sought refuge in the church at which he was a guide. After hearing his story it made me want to ask everyone I met about how they had been affected. That’s not the sort of question one can ask, though. Perhaps telling the world more about what happened would help them find closure. The world just has to be willing to listen.

That night we took a break from history and deep thoughts and immersed ourselves in music. A reggae band was playing at a local night club so many of us spent the night getting caught up in the rhythms and melodies, dancing in whichever ways our souls took us. It was great to have a bit of fun and also to see a different side of Kigali. The juxtaposition of intense history and westernized city is still difficult to grasp, but I think we all still had fun. Despite what our friends at the hostel say, it is possible to enjoy yourself without the use of alcohol.

The last memorial we went to, the Genocide Memorial of Murambi was similar to the one in Kigali in that it gave us the historical background but different in terms of physical evidence. There had been a school located in Murambi where around 50,000 people hoped to be safe. They weren’t. The soldiers came in with machetes, clubs with and without attached nails, hoes, and axes and killed everyone within a span of two days. Two days. 50,000 people dead. Fourteen known survivors. After the slaughter the bodies were bulldozed into mass graves and left.

When the mass graves were discovered and the decomposed bodies transported into more formal graves they also came across some bodies that had not decomposed simply due to the lack of oxygen as so many bodies were crammed into small places. These preserved bodies were covered with lime and put on display in many of the classrooms in the school buildings. Although I must say that I was expecting actual bodies, they were still incredibly powerful. The looked like skeletons really, but you could see the occasional face which made it all the more real. It gave us a view of the actual people. We could see the cracked skulls, broken legs, severed arms, smashed children and more. We viewed six rooms in total and the one devoted to children was by far the hardest for me. Seeing the crushed body of a baby with hands the size of quarters was truly devastating. I still cannot understand how a person kills a child or baby.

Taking in all the perspectives in situations like these is also hard. We automatically feel disgust towards those who killed but if you look at all of the psychological experiments it is very easy to see how people can become brainwashed and completely wrapped up in a given role or in conformity. While exploring Rwanda were were not simply seeing victims. We were seeing killers as well. One wonders how they feel. Do they regret their actions? Did they even realize what they were doing? Is their still tension? Many questions are left unanswered.

As I have mentioned, there is so much hope for and in Rwanda. Men and women who suffered and survived the genocide still smile at us as we walk down the street. With luck the children and young adults know enough and have been affected enough to prevent something like this from happening again. Rwanda cannot do this alone, though, and they don’t necessarily need us funneling money into their system for modernization. The world needs to recognize the horrors that Rwandans and countless other people have suffered and are suffering around the world. Only then can we achieve “never again.”

“There will be no humanity without forgiveness.
There will be no forgiveness without justice.
But there will be no justice without humanity.”
—Yolande Mukagasana

(Again, the majority of this blog was taken from a post I wrote while in country.)

HIV/AIDS Is Not Just Something to Read About

I had always heard and read about the problem of HIV/AIDS but I had never come into contact with people who actually had it. Plus, I had never really paid attention to the fact that it's not just something that effects people in Africa. It effects everyone, everywhere and it is very easily prevented. Because Jenny and Geoff work so closely with the clinic we were able to see first hand the implications of having AIDS. We, healthy teenagers, walked the two hours to and from the clinic and were exhausted. We went with local volunteers on house visits meeting people who are fighting for every day and trying to remain positive. We learned their stories and saw what was being done to help them and what they were doing to help themselves. One of my friends even provided money to purchase and install a new roof for one man. (Props to Emily Aronson)


One of the activities in which women can participate is a basket making group. Sila is in charge and her story is absolutely incredible. She was married to a government official and tested positive for HIV/AIDS. When she told him he kicked her and her children out of his house. Jenny and others helped her get started with the basket making, I'm pretty sure she didn't know how to make them before that, and she is now the best. Her baskets are perfect and her attitude is amazing. All of the wrinkles on Sila's face have been caused by smiling and laughter, you can just tell. She is surviving and inspiring other women to take up the hobby to help support their families. They are being educated and empowered. Women are not typically encouraged to speak up for themselves, a fact that definitely contributes to the 50+% infected rate in women in the Mufindi region. It's estimated that over 40% of the population in the area is infected. Craziness. I can't even comprehend. But, the minute you educate people, especially the women and children, I believe that change will come. The more they know the more they can prevent—the more they realize that they are in control of their own lives.


During the house visits the children impacted me the most. We saw two little girls, both with HIV, one was seven and the other nine and I could not stop thinking about the fact that they will suffer with this forever. They are so very young and already they have experienced more than I might ever. Yet, they are surviving. Although neither of them looked extraordinarily positive (can you blame them?) they are still fighting for this chance. Their lives will always be different, but it's a difference that has the possibility to make them so much stronger. I have such hope for them. As they grow up they can continue to share their experiences, teach and inspire people, and prevent this from happening in the future. All they have to do is try.


Learning about the implications of HIV/AIDS changed all of us, but two in particular were inspired to start a non-profit to help raise money for a program Jenny and Geoff started. Sally Caruso and Olivia Wilson started Food for Thought and the money they raise goes to a program that provides mothers in the Mufindi region living with HIV/AIDS with milk powder when their child reaches the age of six months. That's the age when the virus can enter into the child's blood stream through tiny cuts in the intestinal walls caused by the solid foods to which the child is being introduced. We can help these children. Sure, it's something small, but small actions can change more than we think. All these kids need is to be given a chance to succeed. They are the future.


Food for Thought: http://foodforthoughttz.weebly.com

Inspiration and the Power of Positivity

When we left safari things started to become more and more new to me. We made another short stop in Maji ya Chai, the town of my soul, but after that it was all new. Everywhere we went we met people from all different places with totally different stories. But they all had two things in common 1. They ended up in East Africa. 2. They all think positively.

I came across this fact first in Maji ya Chai, home to Pete and Charlotte O'Neal. Pete is an ex-Black Panther who was exiled in 1969 and hasn't been able to go back to America since. He and Charlotte found their way to Tanzania shortly after his exile took effect and worked odd jobs here and there till they were able to settle down and start their own organization, the United African Alliance Community Center (UAACC). The UAACC helps better the community as a whole by providing classes focusing on whatever people can teach and and by providing an orphanage and primary school for this kids there to help boost the area from the bottom up. On separate occasions they each told us that you just have to lead life with a purpose–believe in yourself and what you’re doing–and the doors will eventually open for you. I had always heard this growing up but it was more inspiring to actually see living proof that it works.

The second time the power of positive thought struck me and the first time I was exposed to and entirely new area of Tanzania was in the Mufindi region with Jenny Peck and Geoff Knight. Jenny was placed in this area when she worked in the Peace Corps, fell in love with the people and the communities, so she and Geoff have dedicated this stage of their life to improving the lives of others. They’ve been there for around five years building up their children’s village, garden, and clinic trying to ameliorate the situation for all. Their village gives orphans in the community a home. Chances are their parents died from HIV/AIDS and they might be infected as well. Whatever the case, they live with other children with two house mothers taking care of them. The garden is more like a small farm. It's so beautiful to see strawberries, broccoli, and everything we see all the time at the grocery, being made available to people who don't typically have access to such foods. It dramatically increases the health rate in that they get far more nutrients than before. And not only that, anyone who wants and needs a job can work in the garden. Gardening is something thats very natural to the people there so it's a great way to promote productivity in exchange for goods. The clinic is currently being used mainly for HIV/AIDS patients–testing, treatment, and education–but they're trying to expand it so it's like any clinic in the states; It will be a safe place for women to have children, it will take care of any dentistry needs people have, people will be able to get vaccinations; it will truly make a huge difference. Yes, most people will have to walk a minimum of two hours to get there; East African people see this short walk as a privilege rater than a burden. Not everything has gone smoothly for Jenny and Geoff, though. They have had their fair share of challenges, but they’ve kept working and are clearly successful now. The lives of so many people have been made better by the perpetual positivity they pour into their work. 

Further south we met Curry and Chev Anton in Njombe. They are a sister duo who moved here two years ago and are in the beginning stages of starting something like Jenny and Geoff. They plan on being really education based which will be an amazing addition to the town. All kinds of volunteers are accepted and classes will be held whenever someone is willing to teach. Locals and foreigners are all welcome which will really boost the empowerment factor. Many people feel like Africans are "helpless." They feel we have to provide everything for them. I'm here to tell you that that is not that case. Africa is made up of strong individuals fully capable of taking care of themselves especially if they are given access to education. Something Curry and Chev feel very passionate about is sustainability. Because much of Eastern Africa's economy revolves around agriculture it's important that they are aware of eco-friendly options. If these women take part in what they teach, which they do, then the ideas will spread even faster. Like I said, they’re still getting started, but just from our brief encounter with them I know they’ll succeed. They have such faith and confidence in themselves and in what they’re doing it would be impossible for them to fail. They're relaxed, yet focussed at the same time. Positive yet realistic. 

Again, I've always been told that I will succeed if I only believe in myself. Positive thoughts in all aspects of life are truly life changing. It’s amazing how much can be accomplished with a little happiness. Life is tough, sure. Each day everyone is presented with challenges. It’s easy and far more dramatic to complain about all of the problems. But negativity accomplishes nothing. Granted, no one can be happy all of the time, but what is happiness without something to compare it to? That’s the beauty of it. Nothing is perfect all the time. You have to accept the good and the bad equally. Then, with a little positivity, you will be happy.

(The blog was inspired by a post I wrote in country. I felt I needed to expand a bit more.)

Rediscovering a Passion

After ten days with the Maasai I was torn. I was ready to move on, but I also didn't want to leave all of the friends we had made. That was something to which we grew very accustomed. We were in the different places long enough to become close to the community but we always had to move. It gives me a reason to go back. Our hearts never left anyone, though. Each person left impressions on us and we all changed because of their friendship. We will never forget any of them. 

A brief safari occupied our next few days. It was a nice break from the work. I had seen many of the creatures before but they really and truly never get boring. Each time it's surreal. They all look so beautifully natural in their home environment–as they should. This is where they're supposed to be. They are supposed to be alive and peaceful not killed for sport, their pelt or tusks. I understand killing an animal and then using every part of it for something, but the killings that happen in East Africa are not like this. They are simply killed. I will never comprehend it and I will always be trying to stop it from happening. 

Each animal there is incredibly majestic. Elephants are my favorites, I think. They are massive yet you know they would never hurt you unless they were provoked. It's not in their nature. They're so graceful and quiet, and their eyes convert a wisdom beyond what most humans deem animals capable. They truly are gentle giants. 

All of them are beautiful, though, and they all remind me of the importance of conservation. We only have this one little earth. If we destroy it, there is really no guaranteed way of getting it back. Everything these creatures do is what they're supposed to be doing–what they're programmed to do, one could say. Granted you could also argue that humans are doing what we're programmed to, but I think that if we claim to be so intelligent we should be able to figure out the proper way to treat the earth. 

Safari helped me find my passion for nature again.There is so much we can learn from it. It's how everything began and how everything should continue. Humans are simply clouds crossing the skies of time. We should recognize the greater power and respect it. It's not even just the animals that make me feel this way, either. I feel so small yet alive when I'm riding in a bumpy safari vehicle simply looking out at all the beauty in the world. The open spaces are what makes me feel like I belong. After spending the past two years trying to stop the building of a highway through the Serengeti going there and seeing it for myself was a dream come true. It reminds me of the ocean; it's vast and compelling and essentially silent. It's one of the most enchanting places I have ever been. Putting a highway in the middle of it would be devastating for everyone and everything. 

Everyone needs a rafiki. 

Capturing the Maasai

Dusty, dusty, dusty.

 Loving the kids.

Mount Meru.

 Beautiful. Confident. Love the way they stand.

One of our safari guides, Allen.

Just your everyday view.

Style.

Strike a pose.

Dream Big, kid.

Love all of their faces.

 Cuteness.

No words.

 Keep in mind I was wearing a hat and a puffy jacket and was getting a little chilly... now imagine wearing that. 

Violet

                      My darling Violet. Photos taken by the amazing Sally Caruso. 

"All I know is that every time I go to Africa I am shaken to my core" --Stephen Lewis

September 2011

I met four members of my group in the JFK airport, and the rest in Amsterdam. On both flights (JFK-AMS; AMS-Kilimanjaro) I was desperately homesick. I questioned why I even went on this trip. I knew I must be insane. 

Later, I stepped off the plane in Arusha and immediately forgot everything except my present. My soul was home. The land was familiar, the smells were familiar, the people were familiar and the general vibe was familiar. That's not to say that all of those aspects are similar through-out this entire East African area. Arusha is simply the city I knew best; the Maasai, the people. I had returned to the land of my heart.

After acclimating to Arusha we went outside of the city into a Maasai village--the home of our first project. We quickly made friends, learned some Swahili, climbed hills and volcanos, bought a goat, and painted roughly 200 school desks. We also quickly got dirty. We had arrived during a dry season so dust was EVERYWHERE. I loved it. I had never been one to like getting dirty and now I really enjoy it. I love how close to nature it makes me feel. It just feels like it's what I'm supposed to be doing. Conversely, I now appreciate how easy it is for me to take a shower at home. I appreciated how easily water can be accessed. 

I loved watching all of our interactions. Our entire group was fascinated by the Maasai and they were fascinated by us. It might have been the first time they had ever seen mzungus, foreigners, and we were just delighting in their smiles and positivity. So much love was being spread. Everyone was grateful. Grateful for the new company and perspectives and grateful for the learning and teaching opportunities as each and every person had so much to share. We had the pleasure of sitting in on a standard 7 class which consisted of children and teenagers ages probably ranging from nine to eighteen. 

Think about that for a minute, teachers. You have somewhere around 120 kids of all ages and you're trying to plan a lesson to fit all of their needs. You are one person. You might not even be a certified teacher yet. You might not have even made it to secondary school. 

Think about that, students. You and 120 other classmates crammed into desks that only comfortably fit three or four depending on the size of the person. You and 120 other classmates sharing, if you're lucky, ten battered "textbooks". You and 120 other classmates trying to learn the meaning of the words "although" and "unless" when you don't even know how to say "hello, how are you?" in this funny new language. 

Close your eyes and think about that. 

I did. 

I knew right then and there that I needed to learn Kiswahili. I needed to learn their language so I could go back to teach them mine. I needed to go back to that school and all of the others I had the pleasure of seeing and I needed to teach. We needed to start at the very beginning and we would learn vocabulary. We would learn how to construct sentence, how to make all the pieces fit together. We would play games to help the information stick. We would practice speaking. And soon enough, we would all understand each other. 

Granted, you don't need to know the language in order to learn something. Two things I learned from a beautiful, kind, sweet, precious Maasai girl named Violet were trust and confidence. She taught me to trust myself and the land and she gave me the confidence to explore.

Our friend Jonas took us on many hikes one of which was to a crater. This is when I found Violet. I made it up the giant hill fine, just a little winded, and she wordlessly asked why I wasn't taking pictures. I tried to explain that I couldn't because I was a fool and left my memory card back at the camp. I'd like to say she understood, but I really have no idea. She accepted it, though. When we started to make our way down I think she could sense that I was pretty afraid of slipping and tripping and falling and breaking something because after I slipped twice (it's really not that bad--almost enjoyable, even) I paused at a place I knew would be tricky and she calming and confidently grabbed my hand and gently pulled me forward. I was so grateful to have her. I know I could have made it down by myself, but it was so much better having her there to hold my hand and teach me her word for "home"--"nyumbani". I absolutely adore that girl. 

I saw her again at a Maasai wedding we were allowed to attend. We were walking along the same road as her house and she just popped out and joined me. The wedding was truly one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. The dancing and chanting seemed so natural. It's almost like it's part of me--like I was born with all of these Maasai quirks in me and they just needed to be home to actually express themselves. I knew all of the songs. They were so familiar. And, no, I do not believe it was because I had spent time with them the last time I was in Tanzania. These were different songs... different, but so me and so instinctual. 

I am Maasai. 

I have been shaken. Again.