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!!!

Monday and Tuesday

Since Sunday afternoon I have been living with a Rwandese family--the Ntares. They are wonderful. They live in a neigborhood that is about a 15-minute drive from where I have been living. It is a neighborhood under-construction, but they live in a very nice home and have really great neighbors. Simon and Joy (the parents) are so nice and smart. I know I keep saying how nice everyone is…but everyone I meet really has been so kind! So Simon is the administrator of WE-ACTx and his wife, Joy, is a hotshot at the National Bank. They have four children--the oldest is Sonia (18) and she is studying in the United States, the next are Sandra and Cynthia--they are 11 and 9 years old, the youngest is Steve, a five year old. All of their kids are so bright. They each speak at least three languages--Kinyarwanda, French, and English. The girls are so smart! They play texttwist this stupid but addicting game and they are really good at it...sometimes better than me, which is just scary. Steve is probably the most adorable kid I have ever seen. He is like a little ball of energy. He slammed his right thumb in a door and it required surgery, so he has a cast on his right hand. But it's so funny because he can't use it at all! So his mom, Joy, has to feed him. She uses this huge spoon to scoop up all of the food and put it in his tiny mouth.... probably hard to describe but so fun to watch. Steve loves playing with my computer and putting stickers all over it. He also likes to wake me up early in the morning when he is on his way to school (they leave for school at 5:45 AM by the way).

Monday after work I returned to the Ntares, where I met this Priest named Jean Gakirage. He is a long-time friend of Joy and was back in Kigali visiting. He has a remarkable story. When the killing began in 1994, he was on his way home to Rwanda to be ordained to be a priest in his childhood church. He had been studying out of the country and had a stopover in Rome before heading home. When he was in Rome, he received a message from a parish priest from his hometown telling him not to return home. He told him that his parents, family, and the whole congregation had been murdered in the sanctuary. Defying church leaders, he traveled to the Uganda- Rwanda border and found a bishop willing to ordain him on June 26, eight days before the genocide ceased. From there he sneaked into Rwanda and made it to his parents' church in the town of Musha just outside of Kigali. The building was sealed and filled with parishioners' corpses inside. There he found a girl, the only family friend he could find alive, and with her help was reunited with the remaining survivors. It was then, at his childhood church, just feet from his family's corpses that he gave his first service as a Priest. When the war ended, he was reunited with the only survivors of his family--about 20 children. He lost six siblings, his parents, uncles, and aunts. He decided then that he would adopt all twenty of the children. There were so many orphans that the number grew to 37 children--as he took in the children of friends who had died. The story is even more incredible--a friend of his from Uganda who did not have a family of her own told Father Gakirage that she would come and take care of the kids with him, as he travels around the world often. Since 1994, she has taken care of the 37 kids, many who are college-aged now. All of the kids are doing remarkably well--the four eldest are going to college in the US this year. The rest of the kids are away at prestigious boarding schools. Jean Gakirage said he was overwhelmed with all the support he has received--money, food, and clothes—all for the kids

After hearing that story--I think I really realized how generous are so many of the Rwandese people that I have met or heard about. It seems as if everyone here has taken in at least one orphan to raise. Joy's mother who is an old woman took in seven orphans after the genocide. Even the people without any money take in orphans. It really is the nature of this culture. Family is everything here. Here is a sad story with a happy ending—a four year old girl with HIV and her mother were patients at WE-ACTx. Just recently her mother died and so the little girl became an orphan. Her stepmother who is also a prostitute was supposed to raise her—but one day left the girl in the forest to die. The girl had been in the forest alone for four days when this woman walking nearby heard crying. She found the little girl and saved her! She brought her to the hospital where the little girl stayed for two months—she was in very bad shape. WE-ACTx tried to find her stepmother but she refused to take care of the girl—so the woman who saved her—a very poor single-mother herself, decided to adopt the girl and raise her herself! Really incredible story.

Tuesday I worked with the kids at the WE-ACTx office. For a while I talked with a woman named Alice who works in the Family Program. She told me her horrific story about living through the genocide. The things she saw and experienced are too horrendous to repeat. But the remarkable thing is how she can talk about it openly and to some extent move on from it.

I come home for a late lunch every day and Seraphine the woman who works at the house is always here. She is such a sweet woman; she must be young, not even forty years old. But seeing her makes me so sad. For one, it is difficult for me to get used to the culture here--where pretty much everyone has a cook, a security guard, and someone else who works at the house full-time. So I always feel bad when she makes me food or cleans my room--it just doesn't seem normal to me and I feel bad because it's like having a servant or something...but I do think it is a cultural difference because everyone here has hired help...i will discuss this in another post....second, she is so sad all of the time. It's so hard to see her and I wish so much I could communicate with her more. She speaks very little English. I feel so helpless. I have heard from Simon that she has had a very sad history. She is HIV positive and has four kids--one who is adopted. They are such sweet kids. The oldest is a teenager and he came to the house for the first time on Monday. He was kicked out of school for misbehaving. Seraphine already has it so hard and now this just makes it harder for her. Yesterday she was trying to explain it to me in English and she started crying. It made me want to cry so badly--I feel so bad for her and her son. Of course he is going to have emotional problems after everything he has been through. I tried to explain in French (which she understands) that I could teach him in the meantime--English, math, all of that. I hope she understood me because I really would like to do that--honestly, anything to make her life a little bit easier. It's so hard seeing her so sad and not being able to console her or do anything about it. I just wish I knew French so I could try to help her in any way.

Something that I imagine is very hard for survivors is that they may see on the streets people that murdered their families. There is a court system in Rwanda to deal with the massive amounts of people in jail because of genocide-related crimes. The "masterminds" of the genocide are heard in the Tribunal Courts headed by the UN. But the local courts deal with the other criminals—those individuals that killed or helped the killers. The courts are set up locally--where they took place. There is testimony given by witnesses who survived. If the defendant admits he is guilty to the allegations he is given a much lesser sentence and is set free soon after. In exchange he tells the survivors where are located the remains of their families. I was reading in this article I found online (http://survivors-fund.org.uk/exhibition/testimonies.php---you should really check it out and if you can download the pdf--it gives a very accurate history and an account of what it is like today in Rwanda as well as survivors' stories) that many survivors see their freed killers on the street.

I found this quotation on the website given above-- it was written by a survivor of the Rwandan genocide. "The survivors are usually deeply traumatized. They are witnesses of horror scenes that cannot quit their minds. Many women who survived have been raped and infected with HIV/AIDS. A mother becomes childless; a child becomes a sole survivor, an orphan. Children live on their own, and in this way they have no rights to be children at all. They must live as responsible adults. Survivors of the genocide in Rwanda are alone, suffering feelings of rejection. They live in continual fear with great mistrust, although they are usually not afraid to die. Survivors have visible and invisible scars, and permanent infirmity. They have deep wounds in their hearts and may also develop psychosomatic problems. Despair, disgust of life, suicidal feelings, lack of interest in material things are common. If no one approaches them with love and understanding, many end up committing suicide. Numerous cases have been recorded. Survivors never had time to mourn for their loved ones, let alone to bury them. I am reminded here of a child who kept going to the marketplace looking in the eyes of every man, asking him if he is her father."

Again I am sorry this post is so very long--I have a lot on my mind and not many people to talk to!

Some pictures and post--click on link to the right to read the post

More very adorable kids

Images of the houses and landscape

Very cute kids

Houses

The homes where the prostitutes lived

My roomate

WE-ACTx House

My house and backyard

It was a very long day...

Yesterday (Saturday) was incredible. I can't really believe everything that happened in one day. So in the morning Taylor (friend from Dartmouth) and I walked around the city. He showed me all of the best places--like where to get good samosas, chai tea, book stores, and places to catch busses when I want to travel around the country.

After that I took my first moto which is a motorcycle....I was scared for my life. I was holding on to the poor driver for dear life. Even though I was wearing a helmet...it was hardly on and was too big for my head, so if we had fallen I was surely a downer. But it was a real thrill being on that motorcycle (sorry mom).

Then we met Taylor's friend called Joseph who is a preacher from Kenya. He is a really interesting man. He introduced us to his family--three daughters, ages 4, 2, and a one week old. He lives in not the safest neighborhood where there are hundreds of prostitutes on the streets during all hours of the day. He decided that he would try to help these women get off of the street. So for the past year, he has been going out on the street almost every night to talk to these women and encourage them to join his congregation, where he will help them become self sufficient without having to sell their bodies to put food on the table and pay for their children’s' education. The reason Taylor and I went was because Taylor was going to record music that a group of the prostitutes were singing. They started a choir and sang beautiful songs. I got to play with their babies while they sang. I am amazed at how well behaved and happy these babies are who have literally nothing. I gave one of them my nalgene water bottle to play with and he seemed like he was having the time of his life playing with it!

After the choir finished recording, Joseph (the preacher) actually took us to the "neighborhood" where the prostitutes live. It was very sad to see the conditions in which they lived. First of all--there is no running water anywhere and no toilets or sanitation at all. They live in these one-room shacks usually with many kids. Most shacks contain only a mattress where the mother lives with her children (usually over five kids per mother). Joseph translated for me and told me many of the stories of these women. Ninety percent of them are orphans, many because of the genocide. One story in particular was very sad--the oldest prostitute with whom Joseph works was a Hutu, but was married to a Tutsi, and so her kids were considered Tutsi. During the genocide her entire family was murdered before her eyes. She had no choice but to go to the street. A large percentage of the women have been sexually abused in the past--many times at the orphanages where the lived. Most of the men who see these prostitutes are foreigners--Russians, Chinese, Americans. The women say that they have no choice but to be prostitutes. They have no education and no chance of getting a job.

Joseph has really been great to these women. His persistence with them is what has gotten many of them off of the street. We got to meet many of their kids while visiting their homes. As soon as they see a "Mazungo" or white person, they come running and hug your legs. They love it when I take digital pictures of them because they can see the picture immediately appear on the camera.

After visiting that neighborhood for a few hours, we walked to a house where a friend of Joseph’s lived. We took his car to go eat at a restaurant in town. Apparently it's one of the best in town--and I ate goat for the first time! It was.... interesting...they literally slaughter a goat right before you eat it so its probably really fresh--but still freaks me out. It was good but very tough to eat. We met my friend Pacifique there; she invited a friend called Ivan. It was a fun dinner and it was great talking with Pacifique and Ivan. I foresee myself becoming better friends with both of them. It cost me less than $5.

After my goat feast--I went home. I was pretty exhausted as we had walked around all day and I was ready for a shower, as I had been playing with little kids for a while. After showering I fell asleep at 8:30...I was awoken at 2:30 AM by Taylor, the boy from Dartmouth, because he was feeling really sick. He had a really high fever and probably had malaria. For some stupid reason, he decided not to take his malaria medication while in Rwanda.... and got it pretty bad. He was going to the bathroom and passed out on the floor. Since there is no one else in the house...I had no idea what to do. It's not like there are ambulances or taxi companies with phone numbers here...even the police are completely useless and unreliable--so I called someone from his phone. Fortunately he spoke English and had a car--I tried to describe where the house was located (there is basically no such thing as an address here) and eventually he got here. I tried calling the two hospitals around, but none of the numbers in the travel books worked! Finally I found one number online that worked.

He's fine now--but it was definitely an exciting night to say the least.

Today I am going to attempt running for the first time and I'll try not to get too lost.... and then this afternoon I will be going to work with the WE-ACTx family program--teaching English to the mothers and playing and teaching English to the kids.

I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekends! Miss you!

So I had a bit of culture shock....

Hi hi hi, so I'm ready to make a post as it has been a very interesting two days. Let's just say that nothing could have prepared me for my first full day here....

So I'm currently living in the house with this MBA without borders called Andrew. I'm so happy that there is someone living in the house with me....but that being said...he is so bitter! As soon as I got here, he tells me how this place really isn't very safe and how unreliable this person and that person is...etc. Needless to say...he freaked me out. I am pretty down on him just because he's just so bitter and negative. But the good news and bad news is that he is leaving tomorrow. Good news because I don't need to deal with him anymore...but bad news because I'll be all alone in the house. I know, it's pathetic, but even when I am home alone in my own house in Chicago, I get nervous! So this is like taking that and multiplying it by about 100. But my dad does make a good point--it's probably much safer than my old house on Humphrey street (for those of you who know the neighborhood).

Anyways, so I think I am getting over the fact that I'll be alone in the house for 9 days. The director of the program here named Simon has offered for me to stay with him and his family, which I will likely do for a few days.

So back to my past few days--Thursday morning the boy (Andrew-remember-- bitter MBA without borders) and I walked to the clinic. It's only a 15 minute walk and is pretty-you pass really cool places and embassies and the downtown...but the cars here are insane. I almost got run over by these motos about 6 times in the fifteen minute walk (this is not a joke). Then I got to the clinic--it's on the second floor of this building and has a pretty view because you can see many of the hills around. There were so many women in the clinic--not nearly enough seats for everyone in the waiting room. Many of them had children and/or were pregnant. I didn't stay long at that clinic because I went to shadow a doctor at a clinic up in the mountains. The drive to the second clinic was when I REALLY saw Kigali. It's hard to put to words the poverty in this country. I thought the downtown area of Kigali was very poor--but that was until I saw the outskirts of the city. The streets were filled with people and people live in houses that more resemble small tin boxes. I honestly couldn't even believe my eyes. Then the clinic was at the top of this hill/mountain and the car drove up this "road" that was sand, holes, and huge rocks. we had to get out of the car and walk for most of the way up the mountain because the car couldnt make it. Once there, it was a similar setting to the first clinic--tons and tons of women waiting to be seen by three doctors. I sat in with a doctor and he spoke a little bit of English, but mostly French. We saw in just a few hours over ten patients. Every single one of them had HIV. Many of them had other STIs, malaria, and other diseases. One thing I have been noticing is that there are so few older people here--the life expectancy is around 40-50 years old. When the woman had a baby, I got to play with him or her. That was the best part for me as it was difficult to understand what the doctor was saying to the patient.

I returned to my house soon after that. It was a hard day-a lot to see in just a few hours.

Yesterday (Friday) I went into the clinic in town and talked about my plan for the upcoming week. I'm really excited for what I'll be doing. Monday-Wednesday I will work with a Rwandese woman named Inis to teach and care for the children while their mothers are at the clinic or sick. Also during the week I will be doing home visits with a clinical pshychologist where they talk to the famliies and children. That will be a great opportunity for me to see what it is like for a family living here and what they go through each and every day dealing with the repurcutions of the genocide.

Taylor Thompson from Dartmouth is staying at the house with me for a few nights, which is great. He is going to show me the city today and introduce me to some people that sound amazing. In particular, to a couple who runs an orphanage in Kigali because I would love to work there if I have time. Today he is going to a church where this minister is going to be recording the songs of Rwandese prostitutes to help them make money and get off of the streets.

After that, I will meet with a new friend I made named Pacifique. She is Rwandese and is the nicest person I have ever met! She is going to take me around with her friend and show me all of Kigali. Then on Sunday morning I am going to go to her chrurch with her family--I guess it's kind of like a gospel church with lots of energetic singing and dancing. After that she invited me over to her house for lunch. I can't believe how generous people are here--she lost her dad during the war and so she lives with her single mother and four siblings but is so willing to take me in.

Wow. that was long. I apologize! If you are still reading, I'm impressed and thank you!

Hopefully by the next time I post I will have made some more friends and will know the city better. I hope you are all well.

The Journey to Kigali

The last few days in a nutshell: 8 hour flight to Amsterdam, three seats to myself. Very nice. 9 hour flight to Nairobi--intersting. Lots of Christian misisonaries praying for me. Also watched the movie Jackass 2-which is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen (no joke), so I recommend it.

Now a little more detail--the flight to Nairobi was beautiful. We flew over the Sahara desert and saw the mediterranian sea, which was a gorgeous turquoise. I arrived in Nairobi late at night. Someone from the hotel I was staying at picked me up and we drove through the city to the hotel. It was nice, but definitely different than any American or European hotel that I have ever stayed at. Everyone who worked there was incredibly kind. I even made a friend. You will see his picture.

The next morning (this morning) I took a flight to Kigali. It was a beautiful flight, I got to see all of the lakes and hills of Rwanda. I was picked up at the airport and drove around the city and came to my new home for the next few months. It's a really nice little house in a beautiful area. The city itself is spectacular. It's very clean (what I've seen so far) and there are beautiful flowers and exotic trees. It's pretty incredible how beautiful this place is knowing its history.

What is hard for me to understand is how people live here knowing that their neighbors and colleagues may have been involved in the genocide that occurred only 13 years ago. Rwanda is such a small country that virtually every person you see has some incredible history and relation to the genocide; whether being involved in the massacre or losing family and friends. Its like everywhere I look, every road on which I travel, every person I see--was witness and a part of the genocide that happened not so long ago.

There is a woman who works at the house where I live and she lost all of her family in the genocide. She is also HIV positive. I know that I will be encountering these people everyday, each with their own sad story.

I begin work tomorrow, and I am anxious to get going. I'll be here for only two months and I really would like to have some impact during that short time.

Please write posts I would love to hear from you all.

DAY 1

The last time I ever kept a diary was about 16 years ago....and that was private...so this, as you can imagine, is a little bit strange for me. I'm especially weirded out by this whole blog thing after Jonah, my brother, wrote an article on his website making fun of Andy Roddick's (the tennis star) blog, where he used excessive amounts of exclamation marks (apparently a "no-no" for blogs...) and the word "props" multiple times, to which Jonah asked "Did Doc Brown invent a time machine and turn the clock back to 2001? Is the last piece of pop culture you encountered an issue of Tiger Beat that featured the Backstreet Boys?". If you want to check out the article, I reccomend it, its pretty funny but definitely makes me nervous about writing this blog and knowing my brother's talent at making fun of people. (http://rivalfish.com/rivalroom/2006/05/deconstructing-andy-roddicks-new-blog.html)

As for my life today.....I am leaving for Rwanda. After pulling an all-nighter to pack, I am just taking care of some loose ends this morning. My flight leaves at 4:30 this afternoon....can't really believe it. I'm excited and anxious at the same time, mostly because I have no idea what to expect, even though I have read countless books and articles about Rwanda and its tumultuous history. I am so happy to have this experience and am greatful that I go to Dartmouth so I am able to take off three months from school and do this.

Alright....believe thats all. This is weird, we'll see if I get used to this!