Be patient...

I am constantly being told, ‘be patient.’

Is it because I have a constant look of disdain on my face having shown up for meetings that supposedly begin at 8/8.30am but actually start any time between 11:00 – 13:00 and then last beyond 15:00 – my stomach rumbling and eyes failing me for not understanding what on earth is going on in the meeting for it being held in Kinyarwanda?  Could this be why I’m being told to, ‘be patient.’

Or is it the fact that at a moment’s notice, I am told that I should have been somewhere or done something without being informed prior to the present conversation that I am needed?

Or travel times that take the whole day to plan and execute even though theoretically it should only take a couple of hours maximum…

Or perhaps…

I moan.  This is not what my blog is for.

What I do know is that my expectations and the expectations upon me are so very different.  Maybe I should be thankful that actually I am involved in meetings, that my mere presence is enough to tick a box of some form or other; that I am given a voice (sometimes) – and that most of the time I am heard.  I have come to realise that when students/staff have requests that they wish to make to ‘the boss’, I am asked to speak to him because he is more likely to look upon ‘my’ requests favourably – why is it that my opinion/voice is heard over theirs?  I am in a privileged position in so many different, if not in most areas of life here just because I am foreign.

Be patient May.

I started to sort out the Teacher Resource Centre (TRC), 'my office' - but was told that I'm being moved - 'be patient May' - or perhaps, stop being so hasty to organise things!

I patiently waited for these three dresses to be made - as have you for the photos that I promised.  (Roughly costing me £10 each...)

Whilst waiting 'patiently' for the meeting this morning, Saundo and I took photos - here she is modelling my sunnies.

And here I am trying to be constructive whilst I wait for another meeting to take place - be patient May!

If eyes could speak

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.

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.

Ugiye he - Where are you going?

It's just gone 4am here - for some reason or other, I am wide awake.  So what better way to release all my thoughts than to write?  (Ok, so prayer is the other option...)

As I am still in Cyahinda, there will be no pictures of my new dresses till the next one.  I leave for Kigali on Sunday morning, I have to be at the 'bus stop' - or rather tree-roundabout, at 5:45am...shocker!  It should take me roughly 4-4.5hrs to get to Kigali if I'm lucky enough to get on one of the two buses that I have to take...no doubt I'll be rammed in like a sardine on my first bus.  (Think 25 people on/in a 15-seater bus...)

Again, I'm looking forward to going to Kigali, the capital city, but at the same time, I actually wish that I could stay in my village just to rest.  I am thankful that I am kept busy here in Cyahinda and get the opportunity to leave whenever I can (most people cannot afford to even go to the closest town of Butare which is about a £1.50 bus journey away!)  But, there is something to be had in simply being still - and not having anywhere to go to.  Wherever I am, I am asked the question, 'ugiye he?' (oo-jee, ye hay?) - where are you going?  Sometimes I want to answer - 'I just don't know.'  Do I NEED to be going somewhere?  Do I NEED to be doing something all the time?  Maybe it's because if people were not 'doing' here, then they'd be thinking and I've learnt that many people's thoughts are clouded by dark reflections of the past and despair for the future.  Escapism appears an easy way to forget or just push forward.

Yet all too often in sermons, I have been reminded that we are human BEINGS not human DOINGS.  I appreciate time alone - being alone does not mean that I am lonely and yet that is a difficult concept for many here to understand.  One can feel lonely amidst a crowd of people, even amongst friends.  Some of my most peaceful and contended moments have been when it is just me, my thoughts and God.  So maybe that's why I'm awake right now - to simply BE and reflect upon the many joys that I've experienced here and in the past.  To thank God for friends and family who support me all over the world; to rejoice in the present and be hopeful for what/wherever is to come.

What's in a name?

I am now Mary.

Rwandans cannot seem to grasp that I have the same name as a month of the year and opt to call me Mary instead...

Names here are a funny thing.  Most people are called by their surname.  Their English first names are usually names of saints and are pronounced the French way (seeing as Rwanda was French-speaking up until a few years ago...) - hence why I am Mary (the mother of Jesus.)

My principal gave me the name, 'Ingabire' (in-ga-beer-ray) - which means 'gift.'  Part of me is encouraged by this name but then it also feels like there is great expectation upon me to fulfil whatever connotations a gift delivers.  So what type of gift am I?  I am yet to find out...

'What is your name?' is a question I am constantly asked - and I am sure I ask the same children that question every day - I am finding that I have a memory like a sieve (maybe it's my age...)  I'm now at the stage where it's embarrassing to ask someone's name because I often get the response: 'We have met before, you do not remember me?'  It's hard to explain that there are 770 students in my school, 30 teachers and countless other people that I meet on a daily basis - how could I possibly remember EVERY person I meet, particularly if I was merely introduced to the person and did not hold a conversation with them other than a simple 'muraho.'

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Last weekend I went to Kigali and I finally understood why/how rural-folk go wild when in the city.  I unashamedly spent over one month's salary in 2 days - mostly on food!  It was a frivolous weekend of excellent company (meeting up with fellow VSO-volunteers) and shopping.  I am now the proud owner of a non-stick frying pan.  Never would I have imagined what joy such an item could provide - I made a perfect fried egg upon returning to my village and it made me smile!

Like most other volunteers, the 'tailoring' bug has bitten me.  People here often buy material from the market and get clothes tailored - I am waiting upon 3 new dresses, excited is an understatement!  My next post will be me modelling my new wears :)

The weekend reminded me of how incredibly blessed I am.  I am so well looked after in my village and despite the dangers of living alone in an unknown place, God has protected me and provided me with a support network that I could not have envisaged having before arriving here.  There have been occasions where there was only one unfavourable option to take and through the uncertainty, I was always at peace throughout the journey.  I can but accredit that to someone higher watching over me.  This does not of course mean that I will become complacent or take unnecessary risks - I am simply secure in the knowledge and faith that God is with and for me.  Thank you for your prayers and thoughts, I do feel them here...

Money, money, money...

Money makes the world go around - or so it seems.

These past couple of weeks this statement has been my main challenge.  The stories I've heard, the pleas for support, they all pull at my heart-strings and yet I cannot solve all the problems that I am faced with.  If I had the ability to give money to everyone who asked me for it, I would in a heartbeat, but this would not solve anything.  One of the reasons I came out here with VSO particularly was because of their vision - to EXCHANGE skills and knowledge to promote sustainability.

Every time a 'hand-out' is given, there is always expectation that more will come and so people simply wait.  My students are so used to being 'spoon-fed' information that when I have asked them to discuss situations and develop their own ideas, I have often been met with blank faces.  It is the same with people and their desire to move out of the poverty cycle - they know where they want to be but do not know how to get there and believe that someone giving them money will solve everything.  A plaster on a wound does not necessarily heal and can sometimes do more damage.

A student came to me yesterday and told me her story.  It was heartbreaking.  Her reason for sharing her story with me was to ask me to help her with her school fees.  She has two more years of study at the TTC, each term costing roughly £60.  Without education she is told that she has no hope of earning to support her siblings.  I wanted to tell her that I would help - but if I helped one, I would have to help all.  I admired her courage and determination to find means to complete her schooling but all I could offer her was prayer.  (My heart is becoming hardened - even if she is able to complete her schooling, there is no guarantee that she will find a job!)

People are trapped here.  A colleague of mine only completed half of his degree because he had to find means to support his family.  He was fortunate enough to be granted a scholarship but gave it up to earn money to allow his siblings to go to school.  He has been a teacher for the past five years but earns a fraction of what other teachers earn who completed their degree.  He is trapped in this cycle because he cannot afford to return to university to complete his degree as he must continue to provide for his family.  Even if he was given a scholarship to return to university, he would not be able to support himself AND his family during the 2 years that he has left.  Yet if he were to complete his degree, the £60 extra per month that he would receive as a 'qualified' teacher would make a HUGE difference to his life.  It all goes back to money.

So, I am left feeling helpless.  My only means to support these people are my prayers - and in all honesty, I am not sure my faith is enough at times - I wish it were.

One month

I have been in Rwanda for ONE MONTH!!!

Things that still shock me:

• The cows/bulls that pass me through the village on the way to work and then walk through my TTC playing field everyday
• The goats and chickens that appear in my garden on the odd occasion
• The fact that I LOVE meat but rarely have it because I do not have a fridge and to buy it, I need to purchase at least 1kg of it...(perhaps I need to get some multivitamins shipped over?)
• The size of my classes - 60 students in each; 8 lessons a day
• Children greeting me, 'goodmorning' no matter what time of day/night it is
• The fact that my monthly living allowance is more than double the salary of the teachers within my TTC
• My marital status and age are the first questions that I am always asked upon meeting new people
• The rain that leaves me stranded in my classroom because a river forms outside due to the poor drainage
• The fact that even if people cannot speak English here, they know the word, 'money' or '100 money'...I am 'white' so therefore I have money to give?!?!
• Babies and children crawling around the dusty/muddy streets that are littered with sharp stones and broken glass with nothing on their feet and sometimes no nappy (so will often wee over floors without anyone batting an eyelid...) - HEALTH AND SAFETY?!?!?
• Flies - they're everywhere...I need an electric zapper!!!

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I went to church today and amidst the many songs, 'hallelujahs' and bible verses read today, this one struck me the most:

"The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones."  Ezekiel 37:1

I cannot begin to explain what these words meant to me when I read them but truly with a little faith, 'these dry bones will live again' whatever the bones may represent.

Again I was asked to preach in the next academic year...

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I am looking forward to next weekend where I will get to see (an)other volunteer/s when I head into the capital city, Kigali.  I truly am a city girl!  When I visited the town of Butare last weekend, despite doing nothing there but entertain my principal's children, my shoulders relaxed because there was civilisation - everything was easily accessible and language was not (as much of) a barrier.  On the subject of language, I have done nothing since my lessons over 2 weeks' ago - so I have enlisted the help of a teacher at my school to teach me.  We are yet to discuss terms but hopefully with more structured learning, I will be well on my way to understanding people around me better.

I met a Peace Corp volunteer yesterday and she has been in my district for 3 months now - her Kinyarwanda is pretty decent, so it's got me motivated :)

HAPPY ONE MONTH TO ME :)

Unexpected

I came out here with so many expectations - or perhaps lack of expectations - and Africa, Rwanda even has taken me somewhere completely unexpected.

Being here is so far beyond my comfort zone than I had ever anticipated.  Not only must I contend with a new job, new house, new friends, new language - I am learning to rely on others - to simply trust in the goodness of others - letting go of my independence and accepting help to do the most basic of tasks.  It is a somewhat humbling experience.

Despite language barriers and cultural differences, I have had the fortune of people (colleagues) bending over backwards to source things for me and assist me in setting up my life here.  I am constantly being told how happy people are to meet me and have me in the village/school.  I am not sure why they feel this way but hope that I will be able to give back something to warrant such generosity and praise.

I'll break up this post a bit with some pictures:

This is the secondary school that is attached to my Teacher Training College (TTC) - or at least the last year of secondary school 'senior 6' - when they leave, these buildings will become part of the TTC:

This is the TTC with the 'playground'

The rooms on the right-hand side are mine.  It includes the TRC (teacher resource centre) and my classroom.

The staffroom.

As promised, some pictures of my walk last week to the market which I am told is 20km away from where I live?!?...

Just ahead is the market

And a picture of me...just so you can see that I am still alive and well :)  This is my friend/colleague Manzi and Saundra, the daughter of my principal's domestic help.  Every morning, she calls out to me from her window and asks me questions in Kinyarwanda that I do not understand...

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What has surprised me most about being here is how open people are about their faith.  They are excited when I tell them that I am a christian and with each conversation I have with people, I am blessed by their trust in God.  Many people have shared with me their family history - and it is not something that is talked about here as a result of the horrific events of '94.  Most of my colleagues lost parents and siblings and have therefore started their family again, marrying young to rebuild their lives.  Yet one thing stands - their trust in God and His faithfulness.  Despite their great loss, they ALL have such hope for the future.

I came here, not with the intention to be a 'missionary' although I partly expected (and partly feared) that that was what God had in store for me here.  Yet, I have found that it is I who is being ministered to.  I cannot fathom how one can still have such faith when all that you hold dear is destroyed or taken from you right before your very eyes - their hope, trust and joy seems inexplicable and quite possibly incomprehensible - yet it is there.

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Yesterday I visited the protestant choir in my school, they prayed a blessing over me and have invited me to attend service on Sunday.  The singing was beautiful, even though I did not understand a word of what was sung, I witnessed and felt a genuine joy and conviction in the way they worshipped.  I do hope to visit the church (which is actually held in my classroom at school) but know that it will be difficult as it is held in Kinyarwanda.  One of the student-teachers told me that they were hoping to start an English service and asked if I would be interested in leading it...never have I thought that I would be a pastor or preacher!  Actually, I'm not even sure I would be allowed to under my contract with VSO?!

So this is me for now.  Thank you for all who have commented about previous posts on FB - it is nice to know that I am in people's thoughts and prayers!  :)