Cow Dung Art - Imigongo

I'm not sure I ever made mud-pies when I was a child, I think I was too much of a clean-freak and so the thought that one day I'd be making art from cow dung would have been unthinkable.  And yet this weekend, I was found to be handling the stuff with my bare hands all in the name of art.

'Imigongo' is a traditional art form, using a mix of cow dung and ash to form geometric (and symmetrical) designs on a wooden board.  Although the more adventurous/skilled may be a little more abstract...

The Imigongo Cooperative in Kirehe District, Eastern Province came to Kigali to teach my friends and I how to produce some cow-dung art.  They were FAB and I highly recommend them if you are in Rwanda.  It's a fun, unusually therapeutic weekend - it's smelly but there's no need to wear a peg on your nose or gloves on your hands (the cow dung dust will get you regardless!)

We began with a board, a piece of charcoal and a strip of dried banana-plant leaf.  The banana leaf was used as a measuring device.  It felt like a piece of corrugated card...very strange!

Using the charcoal, we outlined our design.  Not quite sure what the inspiration was for mine.

This is Alexis and Zacharie dishing out the dung.  Zacharie was the main instructor and spoke in Kinyarwanda with Alexis translating.

So that's cow dung mixed with ash.  These guys carried that stuff on the bus for 2.5hrs...feeling sorry for those on the bus because the smell was quite potent!  Although for 7 of us, I was expecting more dung but it wasn't necessary.

And that's my design with the manipulated cow dung.

Some of the party girls showing off their designs...(Can you tell which shadow is mine?)

The imigongo party - to celebrate Lauren's birthday.

Day 2, I decided to dress up as a Christmas tree to be a little bit more festive...

Here are some of the other girls' designs - a little bit more traditional

Petra is sanding down the dried cow dung to prep for painting

Base coat painting

And the finished pieces

Girls above their pieces - wishing I'd gone a bit more 'traditional' but there's always next time.

An enjoyable weekend.  And yes, my piece of art does still smell of poo but apparently the smell will go within a week...watch this space.

Should you wish to do this, check out http://kodumuki.wordpress.com/ - seriously worthwhile.  I'd definitely do it again!  Both Zacharie and Alexis' numbers are on the website.

History - The Backdrop to the Future

I've never been much of a historian - to be honest, it never interested me much, I dropped it as an academic subject as soon as I could at the age of 13 and opted for geography instead.  However, as each year passes me by, history has been the subject that has fascinated me the most.  It governs so much of who we are and has shaped the places we live in and visit.

(Stonetown, Zanzibar)

(Jambiani, Zanzibar)

I have just returned from a trip to Zanzibar, Tanzania.  What a beautiful place that is!  But strangely enough, the one thing that has remained with me from that holiday was a question that my Dutch friend posed during our travels together:

Do you feel anything when you read/hear about British colonisation?

It was a difficult question for me to answer because in truth, I know very little about it.  Before coming here, I was supposed to read up on the history of Rwanda and the impact of colonialism - and as you can probably infer from my use of 'supposed to' - I didn't do as much as I should/could have done.

But the topic of colonisation has cropped up into conversation a lot of late.  I'm often told by my TTC colleagues that they wish that Britain had colonised Rwanda rather than Belgium - for one thing, English would be spoken more widely now as opposed to French.  Another (African) volunteer told me that African countries that were colonised by Britain tend to have better infrastructures - good roads, buildings, social care and grasp of the English language.  It was surprising to hear of the so-called benefits of what the Brits have imposed...

(Memorial at the Old Slave Market, Zanzibar)

The question that my friend posed seemed a little loaded because whilst the likes of David Livingstone and William Wilberforce fought for the rights of people, fighting to abolish the slave trade, it is hard to deny that a lot of pain and distruction was inflicted as a result of supposedly educating the uneducated through colonisation.  Whilst it is all well and good that 'civilisation' has been brought to various countries within Africa, what were the costs of such 'development?'

And then I watched Pocahontas today.  Don't laugh.  Whilst it may be a fictional embellishment on Captain John Smith's experiences of the 'New World' - lots of it resonated with my feelings about 'colonisation.'  It speaks of 'white' people coming to make the world a supposedly better place, to 'teach' the 'savages' about their way of living, a better way of living, a civilised way.  I often catch myself laughing when my colleagues tell me that I come from a 'civilised country.'  I wonder what type of country Rwanda is if it is not civilised.  But sometimes I feel like an early explorer/settler in my role here as a volunteer, coming to apparently educate the uneducated on European teaching methods - the more preferred method, the better method of teaching...(apparently.)

Education here seems to be stuck in the Victorian period - chalk and talk, fear equates to respect, authority over teaching...and I hear the same arguments from teachers here as I did as a teacher in London from parents:  "I was taught by rote and I turned out just fine...so what's the problem with such teaching methods?"  Education now leans towards the teacher being a facilitator to learning, allowing learners to discover for themselves in order to develop such skills as critical thinking and problem solving by building and orchestrating situations and environments for learners to do this; and this is what I'm trying to encourage here.  It often feels like I'm trying to build roads, brick houses and water pipes to those who are simply happy/content with their mud huts and rivers.

Whilst I may not be making huge ripples here in Rwanda in education, I am reassured that a ripple can start with the smallest of pebbles (I got that from Pocahontas too...)  A third year student who has just graduated from the TTC told me that by observing my behaviour, he learnt far more than sitting in any Foundation of Education class - he learnt to respect his learners, to reach them at their level and not talk down to them as though they are beneath you.  Respect does not mean fear or authority but comes as a result of mutual understanding and respect for each other.  It's been a while since someone made me shed a tear - and he made me do just that.

Dreaming of dreams fulfilled

Lying beneath the Acacia, dreaming of dreams of fulfilled
A call, a feeling, an unwelcome desire to reach a place beyond my home
I chose to turn and chase a path that would pave the way to worldy dreams
But that was not my path and despite the deviations
I was lead back to where I belong.

I wanted to live a 'normal life' -
To have job security, a home, a family - and everything else that comes with human dreams
But I came to realise that my joy was to be found elsewhere
Not in the known nor five year life plans or in one place alone
But to live according to the certainty of the unknown.

An unknown not so unknown - at least not to Him.
He never promised safety
Nor did He say it'd be easy
'Look up and follow' was all I heard
Blinded by His light yet guided by it all the same.

My moto journey from Cyahinda to Butare takes me on a 40 minutes ride, skirting around the edges of mountains/hills and looking down into lush green valleys - all on dirt roads.  From there, I hit the asphalt paved roads for another 45 minutes before reaching the 'big-not-so-big' city of Huye/Butare.  At one point during a recent journey, I heard the usual, 'muzungu' cry and looking up from the valley I caught sight of 2 little boys waving frantically at me and trying to run alongside the moto.  They were running rather precariously through branches and an unmarked path along the side of the hill and as I waved back, huge grins filled their faces and they turned to each other and laughed.  I half expected them to high-five each other - but this is not the US/UK.  A simple sight of a simple joy.

I savoured the moment when the moto driver turned off the engine and we rolled down and around the mountain path, allowing me to soak in the peaceful scenery with only the sound of the muffled wind and the wheels rushing past my helmet-hidden ears.  I continued looking down because the valleys just seemed so perfectly carved and formed and in those moments where I dared to look up, I saw cloudless skies and small settlements dotted around the mountain tops.  How these houses are reached is anybodies guess because there are no marked roads that go up that far - only what seems like extremely steep well trodden paths that line and weave up the sides of the mountains.

I was reminded of a remark that a colleague made to me once on a walk - mentioned in one of my posts from last year when I first arrived in Cyahinda - 'When I climb/walk uphill, I think of the hardships we face in life but then when we walk downhill, I am reminded of the good things and the ease of life.'  Something along those lines - I want to add that when you reach the top after all those trials and hardships, the view from the top will take your breath away.  Looking back (in hindsight), you'll see the path you trod and be amazed at how you ever defeated the rocks and trees that lay across your path.  Sometimes we spend so much of our time looking down, trying to place our feet carefully on what would appear to be solid ground that we miss the beauty of what lies above - the graceful glide of a Kite, the rhino-shaped cloud, the children running excitedly to try to greet you, the mysterious house perched alone on the edge of the hillside, the calling to simply trust.

It's been raining pretty heavily here, but then again, it is the 'rainy season!'  I've been wearing my wellies to school as the road that leads up to it is always potted with numerous puddles and squelchy mud.  Looking down is a futile exercise because you can never tell if you're going to sink or slide no matter where you place your foot.  And so, I'm reminded to look up.  I cannot always prevent myself from slipping or falling - I'd rather have enjoyed the view and slipped than been so cautious that I fell anyway and missed what was around me.

Today I want to be thankful for the sights I've seen, the people I've met and the experiences I've had that have lead me here.  It took me 13 years of looking up (although I'm sure more often down,) to be able to dream of dreams fulfilled.

Oya, non, no

It's roughly 20 years on from English becoming an official language in Rwanda alongside French and Kinyarwanda and 6 years on from it becoming the language of instructions within schools, so upon request (thank you Ollie Knight), I'm writing this post.

The Guardian has written a couple of informative articles outlining the reasons behind the shift should you wish to find out more about it:

Why Rwanda said adieu to French (January 2009)

Rwanda to switch from French to English in schools (October 2008)

and a further discussion on the impact from a research site:

The costs and consequences of Rwanda's shift in language policy

But here's my take on it all from my experience within TTC Cyahinda, a training college for future primary school teachers.

(That's the moon and not the sun...just love the way the sky is split)

Set in the grounds of a remote Catholic village in Nyaruguru district, TTC Cyahinda is home to over 800 secondary and sixth form students and nearly 30 tutors.  English is supposed to be the medium of instruction for all subjects (other than for the modern languages taught of French and Swahili.)  Whilst I am fortunate that MOST of the tutors speak English, there are still a minority who haven't a clue what I am saying to them besides the usual greeting of 'goodmorning, how are you?'  Even tutors who consider themselves to be fluent in English do not always understand me - but I do not blame them.  Most, if not all were Primary and Secondary educated in French and some also for their university degree, the switch to English meant intensive studying of a language as foreign to them as French or Japanese is to me.

I studied French at GCSE level (17 years ago!) - and not having spent any significant time in France (just in transit through the airports), I would have to say that my French is probably on par with most people's English here - and trust me, beyond teaching primary school French, I am unable to sustain any form of normal conversation with a French speaker.  The same, I would say, is true of my Japanese.  Having lived in Japan for a year (10 years ago!), my Japanese barely reaches beyond ordering food at a restaurant and asking what something is, (all very important of course.)

Asking me to TEACH in either French or Japanese would be preposterous.  I do not have the vocabulary nor the correct grammatical and technical knowledge to be able to translate my knowledge and understanding into an unfamiliar language.  In fact, if you told me to teach or to even STUDY in Cantonese, I would baulk at the idea.  Despite growing up with a mother who spoke Cantonese to me and attending Chinese school for 10 years of my life - my Cantonese is shockingly bad.

I was one of those stereotypical Chinese kids when I started my secondary school life, an A-grade student, a 'swot' some might (and may) have called me.  I understood what was being taught without much trouble and I believe that one of the main reasons for this is because I could speak, read and write English as a native - it was my preferred language.  (The other being that I am obviously a naturally intelligent person of course!?!) Should I have been taught in Cantonese, I doubt I would have still been academically succeeding in the way that I did.  Had I been asked to sit my exams in Cantonese, I would have certainly failed (or maybe only just by Chinese standards!)  I would have learnt answers by rote and not been able to express myself in the way that I can in my natural tongue - much like what is happening here.

Students, having grown up in a Kinyarwanda-rich environment, are suddenly thrust into a world where they're spoken AT in English.  Most of what is said are just empty sounds.  (It's slightly worrying to think that when children mimic English here, it sounds a lot like children mimicking Chinese back home!)  Masses of theory in English is scribed on the board (by a teacher, or in the absence of one, which is often the case, a student) and copied by learners and that sadly is the education here.  It's known as the 'chalk and talk' style of teaching - very teacher led and centred.  Whilst I am here to promote and develop 'learner centred methods' or 'active learning',  the general consensus is, "I was taught this way, my teachers were taught this way and so on, so why change?"  The problem is, I doubt that even the tutors understand what they are writing on the board sometimes, or rather cannot put into practice what they know in theory.  And there in, lies another problem.  Masses of theory, or supposed knowledge can easily be memorised but what is the point if this knowledge is not transferable into practice?  I can READ Kinyarwanda because I understand the grammar and phonological rules that govern it, I can copy Kinyarwanda word perfect and even tell you the meaning of some (a handful) of the words/sentences but ask me to SPEAK in Kinyarwanda and explain the text in Kinyarwanda...then I am lost.  In fact, I'm not even sure I'd understand the question in the first place due to language limitations.

I once saw a primary 5 student's notebook (age is irrelevant here, there are 12 year olds just beginning their primary education at Y1/P1 level) - it was all about the life cycle of a plant, beautifully handwritten, with the correct spelling of technical terms - the problem came when I asked the student to read their work to me.  It was evident that they were unable to do so.  When I pointed to the word 'stem' and asked them to show me the stem of a plant next to us, they had no clue as to what I was asking them to do.  They merely parroted the word 'stem' and then proceded to say, 'goodmorning, how are you?', despite it being 5pm.  But it is not the fault of the student.  Most primary school teachers (at least in the villages) do not speak English.  In fact, some headteachers cannot even speak English proficiently.  That's because they never had a need to learn - until 6 years ago.  So how can the government expect only English to be used in schools when they do not have the workforce who are skilled enough in the target language to teach?

In 2009, out of Rwanda’s 31,000 primary school teachers, only about 4,700 were trained in English, and out of Rwanda’s 12,000 secondary school teachers, about 600 were trained in English. 
(McGreal, 2009, The Guardian)

5 years on from these stats, I cannot imagine it has improved that much more...

Challenges, challenges, challenges - so how can they be solved?  On the surface it would appear that Rwanda is doing well on the English front with adverts, signs and newspapers being published in English - but this is mainly found in Kigali, the capital.  It's just not so easy to implement English as the language of instruction when school meetings and assemblies are still being held in Kinyarwanda, the radio broadcast during lunchtime is in Kinyarwanda and when staff members address students outside of class in Kinyarwanda - complete immersion may not be the answer but integration can play an influential role - and it begins from the top.  Teachers and leadership need training in English - but when can this be done when teaching takes up so much time already?  And I of all people understand the difficulties in learning a new language - I am just as reluctant to speak Kinyarwanda as they are to speak English.

It's ok for English to be the language of instruction if translations are allowed - but not necessarily from the teacher themselves.  Despite being 'forbidden', teachers here will all too quickly jump at giving Kinyarwanda explanations without allowing students time to process what has been said to them in English.  Either that or they speak in Kinyarwanda first and then explain in broken English, or 'Kinyalish.'  Often in my lessons, I have several students explain in their mother-tongue to the rest of the class their understanding of the lesson and (if the tutor is present) they can varify if what they are saying is correct or not.  I'm not saying this is a solution but it has helped me and other students immensely.  It is time consuming and taxing for learners not only to understand the content of what is being taught but having to translate from English to Kinyarwanda in the first instance - but it's unfortunately government policy - something that is not so easy to change.

Government organisations that partner with NGOs to develop 'better' education stipulate that written communication that is sent home from school should also be in English.  This is completely absurd because (a) few parents are actually literate and (b) if they are, they only usually read and write in Kinyarwanda.  Trainings to teachers and parents are also to be delivered in English which is where I struggle the most.  I often ask tutors to discuss in Kinyarwanda during group work but in presentation they should present in English - however, if there are 'official' people there (e.g the Principal or Education Officers...), then they will discuss only in (broken) English which means only those who speak English become dominant and actively participate.  The quality of the following discussion is then hindered by the lack of participation and also the understanding of the topic/s at hand.  Given the opportunity to speak in Kinyarwanda, I have seen participants confidently express their views (even amongst the few female colleagues at the TTC) and levels of engagement are clearly visible.  (i.e., less people playing Snakes or Tetris on their phones - or making/taking phone calls during the workshop/training.)

The government didn't expect nor state that the shift would be a smooth ride nor to be implemented at the wave of a wand but I'm not entirely sure what is being done to make this a successful transition.  Policies have been written/published without the appropriate strategies in place to support such a change.  Rather than dealing with the issue at heart, NGOs are brought in to build upwards to develop the country's education but on already unstable ground.  Foundations NEED to be reinforced and strengthened and whilst we (volunteers) are working at that level, what is being delivered is not often implemented due to language difficulties.  It's a cycle that sees no break.

Things people say...

…and what they actually mean here.

Every language/culture uses phrases that are specific to them but mean something completely different in another country/context.  Here are a few that have tickled me:

Phrase:  Short call

Use:  Where can I make a short call?

I’ve often wanted to respond, ‘you can make it just here or over there, anywhere you want really.’  But then that wouldn’t be a very pleasant sight.

Meaning:  To go to the toilet (for a number 1/pee/wee…)

____________

Phrase/word:  Serious

Use:  He/she is not serious

To me, this means to be somber, deep in concentration – or as the Americans have popularized it, to affirm a certain notion – ‘seriously?’

Meaning:  Honest/diligent/dedicated/devoted

- It’s often used when a student has stolen something from the TRC or not handed in their homework or failed a ‘quiz.’

The best use of it here:  S/he is somehow not serious

_____________

Phrase/word:  Somehow

Use:  It is somehow bad

Meaning:  To emphasize a degree of the adjective it complements – similar to ‘relatively.’

It reminds me of living in Japan where all yes/no answers were preceded by ‘maybe’ – maybe yes, maybe no.  There is never any certainty in an answer to avoid making a mistake or any form of commitment.

_____________

Phrase/word:  pick

Use:  Why didn’t you pick me?

This is just lazy English and used across Africa.  The use of prepositional phrases is obviously not taught here.

Meaning:  pick-up/collect:  ‘Why didn’t you answer/pick-up my call’

‘Can you pick me up?’ becomes, ‘You can pick me.’ – I’ve changed it from a question to a statement because so often, people do not request out here, they just state.

_____________ 

Word:  flu

Use:  I have the flu.

Influenza to me means being bed-ridden, achy bones, congested…

Meaning:  I have a common cold (if that) – (ready to be shot here…) man-flu.

Language use out here is often very technical and very direct.  As mentioned previously, there is no word for ‘please’.  Perhaps that’s the English way, I’m so used to asking a straight forward question using too many words – ‘would you be so kind as to pass me a pen please?’  Whereas here, it would simply be, ‘give me pen.’  I was a stickler for correcting my students before but here I am far more lax about the use of ‘please’ – although some students have learnt to use ‘please’ and ‘could/can/may you’ to request things from me.

Technical terms are often used in everyday speech which often confuses me.  (I’m not sure why.)  Instead of using ‘dig’, the word ‘cultivate’ is preferred; or ‘farm’ would be ‘agriculture’; ‘copy’ = ‘imitate’ or ‘transmit’…maybe that’s a result of English being learnt through books.   Written English is certainly different to spoken English and I am not complaining about the use of it here.  After all, Rwanda only changed from a Francophone country to an Anglophone country apparently overnight in 2008 - which is crazy considering how far they have come but also the mass of problems this has caused (but that's another blogpost in itself!)

I’ve found myself speaking far slower and articulating every word carefully, using no contractions and pretty much sounding robotic, just to be understood.  I’ve turned into the person that I used to loathe – someone who thinking I didn’t understand English would SHOUT and over-emphasize every syllable in a word and repeat themselves, getting louder and slower each time to simply be heard (and not necessarily understood.)

But then again, saying that, most people tell me that my English is pretty comprehendible, only they have to shut their eyes to listen to me because they can’t marry my Chinese appearance to the voice/accent coming out of my mouth.  Racists!  :)

One year Rwanniversary!

The eighth day of September marks ONE YEAR of me being here in Rwanda.  Happy one year fellow-September 2013 intake-VSOers!


WOW!  How time flies!  So, what does one write about when it comes to CELEBRATING/marking one year of being here?

I stumbled across a prayer I’d written in September 2013 a couple of days into placement in Cyahinda and I thought I’d share it as this summed up my thoughts at the time – a person so full of hope and faith – it’s good to be reminded of that person as at times I forget she exists.  The prayer is written in response to a passage that a friend gave to me before I left London.  (Thanks Chris Pearce!)

Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills.  From where does my help come?

         Lord, I am in the land of a thousand hills, this is where you have sent me and I know that all I have is you and is yours.  The friends that you have given to me over the past 10 days have been more of a blessing to me than I know.  May you bless each and every one of their hearts, guide them and protect them as we share this journey together.

(*I am thankful for my VSO family on a daily basis – without them life would be difficult indeed – and somewhat boring!  Thank you to those who remain and also to those who have left...)

My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

         Father, where I have been foolish, you have protected me and kept me from harm.  For this I thank you.  It is not the monetary value of items that I could have lost that I am concerned with but what they hold that I treasure.  I give you thanks for blessing me with these things.

(*This was after I was robbed at home but all my ‘valuables’ remained - eg. laptop, camera, passport…today, I have lost count of the things that have been stolen from me - all items are not necessities but simply cause inconvenience when not available.  Sadly, it has meant that my ability to TRUST people has rapidly diminished.)

He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber.  Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.

I lift to you my night guard, may he know of your grace and mercy.  Fill him with your spirit that he may love as you do.  Protect him through the nights.

(*I have watched my night guard reprimand a child for trying to enter in to my garden but then gave him a biscuit because he was scavenging for food.)

        

I thank you again for your protection.  Even when I sleep, you are there.

The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand.  The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night.

         Father I commit to you my family, that they may know you.  Most of the time, they ARE my right-hand – and for this, I am sorry that it is not you but I thank you for providing me with their unfailing love and support.  Fill them with your love, strengthen them in spirit and assure them of your sovereignty.  May your shade protect them from the heat of the day and cover them during the chill of the night. 

(*My family have been the people that I have missed the most - coming here, trusting that God had a plan for me, that he would protect me also meant that he would do the same for those I love!  I think this was the hardest thing for me to do.  I know that even when I am with them, I can do nothing to keep them safe - but seeing them when I could, hearing their voices, their laughter, their tears, I felt like I was being of help just being there.) 

The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.  The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore.

Be high and lifted up.  I am in a land of hurt and suffering but one of hope and renewal.  The past has shaped many people here and Lord you have sustained many of your children despite the crimes of the past.  Continue to bring healing and cast out evil from this place.  May I love as you do and may I serve as you do.

In JESUS' most precious name, I ask all of this…BE HIGH AND LIFTED UP!  AMEN

So, a very personal prayer - not just my musings but an insight into my heart...and one year on, many sentiments are still echoed in my thoughts and prayers.

If you don't ask...

One of the questions that people often ask me is:  What can I send you?

This is what Christ Church CofE Primary School, Barnet gave to me on my last trip back to London:

They also donated £100 cash which purchased some of these items and yet more books are due to arrive in the post over the coming weeks.  A MASSIVE THANK YOU to all the parents and children who fundraised and bought items for us...everything is being put to good use already!!!

Some of the above items were given by my sister too - I love my sisters!

So, in answer to what you can send, if it's for work:

- kids' books

- toys

- puppets (or socks - *clean* - to make puppets)

- felt material

- crayons

- permanent markers (Sharpees are excellent!)

- blutack

- liquid glue

- paintbrushes

- craft knives (stanley knives)

- phonics materials (books/cds...)

And as the work I do out here is supposed to be sustainable - anyone have any alternatives to blutack?  Do you know how to make it?

As for supplies for ME...well...

• sermons, worship songs on a flash (the internet is too slow to download/stream)
• packet/pocket tissues (eg. Kleenex) - the stuff they have out here is rough on the nose!
• tea lights (although I don't think you can send flammable items...)
• travel-size toiletries (toothpastes are always good!)
• photos, cards, drawings, paintings - any artwork!  (One of my former students has sent me out handmade cards and even origami...I LOVE IT - thank you Hana and Taiga!)
• savoury snacks - nuts, crackers, cereal bars, jerky, seaweed...
• sweet snacks - chocolate, biscuits, chocolate, gummy/chewy sweets, chocolate...oh, and did I mention chocolate?
• packet soups/sauces (a colleague asked me what the difference was seeing as I use soups as pasta sauce!)

This is NOT a request for items.  I have been extremely thankful to those who have sent me out goodies from Hong Kong to LA, (inc. many from UK and even Mexico!)  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  I always get asked the same thing so I thought I'd put it up in a blogpost.  I am not without here - and it isn't as though these things are essential but it is always nice to receive mail (so long as it isn't a bill...)  These items are my bit of luxury and comfort.

I remember when I first arrived here and the list of things that I wanted was MASSIVE but gradually, the list shrunk and became minimal - at a stretch I have come up with the list above!  People have so little out here but they're ok (mostly because they don't know what else is out there!)  My colleagues laugh at me when they see the parcels that arrive for me and wonder what I need with all the items.  Like I said, creature comforts but not exactly neccessary to survive.  I come from a world of plenty, of choice and excess...sometimes that is just stress in itself.

Please note, if you are planning on sending me out a parcel - it can be quite pricey, often the postage itself costs double, if not triple the cost of the items you're sending.  It takes roughly 6-8 weeks for a parcel/letter to get to me (even if you send it via 'express' delivery - please don't waste your money on that!)  Please also check the expiry date on items to make sure it'll last the journey!  And finally, THANK YOU FOR THINKING ABOUT ME!

Lastly, my address - although it should be on the side of this blog post if you're reading from a desktop/laptop (but not a smartphone.)

May Mak

c/o TTC St J. Baptiste, Cyahinda

PO Box 224, Butare

Rwanda

Hope that's useful

The Ice-Bucket Challenge

Friend:  What's the point of the Ice-bucket challenge?
Me:  Had you heard of ALS before it?
Friend:  No.
Me:  Point made.

The flooding of your Facebook newsfeed with videos of friends and strangers pouring buckets of ice over themselves and passing the challenge-baton over to others can be exasperating, it's true.  Surely time and money could be better spent on actually donating or spending time with those in need?  For some, (and this is the cynic in me...) they are doing it for their 5 minutes of fame, because it's the cool thing to do right now - to be seen apparently doing something for a cause.  Then again, here I am writing a blog post about it when I could be spending the time donating or being with those who need the support.  (I recently found out that a friend's parent is suffering from ALS but all I can offer are my prayers...and in truth, this doesn't always feel like enough - when it should be!)  And yet, the point that I was trying to make above is that I am sure that more people are now aware of ALS and that donations HAVE risen to various charities from the text campaigns going around the world as a result of the ice-bucket challenge.  So no matter how bored you may be of the videos, they ARE having an impact.  One thing's for sure, and I always knew this - the internet, nay, social media is a powerful tool.

It got me thinking about how much we/I have become dependent upon it - from supposedly catching up/feeling connected to friends to arranging the next (hopefully face-to-face) social gathering.  I get to hear about news even before I get to read it on the BBC news website through the many postings that appear on my newsfeed.  I can seek advice/help from forums and get the latest on what's 'in' and not within my various social groups.  (The ice-bucket challenge causes a bit of controversy on this front...)

It's easy to lay yourself bare on social media sites - I tell the world that I've just woken up - and it's midday...*shock, colon, closed bracket, exclamation mark...I share what I eat, what I've cooked, what I've bought, what I've seen, smelt, felt...it all goes up online and creates an image of who I am to the world - or at least to my friends.  Then I feel good because a friend has 'liked' or commented on my status or photo...why does that make me feel good?  I even think in 'status updates' - i.e. a thought will crop up in my head and I'll instantly think, 'that'll make a good status!'  Why do I think my friends need to know my random thoughts - some things are best kept unsaid surely?  And again, here I am sharing those same random thoughts in writing this post - and I don't quite know where I'm going with it all.

As much as I battle with social media, it is and has been my God send here in Rwanda.  I feel so detached from the world when I am here in the village but with Facebook, I have the world, or rather my friends at my fingertips.  In my last post I wrote about 'home' and the people that make it - it's when I can see pictures of friends' meals (as healthy/unhealthy as they may be...or even envious that I do not have access to such foods/luxuries...), or selfies, or photos of people's children - I feel just that little bit closer to them despite what can seem like us being worlds apart.

Maybe next time I go to write a status update, I'll think about if it truly is necessary...probably not but I'll likely go ahead and post it anyway.  Still, I should think about the person I'm portraying online - is it truly me?  I am thankful for social media but must also be more mindful about how much time I spend on it rather than doing other more constructive things - like donating to worthy causes or spending time face-to-face with people (and God.)  :)

Home

The more I travel and live away from home, the more I realise how much my heart remains at home.

A place to rest, to escape, to find refuge, to be loved and love.

So where is home for me?  Home is where my family is – my family connected by blood, my spiritual family and my friends…and whilst all those people are dotted around the world, the majority are in London.

No matter who or what has occupied a place in my heart around the world, I am always drawn back to where it all began.  My last trip to London simply ‘concretized’ that notion.  (They love to use that word – concretize – here in Rwanda…I didn’t even realize it was a word until I came!)

The minute I stepped off the plane onto British soil to seeing my mother waiting with anticipation at the door for me to return; to being surprised by my extended family hiding in my sister’s garden to greet and welcome me home; to walking through the double doors of St James’ Church, Muswell Hill and seeing Rachel Elliott leading worship and Jo Hutchinson on projection…and even being squeezed to death by ex-colleagues, students and parents – I knew that home IS London.

So what next for me?  I have roughly 7 months left on my visa/contract here.  VSO have asked me to extend - the project that I'm working on ends around March 2016.  My project officer told me to extend for another 6 months, guess he didn't know that I'm on an 18 month contract!!!  When I put him straight, he said, "1 more year, it's not a lot!"  Me thinks otherwise.

So what next?  I really don't know.  I LOVE teaching, being in the classroom and building relationships with my students, parents and colleagues - but there is so much more beyond this that comes with the job - and with every job, there will always be things that you do not like/agree with.  But should we jump ship because of these things or plough on?  I guess I will simply do what I've always done - listen to that small, still, quiet voice within - to be patient and listen and wait upon the Lord.  He led me here on a 12 year journey, which still continues.  Who knows, perhaps despite my longing to be 'home', I may be called to be here (or elsewhere) for that extra year and even beyond!  

I will wait.

Africa, unexpectedly rich...

I didn't anticipate writing three posts within a few days of each other but it is rare for me to have so much to write about...

This post focuses on the POSITIVES of Africa.  In fact, Africa is a HUGE continent and often, people see it as one country...but there is much diversity to be had here just as with any other continent.  So, the positives that I speak of will be from my experience here in Rwanda, a small East African country with a population of just under 11.5million people.  Considering London has a little over 8 million people...and that's just a capital city...Rwanda to me is pretty small.

Before coming here, my only perception of Africa (as a continent) was what was portrayed on the news - poverty, famine, war, sexual assaults/attacks and disease epidemics...not a pretty picture.  Events like Comic/Sports Relief only show a partial picture of what life is like here.

I do not deny that all of those above things do not exist in Africa - they do in abundance...but so too does it exist everywhere else in the world.  The difference here is that the knowledge and rights on how to bring oneself out of these states is limited/restricted.  But I am not well read in such political issues, although should you want to know more, just do an internet search on 'foreign aid and Africa' or 'helping Africa' and there is much discussion to be had on the issue.  (I found discussions on the comparisons between Africa and Asia, i.e. China most interesting!)

But, I'm not here to talk about the demerits of Africa, I wanted to discuss the joys of living here in Rwanda.  I listened to a sermon yesterday that reminded me to be thankful ALWAYS.  We often pray those prayers of, 'Lord, if you help me get out of this situation, I'll praise you forever...' (Be it with studies, 'Lord, I know I did not study as hard as I could for my exam tomorrow but help me, by your will and strength to do the best that I can to achieve and pass it.'  Or, 'Lord, give me strength to finish writing this essay that I had months to complete but only started yesterday...'  Or for work, 'Lord, give me energy and wisdom to convince X in the meeting that I know what I'm doing and am capable of doing the work...')  And yet, when the essay is finished, the exams are completed, the meeting is done and the results are given do we follow through with our prayers and give praise to God?  For some maybe, but for me...I know I often forget.

As I went back to my very first blog posts back in September, I realise I have a lot to be thankful for and it is evident how God has answered many of my 'last-minute/last-thought' prayers.  But maybe I'll save that for my one year anniversary here in Rwanda.  For now, I want to be thankful for Rwanda.

We all know the devastating recent history of Rwanda - last week, the 4th of July marked 20 years since the END of the genocide.  But what of this country now?  Whilst scars are deep-set and still very much visible both physically and in the eyes of many, strong efforts have been made to bury the past and build over it.  Much poverty remains but people are LIVING here.

'It's ok, this is life here, this is my life, this is how we live.'  My colleague muses after telling me his salary and what it goes towards each month - each month living in debt from the last month's living, unable to 'save' because he barely has enough to feed himself and his family that day, let alone week or month!  And yet he shares what little he has with his neighbours and friends...and that is community, it's biblical community even - the way people were called to live in Acts.  People often tell me that biblical stories and laws do not apply in today's society - but here they do.  Agricultural analogies are what people can relate to.  I remember my friend, Helen telling me about her time living in Tanzania and the analogy of light and dark.  You can't experience the true power of what light can do until you rely on candlelight to light your path, each step only being revealed gradually and only a small area being lit at one time, enough to keep you on your feet but you are completely reliant upon it to guide your path.  That's the light of Jesus - and truly, where there is light, darkness cannot hide.  And that is the faith of people here.  There are glimpses of the future, hope for what can be, dreams of where they want to be but they LIVE for every day, one step at a time.  Somehow, people survive despite poverty...and what they lack in material possessions/sustenance, they compensate with love, care, charity and joy.

I have been welcomed into many a home here and offered drinks/snacks that I know cost a week's grocery shopping - simply to make me feel 'at home.'  Generous gestures like these are mind-blowing when I wonder if I could do the same - knowing that I only have, for example, £5 for the week but ordering drinks and pastries to welcome my neighbour for a mere hour of that week instead, knowing that I could go hungry for the rest of the time - could I do it?  Probably not.  I'm beginning to understand the merits of Chinese culture in offering fruit or some kind of food to someone when visiting them.  Jacko, my housemate recently bought a family some beans and maize flour - probably enough to last them for at least a week but knowing the culture here, maybe only a day as they'd invite their neighbours to enjoy their gift.  That's generosity here.

Whilst people here are slender, they are not emaciated as we so often see on our TV screens.  Most people grow their own crops and whilst diets here are not particularly balanced, they do the job.  People are incredibly FIT here - the strength of both males and females is incredible.  What is carried and balanced on one's head is amazing from logs, jerry cans of water, baskets of fruit to a hoe or even just an umbrella.  And whilst public transport IS available here (although not always reliable or frequent), people walk (and some cycle) for hours on end - many barefooted over rough terrain and over many hills and valleys, nay mountains even!  (Usually with either a small child carried on their backs and/or a heavy load on their heads.)  That's resilience and determination for you.

With so much foreign aid having been pumped into Rwanda, there is a large expat community here.  Ok, maybe not so much in the tiny village of Cyahinda, but it does exist in the larger towns/cities like Butare and Kigali.  It's nice to take refuge there once in a while where the constant staring isn't as prolific.  It's also good that there ARE shops and restaurants where there is not the need to haggle/barter - where you know EVERYONE is being ripped off, no matter what your skin colour is!  But then it's always good to return back 'home' to Cyahinda where the lures of city-living and materialism are not so apparent.    It is of course, also nice to meet (some) like-minded people.  Most expats are with NGOs and want to make a difference somehow.  They have a heart for Africa and come from different walks of life - it's always good to hear of people's journeys and be able to share in their joys and struggles, knowing that you are walking the same (well-trodden) path and experiencing similar things.

Whilst most roads in rural area remain unpaved and often full of pot holes, everywhere is accessible - somehow.  Paths/roads are well defined and mostly maintained, so it's hard to get lost here.  There is no need for GPS and although it may take forever to get anywhere, it is not impossible.

There is free education for 9 years here - so really, there is no excuse for people not to be educated to a certain degree.  Whilst it may not be the BEST education - teachers try on what little incentive they are given to provide the best opportunities for their learners that they can.  And they DO care - the main reason for absenteeism here is that children have a mass of duties/responsibilities in the home.  If they're not caring for other siblings, they're fetching water or fire wood, walking the pig/cow or foraging for food.  They come to school dirty and with torn uniform, no shoes or books, hungry and tired and made anonymous amidst a class of 60+ students - and that's the type of learners that teachers here have to motivate on salaries of £30-50month.  Yet through the complaints, teachers do their job.  There are no strikes for poor work conditions or lack of pay/benefits...they do it because they have to.  It may not sound like something to be thankful for - but at least there's the opportunity for education for all and there are teachers who care about their job.

(These are all the future teachers of Rwanda + Wally aka Jacko)

Lastly, Rwanda is simply beautiful.  The vast night sky that glistens with the mass of stars, the morning sunrise and evening sunset that throws a blanket of colours over the rolling thousand hills that cover the country.  Whilst photos never do the views I experience justice, these images will forever be imprinted in my memory.

I've simply scratched the surface here in what makes Rwanda a 'rich' country - I have yet to mention the traditional songs and dances passed down through the generations, the children playing their made-up games and toys made from what we would consider rubbish, the declarations of 'love' upon first meeting, goat brochettes and potatoes on skewers...rich beyond expectation.

United Colours of Football

I had never imagined that I would ever write a blogpost on football, let alone the merits of it...but here I am.

With the World Cup drawing to an end this Sunday, there'll be a big hole left in the community here in Cyahinda.  The matches have been something to look forward to with hundreds of students gathered in the refectory watching on the box-television, various randoms watching in the local health centre and others gathered around a radio in the local bar listening intently with beer in hand.  Children play football on the dirt paths with a ball made of banana-plant leaves tied together with twine of some form screaming, 'MESSSSSSSSIIIIIIIIII' as they pelt the ball over their friends head; and then there's the recent trend of christening children as 'Suarez' or 'Robin van Persie' or other favourite football players.  (Yes, you read correctly, CHRISTENED!)  The VSO community (and I am sure most school communities!) came together to support our Dutch colleagues who unfortunately have now left the competition :( (I was dead set on a Brazil Vs Netherland final...how wrong was I?!?!) All-in-all, football plays a big role in this small village and country.  The World cup has truly made the world a smaller place and tightened bonds within communities.

People here LOVE football.  They follow the Premiere League with great anticipation and as vehemently as any follower back home.  Buses, motos and bicycles are often adorned with Chelsea/Arsenal/Man Utd/Liverpool memorabilia.  (*Sorry Wood, Newcastle Utd. is not as hotly supported here...I've seen some shirts around but it's few and far between!  Even the likes of Tottenham rarely get a look in...but that might just be here in the South - Becks, perhaps you may disagree!)

Even I am drawn in by the hype of big competitions like the World Cup and Euro - Premiere League does nothing for me.  It's not so much the game itself, but the people it brings together.  With football, there are no cultural or language barriers; frustrations and joys are easily mirrored across the usual divides.  People meet and unite unexpectedly even if they don't quite understand the game itself, they join to support teams, countries, their friends and colleagues.  (I'm ignoring the fact that even here, there is minor hooliganism...I'm trying to focus on the positives!)

So I end with a phrase I never thought I'd utter:  Football, the World Cup, thank you for bringing the world closer together...

The privilege of being 'white'

I think in every country/language there is a slang word for a non-native person/a foreigner...it mostly sounds derogatory but often is not used with this intention - at least, the naive person in me hopes it's not being misused...

Gai jin = Japanese (foreign/alien person)
Gwai Lo = Cantonese (ghost man)

Mzungu/muzungu = Kinyarwanda, or in other Bantu languages (I'm not sure if there is a direct translation - but 'zungu' refers to spinning on the same spot - i.e. dizziness but the word can also be conjugated to an action of 'behaving richly' - hence the assumption that all foreigners have money!  Another translation I've found means 'one who wonders aimlessly.')

I'm often called muzungu here - children and adults alike call out to me on a daily basis even if they know my name.  Whilst I am not offended by the use of the term, there is a definite stigma and privilege attached to BEING a muzungu.

Skin-colour appears to play a large role in how someone perceives you.  I am speaking VERY generally and loosely now but I have known of many different races feeling inferior to people with 'white' skin.  It happened when I lived in Asia - parents wanted/preferred their child/ren to be taught by a 'white person' over someone with the same skin colour as their own, regardless as to the nationality or qualifications of either teacher.  And here, a training given by a Ugandan/Kenyan volunteer can't apparently be as good as a volunteer who has lighter skin from Europe/America.  The first question my Head Teacher asks whenever a new volunteer is coming is, 'are they white?'

Last week I experienced the ugly privilege of being a muzungu and whilst I accepted it, I felt ROTTEN through it all.

There are certain bus-drivers that know me now and know that I prefer to sit in the front with them than squashed in the back of the bus with 5-6 people on a row made for 3 people.  (The buses in question are 15 seaters...maximum - but regulation here allows for buses to take 19 people.)  On this occasion, I had turned up to the bus park to find that the bus that I needed to take was full.  The bus driver upon seeing me, ushered a person out of their seat and told me to sit there.  I did so thinking the person would be squeezed into another row...only to find that they left the bus completely.  Having driven out of the town, the bus stopped to continue squeezing in more passengers.  Again, I was ushered out of the bus and placed in the front with the driver whilst rows were being filled with 5-6 people.  I felt spoilt - but I did not complain, partly because I didn't know how to protest but also because I just wanted to get home.

I leave you now with a picture of something that does not discriminate by the colour of your skin, the accent that you have, the place you were born...it enters your home regardless and terrorises others...

This is dedicated to Elliott Chow because I know how much you liked the last picture I put of one on my blog...

Something more upbeat

Five things that make me smile and am thankful for…(in no particular order)

1.  My neighbours - the joy on their faces when they see either Jacko or myself everyday is priceless:

(Photo taken by Jacko)

2.  My housemate, Jacko Oosterhof - a person, (if you will recall from earlier posts) I was not keen in receiving (sorry Jacko) - but he has been such a blessing in my life.  A man who has big ears and a massive heart…simply thank you :)  I will be sad to lose you in a couple of weeks time :(

(Taken on Safari)

This is an early photo of Jacko only having arrived for a week or two...

3.  My (our) house, the beautiful scenery I am surrounded by and the amazing sunrises/sunsets and stars that I see each day…

4.  My crazy VSO family - words cannot express how much joy these people have brought me over the last few months…

 

These were taken in our first days here in Rwanda - some have sadly left Rwanda and many more have joined...

Friends who dress up on special occasions:  Mike's bday…rice sack party

Friends to share food with :)

Especially on holiday :) - Zinger Tower Burgers at 6am!  :)

Friends I make resources with

Friends I've journeyed together with from London trainings!  (Bon Voyage Claire…see you back in London town!)

Friends who invade a small village :) (More importantly, friends who travel for hours and brave coming out to visit us out in the sticks…)

Friends to go to the cinema with - a rare luxury when in the capital city, Kigali.

Friends to do cultural things with…like going to art galleries :) - again in Kigali...

Friends to simply be silly with

Friends to go rainforest trekking with :) - Miss you already Steph

And finally, friends who holiday together

5.  Lastly, my colleagues and local friends (There are many more male colleagues than female ones…) - they cause the extremities of emotions within me, but that's when I know I care...

There are many more things/people that make me smile everyday…life isn't all that bad here :)

I'll finish with the prayer (with minor additions) that we used to say at school before lunch…

For good friends, (new days, days ending, beautiful sights) and good food, we/I thank you LORD, 

Amen.