Some photos to start this post...
I went for a walk on Saturday with a colleague...all I could think about when I saw cattle was how much I missed meat! :)
As always, I was the local spectacle and followed by children - the baby cried every time she looked at me :(
My colleague did not realise I was taking a picture and happened to appear in my panoramic sweep shot...
These are the cows that graze outside my classroom/office...
So that was a little lightness before my not-so-light reflections...
My journey to Kigali on Sunday was most efficient - the bus left Cyahinda at 5:30am, arriving in Butare at a little before 7am where I got my connecting bus to Kigali and arrived in at around 9am. Wasn't too bad a journey aside from a couple of people vomiting but that's an inevitability with the mini-buses weaving around the thousands of mountains and valleys that make up the land of Rwanda. It's not known as the land of a thousand hills for nothing...
My return journey was not so efficient - The bus trip from Kigali was a little over 2.5 hours which meant me panicking about whether or not I'd catch the ONE bus that goes to Nyaraguru district (not even to my village itself...) - but I managed to find the bus in the pouring rain by speaking to people in my pigeon Kinyarwanda, French and English. Once on the bus, I thought I'd be home within an hour or two - but nope, I did not factor in the two hour wait for the bus to fill, the window to be repaired and tank to be filled.
Yet as I sat on the bus soaking up my surroundings, my eyes met many others. Sitting at the window seat has its perks of being able to open the window to escape the vomit smell (not always the vomit) but it also means that whilst the bus is stationary, you are being persistently harassed by people selling mobile air-time (top-up credit), snacks, handbags, clothing, shoes…and then there are the beggars – these are the ones who have deep, sorrow-filled eyes who appeal to your heart with missing limbs, deep-set scars and disfiguration. It reminded me that the past is still very much part of Rwanda’s present and future – scars both emotional and physical visible for all to see yet unspoken. The story that was told in each of the eyes that I met pierced deep within my soul and again I was left feeling empty and helpless.
My return journey was not so efficient - The bus trip from Kigali was a little over 2.5 hours which meant me panicking about whether or not I'd catch the ONE bus that goes to Nyaraguru district (not even to my village itself...) - but I managed to find the bus in the pouring rain by speaking to people in my pigeon Kinyarwanda, French and English. Once on the bus, I thought I'd be home within an hour or two - but nope, I did not factor in the two hour wait for the bus to fill, the window to be repaired and tank to be filled.
Yet as I sat on the bus soaking up my surroundings, my eyes met many others. Sitting at the window seat has its perks of being able to open the window to escape the vomit smell (not always the vomit) but it also means that whilst the bus is stationary, you are being persistently harassed by people selling mobile air-time (top-up credit), snacks, handbags, clothing, shoes…and then there are the beggars – these are the ones who have deep, sorrow-filled eyes who appeal to your heart with missing limbs, deep-set scars and disfiguration. It reminded me that the past is still very much part of Rwanda’s present and future – scars both emotional and physical visible for all to see yet unspoken. The story that was told in each of the eyes that I met pierced deep within my soul and again I was left feeling empty and helpless.
A colleague of mine began to talk to me about his
past but broke off when he began to speak of having to move at the age of
ten. I looked up at him to see
tears welling in his eyes, I knew only too well not to pry but kept silent for
not knowing what else to do. I
told him I was sorry and the subject was quickly changed. My colleague is now 29 – 19 years and
the emotional scars of what he witnessed remain deeply embedded in his thoughts
and heart. I did not have to ask
but I saw it all in his eyes.
I am so often frustrated at how slow things run here or the attitude of some but when you look into someone's eyes and see what they've had to contend with, my frustrations turn upon me and I realise how impatient and almost insignificant my expectations are. How blessed I am to have been born into the family I was, to receive the education that I did and to have the opportunities and choices that I do because these are things that are often missing here.
I am so often frustrated at how slow things run here or the attitude of some but when you look into someone's eyes and see what they've had to contend with, my frustrations turn upon me and I realise how impatient and almost insignificant my expectations are. How blessed I am to have been born into the family I was, to receive the education that I did and to have the opportunities and choices that I do because these are things that are often missing here.
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