When life imitates nature or nature imitates life

Today I woke to a blanket of mist that wove itself around the trees, hills and valleys that surround my house.  My normally clear and unobstructed view seemed shrouded with uncertainty this morning.  As the day progressed, the cloudless sky was quickly hidden by dark clouds and once again, and apparently all too suddenly, the sun-scorched land became running rivers, lakes and bogs.

I’m sitting in my classroom, with a view of the school playing fields, the Rwandan flag blowing wildly in the wind and the sound of the drumming rain on the aluminium roof, filling the otherwise silent TRC – and here I am with my thoughts.

As I mentioned in my last post, I am starting to prepare for my departure (in about 6 weeks’ time.)  My path before me, once so clear-cut now hidden from me by indecision and confusion.  I’d like to say that the path forks to reveal a multitude of choices, but rather it only seems to be narrowing with each step I take.  My mind is flooded with desired possibilities and various scenarios but nothing is concrete.

My decision to come here to Rwanda in the first place was much like where I am now.  I was so certain that this is what I/God wanted of me, yet my fears and love for my family made the choice hard to swallow.  However being here, as cliché as it may sound has opened my eyes to so much more than I could have imagined – it’s opened doors that I never knew either existed or could have been unlocked for me and has taught me about my strengths and self-imposed limitations/blocks.  My tolerance and patience on so many levels has been tried and tested beyond comprehension.  My love and compassion for people, situations and even my former passions…put under fire and refined.

People here tell me that I will soon forget my life here once I’ve left – and I hope this will not be true…and yet, nature imitates life.  Conditions of weather and human influences affect how a plant/animal grows and develops.  The beauty of adaptation means that nature changes or unfortunately dies with the challenges it faces – I hope that moving back to the developed world will not kill the serenity and respect I’ve found in basic-living but more shape the way I continue to choose to live.  Saying that, I’m sure the first thing that I will do (after all the emotional greetings) will be to have a long soak in a hot bath…and delight in the fact that HOT water comes out of taps – or simply just that WATER comes out of the taps!  I trust that I will not lose sight of the strength that I (we) have in coping with adverse conditions – my path ahead may be foggy or misty but just as with nature, this will not last forever and with any luck, it’ll lift soon enough to allow for a better view ahead.

Powerless but Empowered

"Powerless but empowered"

I had this as my Facebook status today – admittedly not intending to be deep and meaningful it was simply because the electricity was off and I had to cook somehow…but the more I thought about it, the more I realised that there was much truth behind it - this is how I have been living and viewing the lives of those here in Rwanda.

Before coming here, I remember wondering how on earth I would cope with not having electricity or running water – simple luxuries often taken for granted back home.  Yet today, it is something that is pretty normal for me.  Right now, as I type this blogpost, I (and the rest of the village) have no electricity.  It’s ok because it’s still relatively light despite the pelting rain and the dark skies and it’s not yet time for me to cook my dinner.  I do not own a gas oven/stove but I do have an electric-hob – now rendered useless in such conditions.  I pray that the rain will cease soon so that I can at least go out and light a charcoal-fire, something that I’ve become quite an expert at doing since living here.

The rain is literally cascading off my roof, creating a ‘Niagra falls’ type scene outside my window.  It’s also leaking into my bedroom – but that’s another issue in itself.   Windows and doors do not seem to fully fit frames here – there are always huge gaps at the bottom for some reason – and yet even with such a gap, my front door does not fully open because the floor is uneven and at some point, the door is stopped by the floor…

These are minor quirks that I’ve learnt to live with and manage (rice-sacks wedged in the gaps to prevent those pesky flying maggots, frogs, rats/mice and the rain from coming into the house…)

But returning to my opening statement, ‘powerless but empowered’ – this is what life is like here.  People here are constantly complaining about lack of something or other be it food, love or money (funny – people all around the world seem to be chasing the same thing…)  In truth, these people mostly have the right to complain, I complain about leaking doors and windows – these guys may not even have that in their homes…or even a roof over their heads.  Yet behind this sadness, and despite their seemingly ‘helpless’ conditions, there lies a will and a faith that empowers them to keep going.  Many homes have small ‘kitchen gardens’ – plots of land where maize, sorghum, beans are grown…not for selling but personal consumption - a means to survive.  There is a community that I have written about before, of sharing what you have – ALL that you have even if that means your needs/hunger are not fully satisfied yourself.  (Although not always evident amongst TTC staff members who during 'self-service' meals make Kilimanjaro-style food mountains on their plates, leaving little for others who follow them.)  And then there are those who walk for miles and hours on end to visit a friend or family member to check their wellbeing – whilst most people own mobile phones here, it is often the case that (a) they don’t have credit on their phone or (b) they’re not charged because of power cuts.  A moto-taxi may be pocket-change to you and I, but for most here, it is the equivalent to a day, week or even a month’s salary.  Not many own bicycles – and in fairness, you wouldn’t want to cycle around here – these hills would kill you!  And with rain like today’s – I’m not sure a bicycle or moto would help you!

A friend on Facebook asked me what I meant by my status…and whilst I was writing my response in jest, a big part of me believes what I wrote:

“When we lack so-called necessities in life, we are given the opportunity to seek and discover alternatives – sometimes better ways…but we wouldn’t know it if ‘power/s’ weren’t removed – we discover the value of what was lost but also our own strength in coping. “

I wrote this because I was being a wimp that I didn’t have electricity.  Yet people here cope with much worse on a daily basis.  But it’s not just here…I read an article in the Guardian today on ‘Kids Company’, a charity in London who help not only to feed ‘hungry children’ but to provide a platform for them to flourish and know and understand what family love means. 

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/feb/15/how-kids-company-feeds-britains-hungry-children

There is need all around, be it in a developing country or on our doorstep within our developed worlds.  Being rendered powerless can empower us to make a difference and change our/others’ situation/s.  We are forced to seek alternative methods to overcome the challenges that block us.

I am currently (loosely) job-seeking and many jobs I have found require either more education or experience than I have.  I feel ‘powerless’ because these are things that will take time (and a lot of money and sacrifices) to gain but I am empowered by the knowledge that God has paved my path before me and that throughout my life, He has supported and guided me – despite MY deviations.  Though a huge fog lies before my path right now and an apparent rocky climb, I need to trust in His will for me that He will (continue to) provide and equip me – even if on paper I do not have the necessary credentials…I must remember, He is the God of the impossible and if it be His will, then I have nothing to fear – I WILL be still, listen and trust.  I may be powerless but that's when God is most powerful.

For parting is such sweet sorrow...

Today is a perfect day for sitting outside, reading, writing and doing things that I generally neglect to do amidst the busy working day.  It’s moments like these that I’ll remember with fondness as I reflect upon my time here.

I am fast approaching the end of my contract in Rwanda and I am filled with a mix of emotions.  Every time I leave a country, a part of me remains there, with it holding a mass of memories – both good and bad and a desire that one-day I’ll return.

This morning I made myself a fresh fruit smoothie consisting of passion fruit, banana, pineapple and locally produced yoghurt.  Last night I made guacamole using 2 avocados that cost me around 2p each and eggs given to me by my neighbour.  Yet more things I will miss about Rwanda – the FRESH, unmodified, often weirdly shaped, CHEAP fruit and veg – sun-ripened and full of nature’s goodness; and the generosity and care of my neighbours. 

In England, it is sad to say that I only know my immediate next-door neighbours, both elderly ladies who delight in short visits from people because they are so few-and-far-between.  On the odd occasion I might greet someone along my street but not to the same degree as that here in Rwanda.  I cannot walk out of my house without my name, or ‘muzungu’ being hollered at me followed by frantic waving and endless smiles and laughter.  My 5 minutes walk to work often takes more than 15 minutes with all the stopping, shaking hands, how are yous, peace and other generalities passed between the community.  To some, I may still be ‘muzungu’, but I am THEIR muzungu, the Cyahinda Muzungu…and if I’m lucky, ‘Mary.’  (The name 'May' still confuses them!)

Last night, I walked home from work in the rain.  It was the fastest and most private journey I’ve had.  Despite feeling warmed by the endless greetings I receive here, the attention can be tiresome.  There are often days where I long for the anonymity and conservativeness of London walking, where I can walk around without being stared at or followed by a gaggle of children – where I am no different to the next Joe Bloggs.  Yesterday, I had just that – the road was deserted due to the rain and it was only until I reached the centre where people were huddled beneath the shelter of the shop roof when the staring begun…although this time, I’m sure they were probably thinking that I was a crazy muzungu to be walking in the rain!  It was somewhat liberating, I was well prepared for the rain – rain mac, wellies, umbrella…if I got wet it was no biggy.  It’s strange how unprepared people here are when it comes to the rain, considering Rwanda has 2 rainy seasons where heavy rainfall occurs for practically 6 months of the year, (if not more,) you’d think people would be used to traveling in it by now.  Although understandably you may not wish to do so as it is the rain that soaks you to the bone within seconds of standing in it…

So I’ve been here for near on 17 months now.  2 more to go.  I extended my contract by one month, as I wanted to stay to at least the end of the school term (at the beginning of April.)  I only feel now that my work is beginning to bear fruit and people are more receptive to the ideas I’ve suggested or even seeking advice for change – it does feel a little too late but I’m sure, no matter how long I stayed, I’d always feel this way – that there is always more to be done.  Yes, I’ve only just scratched the surface but at least the ball is rolling now.  Teachers see a need for change and progression; I just hope a replacement is found for me soon as the project funding runs out in March 2016.  On that note, if anyone is reading this and is interested in volunteering in Rwanda, there are several positions open at the moment with a one-year commitment…check out www.vso.org.uk if you’re interested – truly worthwhile!

So what’s my next move?

In all honesty, I don’t know.  I have an interest in development work in education now and I still love teaching.  I’d love to do an MA in Children’s Literature but the cost of that is way beyond what I can afford right now – so that may have to wait.  It’s slightly depressing to think that I can sponsor someone here to complete their BA for less than a month’s salary back home and yet I can’t even afford to do a term/semester of an MA in England!  Well, I’m sure if God is willing – it will happen.  So my conundrum is the type of job that I should be applying for right now.  I think going back into teaching would be the most logical, after all, that’s what I’m trained to do and love but with the constant curriculum and policy changes, the paperwork and stresses, I just don’t know if that’s what I want to return to.  I know EVERY job has its gripes and strains – I guess anything is possible with God’s strength and guidance…we’ll see, watch this space I suppose.

New Year's Resolutions (NYR)

Is it too late to make New Year's Resolutions?

For many years now, I have not made any NYR, probably because I either forget them or just never stick to them.  I remember for a few years running, I had a ‘bring someone to Christ’ resolution – I began with praying for that person and asking God to bring someone into their lives to share the love of Jesus with them, then realised that I should be praying that that person be me. 

I’m not an evangelist by nature and I feel uncomfortable with the notion that ‘I know better’ because in truth, I don’t.  So instead of constantly ‘telling’ people about Christ, I just lived my life as to how I believe/d was in line with the Bible and His ways – and should someone ask I would happily tell them about Christ in my life – or I would casually mention ‘my faith’ as a reason for doing/living a certain way just to start the ball rolling.  Doubt always played/plays heavily on my mind - but doubt is not the same as regret and I have not regretted decisions I've made.  Hindsight is a beautiful thing.  In every mistake or ‘poor choice’ I made, grace brought be back to who Christ is and made something out of what was seemingly undoable - and those testiments are easy to share because to me, they're solid examples of God working in me/us.   I don’t believe I was gifted with the art of preaching and that’s what always scared me in talking about God to others.  Miraculously, God always gave me the words when the occasion arose – so perhaps I should be praying for more occasions?    

I only know of one person that I prayed for actually coming to Christ – I’m not entirely sure about the rest, maybe I should never give up on praying for them?  Maybe that should be my NYR?  Watch out non-believing friends – I may not be actively talking about Christ with you, but it doesn’t mean that I’m not praying for you!  Scared?  You should be!

On a less sinister sounding note – here are a few pictures of my celebrations of the year-end and the start of the new year…

Christmas in Rusizi, W. Rwanda, by Lake Kivu - some of the ladies in their African fabric dresses

Secret Santa participants - a mixture of VSO volunteers and family/friends of volunteers

Lake Kivu with DRC on the other side

Inzu Lodge, Gisenyi - The top of Lake Kivu 

If you're getting a sense of 'de ja vu' - well that's because I celebrated Christmas and NY in Rusizi and Gisenyi last year too!  But then I did something a bit different...

I headed to Musanze and met with a few volcanoes.

This is Sabyinyo - one of the 5 volcanoes in Rwanda.  I climbed this to see...

Yes, a chameleon...no, I trekked for an hour to find...

...mountain (silver-back) gorillas

This is the moment when a mother gorilla came charging down the hill and sat behind me with her baby - "just sit still" was the advice of our guide and, "no photos" - obviously not heeded by one of my travel companions (thankfully!)

So the year has begun well - a little over 2 months left of my time here, time is passing me by far too quickly.  What to do next?!?

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.