2019 Rwanda Delegation: Lucas Colon
June 23, 2019
Final Thoughts
OK.
It’s been a week since I arrived back home. I’ve takin my last malaria pill, unpacked all my souvenirs, done laundry, and gotten caught up on sleep (and posting all my blogs from the trip).
And…adjusting back is hard. I miss the constant flow of activity. I miss the coffee. I miss people being overly friendly and excited to see everyone, no matter the day or time. And I even miss the dance circles…
This trip has fundamentally changed me. I’ve taken so much back (besides coffee) - the lessons of forgiveness. The sheer joy of sharing a story to eager listeners. The crafters. The polite (but firm!) bartering from the market. I feel motivated to share all these experiences, to compile them into something other than a blog and share it with as many people as possible, but I’m not quite sure how.
I play piano a lot now that I’m back. I have a feeling that my experiences will somehow transform their way into something musical. I can feel my creative juices (that have been stagnant ever since my hectic final semester at school) starting to flow again. I have been tasked with sharing my experiences and stories at the annual Anne Frank Project Social Justice Festival this fall - I feel confident that I will have something amazing to share there.
And this blog has been a lot of fun. Though uploads have been random and VERY inconsistent, the act of writing something every day has helped me process this experience in a much more efficient manner than trying to remember everything through photos. I’m happy I wrote down my thoughts, especially for the moments that I didn’t take photographs, or had feelings that would have been forgotten days later. It stands as a testament to all that I was able to experience and accomplish in the incredible, remarkable country of Rwanda.
June 23, 2019
Safari
We’re almost finished with our trip! We depart tomorrow. There was was still one final thing to do - our last activity before departure was a safari. This had been deliberately saved for the last day of our trip, as a sort of farewell activity. I was very excited to get started!!
Our group split into two and embarked on a six hour safari tour in the northern jungles of Rwanda. We drove in some VERY sophisticated safari jeeps, which offered lots of passenger comforts for the six hour journey. They contained functioning power outlets next to every seat, a raised roof, lots of space for our stuff, enormous windows, and impressively, a working refrigerator in the back!
We saw a surprisingly large amount of animals, giraffes, hippos, elephants, and zebras. They all seemed indifferent to the safari vehicles, often standing directly on the main roadway. The zebras, in particular, seemed reluctant to move from their groups on the side of the road. We observed a rather unique habit among the zebras - they liked to rest their heads on each other’s backs. My vehicle joked that they really “had each other’s backs". It was remarkable how wide open the park was. After driving for a mere ten minutes, you could stand up, look outside the safari vehicle, and imagine that the landscape went on for thousands of miles, uninterrupted. It wasn’t nearly as quiet out here as it was on the chimpanzee trek, but it was satisfyingly peaceful.
Perhaps it was fitting that on our last full day in Rwanda, we did a lot of talking. Between animal sightings (which could sometimes be a significant length of time), our group chatted. We talked about our childhoods (and argued WAY too much over what the Victorious TV theme sounded like). We reflected on the trip, and how much we’d all grown. We discussed life. It was rather sobering to realize that some of us would have to go back to our regular lives in a few days, on opposite ends of the continent. Some of us wouldn’t see each other for a VERY long time, maybe ever. No one outright mentioned this, but it seemed like it weighted heavily on our minds as we chatted.
Upon our return, I was completely coated in dust (which I kind of deserved, I’d been standing, with the dust blowing in my face for the majority of the ride). I looked like Pigpen from Peanuts. One of my strongest memories from today is everyone laughing and the smiles on everyone’s faces from my unkempt appearance. It’s a good memory that I’ll cherish for a while (and not just from the ridiculous photograph of me).
June 23, 2019
Coffee
I’ve blogged quite a bit about Rwandan food. So far everything has been amazing - perfectly seasoned root vegetables, delicious and savory meats, and incredibly flavorful drinks. However, there’s one beverage I haven’t had the opportunity to taste as much as I would like, and that’s coffee. That would change today - we were going to visit a free trade coffee shop, and learn about the various types of coffee found in Rwanda.
Around mid-afternoon we visited the coffee shop. It was impressively upscale, akin to a fancy coffee shop in the US. The smell of coffee was deep, rich, and intoxicating - I almost believed you could get caffeinated off the smell alone. I didn’t need to worry about that though, as there was plenty of coffee for sale. I quickly ordered a plain black coffee to satisfy my craving for caffeine.
I barely had time to take a sip before our delegation was ushered into a smaller room for a master class in coffee tasting. We sampled coffee from five different regions of Rwanda - North, South, East, West, and Central. We were told to rate them on a chart based on numerous factors, including bitterness, sweetness, aftertaste, mouth feel, etc. I never realized there were so many different factors that went into a good cup of coffee! It quickly made me realize that I’m a HUGE amateur when it comes to coffee drinking - there are so many subtleties that I was unable to identify (but I was still enjoying myself!)
Naturally, my bag was packed full with several bags of coffee after the experience. The hiking yesterday was my favorite experience by far, but this is taking a close second - and I have many gifts to distribute to my friends back home!!!
June 23, 2019
Hiking in a National Park
4AM this morning was one of my most anticipated moments of our trip - we were going to go hiking in one of Rwanda’s national parks! It was more than just hiking - this particular hike would be specifically trekking to see chimpanzees (hence the 4AM wakeup time). The prospect of seeing the chimpanzees was exciting to most of our delegation, but it was an added bonus to me - I was just excited to hike. Several others on our trip were concerned about this experience for various reasons - the early wakeup time, the uneven terrain, the length (we’d be in the jungle for several hours), but I was ready - I'd hiked a fair distance back home, as well as on my travels in Vancouver, and Europe - this was my favorite part of travel!!
We arrived at the national park at around 5AM. Our trek would take us deep into the jungle, so we didn’t start right from the entrance. Instead, we took a series of jeeps deep into the thickest part of the jungle. I'm sure we put their suspension to the test, as this was the bumpiest ride we’d encountered on our trip so far - and we were packed pretty tight in the vehicles, with four in the trunk (with no seat belts, naturally!).
Once we actually got into the forest, it got very quiet. Our guide informed us that the chimpanzees were extremely intelligent, and could hear us approaching from a fair distance away. I didn’t mind the silence. It gave me time to focus on the incredible landscape and scenery. Even as our guides ushered us off the beaten path and cleared us a walkway with machetes, I was enthralled with how bright and vivid all the colors were. Every shade of green imaginable shone through the trees, and there was a still, reverent quality to the forest as the sun rose. I got to take lots of pictures (I stayed near the front of the group most of the time, waiting for others to catch up).
We actually did see some chimpanzees, high in the forest canopy. They are LOUD, fast, and much bigger than I’d imagined. I was actually glad we didn’t see any on the forest floor, as it would have been terrifying! I didn’t get a chance to take photographs of the chimps, as they were too far away to get a decent shot, but seeing them is a memory I will treasure from this experience. At times it almost felt like they were observing us as much as we were observing them, and I was worried they might climb down from the trees for a closer look (though thankfully, none of them did)!
I appreciated the time we took to have a quiet trek through the forest. It was a good chance to rejuvenate, and have time to reflect on the natural beauty of Rwanda. Not everyone in our delegation felt the same way (especially as we hiked a few hours back uphill to the waiting vehicles), but I absolutely loved it. If I ever have the chance to travel back here, I want to spend most of my time hiking and trekking through the forest. I could easily have spent another week here!
June 23, 2019
Giving Gifts
Tonight I distributed a gift.
Background - the church I belong to in Buffalo (St. Joseph’s University Parish, UB North Campus) has a ministry that distributes shawls around the world to people in need. The ministry creates shawls (usually knitted or crocheted), prays over them as they are made, and then distributes them throughout the local community. Before I left for Rwanda, I had been tasked by this ministry to distribute a shawl in Rwanda - to find someone caring, loving, and deserving of one of these prayer shawls.
After visiting Urukundo and seeing the incredible work and service to the community they provided, I already knew that my shawl would go to someone there. For the past two days I also overheard Mama constantly remarking that she felt cold during the evenings - and I couldn’t imagine a more deserving person than her to take the shawl. So after devotions tonight, I presented it to her.
Mama looked fantastic in the shawl. It was an elegant, flowing, light green color (selected because of the color in the Rwandan flag) which suited her perfectly! She continued to wear the shawl after devotions, and several of the children followed her around, gently touching and commenting on its softness. It appears that gift will continue to be cherished for years to come!
June 22, 2019
7 a.m. Mass
Today I decided put aside my reservations about waking up early (and I have a LOT of reservations about waking up early) and go to church at 7AM. I was very lucky to have the opportunity to attend a Catholic service on Sunday - it just so happened that our delegation didn’t have anything planned, there was a church very close to our hotel, and Noel, our bus driver, agreed to take Lila and I there.
I didn’t take any pictures as I wanted to remain as respectful as possible. However, the church was gorgeous - a cavernous, reverent space. The seats were simple and plain benches, without backs or kneelers. I sat near the back, hoping to attract as little attention as possible, thinking maybe the service wouldn’t be full. However, the church was packed full to capacity, and Lila and I attracted many curious looks (as we were the only non-Rwandans there).
Despite not speaking any Kinyarwanda, it was incredible how much of the mass I was able to understand. Obviously I couldn’t understand the homily (where I found out that priests in Rwanda like to talk just as much as priests in Buffalo), but the opening prayers, Our Father, blessing of the Eucharist, and collections were basically identical to services in Buffalo. The bright spiritual music was also remarkably similar to the contemporary music ensemble at my home parish. It was a wonderful morning of joyful celebration!
June 22, 2019
Urukundo Teacher Training
Today was a big day. This was the day we got to share our story-based learning skills with local teachers - the main reason why we came to Rwanda in the first place. These were adults, teaching at very high-performing schools, and they were counting on us to give training and advice to help improve their classrooms. If I though there was pressure at the boy’s school earlier this week, that was nothing compared to today.
We arrived at Urukundo, Drew gave some opening remarks, and we introduced ourselves as a delegation. There were a LOT of teachers there to learn from us, many of whom had travelled a significant distance to be there. It felt like over a hundred, but realistically was probably closer to 75. Unlike the boys earlier in the week, not everyone seemed eager to be there, and I could tell my group might have to work a bit harder to get everyone on board with story-based learning.
Once we split up into our groups (my group was mostly made up of language teachers, especially English and French), we each took a classroom and ran through our exercises. The story-based exercises were basically ingrained in our bodies at this point in the trip, so distributing the information wasn’t terribly difficult - but we received very interesting reactions from the teachers when teaching. Several stopped us to ask or inquire why we did certain things, or tell us what it reminded them of. There was a surprisingly large amount of dialogue about the education that I was not expecting to have.
We also encountered several cultural differences when teaching. The simple act of raising one’s hand, quite commonplace in the US, was replaced with a rapid snapping of fingers (which startled us at first). Many teachers weren’t too keen on offering verbal responses when we asked them to create themes, or to offer descriptive words, instead choosing to walk up to the chalkboard and write them down instead. And nearly everybody sat down at one point during the training (as theater majors, our delegation was quite used to standing up for extended periods, but we didn’t account for teachers who were older, or pregnant, or simply not used to standing for extended periods of time). None of these differences seriously affected what we were communicating, but they did force us to adapt our teaching styles, which in turn helped us to further our message.
I also made friends! The music teacher took some spare time after lunch to show me the music room (which had a piano!!!), and I was able to improv a simple tune with him on the guitar. And I also struck up an impressive conversation with the Urukundo school coach, John-Paul (who’d actually gone to college in the US, and was looking for a job in the states…). Through shared experiences (and LOTS of laughter), we quickly became good friends.
After working through the basic exercises, all groups presented a small story demonstrating the themes they created. It was wonderful to watch their enthusiasm, and the conversation at the lunch table was buzzing with interest. Tomorrow we’ll be applying story-based learning to the teacher’s individual lessons - it should be exciting!
June 22, 2019
First visit to the Urukundo
Today we paid a brief visit to the location that our main teacher training would take place at - Urukundo Village. It was a beautiful, well-equipped facility, filled with multiple classrooms and buildings, and even a dental clinic!. We were informed that Urukundo was one of the highest performing schools in the area. We had all brought a bag full of school supplies to donate to Urukundo through our extra baggage, so it was exciting to finally see where our donations were going to go!
We arrived in the middle of several heated games of football and volleyball taking place in the main courtyard. Once our bus pulled up however, the games quickly dissolved as the children swarmed around the bus. Everyone was excited to see us and invited us to join in their games, but instead we walked to the main building for a warm welcome from the matriarch of Urukundo, Mama Arlene. Arlene (who insisted that we call her Mama) is the founder of Urukundo, and you could absolutely tell that she LOVES working with the children there. In fact, as she told her story of founding Urukundo, she interspersed it with the stories of multiple children (“my kids,” as she referred to them), and the interwoven connections she has created since moving to Rwanda.
We next went to dinner, where Mama continued to tell stories. I wished I could have continued listening, but instead I was seated next to several children, all of whom kept asking me about my bracelet, my glasses, my hobbies, and everything else you could possibly imagine. The children at Urukundo were not the least bit shy about anything - they were forward and direct in their questions. It was a bit shocking to see at first, and made me reflect on my shyness - I am not naturally that forward!!
After dinner, Mama led devotions. I had no idea what devotions were, but was eager to observe and participate in a tradition that was well beloved at Urukundo. Devotions turned out to be a miniature version of a worship service - there was prayer, song, a bible verse/lesson, and then devotions would end with a dance circle (I’m starting to notice a trend…). It was very ritualistic, moved quickly, and clearly everyone knew the order well. The children were respectful and silent during the time of prayer, and were proactive in involving our entire delegation in the dance circle (which I’m gradually getting better at!!).
Urukundo, despite our rather brief visit, struck me as an inspiring location, and I can imagine that the learning here is of consistently high quality. I can’t wait to do some teaching of my own here tomorrow!
June 22, 2019
A day in the life of a Rwandan
Today we took a little break from the city bustle of Kigali, and instead visited a rural village to experience a day in the life of a traditional Rwandan. It was immediately obvious as we were driving to the village that we weren’t in the city anymore. Much of the roads were not paved (“It’s like an African massage!” as our driver put it), and we definitely put the suspension system of the bus to the test!!
The moment we arrived at our designated household, we were greeted enthusiastically by about a dozen women. We were welcomed with open arms, enthusiastic voices, and even a singing and dancing circle. It was such an enthusiastic greeting that we all participated in the dancing (and yes, I felt slightly more confident this time around!). Eventually we were led into their house. Our delegation introduced themselves, and so did the women. All of them proudly announced their ages (ranging from early to mid-50’s), which surprised me - they looked far more youthful than their ages would have us believe.
We had a lot of work to do that day. First on the agenda - prepare food for lunch. We were instructed in how to chop up and dice the vegetables. These were then tossed together for a stew in a simple pot over a fire, which would cook until it was time for lunch. Like all the other food we’ve had so far, it smelled AMAZING, but we couldn’t linger and drool over the food. We were given small gas cans and instructed to collect water at a well about 20 minutes away. Although the cans didn’t look that heavy, they were VERY difficult to carry back uphill for half an hour. We took frequent breaks on our way back (but the women and children who were with us didn’t - very impressive!).
We also walked out to the field to do some hoeing and tilling of soil - basic farm work. I was intimidated by this at first, but thankfully Rwandan soil is very fertile and easy to till (as opposed to the tough, raw soil back in the states). It was repetitive, but not overly difficult. We were also instructed on how to balance items on our heads, traditional Rwandan-style (spoiler - we created a miniature “holder” out of leaves, which made things easier), and we used this skill to bring feed to local livestock.
After lunch (DELICIOUS), we were shown some traditional Rwandan crafting. This was exciting to me, because I am an artist and was eager to see some master crafters at work. The women instructed us in creating two objects out of plant leaves and fibers - a bracelet (which I chose to made), and some soccer balls (which most of the delegation chose to make). Both objects were were durable, efficient, and it was incredible to watch the efficiency in making them (Both projects were done in under an hour)!! After completing the crafts, some of our delegation went out into the streets for an impromptu game of soccer with local kids…it was great!!
I wasn’t feeling that well through the day, and planned to take things easy. However, I was struck by how quickly the women picked up on that, and how kind and accommodating they were about it. I was constantly asked if i needed anything, or if I wanted to take it easy, or if I needed food or water. The kindness was overwhelming, and definitely my big takeaway from today!!
June 22, 2019
Visiting a church Genocide memorial
Today we visited another genocide memorial. Rather than a large, official structure, right in the middle of the city, this one was much more raw and visceral. It was a Catholic church, where several hundred Rwandans were slaughtered during the genocide as they took shelter.
Growing up Catholic, church has been a reverent place for me. It was a rather stark contrast to see one as a place of such a horrific event. The church had been perfectly preserved from the genocide. It felt as if it could have happened mere weeks ago, rather than 25 years ago. There were bullet and shrapnel pieces still stuck around the doors and ceilings from when the church was forcibly entered. You could still see bloodstains on the ceiling from victims who had been killed with machetes. Clothing from the victims was neatly folded on many of the benches - many of them covered in bloodstains as well. Much of the clothing was small, sized to fit an infant or toddler - another reminder that this genocide did not only affect adults, but on children as well.
I felt seriously unwell during this visit. How could a reverent place of worship - a place of refuge - become the site of such a horrific event? I could not reconcile those two in my mind. I could not bear to stay inside the church for more than a few minutes at a time. I could not bring myself to walk down the stairs to the basement, where the graves were. Instead, I merely sat on the ground outside the church and thought. This was much more material than I had anticipated processing.
I took many deep breaths. I focused on the ground below me, and the clear sky above me. I listened to the cool breeze rustling through the trees, and the sounds of schoolchildren playing in the field just over the fence. I found a still place in the chaotic center of my mind. I am hopeful that this experience will continue to unpack itself as we journey along this trip.
June 20, 2019
Kids!
Today was an exciting day!!! We had our first opportunity to put story-based learning into action. We visited an all-boy’s orphanage. On the way there, Drew informed us that we’d be leading some games in a circle, engaging with the children, and facilitating simple stories. We were also informed that there would likely be a LARGE language barrier, and our activities would take much longer than they usually did. The bus got very quiet when Drew mentioned that. This was the moment that our work became reality, rather than just theory. As ridiculous as it seemed, I was more nervous now (four days into our trip!) than I was before I left!!
About three minutes later, we arrived. There were a LOT of children there!! They ranged in ages from probably 4 or 5, up to teenagers. We left the bus to say hello, and we were greeted with huge enthusiasm!! One of our group members idly started bottle flipping (remember that trend?) with one of our numerous bottles of water. That caught the eye of some of the kids, and the game was quickly adopted by dozens of children, all eager to be the first to successfully land a bottle upright (which several of them did, and none of our delegation managed to do).
We were ushered into a large classroom where Drew and the head teachers gave some opening remarks. I couldn’t understand most of what was said, so instead I opted to look around the room. Unfortunately this did little to comfort or reassure me, because it seemed like every eye in the room was on our delegation! Though it was a mildly cool day, I started sweating. All the kids were looking up to us - this was a lot of pressure!!
All too soon we were broken up into groups. Mine had three student teachers - me, Lisa, and Imani. I’d estimate there were about 25 kids in my group. I attempted to begin with our first warmup (holding hands in a circle), but it took about five minutes (rather than the usual five seconds). This was when the group collectively decided we needed an interpreter, rather than have us gesture our way through 4 hours of exercises. Thankfully, one of the older students stepped in to help out with
We proceeded through our exercises as normal. They were met with enthusiasm, especially when we asked students to demonstrate objects with their bodies. One particularly impressive moment was when our entire group came together to represent a bicycle - it was a working, moving, kinesthetic sculpture - I wish I was able to take a video! After we had run through our exercises, the students offered to share a few of their own Rwandan games, which we gladly played (and lost…). It was wonderful - it felt like a true exchange of cultures, which was exactly the reason I came here!!
After the games were over (and I had obtained a nice sunburn on my neck), we walked around the school for a bit. Or rather, we tried to - but the kids wouldn’t let us at first. We were swarmed with children asking us questions begging to be held, or (in my case), trying on our headbands/glasses. It felt like we were celebrities! One of the kids, Samuel, was basically glued to me after the exercises ended. He quickly adopted my headband and glasses, and as we walked around, I carried him on my back for close to an hour (no exaggeration - he fell asleep, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him up).
All too soon, it was time to leave, and I didn’t want to go. Even though we’d maybe spent 5 hours there in total, my heart ached for the kids. We’d formed relationships, and the possibility was real that we’d never see each other again. As we drove away, I snapped a picture of Samuel waving goodbye. It still hurts to look at.
June 14, 2019
My worst nightmare
Today on the bus, Drew announced that we were going to an art center, and we’d also receive traditional Rwandan dance lessons.
This was my worst nightmare.
I canNOT dance. I only barely passed my beginner tap class last semester, and it was 100% focused on footwork. Moving my arms or the rest of my body? That was WAY too much to ask. I think the fear was evident on my face as we drove towards the center.
The art center was gorgeous. There was a treasure trove of inspiration to be found there (especially because much of the artwork was recycled), but I could only focus on one thing - how stupid I’d look dancing. My lack of adeptness would be particularly noticeable compared to the other people in my group - Imani, Lisa, and Lila are all amazing dancers. Me, on the other hand...I’m a gangly white boy. I am seriously out of my element. The music was only drums, so I had no excuse for not staying on rhythm - I had to perform.
Christian, our wonderful instructor, led us through several basic steps. I was keenly aware of Drew, Molly, and Gabrielle filming us (and I shudder to think of what those videos look like - it could be incriminating evidence!), but as the dance wore on, I stopped caring so much about what I looked like. I gradually began to lose myself in the drum music, and began to feel the polyrhythms rather than carefully think my way through each step. I started to enjoy myself towards the end of the lesson!
I still refuse to post the photos, though. Or the video, God forbid.
June 11, 2019
I got scammed! But it was enjoyable
Today we visited a traditional marketplace in Kigali. This was the part of the trip that I was simultaneously the most excited and the most nervous for. I’d heard amazing stories of how beautiful all of the handcrafted items were, how delicious all the street food was, and the general bustle of activity - but also nightmare stories of being ripped off, having items stolen, or worse.
As we drove to the market, Francoise, our guide, informed us that fixed prices weren’t really a thing in the market. Instead, we would be bartering and going back and forth on prices. Since the majority of us would stand out in the market like sore thumbs (particularly me, with my pasty skin, thick hair, and gangly structure), we were told that we’d be charged triple the market value of any all goods (though they would still seem reasonable to us). Being a nervous and shy traveler, I expected to get all my $100 scammed off me within five minutes.
We entered the marketplace - some (or really just me) more tentative than others. Though the market didn’t cover a large area of ground, it was LOUD! We walked single file to the back of the market, and I use the term ‘walk’ lightly - we were edging, tiptoeing, and ducking around piles of tomatoes, fish, people, goats - anything and everything imaginable was there. We walked through the grocery/food section first. While i would never have purchased or eaten anything there (it looked pretty dodgy), the smell was AMAZING. The fruits and vegetables were huge (avocados three times the size of my fist, tomatoes almost as big as my head), oozing with ripeness. There were salted fish and other goodies being cooked right next to the produce. As much as I would have liked to, I didn’t have time to linger. Francoise quickly led us to the handcraft section of the market. I only barely had time to snap a few blurry photographs, but they in no way can capture the amount activity that was EVERYWHERE. One of our group members, Amanda, had a video camera to capture the action. I was incredibly jealous - it seemed much more effective to capture the feeling of the market.
We finally arrived in the craft section, settling in a row of fabric stalls. I barely had time to glance around once before I was pulled aside by two brothers who offered to show me around the market (and their personal stalls, of course). They had a very good grip on English (this was obviously not their first time dealing with native English speakers), and were much friendlier than I had anticipated. I thought they’d be pushy, but we stood around and chatted for a bit. Eric, one of the shopkeepers (and a newfound friend) proclaimed he was a famous designer and an Instagram celebrity - we exchanged accounts and followed each other (which, naturally, led to several purchases at his shop).
There were sellers around every corner, with all sorts of small goods and trinkets. My first purchase (outside Eric’s shop) was a headband that the shopkeeper insisted went beautifully with my skin (500f extra for fashion advice), and I then lost track of the materials I purchased. I was nervous about haggling prices at first, but it went much easier than I expected (I settled for WAY more than I should have, and the shopkeepers laughing at me probably meant I was getting ripped off), but what struck, me was how kind and down-to-earth everyone was about the purchases. I expected rude sellers (or worse, pickpockets), but everyone was more than happy to talk the price down (and then back up, and back up, and up again). A handshake and exchange of business cards/phone numbers/social media/selfie was requisite at every booth. My money ran out after about 15 minutes, but luckily I have a bit more to exchange - I definitely want to return near the end of our trip!!
Story-Based Processing
Good morning!
We spent the first part of today processing our genocide memorial visit from yesterday. In true story-based learning fashion, we began with theatrical warm-ups (standing in a circle, passing energy from person to person, and some simple voice and movement exercises). Though we’d played these games during our meetings before we left, they somehow had more weight now. We were all dedicated and devoted to the task at hand, not distracted by the workload of last semester. We were led through creating a simple theme and structure for a story, and then putting it into our bodies. The final stories were OK, but it was the process that was important, since we’ll be using it to train teachers next week.
Though not everybody was on board with the story-based model of processing at first (including me), it was a good activity that brought us all much closer together. For 9 students who had never truly worked as an ensemble before (with many being basically strangers), this was a much needed activity. In a rare occurrence, we were granted the afternoon off - we earned it!
June 10, 2019
Visiting a Genocide Memorial
We visited a genocide memorial this afternoon.
It was deep.
At first, I wasn’t convinced I should write about it. It was a powerful, moving, sobering, and reverent experience that is difficult to put words to. But I came here to share story, and if there’s one takeaway from the memorial it’s that silence is oppression.
In 1994, there was a genocide in Rwanda. Over a period of 100 days, more than a million Rwandan Tutsi (a Rwandan social class) were murdered by Hutu (another social class) extremists. There were a multitude of political and cultural reasons that led up to the genocide that I won’t get into discussing. Instead, suffice it to say that it was a period of absolute brutality, and was quite shocking to read about.
The museum did not try to gloss over things or cover them up. Not only were there videos of Rwandans describing their neighbors turning on each other and murdering them, there were also dozens of skulls and bones of victims. Reminders of the horror that occurred in those 100 days were raw and plentiful. I could see last photographs of victims, sometimes moments before death. Children’s clothing. Propaganda. Images of bodies. So many bodies. I could not make it through what was called the ‘children’s room’ - a sequence of rooms dedicated to the children who lost their lives during the genocide (which listed, in detail, the children’s friends, favorite foods, personalities, cause of death [often brutal, by machete or rifle], and most disturbingly, their ages, which barely rose into double digits). Tragedy is a powerful thing.
The most amazing thing about the memorial was that Rwandans don’t try to cover the genocide up and pretend it didn’t happen. Instead, the center memorialized what happened. The guides throughout the center had a distinct determination to tell this story, to make sure people know how it happened, and that it doesn’t happen again.
I don’t think I can write any more on this subject. We will be processing and discussing this as a group tomorrow. From the dead silence that was present on the bus driving back to the guest house tonight, it is apparent that we all need it.
I can’t end this blog on a depressing note, so I will just share one amusing thing that happened today - as we were walking to the memorial, a group of children waved at our group, and referred to us as “Muzungo” - slang for “dizzy” or “foreigner,” commonly used as slang for “white person.” This proved heartily amusing to many mixed race members of our group, particularly Tierra, who proudly exclaimed, “I’ve never been called a white person before! This is so exciting!!”
June 6, 2019
Rain, rain, don’t go away
It’s about 3 in the morning here. I just woke up to the sound of what I thought was continuous thunder.
Then I slowly realized it wasn’t thunder.
It was just the pounding rain.
When we initially arrived here, I noticed the deep drainage ditches, gutters, and pipe systems throughout the city. It seemed apparent that Rwanda is no stranger to rain, particularly large storms. However, it was completely shocking to me to experience such a heavy downpour. I’m used to hearing storms through the thick, waterproof walls of my house in Buffalo - this was a complete downpour happening basically two feet away from my head, through a wide-open window, with water so thick I couldn’t see more than a foot away!!
It puts you in your place. Similar to when I visited Vancouver and felt dwarfed by mountains, I felt incredibly small next to the pounding rain outside. I felt at the mercy of nature.
And then it went away, as suddenly as it had arrived. I felt alive, smelling the refreshing cool air as the water was absorbed by the earth.
I miss the rain now. I kind of want it back.
June 6, 2019
Kigali and women’s market
After a hearty breakfast today (TONS of fruit and veggies, both of which are incredibly sweet in Rwanda - not to mention the coffee), we headed onto our bus to visit the Nyamirambo Women’s Center just outside of Kigali. The bus was loud, jovial, and filled with singing - the evening had worked its magic, and our spirits were lifted from yesterday!! We all learned to count off the members of our group in Kinyarwanda, Rwanda’s most spoken language. I was granted the number 7 - Karingwe.
We arrived at the center, an unassuming building on the street with a GORGEOUS mural on the wall outside. The women greeting us were, in what appears to be a trend on this trip, incredibly welcoming and kind. The reception area doubled as a small public library. It was only one room, but bookshelves lined the walls, and the women informed us that children frequented the library to read. It became quite clear that Rwanda is a very women-focused culture. In fact, they rank number one in the world for women in positions of government (just over 60% of seats are held by women. In comparison, the US ranks a dismal 75th in the world for number of female government seats).
Before walking the city, we were handed a small paper of common phrases to use during our tour. We were also informed that people would VERY likely talk to us, and we should be able to communicate despite the language barrier. Some of our group, such Lila (who speaks several languages already) picked up the phrases in no time at all and could tuck the paper in her pocket for the tour. Others (like me, who can barely speak English properly) kept it handy at all times. I wished I could have glued it to my face! Languages are not my strong suit (not good for a world traveler), but luckily everyone got so excited and happy at our clumsy attempts Kinyarwanda that they were super patient and made their best attempts at English. Through gesture, facial expression, and a few universal words, common story was found.
Our guide, Sylvie, led us through the city with an unbelievable amount of professionalism. She expertly walked us through a seemingly endless brick wall of murals, down some back alleys where Cassava leaves were being pounded into pulp, and through a small open market to taste some of the leaves, veggies and spices right off the tables (the one thing I was warned NOT to do on this trip…I’m sure we’ll all be fine). Through everything, Sylvie was polite, efficient, and extremely informative. I was shocked to discover she was only 21, a student like we were.
I was enchanted by the children we saw on our trip. I mentioned people staring in our last blog, but it was even more noticeable with the young children we passed on our walks through Kigali. They were SO cute! Many would bashfully wave hello, stare through windows and then duck down, and speak to us in mixed English/Kinyarwanda. They were open and full of life, and they gave a wonderfully youthful atmosphere to the city!
After the tour, Sylvie brought us to the city center for a local home-cooked meal. It was absolutely delicious - plantains, root vegetables, beans, and Pilipili pickled onions (I gave them a wide berth). Conversation flowed like a serene river. This was a wonderful way to kick off our trip!!
June 6, 2019
Hottest hot sauce
This will be a short blog post. However.
Pilipili.
This sauce. THIS FREAKING SAUCE.
I’m Puerto Rican, so it’s no surprise that I enjoy spicy food. We were eating dinner last night, when somebody brought a BIG bowl of orange sauce to the table. They called it Pilipili and said to try it. It was a large bowl, I figured if we were to eat it in large quantities it couldn’t be that hot. Right? I took a dip.
BIG mistake.
One pea-sized dab. That stuff was HOT. It stays with you for a while - initially it was an intense burn, but it lingered with me LONG after the initial burn, and nothing would help - not rice, not bread, not fruit, not ice cream.
Yeah. Tongue, lips, throat, everywhere. It’s HOT.
The real indicator is that I was so distracted I forgot to get a picture of the infernal sauce. Probably for the best, it might trigger traumatic memories.
If I bring home a mysteriously tiny container of sauce, stay away from it. You have been warned.
June 4, 2019
A walk, car horns, and staring
Our first night was refreshing, reinvigorating, and just what was needed after a long few days of travel. We walked around our guest house (St. Paul’s), which is a calm and relaxing lodging in the middle of the city. I met several other travelers and groups, all of whom were extremely friendly! There are a couple of stray kittens hanging around, but they’re pretty skittish, and so far have eluded being photographed (though they serenade us quite loudly at night).
Several of us took a walk this morning around the neighborhood outside the guest house. The area is so green! It’s pleasantly warm, but not smothering - perfect t-shirt weather. The landscape is drop-dead gorgeous - the rolling hills are visible from every part of the city, with the modern buildings perfectly nestled in between.
Speaking of modernization, Kigali is a surprisingly modern city. It is clean. Everywhere is absolutely spotless, and any visible dust/trash was quickly being swept away as we walked. Traffic (on foot, bicycle, scooter, motorbike, car and bus) ran like a well oiled machine. I almost believed I could drive here for a minute - at least, until I saw a terrifying 5-way intersection with no traffic signals. I was convinced an accident would happen at any minute, bu it moved remarkably smooth - I wish I could have gotten a video!
An interesting distinction about the traffic here is that horns are blaring constantly. In America, we tend to associate honking your horn with annoyance, or irritance; a feeling of anger, resentment, and/or negativity. However, this is not the case here in Kigali. Not once did I observe a driver yell out their window, make obscene hand gestures, or even glance with ill will towards their fellow drivers. Instead, the horns seemed to serve as gentle reminders (an “I’m here” as opposed to “get out of the way!”). To be fair, Rwandan car horns are softer and less obnoxious than those in American cars, but it helped emphasize the friendliness of the city.
Our walk took place early in the morning, and we came across several students on their way to school. As a group with several visible minorities in Africa (particularly me, with my pasty skin, gawky structure, and thick glasses), I was expecting us to attract a bit of attention. Not only did we attract attention, but we were STARED at - as in, full stop, head rotation, and even some pointing. Adults as well as children were intrigued by our presence. It’s funny though - the staring did not feel uncomfortable in any way. Back in the states, staring is generally done in a negative, condescending or predatorial fashion (looking suspicious, getting catcalled, etc.). It’s not something you really want to happen to you. However, none of that was the case on our walk. We were observed with a curious, kind and peaceful eyes. Eyebrows were raised instead of furrowed, welcoming. Several people (mostly the kids) smiled back at us, and we were greeted with a welcoming “Muraho!” at every turn. It was wonderful and encouraging to witness wide eyed, innocent curiosity - something that many (indeed, most) of us lost in childhood.
Warm, friendly and welcoming - those are three words to describe the feeling in Kigali this morning (except the showers, which so far are bone-chillingly cold). I love it. Today’s itinerary is packed with a visit to a local women’s market, city tour, and a genocide memorial visit - all in the next 8 hours!!
Expect more soon!
June 3, 2019
30 Hours of Travel
Ever wondered what 30 continuous hours of travel feels like? It turns out I have a ton of time to document it when not connected to wi-fi, SO:
HOUR 1: June 1st, 5:30AM EST
It’s here! After probably two hours of sleep I have arrived at my pre-departure location: Buffalo State campus. The delegation is carpooling to the Toronto airport, where we will all fly as a group to Africa. there are a LOT of backpacks and suitcases in the lineup outside the bus. I am ready. I am rested (kinda). I am hungry for adventure. I am noticing that the zipper on my backpack keeps getting stuck (likely due to my nervous fidgeting with it).
HOUR 2: June 1st, 6:30AM EST
We’re begun driving out to Toronto. Honestly, it's kinda boring. i tell myself to get used to the boredom, to help prepare for the long haul flight. I find myself reacting with childish glee over the smallest things - driving past Fantasy Island, the sun rising out the window... I make a pact to myself (the first of several on this trip): I will not be an annoying seat mate, I will not be an annoying seat mate. I can’t resist being annoying one last time before departure, though; I send annoyingly funny texts to my siblings before losing service in Canada. I briefly reflect on the humor that my last text message sent before 17 days of travel is of Detective Pikachu dancing.
HOUR 3: June 1st, 7:30AM EST
At the airport. We made pretty good time, without any serious issues at the border. Doug, our driver, hands off our luggage and says goodbye. I take note of his name. I want to remember the names of all the kind helpers on my trip, and Doug is the first.
HOUR 4: June 1st, 8:30AM EST
Cleared security pretty quickly. The flight doesn’t leave until just past 11, so we’ve got some time. I consider doing some shopping, but quickly stop after breakfast costs me over $20 (even with exchange rates…). Granted, it is delicious (Garam Masala spiced eggs and potatoes), but I need to conserve my money for the trip, not the airport. As I walk through the terminals, I take note of the plane. It’s an Ethiopian Airlines Dreamliner - one of the most technologically advanced and comfortable planes in the world. I’ve flown one once before, and am quite eager to do so again.
HOUR 5: June 1st, 9:30AM EST
A game of Uno has broken out amongst our group in the terminal. Two children who will also be on the flight have joined in. It’s intense. I lose by a wide margin.
HOUR 6: June 1st, 10:30AM EST
WE’RE BOARDING WE’RE BOARDING!! I was lucky to be booked in a bulkhead row - TONS of legroom. I’m seated between Drew and Molly (for 13 hours…yay…). I joke with myself that this could mean one of two things: I’m being placed in a position of respect alongside the two chaperones, or I’m not considered trustworthy at all and need to be constantly watched. I settle with the former.
HOUR 7: June 1st, 11:30AM EST
WE’RE DEPARTING WE’RE DEPARTING!! Takeoff is nearly silent. I make a pact to not watch any movies on the flight, just to see if I can. There are more children than average on this flight, and they are not shy about exercising their voices. I’m very happy I have my large, industrial, over-the-head ear protection.
HOUR 8: June 1st, 12:30PM EST
Drew has miraculously fallen asleep before takeoff and not woken up since. I’m incredibly jealous. I’m sure i look ridiculous - I have over the head ear protection on my head (headphones underneath, because why the not), eye shades from the amenity kit (they turn everything a light shade of gold) a neck pillow that’s comfortable but restrictive, a flimsy airline pillow and blanket for seat support (probably giving me sciatica), and a baseball cap that’s smushed on my face from everything else around it. Is it a wonder why I can’t sleep?
HOUR 9: June 1st, 1:30PM EST
SLEEP HAPPENED. SLEEP IS A GLORIOUS THING.
HOUR 10: June 1st, 6:30AM EST
CONTINUED TO SLEEP.
HOUR 11: June 1st, 6:30AM EST
Woke up. I honestly believe that my body got bored of sleeping. I decide to watch an hour pass without doing anything. It’s an interesting experience. I may blog about it later.
HOUR 12: June 1st, time irrelevant
I’m going a bit stir-crazy. What else can there possibly be to do on a plane??? I’ve stared at the lovely bulkhead wall in front of me for the past 30 minutes. it’s a creamy off-gray color. there are three holes in it to hold a bassinet if necessary. There’s a TV monitor that I'm too awkwardly placed to view properly. I stare, desperately hoping to notice something new. it’s a staring contest. the bulkhead wall wins.
HOUR 13: June 1st, time irrelevant
I caved and watched Interstellar. It’s a 3-hour movie. Yee-haw.
HOUR 14: June 1st, time irrelevant
Interstellar is still going on.
HOUR 15: June 1st, time irrelevant
Interstellar is STILL going on.
HOUR 16: June 1st, time irrelevant
Interstellar has ended. Verdict: Pretty good!
I’m still bored. I randomly pick another movie to watch. This one is Jim Carrey’s Yes Man. Rotten Tomatoes score: 46%.
HOUR 17: June 1st, time irrelevant
Movie over. Verdict: Pretty good! (note to self - to increase enjoyment of movies in general, watch them on a 13-hour flight).
On an unrelated note, my compression socks feel like they have begun to merge with my skin.
HOUR 18: June 1st, time irrelevant
The flight attendants keep feeding us. I’m not picky about quality (honestly, it was pretty good) but I've never been given so much items on a flight before. They aren't stingy at all!!
HOUR 19: June 1st, time irrelevant
aAAaghhh. I have to pee SO BAD. i made the mistake of chugging an entire bottle of water about 45 minutes ago, once I realized that I was showing signs of dehydration. Unfortunately, we’ve just been cleared for final descent, landing in an HOUR. why……?
HOUR 20: June 2nd, 7:30AM
We've landed in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Despite this aircraft holding close to 300 people, we deplane outside on steps, and take a bus ride to the terminal. Everyone is so friendly. I have never been so hyper-aware of restroom locations in my life, but luckily they are plentiful.
HOUR 21: June 2nd, 8:30 AM
For the main airline hub in Africa, Bole International Airport (Addis Ababa, Ethiopia) has fairly small terminals. Not that I’m complaining. I do a few laps. I buy coffee (but DON’T drink it before the next flight). I buy water, and remind myself not to drink the entire thing in one go.
HOUR 22: June 2nd, 9:30 AM
Still waiting on that next layover. I’ve been informed that our flight has been cancelled, and replaced with another that has the same location, but a secondary stop. At this point I’m so tired I’m kind of indifferent to this change.
HOUR 23: June 2nd, 10:30 AM
We go through security and sit down to wait again. I forgot that only 3 oz of water are allowed and I chug my whole bottle again (not smart…). I think about how bad of a decision that was for a whole hour.
HOUR 24: June 2nd, 11:30 AM
We board the flight. Not only are our destinations different again (stopover in Bujumbura, Burundi instead of Entebbe, Uganda before Kigali, Rwanda), but our aircraft is different. Even on a short-haul flight, Ethiopian provided another Dreamliner. I can’t believe my luck!!
HOUR 25: June 2nd, 12:30 PM
We’re in the air again. Honestly, this is starting to feel pretty routine, the flight is barely two hours long.
HOUR 26: June 2nd, 1:30 PM
We are served a full sized meal. I’ve never experienced this on a short-haul flight before! The service is simply outstanding.
HOUR 27: June 2nd, 2:30 PM
We’ve landed in Burundi, and the majority of passengers have disembarked. It’s very pretty! The airport is surrounded with fields, and a light breeze flows through the open plane doors. The passengers destined for Rwanda begin to board.
HOUR 28: June 2nd, 3:30 PM
We’re still on the ground in Burundi. The plane feels pretty empty, honestly. There are many empty chairs, particularly towards the front of the plane.
HOUR 29: June 2nd, 4:30 PM
I MADE IT TO RWANDA ON JUST A 1/2 HOUR FLIGHT!!
HOUR 30: June 2nd, 5:30 PM
Whirlwind of activity once we arrived. Cleared customs, got shiny visas, got checked baggage with no issues, rode to guest house, and wrote this blog.
SLEEP IS NEAR
June 1, 2019
Me and my pre-travel anxiety
Hello.
It’s 2AM on June 1. And I just finished packing.
Yeah.
I don’t really consider myself to be an anxious traveler. I actually LOVE flying on planes, exploring airports, and the general bustle of activity. That’s the fun part. Instead, all my anxiety/nerves/fears/etc. are crammed into the week before I travel. On this particular instance, they were all crammed into TONIGHT. I actually took photos of my suitcase and travel kits - they look nice and organized, but the extreme tightness (yes, the clothing is rolled instead of folded) and hyper-organization point to a level of anxiety I haven’t yet experienced.
You see, anxiety isn’t really something I let myself express in my household. I’m the oldest of three siblings, and the only one to attend college. Anxiety is kind of a big thing for us. My siblings and I are hyper-aware and sensitive (them much more so than me), and while that hyper-sensitivity is great for studying, analysis, and broadening our minds, it never leaves us. It is our blessing as well as our burden. Naturally, as the eldest child, I want to make things easier for my siblings, helping to guide and assist them. Unfortunately, that often means putting my anxieties aside in the hopes that others might mirror my behavior, or (more likely) to calm others’ anxieties.
And where does that leave me? How do I deal with my own anxieties? Well, I avoid things. Procrastination replaces productivity, and when things absolutely have to get done, they happen in a manic burst of frenzied activity (hence, packing being completed at 2AM on the day I depart). It’s not a habit I’m proud of, but now that I’ve taken the time to reflect on myself, it’s something that I need to notice and change.
I’m hopeful that Rwanda can become a place for that change to occur.
I'm also sleepy and not sure why I'm still up. Here’s to 2 lovely hours of sleep.
Empty Backpack
This is it. My last final has been graded (hopefully a B+), paperwork has been signed, auditions (and callbacks!) have happened, vaccination appointments have been booked, and I am finally DONE with my semester. My plane ticket is taped to the front of my desk; a reminder that my flight to Rwanda departs in exactly 14 days, 15 hours, 37 minutes and 22 seconds. I could just sit here in my room and count the seconds down until it’s time to go, but instead I’m writing. I haven’t truly written, purely for the sake of writing, in a long time. It’s an unusual feeling. This blog is not a graded assignment, nor is it something mandatory that I don’t care about - I’m writing purely because there are thoughts in my head that need to be communicated to the rest of the world.
My backpack is empty. Carrying it is an odd feeling. With everything removed, it is as if the weight and pressure of the semester has physically been lifted off of my shoulders. I can feel myself standing up straighter, and my gaze is now focused up and ahead of me - “a place of dignity,” as Drew often refers to it. I meet people’s gazes. I see their smiles. I see the sky, the rain, and the sunsets. They’re simple things, but in my mad rush to finish college, I too often overlooked them.
I honestly should pack. My backpack has been empty for days, and there are literal piles of items surrounding my bed that I need to take with me. Why don’t I? Perhaps it’s the realization of responsibility. My empty backpack symbolizes the finality of college. Probably for the last time in my life, I have the overwhelming sense of finality, that I have completely finished all of my projects and am free from responsibility. Putting any item in my backpack will signify the transition to something new, another adventure. I’m keenly aware that my backpack (and, by extension, my life) will probably never be this empty again.
So I look at my empty backpack, and leave it for one more day. Packing will happen; it always does. But for now, I remain introspective, empty, and ready.
Well this was fun. Got a little deep for a second there, but it’s all in the name of introspective writing.
Looking forward to more journaling in Rwanda. Follow along, why don’t you?
