Another thought on Rwanda: Just think of the children

Alex and I came to the same conclusion that children are the same, no matter where you go.

They will always find something to make into a game, something that will invoke easy giggles and playful glee. They will always be mischievous, reaching for the forbidden extra cookie or “bon bon” when they think they can get away with it. And like my mom once wrote to me, will always react to the universal language of laughter, running and play, even when that is the only language at hand to be shared. For me, this is one of the most reassuring and one of the most depressing aspects of coming to this country. Reassuring because this shows that, despite the horrific history of genocide, the children truly embody a new generation of humanity and innocence, vital factors that echo on in national reparation. Depressing because at the same time that innocence is so fragile, and humanity so easily manipulated. The children we worked with this week were so reminiscent of the children at any type of day-camp back home. You had that token young little boy, seven years old, who had more energy then the rest of them who immediately blacklisted himself as the “trouble maker”. You had the group of older girls, around 9 and 10, who glued themselves to the female leaders under various forms of adoration. You had the young girl who you noticed later was the outcast of her peer group. You had the older “cool boys” who were surprisingly mature and kind. There were young leaders, artists, athletes (mostly soccer stars! ask Alex…), singers, fighters, and those who were just content to sit on your lap all day.

In my amature opinion, this country the children are in is like a phoenix being reborn from the ashes, although the rebirth is proving to be far from easy. It is going through its growing pains where I discovered that people declare there is no such thing as Hutu and Tutsi, only “Rwandan”, all while there are still whispers of patriotism towards those past so called ethnic groups. While this country appears to be the most stable of all Africa, there are still wisps of mistrust in the air.

Which, considering what happened 14 years ago, makes logical sense.

All around as you travel throughout Rwanda you see the same professional framed portrait of President Paul Kagame, signifying the new age of this country, while all throughout the same country you see men in pink and orange, stark reminders of a not so distant dark past. Digging ditches, planting grass blade by blade (there are no sod farms around here), building new homes for those in poverty and cleaning the streets, these are the Rwandan inmates, most arrested for various acts of terror during the genocide. You can’t easily escape a past where murderers once consisted of almost half the entire country’s adult population… Apparently the government was once criticized for taking advantage of their inmates, by using them as free laborers, but the government’s response was by saying “it was by the hands of these men that this country has fallen, and it will be by the help of their hands that it will be rebuilt”.

Touché.

That makes logical sense too. Despite the whispers, this country appears to be on a positive track.

Then we happened upon a Belgian man, one of the past historical colonizers of this country (and as such we were told not to respect much of what he had to say), and he told me things that the rational mind still had to consider. Take for example, the genocide inmates themselves. Their time in the prison is dictated by a trial known as “gacaca” (pronounced ga-cha-cha) during which they give testimony to all their genocidal crimes and are judged accordingly. The men are supposed to be kept separate post trial so they are not given a chance to plan any false stories together, thus making their testimonies genuine. When I talked with the Belgian man he told me a broken story about how one of his coworkers who had been a refugee of the genocide was recently arrested and sent to prison because one of the prisoners had a grudge on his family and falsely accused him of various atrocities during his turn at the gacaca. The man is still currently incarcerated under these untrue pretenses. The Belgian man also said that in all three years of his stay in Rwanda, the speech that the President gave during the victory day celebration [commemorating the end of the genocide] has changed. At first the speech honored the massacred Tutsi and moderate Hutus, which is indeed politically correct, but has evolved today into a speech solely honoring the Tutsi from the Hutu predators. The man told us that he fears that the government has some sort of hero complex, taking the honor and glory they achieved freeing this country and using it to stay in parliamentary power. Even the upcoming elections he said are not entirely democratic, because each of the running parties came from the original RPF (Rwandan Patriotic Front) Party, the same as the current government.

This could be absolute hearsay.

This is after all, coming from a Belgian.

But it still makes one ponder. Paul Kagame has done some amazing things for this country, making it a true modern day spectacle. The country is still after all going through its growing pains. And let’s face it, no place, no justice system, is perfect, right?

Now again I think about the children, caught up and born into this modern day intrigue of identity reform. I think about the smiling faces at day-camp, and about how the children are so quick to draw their new Rwandan flag on any available piece of paper, and colour everything from the flag to zebras and giraffes in their national Rwandan colours of blue, yellow and green. We sang their national anthem every morning of day-camp, it was long and intricate, and they knew every word of it. And we have adult volunteers from Canada with us who don’t know how to sing O’ Canada. What is to happen to these children in the next coming years? What is to happen in this country? I think of the prospects for children back home… of course not every child back home has it perfect there. For example issues that rise out of things such as divorce, neglect and low incomes could easily make the lives of Canadian and Rwandan children equally comparable in terms of the quality of childhood life. Yet the government’s invisible hand isn’t something that can be so easily ignored. Canadian children, while not always given the most privileged home lives, still live in a politically stable country. There is no overhanging history of mass death and complete evil, no potential to inherit fears of what your countrymen are capable of or what your relatives have done or endured. No knowledge that your widowed mother is ill a lot of the time because she was raped purposely by a man who had AIDS and now she was infected. No knowledge that your widowed mother’s friend had scars on back because she was attacked with a knives while defending her family and had to play dead for days, only to wake later find her family dead around her. No knowledge on what it would have been like to have a father, or brothers and sisters, because they were brutally slaughtered with machetes. No knowledge of what it would be like growing up an orphan because your parents were killers and disappeared after the war.

I don’t know what’s up next for this generation. But I have grown to love them. Their smiling and laughing young faces will be forever be imbedded into my mind. Their unshed tears ingrained in my memory (the children here rarely cry, even after the most bloody gash is received during day-camp and then painfully cleaned with hydrogen peroxide). Pray for the children and orphans of Rwanda! Pray for the widows who bare scars both physically and mentally. And pray for a country trying to be reborn and find its identity in today’s world. For all intents and purposes, the country seems like it’s on the right track, pray with me that it does not get de-railed and that these children can grow up with endless opportunity and peace on the horizon.

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In the meantime this week marks our last FULL week in Rwanda, and Alex and I are still loving every moment of it. Again, thanks for the e-mails and comments! We love you guys and can't wait to see you and share these experiences in person.

Thoughts Pt. 1

In reviewing our chronicles from Rwanda, I realize that with our trip winding down we have yet to include much on our perceptions and impressions of this country and its beautiful people. So late last night (at 2am) when I couldn’t get to sleep I decided I would try and put some of those impressions down on ‘paper’ for you, I succeeded in only covering two. During our upcoming week of holidays (the center is closed for the next week) I will try and cover some of the topics which have touched us the most including joy, hospitality, stewardship, God, the genocide and reconciliation. Hopefully you enjoy the perspective, although somewhat harsh and overly sarcastic these late night rants are simply that: rants. Let us know your thoughts and comments, good and bad.

Joy (Why are Africans so damned happy?)

A shot in the dark…

In North America material goods seem to fixate us, we seek to fulfill ourselves with that new thing (gadget, gizmo, girl/guy, job, business idea, etc.). The fast pace of North American life and the consumer culture that exists teaches us to search for that next new thing, that next fixation that will make us happy. But alas… this too shall pass. The luster fades and we are left wanting, looking for that next shiny new thing to give us joy, meaning and hold our ADHD, gnat-sized attention span for a couple more minutes until something ‘new’ comes along. In Africa, a threefold combination of a slower pace of life, a lack of consumer culture and a lack of disposable income to feed this consumer culture necessitates a alternate mind frame. Instead of retreating into our own world of computers, gadgets, gizmos, books or TV, people (real people, not virtual people) meet together in real life (not some video game called Sims that simulates real life, but actual real, physical life) and engage in something called relationship. In relationship, people talk about life, the weather, sports, religion, the world, everything and anything. Relationships give Africans meaning and joy because people are the only thing that is present in abundance here. In Africa, meals spent together with the family are a given since most don’t have enough money to eat elsewhere and most only eat one meal a day. Elders are respected for their past contributions and knowledge and Grandparents live out their years as loved members of the family, minimum security old-folk prisons don’t exist here yet (but they are coming soon to an African city near you). In short, the warm smiles (not the forced kind that you make when you meet people for the first time because mom always told you to be polite and smile) we see here in Africa are because people are the most valuable resource and the most exciting new thing is a new friend or a new story from an old one.

Hospitality (I guess they don’t like money here!)

One thing that has blown us away here in Rwanda is the hospitality of Rwandans. For Rwandans, hospitality is an honor (not a chore). Friends visit each other without warning and sometimes without even knocking and someone you’ve only met once for 2 minutes will invite you to come visit them at their home, full well expecting you to come and visit them (not just extending an invitation as formality or pleasantry). A woman whose name I didn’t know and whose face I didn’t recognize invited me and Felix (another volunteer) over to her house as we were walking down the street to a friend’s house. Since we were already on our way to visit our friend we politely asked to take a raincheck (hoping she would drop the subject) as we began to part ways. She pressed us for a date and time and practically dragged us another 3 blocks to ensure that we knew where her house was so we could come visit. She really wanted to be our host. Two days later when we went to visit her at her home, we sat in her living room with her teenaged sons as she quickly ran to a nearby store to spend a day’s earnings on Fantas and Cokes for her sons and guests. When her son’s friend showed up unannounced she forwent her own and gave her Fanta to him instead. After an hour and a couple laughs, our visit was through and she prayed a heartfelt prayer. She thanked God for her guests’ (what a privilege!) and prayed for our safety and then on our way out the door, insisted that we return again sometime with our significant others (maybe she doesn’t like money?!?). This type of behavior seems odd, even ridiculous, to me and probably most of you, but here it’s typical. A lot of this probably has to do with the importance of people and relationship see joy. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that they value relationship and people so much that hosting is an honor because the guests are in turn saying “you matter to me, you are important” simply by taking the time to visit. This flies in the face of our North American attitudes of hosting and family visits being a mostly unpleasant occasion reserved for holidays or other select special occasions. I mean most of us like to see family and friends, just not that much, we can wait until that wedding in October or maybe Christmas. And hosting… it defiantly falls short of being an honor.

P.S. On a lighter note: JoAnna and I are doing well and will spend the next couple of days unwinding from day camp here in Kigali. On Tuesday we plan to go to Gisenyi (a beach/resort town) for a couple days and then will return to Kigali to spend our last weekend in Africa here.

We wish you well and love you all,

Alex and JoAnna

Whose idea was it to see the monkey’s anyway?

Actually, we all thought it was a good idea at first. Seeing as this past weekend was the last weekend myself, Alex, and volunteers Marie-Eve and Felix (from Quebec) had to spend together. And we had it planned great from the start! Wake up early Saturday morning so we can catch a bus that would take us from the village to Kigali so we could catch another bus that left from Kigali to Cyangugu (the place from which we’d leave to see the chimps, a 7 hour drive) at 8:00 am. From there things were to just, well, fall into place!

Unfortunately things did not quite work out that way.

While we did make it to the bus stop in Kigali by 7:45, we missed the early bus and had to book tickets for the next one that left at 12:30. We burned four hours walking around the city and then stuffed ourselves at the back of a very snug bus. So snug in fact that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to vomit profusely. Which is something I needed to do (and did…) a good 3 hours into the trip. And there were still 3 hours to go! God knows that was one of the longest 3 hours of my life… The roads were windier than an over excited snake doing the wave and the colossal ruts in the road made one wonder whether it just suffered an attack from a passing meteor shower. Such conditions made it difficult for one who suffered motion sickness to keep smiling, that is for sure! And poor Alex. It was a long 3 hours for him too (having to deal with me that is)…

That night, when we finally made it to Cyangugu we easily found our hotel (Hotel Du Lac) then uneasily remembered that we didn’t know how we were going to go from the city to the national park, Nyungwe, a 1.5 hour drive away. We happened upon a Belgian man in the restaurant at the hotel and he kindly offered to drive us to the park at 9 am the next morning. Too late to see the chimps (as we would need to be at the park by 5am) but in time to see other primates (like the famous Rwandan Colobus monkeys). So we took the man up on his offer, and set out the next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed (a hot shower in the morning can put anyone in a good mood, especially if it’s the first warm shower in over two weeks)! At the park we were greeted with the spectacular view of the Nyungwe Rainforest. The smell was humid and comforting as the decaying leaves of the forest floor melded in with the many flowers and leaves from the towering trees and luscious ferns. The sounds of buzzing insects and chirping birds were sporadically interrupted by monkey howls and we eagerly anticipated to get a glimpse of the monkey’s ourselves. We hired a guide who took us deep into the forest (on trail and off) and gradually met up with a tracker who led us to the Colobus monkeys. Roughly the length of your arm (their tail being the length of your other arm) the monkeys are completely black save for a white “mane” around their faces and a white tipped tail. Their babies are born completely white, and we saw some mamas holding their babies as well. Usually this group of Colobus monkeys travel in a family of around 400 but we met with much fewer. Our guide explained that earlier that morning the chimps attacked (the Colobus monkey’s number one predator) and as a survival tactic the monkeys scatter. We saw the scattered Colobus monkeys! And they were amazing! Unfortunately, the camera we brought with us says that it has a zoom function, but at this point we know better. It doesn’t zoom. This is definitely the one regret we have about this trip. Note to everyone out there planning on taking a trip to somewhere exotic: take with you a GOOD camera! (with lots of spare batteries, we didn’t bring those either. My bad. Seriously.) So believe us when we say we saw the monkeys! Because we definitely didn’t get any clear shots of them.

So the hike in Nyungwe was wonderful, we saw beautiful scenery and a lot of monkeys. And then it was time to get back to base, and oh yeah, figure out how we were going to get back to Kigali… Later Alex confided to me that he was praying the entire hike back to the base that we would find transport back to Kigali, and that he didn’t see much of the forest on the return trip. What a guy. After some intense moments we randomly met up with a group of medical exchange students (from all sorts of places like Canada, Norway, Denmark…) and they kindly allowed us to squeeze into the bus that they rented, as the bus’ final destination was Kigali, even though the student’s themselves weren’t going there. God is good! While the ride from the park to Kigali theoretically takes four hours in actuality it was over five. I suppose it makes sense that the bus driver would want to stop at every single available spot to fill up a bus emptied by medical students, and stop at every small town and village between the park and Kigali… But it made for us another exhausting trip. But fortunately for me, there was no motion sickness…

We originally wanted to plan a weekend that was relaxing, set with a hotel and a beach, since the previous week was exhausting with day camp (which Alex informed you about last week) but then somebody suggested seeing the monkeys…

But in the end I’m so glad we went. I mean, we went to a rainforest! Something my childhood dreams were made out of. But seeing as we’re still needing some R and R, Alex and I don’t think we’re going to go to Tanzania next weekend now because we know for a fact that travel across the border is going to be a gong show… And we want a relaxing weekend at a hotel with a beach… Because this week is going to be another exhausting (but rewarding, don’t get me wrong!) week with day camp.

By the way, I think it was Felix’s idea to see the monkeys…

Day Camp

So this week marked the beginning of day camp. The organization that runs the center also funds a school near the village where many of the mothers of the center send their children. Currently however it is summer holidays and the kids are out of school for the next couple of weeks while their mother's (many single mom's widowed by the genocide) continue to work at the center. So, JoAnna and I, along with a young Quebecois couple are planning and running a day camp for the 100+ children. Tuesday was our first day and thankful there is no camp on friday because as you can imagine the math is pretty simple: 100 kids + 4 leaders = mass chaos. Thankfully, the Quebecois couple came somewhat prepared to run a day camp and brought with them some supplies, but even still those supplies run short quickly. With a mix of sports, games, crafts, art and music we manage to keep the children entertained for the majority of the time and they have been having a lot of fun. Thankfully, for my sanity, I only help during the afternoons because I am still giving english lessons during the mornings and running other errands as a chauffeur (as driving licenses are hard to come across in this country). The english lessons have been great and the women are eager to learn and are learning quickly. JoAnna however has been facing the insanity head-on morning and afternoon. This weekend we will travel to a popular beach and relax with some other volunteers and then return to continue the camp for one more week. Hopefully the camp will culminate in a fiesta for the kids complete with Piniata and a potluck supper to follow for their families. While we are only half through our time here, we can already sense that our stay will have been too short, with us leaving good friends and many opportunities behind. Thanks again for those who have been leaving comments along the way, they are very much apprecuiated, it's always good to know family and friends are doing well.

We love you all, take care and God bless,

Alex and Jo

Peter....

The name means rock and here in Rwanda we’ve met a man named Peter whose vision, like his name, is rock solid … although he can’t even see. Peter is a blind man here in the village with which we have had the opportunity to spend some considerable time together with. Three times a week, I pick him and some older ladies up from the village in a mini-bus and bring them to the center when Peter (or Pierre) gives them massage therapy to alleviate their aches and pains. In addition to that, I also go to his house for an hour or so every Tuesday and Thursday night to give he and his wife (who is also blind) English lessons. In Canada, maybe Peter’s story wouldn’t be so remarkable and what he is doing may not have so easily captured my attention, but here in Rwanda, he is an extremely remarkable man. One day while accompanying Peter to an internet-café so I could help him check his e-mail, I noticed nearly everyone we passed was staring at us. I assumed that like most stares I’ve received here, that it was because I was white (a muzungu) or perhaps because people thought it strange that I was a white man holding a black man’s hand. While that might have been part of the reason, Peter later told me that it was likely because he was blind and I am white. The blind, like many other physically handicapped people in Rwanda (and many other parts of Africa), are considered invalids and most resort to a life of begging to get by. They get no special funding from the government to help accommodate their needs and many are orphaned at a young age. What makes Peter so remarkable to me is his unwavering determination not to fall into the status quo of the handicapped in Africa, especially considering the relatively few resources he has to fight that fight. Aside from an old 1950’s Braille machine that he and his wife share and their walking canes, they have no special tools or resources to help them navigate a world not made for them. No seeing eye dogs, no Braille computer or accommodated living, he and his wife live alone with their two children (one of them an adopted blind-girl that was orphaned at birth) in a house like just about everyone else’s here. They are Rwanda’s first blind couple, two of the very few blind people in Africa living independently and two of the even fewer university educated blind in Africa. Centre de la Paix or The Peace Center is his vision. A centre, much like the Centre Cesar (at which we are working right now), that helps empower some of societies most vulnerable, but instead of empowering widows and orphans, empowering the handicapped of Africa. A center where the handicapped could be educated on how to live independently and learn skills to help them earn a living apart from begging. By empowering them, he also aims to change the perception of the disabled in Africa, to see them given the same rights as the able bodied. Peter faces a long battle to see his vision fulfilled and unfortunately he believes he will never see the change he envisions without the fulltime dedicated help of a westerner or western world based N.G.O. “The widows and orphans of the Umudugudu-Imena (the village we are living in) had no hope before Ubuntu and Maman Nicole (the Rwanda-based president of Ubuntu that runs operations here), the disabled and blind of Rwanda need their own Maman Nicole” he told me. This past week he won one small battle, convincing the government to hook his house up to the city water system, a system that very few people have access to. In the meantime, we’ll try to help Peter however we can during our time here and for the moment that means learning English. When I asked him why he wanted to learn English, I expected him to say that it was because Rwanda is becoming an Anglicized country, having applied for membership in the Commonwealth and already having left La Francophonie several years ago. Instead, his motivation was in line with his vision, “I want to learn English so that I can show Rwanda and Rwandans alike that I am as able as they are”.

Love,

Alex and Jo

Giraffes and impalas and hippos, oh my

Yes, we were lucky yesterday and were able to see plenty of animals while on a Safari in the Eastern part of Rwanda. We woke up early and traveled to Akagera National Park (which borders Tanzania) with Igor (one of the founders of Ubuntu) and 4 other Canadian volunteers. It was great fun. We started our trek with a half hour of seeing nothing but bush and trees. We then came upon a group of giraffes and from there things picked up significantly. We went on to see Impalas and several other species of antelope, as well as baboons, different birds and several hippos. It was beautiful; the animals were incredible. After about 4-5 hours of safari we went to a fancy hotel within the park for some lunch and then began our journey back. On our way back we stopped briefly to have a soda at a lakeside bar and then made our way back to Kigali. As we traveled to an from Akagera through the Rwandan countryside, the realities of life here continue to set in. The countryside is poor relative to Kigali and some live in considerable poverty. More and more as we spend more time here we begin to see the reality of life in Africa and especially here in Rwanda. Some of what we see is encouraging but other aspects are at times quite depressing. I am thankful that we are staying in a village amongst the locals here, it opens our eyes to many things we would otherwise not see had we been staying in a hotel like many other western travelers. But more on that stuff later. We are doing good and enjoying our time here, although I am becoming somewhat homesick. I think maybe I am becoming sick of being a spectacle. Everywhere we go we are looked at, at times mocked and at other times prodded for money by little kids who know no English other than to ask for money. It really makes one sympathetic for the challenges immigrants (especially visible minorities) face in Canada and elsewhere. In short, I guess I long to be normal, to fit in. I'll get over it just fine I'm sure. That being said, we are developing great relationships with people here. People within the community, women and men who work at the center and other volunteers as well. We are healthy, for the most part. JoAnna is battling a cold from not sleeping well during the night and I managed to get some good sunburn on my shoulders. Other than those little tidbits, we are doing great. We hope all of you are doing well and JoAnna and I send our love to all of you. In the next day or so we will be setting-up a Photobucket account for you all to see pictures of our journey as it continues.

Thanks for your comments and love,

Alex and JoAnna

First week (almost gone...)

Mirewa! (pronounced “milli-way”) That’s hello in Kinyarwanda! We’re trying like crazy to learn some of the local language, and I must say that Alex is having better progress at it than I am. I think that is because I’m trying to learn some French as well which is just making things messy… But its a lot of fun! It is now Friday afternoon here at the Center and today is a holiday, so there is nobody else here with us besides the volunteers and the boys. We’re all relaxing after having spent the morning and early afternoon down in the village watching the Victory Day presentations. Yes, the holiday being celebrated today is called Victory Day! Celebrating the RPF’s reclamation of Rwanda, officially ending the genocide. We stood among the locals to watch men and women dancing and singing, various musical presentations and speeches, including one we think that was a radio broadcast from the President (Paul Kagame). It was amazing. The presentations also served to help put into perspective the genocide aftermath as a whole. Yesterday Alex, myself and some of the Center staff went to the Genocide Memorial in Kigali. It took us about 3 hours to get through the entire memorial, a very emotional 3 hours. Words cannot begin to describe the atrocities we read, listened to and viewed. We came prepared with tissues, and they were used. The memorial took us through the historical context of the events that lead up to the genocide, we read about Romeo Delair, the now President Kagame, and many others. The memorial took us through the genocide itself, with images and descriptions of what I believe to be a literal Hell on Earth. And then, to make things all the more real, we found ourselves in a silent room filled with skulls and bones of 50 or so of the victims, where in the background there was a voice in a hidden stereo listing their names… after name after name after name… Next we found ourselves upstairs in rooms dedicated to the children, of those whose futures were stolen…
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It was rough.
In terms of the layout of the memorial itself, everything was presented in a very artful, very respectful manner, also not only talking about the Rwandan Genocide but in the end touching on other historical events of genocide including the Holocaust, the Armenians, Cambodia, Bosnia and others.
Following our trip to the memorial we went to a “mall” to get ourselves some supper (burgers and fries! comfort food I suppose…), where we discussed the day’s events. After our supper, with our moods substantially lightened, we went to a little out-door night club tucked in the hills of Kigali where we met with one of the founders of the Center and his friends. We talked about Rwanda, its progress and all in all had a great time. So much fun in fact, we didn’t make it back to the village to go to bed until 2 AM! Good times… Tomorrow we’re all meeting together first thing in the morning to go on a little Safari where we can hopefully see some savannah animals. We’re very excited!
We hope this new post finds you all well! As I’m writing this my computer tells me that its 8:45 AM in High River and here its 4:45 PM. Crazy!!
Much love
Jo and Al

T.I.A

"THIS IS AFRICA". This was the explanation my fellow Canadian volunteer was given to explain the somewhat shocking state of affairs here. It's become somewhat of a running joke for JoAnna and I when we see things we would otherwise describe as a "gongshow". Yes we are safely in Rwanda, we sorry that we have deprived our mothers and grandmothers sleep over the past couple of nights but yes we are here safe and sound and in a internet cafe to boot. Like most of our travelling thus far, our arrival to Africa was not without incident. Our flight went well and was actually quite enjoyable, the service was good and so was the food. After clearing customs and gathering our baggage, we entered the receptional hall and scanned the room for any fellow Muzungus (swahili for "white person"). While there were a handful of muzungus and a dozen or so signs, we had problems finding our host, Maman Nicole, a short white lady with red hair. We searched the signs and looked some more but to no avail. "Maybe she is waiting for us outside we though?". We walked outside to be greeted by only more black faces and brown eyes. It hit home for the first time then that we are minorities here (for the first time in our lives) and an unwelcome one judging by some people's glares. We waited another 20 minutes or so and continued to search again with no luck. "Has she forgotten about us?" Finally we decided to make a phone call. We approached the information center and I inquired in french if there was a pay phone nearby and if so what change it took. They looked at me puzzeled and after repeating my question asked if we had a cell phone. No, we sure didn't. After some further talking we learned that pay phones don't exist only cell phones. After a brief moment of looking shocked, dissapointed and hopeless, one of the ladies at the desk offered to let us use her cell phone if we purchased a "calling card". We then pulled out JoAnna's laptop and searched the internet for Ubuntu's phone number. Thank God is was there! We wrote down the number and then proceeded to call. Maman Nicole answered sounding dazed. "You're here! JoAnna told me you wee coming yesterday, so I waited all night last night at the airport, I'll be there in 20 minutes." Half an hour later she arrived and pilled into her jeep. We drove to the Centre Cesar, were shown our rooms for the night and slept. Abuzz with anticipation of seeing our new home in the sunlight I awoke at 5am to take it in. The next morning we were shown our accomadations for the next two weeks, a small room in a small house belonging to a muslim widow named Ziada. She is very lively and nice but unfortunately only speaks Kinyarwanda, so we make do with what little words in French she knows and what little Kinyarwandese we have learned. She laughs at us when we try to communicate with her, it's pretty cute. That day we spent travelling the city shopping and visiting the market. It suffices to say that the market is T.I.A. (an absolute gong-show). Rows upon rows of people selling flour, eggs, vegetables, fruit, live chickens and another section that looks like a Value Village and Canadian Tire combined... if a tornado ran through it. Make-shift walls covered in clothes and others in wardware store-type bits, pieces of PVC pipe, pails, shovels, whatever. It was an experience. Monday was our first day working the widows. We spent the morning organizing and preparing the food bank at the center by bagging flour, sugar, beans, rice and other diet staples and during the afternoon I left to go to the airport with Igor, the organizations Canadian co-President. He is the son of Rwandan refugees and a Rwandan Prince (of the old monarchy). Although most of his family and relatives that stayed in Rwanda were killed during the genocide he is still related to many Tutsi that survived or have returned following the diaspora. He is truly an amazing and interesting individual, he speeks 7 languages fluently and although he lives in Edmonton, he has travelled the world over working as a diplomat trying to bring foreign business to Rwanda to strengthen its economy. He and I spent the day at the airport trying to get new industrial sewing machines for the center through customs. Only took a total of nearly 7 hours! Again, T.I.A. JoAnna spent her day talking to the volunteers and widows and taking things in. Today (tuesday), we were able to distribute our gifts to the widows and workers at the center. They were so grateful and excited for the makeup that we brough for them (thanks to Christina and Ryan) and boys who work at the mechanics shop were so excited for the gloves I brough from my work. Slowly we are beginning to connect with the people here. To develop currency, as my friend Aaron would say. We are slowly learing Kinyarwandese and those we pass in the street are delighted when we say "hello" and "how are you" in their native tongue. The people here are extremely nice and friendly although mostly intially very reserved. The food here is very good and so is the beer (I had my first taste with Igor while waiting for customs to move along). Slowly we will begin to find our purpose here. So far, I will teach the widows here English for an hour eachday, so that hopefully they can learn to carry a basic conversation, I am also teaching a boy who works at the center (Maman Nicole's adopted son) how to use the computer and I will also be a chauffeur (talking volunteers and elderly women where they need to go). JoAnna is still trying to find her place but it will be likely helping with music or art. We are starting to befriend some of the young children here in the village and are excited about what the future holds. Until next time.

Alex and Jo