Kibuye, Rwanda

The town of Kibuye lies next to Lake Kivu, a large, remote and undeveloped lake between Rwanda and Congo. Connecting the capital city of Kigali and the lakeside oasis of Kibuye is a long and winding road built by the Chinese. It snakes its way through villages and mountains, plantations of sugar cane and bananas. The forests of the mountains are carved up by lush terraced gardens. The woods are separated by neat square patches of cassava and vegetable gardens surrounding the occasional adobe hut. If you had been blindfolded and dropped here, perhaps you would imagine you were in the famous terraced hills of East Asia. Such serene and pastoral images are not usually reserved for Africa.

When the snaking road reaches it pinnacle, the valleys of banana trees and sugar cane slink between mountains and at a fabulous bend in the road there lies a crystal-clear lake as far as you can see. If you stare hard past the lake at the clouds on the skyline, on a clear day you just might be able to make out a volcano rising from the horizon. The mountains of Colorado, the lakes of my home state of Michigan, the rocky islands of the Philippines, it is as though all the beauty in nature I’ve ever seen was gathered right into this one place.
This is the guesthouse in Kibuye where I spent two nights.

While my stay in Rwanda was short (about 3 nights or so), it was certainly not short on experiences. I’m sure that Lake Kivu was the most beautiful place I’ve been in my life. And yet, I do not speak Kinyarwanda or French so it was terribly difficult to get around. I spent a lot of time inwardly cursing the education system in the U.S.

It also became clear that people were walking around hiding a great deal of pain. On the one hand, the amount of development that Rwanda has been able to accomplish in a little over ten years since the genocide is truly amazing. On the other hand, it sometimes feels like problems are being swept under the rug. For example, when you ask about the progress since the genocide, people embarrassedly give pat answers like “we are no longer Hutu or Tutsi, only Rwandese.” While this is wonderful in theory, but have the issues since the genocide truly been dealt with? Rwanda was a country whose measure of stability were all increasing. Income indicators, agricultural progression and education was all increasing, so what happened? Some people I talked to were skeptical that the underlying issues had really been resolved.

The people of Rwanda were incredible, those that were nice were the most helpful and hospitable people I’ve ever met, sometimes I ended up feeling a victim to their endless hospitality. Others, however, were some of my least favorite individuals I’ve met since coming to Africa. The man in front of me in the Matatu (taxi van) smacked a woman in the face over a dialogue they were having. Her male companion, in turn, required a bit of calming down by the other passengers in order not to lash out at the first man. Later I saw two mechanics at the bus park having an all-out fistfight. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but I suspect that there is a lot of un-dealt with angst just below the surface, waiting to erupt.

A common theme from my travels (and perhaps my life) is that I remain unsure of whether and how much to give in to my natural inclination to process the situation I’m in or to let go and just experience. This struggle was confounded in Rwanda. It was certainly strange traveling to such a place by myself, and it left my head ringing with unshared thoughts and feelings.

One last image to share:
On a peninsula overlooking the lake is a beautiful church. Again, the idyllic setting is impossible to describe accurately. While I was there, a small group of men and women were harmonizing and singing an African hymn. It was carried and echoed around the mountain by the calm of the water. A small addition has been built in front of the church. At first glimpse it looks like perhaps a courtyard or a church cemetery. But, if it is a cemetery it is an usual one because there are no grave stones.

A closer inspection reveals a plaque next to the concrete. Between 11,000 and 15,000 bodies are buried underneath the unmarked concrete. During the genocide, the area around Kibuye saw nearly 90% of its population wiped out. Many of them are buried here. Behind the cross, at the front of the courtyard, is bold lettering, an inscription in Kinyarwanda. Beneath the lettering there is glass at the front of the shrine, ordinarily where pictures or a brief explanation would be printed. Instead, carefully preserved behind the glass, the front of the courtyard hosts skulls and the long femurs and arm bones that are distinctively human. These are remnants from what once filled the church.

I wish I had some tidy way to wrap this up. Sometimes I wish that the work I was doing here lined up more directly with my passion for trauma-healing. I guess this is why I want to go back to school for a Masters in clinical Social Work, so I can come back to places like Rwanda and Northern Uganda and hopefully help people deal with some of the unfathomable things they’ve experienced. In the meantime, please continue to pray. Pray for my work here, and my decisions for the future. Pray for the people of the Diocesan office and the entire Diocese of Lango. Pray for lasting peace and security in Northern Uganda, for the work of CRWRC in Uganda and all over the world.

A day in the life.

My friend and co-worker, Rena, published this great article for the CRC headquarters. She was working in Katakwi before she and her husband moved to Kampala. Her description of a typical week really gives some insights in to some aspects of life here. Follow the link to get there:

Under African Skies

Snapshots

I’ve been taking a lot of pictures lately. These brief snapshots capture one moment in time. If you blink, someone viewing the picture has no idea how long your eyes had been closed like that. Likewise, if you look sad or happy, was it only for that instant? Jackson Browne has this song were he talks about this picture he has of his lover. She is at a party surrounded by people laughing, but at the moment the camera caught her face, a shadow of melancholy had passed over it. Was it just a coincidence, a moment in time that the shutter happened to open and close and catch the shadow over the face? Or was it a hint at something deeper that the singer had overlooked in ordinary life?

I think I could try to describe for days the things I’ve seen and felt in the last couple of weeks. However, then I would have no time left to actually experience any of Africa because I would constantly be trying to relay the information to all of you. So what follows are some glimpses in to what my life has been like for a while now. I leave you to draw many of your own conclusions.

I spent an entire day having the Diocesan vehicle fixed. A lot of the day was spent waiting for the mechanics to borrow the right tools from different shops.

Andrew (my co-worker the agriculturalist) and his wife, Eunice, hosted me for an entire day. I got to confirm the existence of his mysterious wife as well as see his family’s fish farm.

I spent a few miserable days at home with an upset stomach from something I ate. I watched a lot of crappy pirated DVDs and it was fairly lonely. I really hope I don’t get sick again. I also went to a doctor here and made the mistake of chewing the pills he gave me. They tasted horrible.

The man who maintains the Diocese compound, Lakana, invited me to his church. I drove a pickup truck full of his friends and relatives the 2 hours to the church, where the community (sandwiched between two IDP camps) had an entire program for me. The following things happened there:

-Members of the Youth Department, Mothers’ Union, and Sunday School Children each presented me with various requests, including but not limited to: school uniforms, worship charts, pen-pal opportunities with churches in the U.S., a nursery school, a health unit, the completed construction of the new church building, a teachers’ quarters for the school, musical instruments, hymnbooks, and farming implements like tools. The impotence I felt in the face of these needs and requests was overwhelming. I thought I was just going to church.

-I saw a church offertory where people brought up their vegetables, literally their “first fruits”, and then they were auctioned off at the end of the service with the proceeds going to the offertory.

-The sermon was on Isaiah 58. When they asked me to comment, I pointed out some of the blessings I saw the church had received and re-iterated the importance of justice and taking care of the gifts we had been given. I mentioned that we could use these gifts to take care of vulnerable populations within our communities, like widows and orphans. They then decided to introduce me individually to each and every widow and orphan from the church. They easily made up half the church body.

-They showed me a school built by Worldvision, but that had not been completed. It was overcrowded and lacked doors, windows, blackboards and desks.

-Next to the school was a borehole for water built by UNICEF. When the water table dropped during the dry season, the borehole no longer worked. With it evaporated the community’s only access to clean water. I was asked to complete both of these unfinished projects.

-Some children showed me how they cut the bottom off of plastic water jugs and use them to slide down a steep rock face. It was awesome.

-I talked with two girls who had been kidnapped by the Lord’s Resistance Army. They had both managed to escape within a day, but as they pointed out, one day was too much. I asked them what support they were receiving. They said they were taken in by distant relatives. Most of the time this means that they work in the household sort of as servants, and they have little hope of returning to school. When they asked me for help it nearly broke my heart.

-A talked with a man who had his right leg blown off by a government landmine. He had been walking to town from his village when it happened. He was now a leader in the community. When I began talking to him it became obvious that underneath his pleasant exterior he was harboring a lot of anger.

-The Catholic Church nearby, not wanting to be left out, had sent representatives to the church. They had heard that a muzungu was coming and had prepared their own list of requests. I stopped by their church. It was in worse shape then their sister Anglican Church. It had been built by missionaries in 1948.

Tim Dam came for meetings in Lira and crashed at my place. It was great to have him around again. When our meetings were cut short one day we spent the day hanging out and shopping in the giant used-goods market. I got two shirts with mother-of-pearl buttons. Sweet.

I spent my birthday running around town buying ingredients for a joint staff appreciation party/birthday party for me. Birthdays aren’t usually a big deal here so you usually throw your own party, which is partly why I was doing all the preparation (although I wasn’t given an option). When at last it came time for the party, the Bishop (who has been to the U.S.) made it a very big deal in order to make me feel very welcomed. I really felt cared for, so it was generally really great. I had mixed feelings about the death of a goat in my honor, but I was told after the fact, so there was nothing I could do. All the emails from friends and family really helped, it was a great day. THANK YOU! Afterwards I headed to town with some friends I made at a local restaurant. It was pretty great, especially because these are the first Ugandan friends I’ve made outside of work.

I visited 5 church parishes all over Lango region recruiting extension workers for an upcoming training in August. I got to meet the most active members of every community and tell them about the further agricultural and health trainings we are doing in April. It took about 14 hours of traveling and meetings, but I got it done in one day. Because I was a guest, some of the households I went to presented me with gifts. I drove home with a bowl of avocados and two chickens. I donated the chickens to my friend Lakana, and we’re going to build a coop for them and his other chickens and start a micro-business! I’m pretty excited about it. Lakana’s oldest son had to drop out of school because of school fees, so I’m hoping this will help. Any ideas for the names of my chickens?

I went to Gulu for the first time. I was there for a meeting of the board of the theological training college that collapsed with the insecurity in the north. The challenges to getting it going again are paramount.

Some muzungus from the U.S. came to the diocese this weekend. They were beginning to get involved in development work and were looking for projects to sponsor. We talked a lot and showed them some potential options. I was really uncomfortable with their visit, as were some of my co-workers. Their attitude had a really paternal feel to it. At one point one of them and I got into a debate that was enough to make some of my co-workers uncomfortable. I have to learn to be more diplomatic. He said some things, however, that made me ashamed to be associated as a Christian and an American. I could give examples, but this doesn’t feel like the appropriate venue to air these grievances. What is important, I think, is that for the first time I felt what it is like to be on the receiving end of development. To have white people come in to an area they know little or nothing about and essentially offer a blank check with all these terms and conditions. To turn it down would be foolish. To accept it means that we give up on doing it ourselves and the pride and ownership that entails.

Congratulations on reading all the way to the end. I promise that now that I have a new site I’m going to do my best to update the blog more. As for personal emails, I’m sorry but I’ve had less and less time to send them out. I don’t mean to neglect my loved ones, I’m thankful for all of you.

Welcome to my *new* blog!

For whatever reason, I could not access my old blog from Lira. So from now on I will be posting from here. You can still see all the old blog posts at http://jryskamp.wordpress.com