Monday 14 July 2014

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.



Friday 11 July 2014

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...

Thursday 10 July 2014

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...