Reflections

Two weeks have passed since I left Kigali. The transition home has not been as hard as I had expected. I was so grateful to return home. That first day I sat on the couch and watched movies for hours. The overall transition was so gentle. I left last Wednesday to go to Florida to visit my grandparents. This trip was especially relaxing. Being away from the internet allowed me to truly “get away” and not think too much about my impending responsibilities of school but also was somewhat of an escape of my responsibilities I felt to Rwanda. I returned to Oak Park a few days ago and feel refreshed and prepared to begin my junior spring at school and also to continue my work with Rwanda, albeit from afar.

I was afraid for my transition to the US while in Rwanda because I feared my reactions to much of America’s excessiveness and extravagance. When I arrived, however, I tried to let myself accept it and instead of resenting our culture and myself for all that we have, I think about how fortunate we are and the capacity we have to help in places like Rwanda. I guess the only thing that I am more conscious of after my experience in Rwanda is “sweating the small stuff”. For me-it is like a newfound empathy for people. When I hear someone angrily complain in line about how long is the wait or yell at a worker unnecessarily…it bothers me more than it ever did before. I don’t compare these people to the suffering in Rwanda, but rather think why do they add to the unavoidable pain that exists in the world?

I am rejuvenated from my trip to Florida and am prepared to support WE-ACTx and Rwanda in every way now that I am home and when I am back at school. I am eager to talk about the experience and describe as best I can what it is like for Rwandans today. At home I am working on major fundraising for Rwanda. Mardge and I will host a fundraiser dinner this summer at my house to raise money for WE-ACTx. I am still looking for a stationery store to donate notecards with drawings or photos by the Rwandan kids to sell as a fundraiser. Other ideas I have are creating collection boxes—in which families keep a box in their house full of extra things they do not need but would greatly help a Rwandan family. This would be a great way to concretely help a family, raise our consciousnesses about places and people that are less fortunate, and of course get rid of all the excess things we all have lying around our houses! In terms of Rwanda, I am pleased to inform you that my program for the adolescent girls will continue, even though I am away. They are going to expand it so more girls can get involved. When I return to Dartmouth, I am hoping to work with AIDS workcrew to do a fundraiser to raise money for the adolescent program in particular. I think it is a wonderful way for Dartmouth students to get involved and is also a very worthy cause.

To conclude my final blog posting, I share my last reflections on my experience. I believe I have grown immensely after being in Rwanda. I met some of the kindest, warmest people there and am forever grateful for this. I also saw firsthand the hardships people encounter on a day-to-day basis in their lives, especially in light of Rwanda’s history. I am hopeful that Rwanda will remain a peaceful place and that genocide related violence will continue to subside. I pray that the pain and unhappiness that so many Rwandans experience will quiet with time but not disappear altogether. I look to the future of Rwanda—the future generations to help create a new Rwanda that is known not for its genocide and ethnic conflict but rather its warm, generous, and kind people and culture. I hope the day will come when I return to Rwanda—maybe even as a doctor. Until then, I will remain in contact with the friends I made, devote my energies in the United States to raise awareness about Rwanda and support WE-ACTx, and always remember what Rwanda has taught me.

Thank you all for your incredible support in reading this and your support when I have returned. I feel so fortunate to have friends, family, and professors who have a desire to learn more about places like Rwanda and help.

As Always--With hope for Rwanda,

Leah

Leaving Rwanda

I am leaving in a few hours for home! I have been so busy these past few days that I haven't had the time to reflect on what I am feeling. Yesterday I said goodbye to everyone at the clinic. I wrote many people letters to say goodbye, which helped me say goodbye in a meaningful way.

It was so sweet--even though most people have no extra money--I received many little Rwandan gifts from friends and the kids. I couldn't get over their generosity. Flouride, on Sunday, invited me to her house and fed me a meal. She also gave me a Rwandan skirt (fabric you wrap around). Josee, another women from the Family Program, took me yesterday to a tailor to get measured because she is making me Rwandan outfits! Something very sweet is that Alice and Flouride insisted on buying my mom a gift, and so I went out with them twice to find the perfect gift. I wont say what they bought her (because I want her to be surprised, and lord knows she's reading this blog entry! Hi mom. Love you) but it is such a sweet gift. I felt so bad because it was expensive! But in Rwanda, you do not turn down something offered to you.

Last night I was packing and looking at my pictures and listening to sad music (probably not the best idea when you are leaving a place like this..) and I became a bit emotional. The thing is--I can't place my feelings exactly, but I think it had to do with knowing that the kids and women with HIV are hungry so much of the time and that they will live shortened lives because of AIDS. I think I am also nervous about coming home because I have never really experienced "culture shock". Mostly, I'm scared of the unknown. I'm really excited to come home, don't get me wrong (hot standing showers, a house sans cockroaches, etc.) but of course it will be a bit of an adustment. Everyone who has been to a place like Rwanda has prepared me for this reality.

I received funding to go to Rwanda from a Dartmouth service organization. In exchange for the money to cover the costs of the trip, I must write a ten page paper about "What Rwanda has meant to me". Ten pages really should not be difficult considering I've probably written 100 pages on this blog... but I haven't yet figured out how I can "sum up" my experience in the paper. I have decided to wait writing it until I am away from Rwanda, so as to gain some clarity on my overall feelings.

I hope to write once more in the blog once I am home, when I have had time to truly reflect on this experience. I hope that writing one final entry will give me some semblance of closure in Rwanda.

I can't thank you enough for reading the blog and for all of your support. I am fortunate to have friends and family that want to learn about places like Rwanda and who are eager to help.

With hope for Rwanda,
Leah

I hope the kids are as cute in the pictures as they are in real life

Deborah--I wish I could take her home with me. She had the most electrifying personality. This picture was taken at the WE-ACTx clinic in the room where we play with the kids.


You're not going to believe this, but the little boy in the front is 11 years old. I didn't believe it and made Bertin show me his forms.


Amena showed up to the teenage support group by accident!


Isn't this great?

As I approach the final week in Rwanda, I feel as just now getting to know the "real" Rwanda. I think it is easy to get a superficial impression of any place--but after you get to know people and really talk to them--you learn of a different side. I feel as though the friends I have made are putting their guards down and showing me their true feelings about their lives and Rwanda as a whole. They are more open to me now and so share many of the hardships they experience on a day-to-day basis.

This became especially apparent this past week when something tremendously painful occured to one of my dear friends. Naila, a woman I have mentioned several times before, was hospitalized in critical condition in the intensive care unit.

Naila, as I’ve mentioned before, is a strong, passionate, and determined woman. She is very political and has fought for years for women’s rights and affordable HIV care. She is HIV positive and has not been doing well as of recent. Her CD4 count has been consistently below 200 and she is extremely weak. Her body is not responding well to the medicines. She has lost so much weight and must weight only eighty pounds. Despite her physical condition, she is mentally stronger than anyone I have met. She has been going through a divorce with her husband who was a horrible man. They married in 1993. They were both in Rwanda during the genocide. Naila was in the hospital with a premature baby when President Habyamiana’s plane was shot down (the night the genocide began). She told me about seeing the decapitated bodies of the ten Belgian soldiers who were brutally murdered, as they were brought to the hospital where she was. Her husband, who was a Hutu, paid someone to pick her up in an ambulance. Her baby died and Naila made it to a neighbor’s house where she stayed for a few days. She and her husband hid in the woods and literally walked to RPF controlled territory. I don’t know the rest of the story because it was so painful for Naila to recall the memories. But to return to her relationship with her husband—he started sleeping with other women—raping young girls in exchange for some food or something they needed. Sometimes he would bring the women to his house in front of Naila and their daughter. He impregnated a woman and she gave birth to a son.

Divorce in Rwanda is rare for three reasons (from what I can tell): people here are tremendously religious and would never file for a divorce, but rather would just make the decision to separate; the second reason is that many of the documents that proved that a couple was married were destroyed during the genocide. So, there is no proof that a couple was even married—which makes filing for divorce difficult. Third—historically in Rwanda, when a woman marries a man, she basically becomes his property (even having sex is the husband’s right—hence marital rape here is rampant). So in Naila’s case—the document that proved she and Mohammad (her husband) were married had been destroyed. Additionally, Naila had to prove to the courts that her husband did all of these horrible things, but most of the case was “he said/she said”-there was little physical proof (except for the illigitimate child, which is pretty substantial!). Her husband also has a tremendous capacity to lie. So, in order to prove that she and her husband had been married, Naila had to write a petition and have the respected elders in the village sign that they had in fact been married. Then came the court trials. Many people discouraged Naila from going through with the formal divorce because it would be so difficult--she was risking so much by going through with the divorce. After Naila moved out of the house that she shared with her husband (for the reasons stated above and also because he was physically abusive) she was on her own. Mohammad did not work and depended on Naila’s tiny salary. Friends of Naila from the U.S. paid for her to rent a house, where she and her daughter Nadia lived. Her husband threatened to take both houses and Nadia, and so Naila felt there was no other option than to go through with the divorce. Mohammad, from what I hear, is misogynistic and arrogant and thought there was no chance that Naila would win the case. After months of trial, the verdict was read this past Wednesday. Naila received full custody of Nadia and the house! It really was incredible news. Alice went with Naila to the court and told me on Thursday all about it. She said that when the verdict was read, Mohammad looked as if he was going to explode. He called Naila on the phone right after and was terrorizing her, saying that he would rather die than live without Nadia (the daughter) and other things that Alice could not repeat. Alice told Naila to contact the local authorities as soon as she returned home and to tell them about her situation. When Naila returned home, Nadia was not there. Naila realized that her ex-husband had taken her to his home, which is very close to Naila’s house. So Naila went with the local authorities to Mohammad’s house and as soon as she got there, he stabbed her multiple times with a machete. He tried to stab his daughter and the authorities but they managed to run away. He stabbed Naila in the head, several times in the abdomen, and in the leg. Then he stabbed himself. Naila was rushed to the hospital and underwent two surgeries—brain surgery and surgery to her liver and intestine. He also went to the hospital but suffered more superficial wounds.

We didn’t hear about this until Friday morning when a WE-ACTx patient, a neighbor of Naila’s, told one of the WE-ACTx counselors. They knew none of the details. Alice and I went to the local public hospital to see if she was there. We called a doctor friend who works there and he took us to the ICU. There, we learned what had happened and saw her. It was without a doubt the most shocking, gruesome, and depressing thing I have seen in my life. Naila was on the bed, curled up in a ball and she looked so small. She was naked and her head was shaved. She is a devout Muslim and so this made it even worse. She had thick, bloody bandages all over her body and tubes everywhere. The good news was that she could talk. Although most of her sentences were incoherent (either delirium or from the brain damage), I thought it was remarkable that she was able to speak. She cried when she saw us. It was so sad. I could not have prepared myself for seeing her in that condition. The hardest thing for me was thinking about what she has already endured in her life—surviving the genocide-- witnessing countless murders and walking over the dead bodies, living with her husband who terrorized her (both physically and mentally) for years, and living with HIV. Why must she be put through something more?

Nadia, her daughter is OK but as you can imagine, she is traumatized. She doesn’t show or express her emotions that well under normal circumstances and so it is especially hard to read her now. One of the trauma counselors from WE-ACTx went to talk to her at the hospital and Nadia told her that she was fine. The trauma counselor is worried about her and will continue talking with her, hopefully in a more formal setting, where Nadia may feel at ease to let go of what she is feeling. Nadia actually went to see her father in the hospital yesterday. This is something about Rwandan culture that I will never understand. Jean, another WE-ACTx intern, went with her. Nadia and the father talked almost as if it was normal. In the past, Nadia has always somewhat resented Naila. When her parents were together—they lived in a middle class neighborhood and both were professionals. I’m not sure of the details but the father must have lost his job and I’m not sure what happened to Naila—but I’d imagine her deteriorating health condition played a part. When Naila finally decided to leave her husband—she was forced to buy a new house. She had very little money and so she and her daughter moved into a very poor, dirt house with no electricity or running water. During this time, her house was broken into and all of her belongings were stolen. Nadia preferred to be at her father’s house; despite the way he treated her mother. I don’t mean to make Nadia out to be a spoiled girl, because she is not. She is only eleven years old and could not even begin to understand the complexities of her parents’ relationship.

So I’m thrilled to report today (Tuesday) that Naila is doing so much better. It really could have turned out differently. I am amazed at her strength despite her physical size and weaknessdue to HIV. I have witnessed her progression and each day she gets better and better. Today when I saw her, she was out of the ICU and could talk coherenlty. In addition, she can somewhat walk. Nadia was by her side today. It was so sweet to see them together. She does not want to leave her side now. She has had so many visitors—everyone from the clinic, family from other provinces, and friends. Something that surprised me was that her ex-husband’s sister came to visit. She sat right next to Naila’s family and things appeared to be pretty normal….I was afraid a fight or something might break out, but they just sat peacefully next to one another. I think this is something about Rwandese culture that I will never understand.

To switch gears, I held the teenage focus group on Sunday morning. I met ten girls ages 13-18 at the WE-ACTx clinic (which is empty on Sundays). Naila typically talks to the girls about the issues in their life and so originally was going to translate for me—but clearly the circumstances did not allow for this. Alice offered to help me out. The girls also feel very open and comfortable around her. It has been so much fun getting to know the teenagers. I love the little kids because they are adorable and sweet, but I feel like I am able to connect with the teenagers on another level. Over my seven weeks here, they have really opened up and become so much more open with me. In the beginning they were reluctant, as teenagers often are, to really let down their guards. But now I can tell that they are opening up and being real. I think they like me (not to make too much of a self call) because I really try not to be condescending in any way and often make a huge fool of myself (like when I try Rwandan traditional dancing or sing…ouch)—but I think it makes them feel more comfortable. Once everyone was there, we started the group. I had never led anything like this so I was a bit nervous and had no idea if I was doing anything right!! I had prepared many questions under different categories but decided as we started to just kind of go with it and see where their responses took the discussion. To begin, I assured the girls that their responses were confidential and that everything that was said among the girls had to also be kept private. I thanked them a million times and told them that I hoped they could be open discussing such personal issues. The goal of the focus group, I told them, was to identify the problems adolescent females with HIV face in their lives and to develop programs in WE-ACTx to address these issues. I wrote a survey to obtain background information on the girls—the questions were very personal and I thought it was a good idea for them to fill out the survey so that it was completely anonymous. I had the survey translated and they answered the questions in Kinyarwanda, so I am having them translated (back into English) this week. I asked questions about living with HIV, sexual history (including if they or anyone they know has been sexually assaulted), if they have witnessed violence before, and questions about general feminine issues. I am eager to learn the results.

This is a picture of us at the clinic on Sunday


I began the discussion with a question that wasn’t too personal—to talk about the good things and hard things about being an adolescent female in Rwanda. I was surprised by how many girls were eager to respond. What I realized is that even though all of the girls were HIV positive, they lived their lives like typical teenagers. They explained that most of the time, they kind of forget they are infected. I asked many other questions—about the stigma, relationships, who they talk to, responsibilities in their lives, their futures, and what things they would like out of WE-ACTx. I found their answers to this last question to be particularly rewarding. They all agreed that having the support group was one of the best things in their lives. It is the only time that they are free to be open about their HIV. They like having the support of all the kids who are also HIV positive. They explained that they wanted more opportunities to get together with each other outside of the Sunday support group—movie nights, trips to different areas around Rwanda, etc. Something I found particularly troubling is the lack of food. The girls explained that was the biggest problem they faced in their lives. They eat on average one meal a day—sometimes two, sometimes zero. The girls also carry substantial responsibilities—not only must they care for their HIV, but they must do well in school, cook for the family (most have lost an immediate family member to AIDS, many are orphans, or their parents are sick), think about college, worry about money and whether or not they will eat, and the list goes on. I asked them what they did for fun, and most of them don’t even have time to just enjoy. This is another reason why having more programs for the teenagers would be great.

I could talk much more about this but this posting is getting to be long. I made sure to feed the girls and provide bus money. At the end of the group—I gave them journals with mechanical pencils and inside were letters I wrote to them. They seemed to love the gift. I explained my goal of the journal project and hoped that it would be therapeutic for them. As we were leaving (to go to the children’s support group) Claudine, a girl I have been tutoring in English (she speaks very well) told me how much the girls appreciated having someone that cared about them. Just knowing that someone was thinking about them and that she wanted to help made them feel good.

Today marks my last week in Rwanda. I am working with Alice and the children in the mornings and then will work on my report on adolescent girls with HIV in Rwanda. I've also been designated the WE-ACTx "artist" (this is hilarious by the way) and so was charged with designing the WE-ACTx Family Program Logo and draw pictures for a brochure we are making. Addionally, the OB-GYN from the US (does pelvic exams and cervical cancer screening and removal of any cancerous lesions) arrived yesterday and so I will also work with him this week helping in any way possible, but mostly learning about the different strains of HPV present in Rwanda, cervical cancer, and the gynecological procedures. This weekend I hope to travel with Frank—we may head to the south and walk through a forest that is known to have rare monkeys and chimpanzees.

I am trying to begin the goodbye process and think about how I can leave behind some sort of legacy, so some of the things I worked on here have some permanency after I am gone. The girls and the counselors really want to keep the focus group going-but funding, of course, is an issue. Although it costs only around $15 a week (transportation, food, drinks) there is so little money. I hope that once I write up the report, WE-ACTx will consider offering more events for the teenagers with HIV and also provide them with individual counselors. I will have a hard time leaving certain individuals—Alice, Seraphine (the woman who cooks at the house), Naila and Nadia, Frank, Simon’s family, Flouride, and of course the kids.

I’m excited to return home, though, and am dealing better with my impending departure than I was last week. I hope things are good in your lives and am very much looking forward to seeing you soon.

Final Two Weeks

I know it’s been a week again since I have written—I think I am having some feelings about returning home. While I am looking forward to being home and having the time to relax and reconnect with friends and family, I am anxious to experience that transition. I don’t know how it is going to be for me—knowing all of the luxuries we have at home and at the same time understanding what that money could buy for people in Rwanda. I hope that I haven’t become jaded by this experience because the last thing I would want is to return home and be judgmental/critical about our lifestyles in the U.S. I just don’t know how it will be for me; I’m sure it’s true for anyone returning from a trip like this.

This is a picture of one of my favorite kids and me this past Sunday--she always sneaks into my class with the older kids when I teach English.


I was emailing with Allie (one of my best friends from home) who spent a summer volunteering at an orphanage in Guatemala. She explained leaving so well—she said that she cried when she left because she felt so bad about leaving the children….but that she felt a little bit funny because she was crying but the kids had to go on and live the rest of their lives in such a sad poverty (I hope that explanation did justice to your eloquent words Al!)—I don’t know how well I explained it…but the idea is—you go and help for a short period of time, but what happens to the kids after you leave? They go on and face the same, hard lives day after day. So I want to try to be more optimistic than I have been and think that maybe I can be of help even when I am back in the states. Simply by being here and bringing back stories about what people have endured and how their lives are affected by it today—I am sure I will be able to raise money as I have wonderful and generous family and friends. Also, if I can do anything to help raise the consciousnesses of people in the United States about places like Rwanda—that will be a good thing too.

The problem I am faced with day after day is whom should I help? How do I decide whom “deserves” money or food more? For example—there is a woman who works for WE-ACTx named Fluoride. I mentioned her daughter Annanice in the last posting, I believe. So Fluoride was hired by WE-ACTx part time to work in the children’s program. She earns the lowest salary from WE-ACTx, making close to nothing (a high paid employee—a trauma counselor at WE-ACTx earns around $300 a month). She is a single mother (her husband died of AIDS) raising four children—one whom is adopted—and lives in absolute poverty. The sad reality is—she makes seven times more money than the average person in Rwanda (side note—the average woman in Rwanda also has over six children)! She was sponsored by an American family all of last year—but that was only a one year thing—so she is back to struggling to support her family. For me, the problem is—I want to support her and her family—but it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that she is more “well off” than so many other families!

This is a picture of the women with whom I work--from left to right (when looking at the picture)--Alice, Naila, and Fluoride (the woman I just told you about). Also-please note my outfit! When I am in public at the Sunday Children's Program (it is held outside of a Mosque) I need to wear clothes like this!



So that is how things are going here—and I will have to confront these issues in my final two weeks.

Something else that is hard for me is that the organization WE-ACTx is absolutely dependent on grants, most of which are yearly! So we must re-apply for grants year after year—if we do not receive the grants again—there will be no money for the organization—and thus no money to pay the many people who work for WE-ACTx and also to provide the wonderful services to so many people. This reality is especially burdensome (not so much for me, but Mardge, my supervisor and medical director of WE-ACTx) because so many people’s lives are dependent on their jobs at WE-ACTx or the services they receive from WE-ACTx.

This picture is of a very good friend I have made here--Frank. We went to Gisenyi (western Rwanda, right next to the Congo) last Friday to meet with these widows of the genocide who started a successful sewing cooperative. We are standing next to Lake Kivu, the lake that separates Rwanda from the Congo. During the genocide many dead bodies were thrown into the lake. Also, many people escaped the genocide by swimming in it to get to the Congo.



On another note—my focus group of adolescent girls will be held this Sunday! I am very much looking forward to this. We selected ten adolescent females who are HIV positive. They will come to the WE-ACTx clinic on Sunday and we will discuss different things that they face living in Rwanda with HIV. I want to know what they think about the future, are they stigmatized because they are infected, and how can we better understand and help them. To thank them for coming, we will provide transportation money, food, and diaries for them. I have mentioned this before—but I think that keeping journals will be a rewarding experience for some of these girls. I hope that I have developed strong enough relationships with them so that they will feel comfortable talking candidly with me.

Well I had better finish this, as I don’t want to be late for work! Email me if you have any ideas or anything about how we can help out when I am back in the States (Leah.Ansell@gmail.com).

The last leg

Sorry that it is Monday and the first time I have written in a week. I returned on Friday afternoon after spending a week in the buzzing metropolis that is Butare. And by buzzing metropolis…I mean the one street that is Butare, the second largest city in Rwanda. I hope that you can sense my sarcasm through the writing. So the class itself was really interesting—it is the first psychology graduate (masters) program in all of Rwanda—and the goal is to train trauma counselors. There were twelve students in the class—all of whom had full time jobs and families to support. So many of them had to take their one-week of vacation during the year to attend the course! The University is nothing like American Universities—it is so disorganized! The director of the University is only the director because he received his PhD in Europe…otherwise he has no business being an administrator. There is no standard for grading, no course syllabus, sometimes the professors don’t show up….the list goes on! That being said, the students are frustrated with the system and lately have been protesting.

Anyway, the course material was really interesting. I learned a lot about trauma, complex posttraumatic stress disorder, and how these fit in Rwanda (pretty obvious). The classes were long—almost six hours a day straight. I was taking notes of the entire class on my computer to give to the students when the course was over. None of the students were very proficient in English and so the fact that the course was taught in English was extremely challenging for most of them. So, having the notes of the course written out will be great for them to clarify the parts of the lectures they missed. The course lasted five days. The biggest problem for me about the week, besides being in the “city” of Butare, was that I became very sick! So there are a few problems when you get sick in a foreign place…the first and most frightening problem is you have no idea what you have! In the U.S. if I had the same symptoms I would take a couple Advil and lie on the couch and watch TV for a few days. Here…who knows what it could be! I was sure I had TB until my dad told me that takes months to develop! Oops. The second problem was—I was in Butare at this little guesthouse/taking notes for this class. In the guesthouse—there was no running hot water or really anything for that matter…basically it was a bed in a room without any windows. Then at the University, it was even more problematic because when I felt like I had to throw up but there was nowhere to go! The bathroom requires a key and is about 100 yards away—so I was out of luck there. Additionally, there were no garbage cans whatsoever—so I was planning, if it came to this point (which fortunately it did not), to simply throw up all over myself! Sorry for the graphic details…but this was a big dilemma for me. So it all started Tuesday morning when I woke up with a slight cough. As the day progressed this turned into the chills, nausea, and the worst sneezing attacks I have ever had. These symptoms persisted until Friday when the sneezing subsided and was replaced with incessant coughing—it felt like pneumonia. I could tell the class felt bad for me-because each day they bought me packets of tissues. I felt like the week would never end…but at one in the afternoon on Friday, we were driven home. I think I was pretty close to coughing up a lung during the two-hour ride home….but I managed. I jumped right into bed and pretty much never left for the remainder of the weekend!

The good news is—I am feeling much better now and the fever is gone. The cough is still very much present, but now I don’t feel as if I am going to stop breathing every time I feel the urge to cough. When I walked into the clinic today, it was FILLED with people! There weren’t enough seats for everyone—I learned that the little illness I had is going around Kigali. Go figure. Then I thought about what a baby I was—because these people don’t have Advil or Tylenol like I did. In addition, they probably walked miles to get to the clinic and were working to support their families! All I had to do was sit in a classroom for six hours a day. Just an example of putting things in perspective…

So now onto other things, like the kids program. It is without a doubt my favorite part of my experience here. It is the highlight of my week. I am so impressed with how kind, enthusiastic, and patient the children are. For example—there is a five-year old girl Annanice. Her father died from AIDS two years ago and she lives with her two older siblings, an adopted cousin (from the genocide) and her mother, who is infected. Annanice is the only child in the family who is also infected. The past two Sundays she has been upset by normal little kid stuff—but her big sister who is eleven—who comes to the Family Program (which is only for children with HIV) just to support Annanice—takes such good care of her. She pulls her aside, kisses her, and holds her hand until she feels better. It is so beautiful to watch. Something else I find amazing is their patience. There are so many kids to feed during snack time—but they just sit and wait patiently to be served. The last child to receive his food never complains—he just sits and waits quietly.

The above picture are two of my favorite kids--the one on the left was the one left in the woods. The hats they are wearing were donations from a sewing cooperative in San Fransisco




This is a picture of two of the girls I worked with on portrait drawing.

Yesterday we received a newcomer to the children’s program. I mentioned a few weeks ago a four year old girl who was left in the woods by her stepmother to die. In case you don’t remember or didn’t read that post, I will share the story—after this little girl’s mother died from AIDS, she was given to her stepmother (the father also died from AIDS), who didn’t want her. The stepmother left the girl in the woods to die. Four days went by and a woman heard her crying. She went into the woods and found her! The girl was in the hospital for over two months. The story though is happy now—the woman who found her in the woods decided to adopt the girl. So back to the Sunday program—the girl and her adopted mother came yesterday! It is so clear that the adopted mother loves the girl so much. And the little girl is the most vivacious and sweetest girl I have ever met! She was like a parrot—she would excitedly repeat any English word you said and emulate any face you made. It was a joy to watch how well she interacted with the other kids and also her guardian. Of course, a picture is included.



Such a beautiful smile



This was not posed at all--the kids gulping down their full glasses of milk

So I have only three weeks left here…it is hard for me to believe. There is much I want to accomplish in that short amount of time. My main focus will be working with the adolescent girls. I want to learn about the adolescent women and try to understand what is their sense of the world—how is it for them living with HIV in Rwanda. I want to talk to them about their plans for the future (job/marriage/children?), find out what kinds of outlets they have—can they talk with one another about living with HIV?, what it is like going to secondary school—do their classmates know they are infected?, etc. Also, because many of the young women are orphans, move homes often, don’t eat substantial meals—all life events than make one susceptible to developing depression—I would like to assess somehow if this is a problem among them. I am also going to ask similar questions to young women who are not infected to see how the responses compare. The overarching goal is to develop programs that address the needs of these young women and learn more about what they are going through. I’ve been struck by these young women—they are incredible leaders at the children’s group. They are so capable at such a young age. I think that even the focus group will allow the girls the space to share what is going on for them and hopefully have some therapeutic value. I have mentioned this before—but I would like to start a diary program for these girls-to give them an outlet to share their everyday thoughts and emotions about being a young adult woman and living with HIV.

And I’m spent! That was long. Hope you are all well and I am thinking about you.

In the south for one week

Hey this is going to be very brief because I am leaving at 5 am tomorrow for Butare. I am spending a week at the University there--I will be working with Mary the trauma psychologist--she is teaching for a week--the first psychology masters program in Rwanda. crazy. So I'm really interested in seeing the university and learning about trauma counseling. So I wont have email access until Friday.

This past weekend was great--I went to Akajera in the north and saw giraffes, zebras, hippos, gazelle, baboons. It was really cool! Here are a few pictures, one is from before I left at the Mille Collines Hotel--the hotel on which Hotel Rwanda was based.




Today I went to the famliy program and had the best time. I feel like I am really developing relationships with the kids, which makes it all the harder because I'll be leaving soon. But I started my art class today. It went so well! I worked with a small group--fifteen girls--and we did self portraits. It was so much fun. I thikn it was the first art class many if not all of the girls had ever had. Some of the portraits are really good. They are all fast learners. After, I taught the english class-- 60 of the older kids--this was also fun. What I have them do is get into partners and then they have to do demos in front of the class--so one person says to the other "Hi, how are you?" and the person answers: "I am...." and then they show a particular expression on their face (happy, sad, mad, tired, etc.) and the person who asked the question has to say "He/she is happy/sad, etc.". They love it! I think they are really learning, although it is hard because there are so many kids.

The little kids are mroe than adorable. Watching them eat their snack is my favorite part, i think. They drink these huge glasses of thick sweet milk (its like yogurt!) and get huge milk mustaches. I promise I'll bring my camera next week so you can see pictures of some of them.

On another note, I have learned that they do not have any antidepressants available in Rwanda. This is unfortuante because so many people suffer from post traumatic stress disorder, depression, anxiety, etc. Something else I learned was that abortion is completely illegal here. This country is religious and because of this--rather conservative (not in the Bush way, but in a religous way...if that makes sense). There has been so much rape and pregnacies b/c of the rape--and there is nothing these women can do about it. In addition, birth control pills are extremely rare--and the people that take them are almost always married.

Many of the kids in the program have mothers who are prostitutes. I learned that the prostitutes charge more money if the man doesn't want to wear a condom....so this, clearly, exacerbates the spread of HIV. Something else--mamy of the prostitutes were raped or sexually assaulted and sometimes purposely spread HIV to the men so they become infected. THe cutest girl in the clinic (if i were to adopt a child, she woud be it!) was born to a prostitute. She has a new baby eveyr year.

Alright, I'm exhausted and I have less than five hours before I catch a bus tomorrow to Butare.

Take care everyone! I'm thinking about you all.

A Month in Kigali

Now that I have been in Kigali for almost a month, things are getting a little bit harder. Things are harder because I am developing relationships with particular people and now they are not just a somewhat anonymous person who is suffering. I have developed a new level of empathy for these individuals because of our relationship...this makes it harder for me because the reality sets in that they are sick and suffer almost every day of their lives. Additionally, it is hard because I know I am leaving in just over a month and so whatever small amount of happiness I can bring to their lives will be gone, and I will feel even more helpless when I am in Chicago or at school.

For example, tonight I felt this horrible pain that I had let down this particular girl (Nigena--the 12 year old I have been working with). Last Friday instead of going into the central office I went to a meeting with the trauma counselors to discuss alcohol use and physically abusive relationships between husbands and wives (a whole different topic, I will talk about it in a later post). Tonight, Deborah (the doctor) told me that on that day the little girl came to the office...and was clearly waiting around for me....I wasn't there, so she made up some complaint to see the doctor so she wasn't just sitting around the clinic by herself...Deborah said it was pretty clear that Nigena was not suffering from anything physical but rather came to be with me. I feel so horrible about this. I wish so much I had been there for her last Friday. (but the good news is, WE-ACTx found money for her to go to schoo! I just hope she is eating..). This is a picture of her, isn't she beautiful?



Something else that has been really hard for me is learning more about this woman I have been working closely with in the famliy program named Naila. She is an incredible person--she is an activisit and very political. She was in jail many years ago because she stood up against the government for women's rights and rights for individuals with HIV. She was beaten up when she was put in jail and still suffers physically (and emotionally of course) from what they did to her. She is opinionated and so strong--but looking at her you would never know it. She is incredibly frail and hardly ever eats....she has HIV and got infected by her husband who constantly cheated on her. She and her husband (who she is in the process of divorcing) have a twelve year old daughter named Nadia who is a very sweet and shy girl--but has witnessed some horrible things in her life, and as a result is deeply traumatized. Fortunately, she doesn't have HIV. So Naila's husband beat her (in front of their daughter) and when she refused to sleep wtih him (to worsen both of their HIV) he would bring home young women in front of her. He also raped a 12 year old girl. Through all of this--Naila feels the worst for the women with whom her (soon to be ex) husband has slept with, because he doesn't tell them that he is HIV positive.

Today Naila is getting sicker and sicker, and her CD4 count is below 200 (which is bad). She has tried many levels of the medicines and is developing resistance...it doesn't look very good for her. What is even harder is what will happen to her daughter when she dies. She has been so good to her daughter, giving her all the food her money can buy, even when she herself doesn't eat. Living with her father isn't a good option...I really don't know...it;s so hard to watch.

It is so painful being here; in a different way than before. It is a different kind of pain because I have relationships with these people now, and it is a reality that they will live much shortened lives and suffer from hunger or pain for much of them. Sometimes I think of the kids who were born with HIV--they are innocent--and most of them will die before they are twenty years old. I also think about their mothers who, for a majority of them, acquired HIV by being raped or having sex with their husbands who were infected from cheating with other women. They, too, are innocent (the women).

I'm sorry to sound depressing, it's just all so very sad and real, which scares me.

The day to day

So I would say that I am becoming extremely comfortable here in Rwanda...almost too much so. Sometimes I am walking down the street and have to remind myself that I am in Eastern Africa! But I'm glad that I am feeling much more at home here.



Today was a cool day because I got to work on finalizing a grant. Mardge, who is my supervisor and one of the heads of WE-ACTx arrived last night. She is fantastic--such a character (in a very good way)! So she has been going strong since the moment she got in yesterday afternoon. So a huge grant was due today at 4 PM. It had to be turned in before then to this U.S. Office in Kigali. The problem is--there are absolutely no printers at WE-ACTx and for that matter....very few printers in all of Kigali. So we needed to put together 14 reports, all of which were about 80-100 pages each! In addition, we had to collect resumes from everyone in the office, edit them, and print them--all before 4 PM. It was a disaster--we had to figure out page numbers, font size, changing American paper format to Rwandan formats...and go to about seven different stores to take care of everything! So every time there was a problem, someone would slip in their USB zip drive (or whatever it is called) and send me out to all these different stores to get one print copy (being here really makes me appreciate Kinkos...that store is genius). OK, so I go to the "print" store where there is a computer circa 1990. I think it is the same one on which I played Oregan Trail in first grade! By this point in the day its around 3:15 already...so we are rushing. After I obtain the one copy from the print store I had to run to another store to make photocopies. The machine was constantly breaking down and printed one page at a time--it's nothing like the nice ones today where you just place in a tray all of your papers and they practically bind a book for you--in 5 seconds...so anyhow, it took a while. But SOMEHOW we managed to get it finished--it really was so funny and also a huge adrenaline rush. We were using glue from the donations box meant for little kids and these "zig-zag" scizzors which are meant for cutting cool designs into paper...but really somehow it worked out.

So we had 12 minutes to drive to this U.S. place to drop off the grant--we got there with around five minutes to spair. However, we didn't realize you needed to have a passport to get into this tightly secured building! So the only form of identification that any of us had was my U.S. drivers license....somehow they allowed us in--we were sprinting! We made it inside and the box was signed as recieved on time. I almost passed out! But it was fun to see how Mardge works--she's such a firecracker! I also was thinking I would really like to do grant writing....OK I know nothing about it...but I like the organization part of it and collecting and putting together all of this information, creating a budget, etc.--maybe someday I will learn how to write one (then probably hate it) but for now it seems like something I would enjoy.

On another note--I am starting a really cool project! I am going to develop a program for the adolescent girls in WE-ACTx. Today I wrote up an interview to ask mothers of all different education backgrounds and socioeconomic groups about the transition from childhood to adolescence in Rwanda. Some questions I am asking: "At what age do girls in Rwanda typically begin menstruating (age range)?", "What kind of education and support do they receive when they begin their period?", "With whom do young women discuss their transition to adolescence? (Family member-please specify, peers, teachers, doctors, counselor, other),"Is there an established program/model the government uses to teach adolescents about this developmental stage?". Other topics are drug use, sexual practice, stigma associated with HIV and being an adolescent....already I interviewed one woman, a mother of two girls. Something very interesting about the culture here is that it seems as if mothers send their adolescent children to their aunts or grandmothers to learn about this transition. I am going to hold a focus group of adolescent girls to assess their needs and hopefully develop a program so the girls in WE-ACTx (many who are orphans) will have peers and trained counselors with whom they can talk.

Next week I start two projects at the family program: one is the diary project that I mentioned before, the other is a new one--an art class--where we are going to draw self portraits. OK the reality is I am a mediocre artist at best....but these kids have zero art education and it would be fun to help them with the few things I do know about art with portrait drawing and also would be a good opportunity for them to draw how they percieve themselves...My hope is that I can keep some of these pictures and bring them back to the U.S. to be used during fundraisers.

Alright that is all for today.

ps--the pictures of the gorillas don't just appear close-they are close!

More pictures!

Live gorillas!

I have just returned from an adventure in Northern Rwanda where I got to play with gorillas! I was not at any type of zoo—but rather in the middle of a dense bamboo forest, literally inches from nine mountain gorillas—including one silverback. So let me start from the beginning…we (Deborah-the doctor here and I) left Kigali on Friday afternoon. The drive to Ruhengari (where the Volcanoes National Park is located) takes about two hours and is so gorgeous! We drove along the “highway” which is only one lane each way, filled with potholes, passing many rural villages. It was a great opportunity to see the countryside here---the roads are very curvy but the hills/mountains are gorgeous. Everywhere you drive—there are so many people in the streets. It really is incredible—the youngest of girls carry huge buckets of water or piles of tree branches on their heads—it is a sight to see. Something eerie as we drove into the more rural areas was that there were so many ruins of houses from the genocide—it was sad to see. They were all missing roofs and most had dense vegetation growing inside of them. It was sad to think about and actually see—becaues you knew exactly what had happened there.

We arrived in Ruhengeri before 6 PM on Friday night. It is a beautiful town. There are these huge volcanoes in the backdrop. Even the air smelled so fresh. We stayed at a little guesthouse that is run by widows of the genocide. We met these kids on the street who play soccer and they walked with Debra and me around the area. I couldn’t get over how gorgeous it was…I wish there was some way to capture the fragrance in the air. We walked through muddy potato fields with the kids. It’s amazing what they do to have fun here—they have no toys whatsoever, so they have makeshift soccer balls (made out of plastic bags and bark that is like twine) that they LOVE and they play with a stick and the outside part of an old bicycle tower. Many of them seem just as happy if not more than American kids.

The next morning we got up early to see the gorillas! It was awesome. There are five or six different families you can choose to see—we chose Sabinyo, which is an especially famous group—they have the biggest and oldest silverback of all the mountain gorillas and also are known for having a very tight knit family. The other good part about choosing this family is that it is a relatively easy trek to see them. This was important not so much because of physical stamina but rather because I was in capri pants and Deborah had no socks on! Everyone looked at us as though we were lunatics—I pictured it a hike through the forest on a path….I was very mistaken….here is what it was like: two men with machetes clear away the dense bamboo so that you can somewhat walk…it was like nothing I’ve experienced before. They have trekkers who find the gorilla family and then a guide takes you to them—after about an hour and a half hike through the densest forest I have ever seen (filled with these stinging nettles…these plants that are covered on the leaves and the stems with tiny hair-like prickles with this poison in them…poison is harmless just burns for about 15 minutes…). So kind of get the picture? Anyway, so back to me and my legging capri pants.. So everyone who is about to “trek” is wearing full on waterproof pants with gaters, hardcore hiking boots, and hiking GLOVES—and there I am in workout pants, Nike running shoes, and an Oak Park River Forest High School tennis sweatshirt. I don’t think I could have been LESS prepared! But at this point, I’m still thinking—I don’t mind getting a little muddy or getting stung by stinging nettles…I’m a tough girl. But after a lot of stares a nice man happened to have a pair of knee high rubber boots in his car that also happened to be my size (it was really weird that he had them like that…but I was so grateful after seeing what the “hike” was like). So after getting appropriately suited up, we were ready to meet our fellow trekkers. They were hilarious!! I wish so much that I could have videotaped these people. First there was Phyllis and her husband/brother/dad (Deborah and I could not figure it out…)-they were a little bit off and never said one word! They were kind of like the creepy people that live in the legendary neighborhood “haunted house” that no one really knows anything about (Humphrey Street people think Mr. McDonald). So then there was Lynn and her mother Carol. They were incredibly nice people and have traveled all over the world. Carol also thinks Lynn is the best thing since sliced bread….still they were fun. I talked to Carol for 35 minutes about how great are online dating services (Lynn met her husband on one…) The last couple was Harvey (“Harv”) Rubenstein and his wife Lisa. They were without a doubt the most hilarious people I have ever met! Harv was like a character straight out of a movie—if gorilla trekking had been Jurassic Park and the gorillas turned and ate the humans—Harv would have definitely been the first to go (kind of like the little guy in Jurassic Park). And his wife was even more of a riot! The whole time she talked about Harv’s asthma and how the day before when they went gorilla trekking he had such a hard time! She also wore BRIGHT orange lipstick and by the time we entered the forest line it was all over her teeth and face. It was too funny…but the best part is—once we were in seeing the gorillas—she and her husband would push people out of the way to ensure they got the best picture possible! At one point, they pushed me and I completely lost my balance nearly falling into a stinging nettle bush. Fortunately Lynn was there to catch me. Sorry to bore you with details of the characters on my trip…but they were too funny!

So anyway, we hiked through the dense brush and then we were literally sitting next to huge gorillas! I couldn’t believe it. They were so cute and majestic at the same time. There were a few babies—and they just played with each other the whole time we were there it was so sweet. And then the babies would jump on the juveniles’ backs and then they would throw them off. The silverback was HUGE and really so relaxed. He is 35 years old! I included a bunch of pictures for you all to enjoy.

The house is filled with people now—I am officially best friends with all people over the age of fifty here—but I have to admit I am enjoying myself. Except for Andrew (who is back…..) I am very comfortable and happy. I will write more tomorrow or Tuesday about my day today and a new project I am starting.

Hope you are all well.

Priests, friends, family program, and gorillas

Once again, it has been a very interesting few days. Sorry I am just writing now! On Saturday, I traveled to the country—about one hour east of Kigali. I went to the home of Father Jean Gakirage, the priest I mentioned in an earlier posting (he is on the right in the picture, Simon is on the left).

It was a spectacular day. He lives on the top of this hill/mountain that overlooks three lakes. Driving to his house really allowed me to appreciate the beauty of this country. Everything is so lush and the flowers are the most brilliant colors I have ever seen. When I arrived at Father Gakirage’s house, we walked around his land and he told us that an entire community once existed there before the genocide. This is a picture of Joy (Simon's wife) and me.

It was eerie-- everywhere we walked seemed to be the remains of a home (ps—thanks dad for telling me so many ghost stories as a child and thanks Jonah for forcing me to watch “Tales from the Crypt” every Friday night, “Nightmare on Elm Street”, and “It” when I was in first grade…I am officially scared of ghosts at the age of 21). Ghosts aside (my mom tells me they would be ghosts who would be kind and protect me, I believe her!), it really was strange walking on these grassy sections because they really all were homes that were destroyed.


After the genocide, Father Gakirage bought all of the land where his community and family used to live. He built a house with a kitchen and also a house for the thirty-seven orphans. Many of the orphans endured horrible torture—thirteen of the orphans were at the house when I was there on Saturday and many of them had visible scars. Father Gakirage told us some of the stories—one girl was only 4 during the genocide and the militias burnt her house down, killing her entire family—she was the only survivor. Today she has burn scars all over her face. Here is a picture of some of the orphans (who are all very happy and successful now!)
Another boy who is nineteen years old was tortured with a machete. He carved his name into the boy’s leg. It is a permanent reminder of the atrocities that occurred. I asked the Father if there had been any justice—if the individuals that murdered the orphans’ family members and tortured the orphans were in jail. The Father replied that most were not. He gave an example of a young man—the person who wrote his name into the boy’s leg with a machete. Today, that man has a wife and a young daughter—Gakirage said that if he went to jail, it would be his wife and child who would suffer, and they are innocent. He says that you can’t change the past and so it is important to move on from it. Father Gakirage walked with me around his land and showed me the new buildings. He has already developed a water system to deliver clean water to the community. The thing is--many of the people living in his community that will benefit from this system are the people that killed his family and neighbors—there are few survivors if any. I don’t know how I feel about this…as I’ve said before; I have a hard time dealing with the reconciliation piece.

So back to Father Gakirage—so not only did he build a water system, but he is in the process of building a clinic, a library, a canteen, and a soccer field—all to be used by the community. It is like a community project—they are building a road up the mountain by hand. They are literally uprooting trees (by hand, no machines whatsoever) to create this road. Everyone has been helping to construct the buildings and the road. In fact, while we were walking down the road-in-process we saw two women working on it. Gakirage told me that one of the women had killed his brother.

When we returned to his house, his children put on a show of traditional Rwandese dances and songs. Here are some pictures of that—Simon’s daughter Cynthia joined in. She’s the one in the middle.

On Sunday I went to work with the kids the family program for the first time. There were soo many children! There must have been around 200. They range from five years to sixteen. The five year olds look like they are two or three years old—this is because of HIV and that they are malnourished. The teenagers also look very young. I was unprepared and only brought two bags of candy and one packet of markers—next week I will have to bring much more. They drew pictures with the markers I did have and waited in line so I could give them each one little sticker! They were so excited just to receive a smiley-face sticker.

Something that is hard about the Sunday family program is that it is, for many of the kids, their only opportunity to talk about their problems—it’s as the few counselors act as their own parents. The counselors feel so helpless—the kids desperately need food, money for school, money for transportation to school, books, and clothes. It really was overwhelming. Some of them didn’t even have shoes. It made me think of all of the things I have ever thrown away or given away—these kids would use ANYTHING. If there were some way to collect all those things and somehow get them over to Rwanda…they would be so much better.

The kids come and share so many problems. It was so sad—this six-year-old boy was crying because his mother had just died. The last thing she said to him before she died was “Bring this to We-ACTx”, and handed him the family’s record sheet so her son could get his medicines.

Another big problem is that many of the families don’t even want the kids. There is this nine-year-old girl (she looked like she was five, I was shocked to learn she was nine) who is an orphan and very depressed—her stepmother is taking care of her. The problem is—the stepmother didn’t even know that her husband had been married before and especially didn’t know that he had a child from the previous marriage. So the father died from AIDS and passed on the infection to his new wife. Now the stepmother resents his daughter and doesn’t want to take care of her because she is upset at her deceased husband for giving her AIDS and for leaving her with this little girl who is also HIV positive…. that was the worst run-on sentence (sorry dad, armeen) and probably made little sense—but it is a difficult situation to explain in writing…

Being at the family program on Sunday made me feel so overwhelmed. It was like I couldn’t even breather. The kids are so sweet and innocent and were born in this world to very poor families and with HIV. Most of them don’t eat very often, as their families have no money. Many do not sleep on mattresses or have clothes to wear to school, if they are in school. And then I think about this—this is just a tiny number of kids in Kigali alone, let alone Rwanda or the entire continent or the world…aaahhh, its so overwhelming.

In fact, the parents or guardians of the kids want their kids to go to the family program on Sunday, even though it means paying 20 cents for transportation. The reason is the kids get a free meal—for most of them—their meal of the day. Their “meal” is a biscuit that is about the size of a child’s fist, a hard-boiled egg (size of a robin’s egg), and a glass of milk. The kids love going to the family program because they can run around and play. The older kids like the support—they can talk about what it is like living with HIV—it is really a support group for them.

Something that I would like to do while I am here is work with the adolescent and pre-adolescent girls. Many times they feel very alone when going through the transition from childhood to adolescence. They don’t have anyone to talk to. Usually they don’t even know about their period and do not have the money to buy pads. I have been thinking of fundraisers (discussed below) where the money generated goes directly to the family program-in particular focusing on the teenage girls. Additionally, I think something that may be valuable to them would be keeping a journal of sorts. Although diaries are not really a part of the culture here—I think it would be a good opportunity for the girls to describe what they are going through on a day-to-day basis. They could make it as personal as they wanted or they could share it with the counselors--but really it would be something for them to have and to take the time for themselves. I’m hoping to get this started this Sunday. It will be interesting to see if they are receptive to the idea.

I’ve started collecting stories and pictures from the kids—I ask them to draw what they hope for in the future. It is really very sweet. Then I ask them simple questions and write them down. My goal is to turn the pictures and the answers to their questions into cards, which I will sell as a fundraiser in the United States. There is one girl I am especially drawn to. She is a twelve-year-old orphan who lives with her 24-year-old sister. Her story is a lot like the other kids in that her sister refuses to pay for her go to school because she knows her little sister is just going to die of AIDS anyway. To make matters worse, she eats only once a day or every other day. The doctors say that she has lost so much weight. She has been coming into the office every day, even when she doesn’t have appointments, and we spend hours together. It is like private tutoring or something. She needs to get out of the house because when she is there she is like the servant for her sister and her sister’s husband. WE-ACTx has decided that they will find the money to send her to school. In the meantime, I have been bringing her food from my house (literally so inexpensive here) and then pay for her bus money (also soo cheap) so she can come to the clinic and work with me. She never wants to leave and she is so sweet! She has almond shaped eyes and just looking at her makes you feel like you have to help her! She wants to be a doctor and drew a picture of this big house, which is the kind of place she wants to live in when she grows up. Everyday we go over English—I finally taught her the ABC’s.

So I am no longer living alone in the house—a trauma psychologist from Chicago and a pediatric endocrinologist, also from Chicago, have joined me. The pediatric endocrinologist is basically my role model. She is fantastic. She is the exact person I want to be when I’m sixty years old! As soon as I met her—we hit it off. She feels like family or something. We read the same books, do the same activities, see the same movies, and share the same political beliefs…. it’s great! This is her second time in Rwanda—the first time she came was in August 1994—right after the genocide. She kept reading about it and seeing all the kids on television and she decided that she had to go and help somehow. She contacted a few NGOs and one happened to work out. The most poignant thing she remembers is watching little kids carrying smaller kids across the border to the refugee camps. Man…it kills me. So sad.

I am excited for this weekend—I am going with my favorite doctor friend to see the gorillas! I can’t even believe it’s happening…. we are lucky. Normally you have to get a permit to enter this park months in advance…. fortunately, Simon knows someone in the tourism “biz” and he pulled about a million strings and got us a permit. I really can’t believe it—we leave Friday afternoon after work and then will get back Saturday night. Assuming I don’t get attacked by a 400 lb. silverback….I will have many pictures to share.

Hotel Rwanda--Second post of the day, make sure to read the one below too!

A movie I am sure many of you are familiar with is “Hotel Rwanda”, which features the “true” story about Paul Rusesabagina, a man who saved hundreds of lives during the genocide by housing them in his hotel. I say true in quotations because the Rwandese people seem to know a slightly different story—one that was embellished in the Hollywood studio.
Now I don’t want to entirely discount the reality, which is that he did save many lives during the genocide while risking his own life—something that was extremely rare. However, what seems to be the complete true story is that he only let people stay at his hotel if they had money—turning away anyone that couldn’t afford the nightly fees (which was very expensive as it was the nicest hotel in the entire country) to be killed as soon as they walked out onto the street.
What is a little scary and happening now is that Rusesabagina is using his popularity and international fame to promote opinions that aren’t so different from views and comments of the extremists in the Habyariamana regime (or the “masterminds” of the genocide). I have come to this conclusion after reading several articles written by credible and objective sources as well as talking to many Rwandese individuals. I think Paul Rusesabagina is not a harmless or even misguided publicity seeker involved in self-promotion because respected news agencies use his celebrity status and deem it acceptable to quote him without really knowing the facts.
So he claims that the genocide is the fault of the army (the RPF) led by Paul Kagame, the current president. In his view, the genocide was a direct result of Kagame’s forces and that those actions forced the government into killing Tutsis. This statement appears to somewhat justify the actions of the Habyarimana regime and the death of one million Rwandans! For me—the distinction is very important—the RPF, an army composed of mostly Tutsi refugees from Tanzania, the Congo, and Uganda (their families left Rwanda after smaller massacres dating back to 1959) is an entirely different entity than innocent Tutsis living in Rwanda—something that extremist Hutus and apparently Paul Rusesabagina ignore. I don’t understand how anyone can justify the killing of innocent people (this is a very very brief history of the conflict…. seriously read up on it if you have a chance…. gist: serious problems with colonialism and the repercussions that followed).
My opinion is that both the RPF and the Hutu extremists are to blame for what went on in Rwanda. Kagame (president) is by no means perfect and I can see problems developing in the near future of this country. He seems to be a bit of a dictator, but is working to decentralize power. He has such control of the press and so much of what is written is censored (some of this is very necessary to ensure ethnic clashes don’t flare up). That being said…he has implemented some very good programs to get kids in school, promote HIV protection and de-stigmatization, and provide food and water for the poorest families. Additionally, he has done a remarkable job (maybe too much so because there is little to no discussion about ethnic identity…) at abolishing the ethnic identity cards and really any conflict between the Hutus and Tutsis. For example, today I was talking with Joy about Hutus and Tutsis and the conflict, and Steve, her five-year-old son asked what are Hutus and Tutsis. Here is a picture of Steve. He is adorable and is obsessed with cellphones. I found the phone he is holding in his hand in the house I am staying at-and he can't put it down!

That was long winded….and probably made little sense….but thought it was interesting to see how Rusesabagina is viewed here and a little glimpse at what the government is like here.

Home visits, being scared, Genocide Memorial, general observations, and pictures:

This is going to be a lonnng post. But really interesting stuff…(I think)…Brace yourselves.

Some general observations about Rwanda and or life:
• Women and men→ There seems to be little sexism wrt working and education here. If anything, the women work much harder than men and succeed more than men. OK true-this is a huge generalization, but it seems like the men are lazy and just lay around the street, whereas women try to find work and succeed in school. In addition, many women hold very high, powerful jobs here. One reason this could be is that most of the women are single mothers and therefore must work in order to take care of their families. By going on home visits with the counselors, I see that the vast majority (if not all) of the homes are single-mother. Typically the mother has at least five kids and she takes care of them all. What I have learned is that the father of their babies leaves the woman once he learns the mother is HIV + (many times he is not infected), so the woman is left to raise her children all alone as well as manage her own illness and that of her children.
• I touched on this issue in my last post, but something I am having a hard time with is the hired help! Nearly every family has a cook, security guard, and usually a third or fourth person to help. But I really bad for these people, they are typically really poor and uneducated and have no families. The families for whom they work hardly even acknowledge their presence! It makes me so sad…but I do think this is a reality of many cultures—not just Rwandese—and actually is good in a lot of ways because it provides jobs for people (and a home and food). But it is definitely taking a little bit of getting used to…something else that is hard for me is how many beggars there are on the street--so many of them have scars from the genocide--whether missing legs, arms, or a substantial welt in their face--but the hard thing for me is to know who to help and what to do. As many of you know...I have a hard time saying no to people...but its becoming a problem here becauase there are so many people who need the help and i want to give to everyone but of course I can't do that because I don't have the resources-but it's sad and different than other beggars you would fine on the streets of any city because I know what they have been through...that may have made no sense..just rambling about it--if you have any advice about what I can do, let me know.
• Related to above bullet—LEVEL OF UNEMPLOYMENT!!! This is bad. Really bad! I believe Rwanda is the second most densely populated country in the world—it is a tiny place (you can get to nearly any border in around 2 hours) and has over eight million inhabitants. There are just not enough jobs for people—this forces many women, for example, to turn to prostitution because there is no other option. Because of this level of unemployment, many families don’t eat every day of the week. My dad was telling me about the book Collapsed (Jared Diamond) and that he attributes much of what happened in the past fifty years in Rwanda to this issue—too many people for not enough land. It really is an interesting theory…
• Last little note--Something I am learning about myself is that I really want to work with babies in the future—I am so drawn to them it really feels like some sort of calling for me (not to sound too cheesy…. which I know I do…)

Alright—now some stories and more thoughts about the last two days.
• Home visit 1: So I began going on home visits on Wednesday and Thursday. A Home visit is when a counselor from the clinic goes to the house of one of the patients to talk with them—the idea is that it makes him/her feel more comfortable talking in the privacy of his/her own home. On Wednesday we went to the home of an orphan who is 14 years old. Her parents died of AIDS in 2000 so her 19-year-old sister and she have been living on their own since then. The older sister is not infected with HIV, but the younger sister is. The story is sad because the older sister (19 years old, has a baby, she looks like she is 35, they age so fast) refuses to help pay for her sister’s schooling because she knows her sister is infected and since she is going to die anyway, sees no point in sending her to school. Money, of course, is an issue. The older sister is unemployed and is a prostitute. Their home was located in the outskirts of Kigali, on a mountain called Kigali Mountain. We hiked up the mountain and found their home among many others—it was made entirely of clay and the smell was unbearable—I think water and thus bathing is an issue for them. But the good thing that came out of that visit is we learned that the younger sister is very motivated to go to school and she really appreciates the family programs the clinic offers (every Sunday there is a 3 hour session for kids with HIV to hang out together and talk about what it is like to live with HIV).
• Home visit numero 2—This visit was very sad. I’m going to share with you all this woman’s story-but you should know it is especially horrific. We went to visit a mother of three (+ one adopted son). She was a teacher. In 2003, she was kidnapped from a home where she taught (local teachers are paid by the government to go to homes and teach families in poor areas) and taken to this mountain far away from her home. There were four people involved in the kidnapping—three men and one woman. The men tied her up, covered her eyes, and raped her many times. The woman poured gasoline inside of her. She was tortured further. She was rescued three days later when her daughter (13 years old at the time) told authorities that her mother was missing. She was in the hospital for half a year. As a result, this woman is deeply traumatized. It was so sad seeing her and knowing what she had endured. She is a smart woman and a very good mother-but has it so hard. The story is even worse, though. Not only did she become infected with HIV as a result of the rape but also she was impregnated, and now is raising the baby, who is also HIV positive. I asked her whether it was hard looking at her baby and loving her baby when she knows she is the product of rape—she said it is extremely difficult for her because she is reminded every single day of what happened. I can't even imagine how it would be for that baby to grow up, knowing that half of her is the man who raped her mother. The eldest child, a daughter, resents her mother for having HIV and doesn’t want to be a part of the family—she has considered turning to prostitution. Fortunately, she has a good relationship with the counselors at WE-ACTx and they continue to encourage her to stay in school and get an education so she can do something with her life. Below are some pictures of where they lived and the family. Hopefully they worked....




• For some reason, I was scared going on this second home visit. We went to a remote area, far from the city. We had to walk a long distance to get to her house. There were so many people on the street—and for these people, seeing a Mazungo (white person) is very rare, especially in the remote area in which they live. So being a white young woman is a little bit intimidating because of all of the attention I recieve. It is sweet when the little kids follow you around shouting mazungo!, but it scares me when drunk men in groups yell it and say things I don’t understand in Kinyarwanda (the language spoken here). Also, I think I was even more on edge at the time because I had just learned about the story of the woman I just told you about—and knew that it had happened only three years ago. Most of the major crimes that occurred happened around 1994 and so that was a long time ago. But the fact that such a brutal attack occurred relatively recently made me was especially nervous. In addition, we were so far away from any city or any policemen. I think the reason the country is so safe today is that the police force and army is so tough—they all carry machine guns and follow a “shoot to kill” policy for many crimes. But when they are not around…people are freer to act out. Obviously, everything was more than okay, but I am going to need to get over this nervousness because I will be going on many more of these home visits!


• Genocide Memorial—After the second home visit, Bertin, the counselor, and I went to the Genocide Memorial in Kigali. It was a very well done museum in that it was honest, unbiased, and uncensored. A holocaust survivor helped with the design of the museum and in a way it reminded me of the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. I will talk about some of the things that stood out for me. First, in a video they showed, they interviewed a man who survived the genocide. Something I have always wondered is how many people were actually involved in the killings—the books I have read have been vague when describing it, saying “nearly every Hutu was involved in the killings…” but how could they know? What does “nearly every” even mean? So anyway-back to this interview. The man said that 5% of Hutus helped, 5% did nothing, and 90% were involved with the killings. These numbers shocked me. Could it be true? After the museum I talked with Joy and we actually went and did the math—to kill one million people in 100 days (1/8 of total population of Rwanda) it would require many many people. Also, Joy was telling me that it was the point of the masterminds to involve everyone (many times they threatened you or your family with death if you did not participate). If everyone were involved, it would be nearly impossible for them all to be punished after the genocide. In addition, what they have learned through the local Gacaca courts is that on average, a group of 4-6 people killed one individual. So the numbers did seem to be somewhat true. I really could not believe it. This means that most of these people walk around on the streets before my eyes every day. Really, I don’t know what to make of the reconciliation that goes on here every day. It is like a part of their lives and they accept it—I don’t think I would ever be able to do this. It would be like my relatives who survived the holocaust to move to Germany and forgive the Nazis—there is no part of me that would be able to do that. I’m kind of going off on a tangent here…I will get back to the museum shortly...first I am going to tell you about the Gacaca courts. I mentioned them a few days ago—but they are a very old way of dealing with disputes in Rwanda. They were reinstated to deal with the prisons that were filled with people from the genocide. The problem was that it was relatively easy to go to jail because of crimes committed during genocide—basically one went to jail if someone accused him. The problem was—there was not necessarily any evidence to support accusations and many grudges, jealousies, etc. played a part. The jails were so filled that most of the people accused would spend a lifetime in prison before ever making it to trial. To deal with this problem, the government decided to reinstate the Gacaca courts. So here is how they work—the country is divided into many small districts around where you live. A panel of judges is selected (they are usually very trusted people who live around you) and they decide on a day every week that you will meet. Usually it is on Sunday afternoons. For the past few years these trials happen once a week and last a few hours long. Witnesses, survivors, and neighbors give testimony to determine the truth. Like I said earlier, those who admit to their crimes and describe them and show where the bodies were buried-are given much lesser sentences than those who do not admit to them. Joy thinks that the Gacaca courts have worked very well—she even went to the house of a neighbor Hutu who had been freed from jail. She tells me that this is really the only way they can move on when nearly the entire population was involved in the genocide. It was like mob psychology. I guess the point of the courts and letting some people free is that they will suffer more living next to families that they destroyed than they will living in jail where they never have to deal with the consequences of their actions. This point I can somewhat understand. But this leads me back to the museum…because the next thing I wanted to describe was what a confession at Gacaca court is like. This video at the musem showed a man confessing to his crimes-- he described in gory detail the murders he committed. He was rude and didn’t even seem remorseful for what he did! The judges ask questions like-how many children did you kill—he had killed three. They didn’t say what happened to that man….but I pray that he is in jail. Something else that surprised me was seeing the photographs of the masterminds of the genocide. They looked like absolutely normal human beings—I guess I had somehow imagined them looking like ravaging monsters. Instead they were wealthy, educated men. The last thing that was especially powerful for me at the museum was a quotation from a thirteen-year-old boy who survived the massacre—“In my search for a hideout, I found Jerome, his legs cut off. I could not leave him in this state. I tried to lift up Jerome so that we could leave together, but the car of the commune stopped near me. It was full of machetes and other instruments of death. I lay Jerome down on the ground and ran because a man got out of the burgomaster’s car to kill me. He finished Jerome off. I saw this when I looked back to see if anyone had followed me. I will never forget the way Jerome’s face was filled with desperation. Whenever I think about it, I cry all day long.”

I have much more that I want to write, but I will save it for the next post. I’m glad you are reading this as it is a great way for me to share with you all what it is like for me here. Thank you for all your kind words to me in posts and emails—but I want you to understand that the frustrating reality is that I am gaining so much more out of this experience than I think I am giving back while I am here. I just hope I can find my niche here where I can really be of help. I am going to meet with a director of an orphanage in Kigali who is a pretty incredible guy—he was a Hutu, and one of the few individuals to protect families and children during the genocide. I would love to spend time working at the orphanage during my weeks here. Alright, I’m truly done. MIS YOU ALL!!!