2 posts tagged “zoe”
Today was our last day working at the construction site with the U.S. team. Today, like the other four mornings this week, we woke up as the sun was rising, wharfed down some breakfast, and hit the road… well, if you can call it a road. The two-hour bus ride into the countryside is an experience in itself. After the first five minutes, there is no pavement and no smooth stretch of road for more than 10 feet. It’s impossible to do anything like read, eat, or write because anything will fly out of your hands as we hit a pothole or some random object every five seconds. It makes Duke Transit feel smooth as ice (for anyone who’s ridden a C1, you know this is a bold statement).
So there’s nothing much to do but look out the window, which fortunately turns out to be more fascinating than reading or watching a movie. Stories move all around us: groups of women balancing loads of goods on their heads trek to market; little children fascinated by our white skin chase our van and holler “muzungos!”; a boy leads his blind grandfather down the treacherous road; Epiphanie points out churches where people were rounded up and slaughtered 14 years ago… Every second, another lifetime of hope and suffering passes us by – thousands of lifetimes that will go untold.
All these people move in front of the most breathtaking backdrop of terraced mountains, traced by red-dirt paths that spiral up to the top. This stunning vista reminds me of Tuscany, or the never-ending farmlands in the English countryside. But if you look closer, you won’t see ancient manors-turned-bed-and-baths; you won’t see bikers and picnickers leisurely enjoying the soft sunshine. Instead, small mud huts dot the fields and skimpy fences made of twigs and straw barely contain starved farm animals. If you see sunlight glint on something shiny, it’s not a rental car carrying carefree tourists planning their excursions for the day. That glint reflected off a thin tin roof that leaks during the rainy season and lets in malaria-infested mosquitoes that snatch lives daily. Exhausted, sweating men and women hike to-and-from their homes and markets carrying the weight of their week’s work on their heads, their children on their backs, and the world on their shoulders.
After two hours of soaking in these surroundings, we finally arrive at the construction site. Dozens of men, women, and children gather round to watch us jump out from the van wearing our sneakers and hiking boots, sunglasses and work gloves, waterbottles strapped into backpacks – essentials to us, unreachable luxuries to them. We greet the leaders, smile and wave to the children, assess the progress made since yesterday and get to work.
Thursday I was hauling bricks until my wrists started to give out. Some of you may have noticed that I have weirdly thin wrists, so one wrong twist forced me to ease off (especially since it was my left wrist, the one I broke/sprained a couple years ago). I resorted to taking pictures and playing with the kids, but Friday I was thrilled that there was work to do besides hauling bricks – laying mud on the bricks! Hooray! Haha, yeah, the variety we got here is shocking, right?
I was feeling pretty productive but we only got to work for about an hour before half of us went back to the hotel to catch up on some much-needed sleep. At first I didn’t want to leave so early, but when we slept for four hours straight, I had no regrets. The other half, though, had an amazing house visit. They went to the home of a boy whose orphanage had closed down four years ago and was now living in a space too small for him to lie down in, half of which was taken up by a rabbit hutch. This boy had no idea that he was one of the orphans for whom we’re building a house. Apparently he was in absolute shock and couldn’t stop showing how happy and thankful he was. Probably a good thing I missed it ‘cause I doubt I would’ve held myself together witnessing that kind of happiness.
It reminded me of the house visit we had on Thursday, when we visited the home of a woman with HIV/AIDS whose daughter and adopted daughter were caring for her since she was too weak to leave the house. Her eyes looked so sad and desperate, but light that filled them when we gave her enough money to pay for the next two months’ worth of food for her and her daughters. She had no idea we were going to do anything more than come and observe her troubles. I am so happy ZOE has ensured that we are not having the kind of experience known as “misery tourism”; foreigners observe a country’s problems and identify the needs, but make no effort to change the situation. I have a big problem with that. Even though raising awareness about issues like poverty and AIDS is important to do, I would feel completely helpless if I hadn’t found a way to help. (Thanks again SO much to ZOE and the DGHI!)
Jess and I made a valiant effort to go out running yesterday. It took about 30 seconds to realize that it was a really bad idea. EVERY person looked at us – especially the men. The way they were eyeing us, you would’ve thought we were jogging in bikinis. We finally found a path that went through a deserted field. Hmm…why was this field deserted? And why was it reeking? Oh yeah, because it was a LANDFILL. And why was there a big hole emitting thick black smoke? Because the landfill was on FIRE. Yeah, we were literally running through a dump, breathing in toxic fumes. Terrific. We tried to run along a different path away from the fire pit, and then realized we were running through a creepy cemetery on the edge of a forest from which any homeless bum could jump at any moment. We stopped, looked around for any other options, looked at each other…and laughed. It was just hopeless. We went back to the hotel and did jump-rope, crunches, and lunges. I think I felt a single bead of sweat at one point!!!
Seriously though, it’s so frustrating not to be able to run or work out much. I can’t remember a week in the last few years when I haven’t been running a few times at least. It’s my favorite sport and pastime – I run when I’m stressed, when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I need to take a break or make an important decision… I run before or after something big happens, I run to feel good, to tire myself out, to challenge myself…sometimes I just run for no reason, if I’m bored. Or I’ll run if I have a thousand things to do and need one more way to procrastinate. It’s a big part of my life, but like many things, “you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone.” Now that I can’t go running, I’m starting to realize how much harder it is for me to keep a level head, to find ways to de-stress when I need to. And during these weeks when I’m seeing heart-stopping things every day and constantly venturing outside my comfort-zone, this is when I need stress-relievers the most. I thought running a lot made me strong, but now I wonder if it’s just an easy way to cover up my weaknesses.
We arrived at the site today shocked to see half of the tin roof up and the walls about ¼ of the way finished. It was also the first day that I was positive the vast majority of the locals were participating, not just watching. I felt the most productive I’ve been so far, learning to catch and throw handfuls of mud across the length of the house. I was so proud when the workers would pull out two people and put me in there. Then they taught me how to flatten the side of a brick with a mini machete, and when one of the workmen held it up to show his companion, I could probably feel my head get bigger. I wish I had a picture with that brick ‘cause I’m sure I was beaming like it was an Academy Award.
After working for a couple hours, Jessica and I went to play with the hundreds of kids watching us on top of the hill. We showed them hand-games, passed a football, played volleyball without a net, and passed out stickers to hundreds of eager hands reaching up to our noses. A chorus of voices chirped, “please, please, please!” the whole time, as if we were distributing gold.
Since this was our last day working, we had a small meeting with the Giving Hope orphans and thanked them for letting us come to work with them and praying that God will protect them in the future. They in turn thanked us for our contributions and asked us questions about life in the United States. As we said goodbye, Epiphanie announced that Jessica and I will return later to visit them even after the U.S. team leaves, which I hadn’t realized. It felt good to be able to honestly say, “See you again soon!” I remember saying the same thing to so many children in the Dominican Republic and Paraguay and I still wonder if I told them the truth.
p.s. Two things that make me laugh every time: 1) Seeing people walking with bushels of hay on their heads so thick that you can’t see their heads; they look like creatures from a storybook, or walking trees. 2) Rwandan outhouses that consist of holes in the ground inside huts with cracks for windows. Looking at that hole is terrifying because I KNOW that at any moment some monster is gonna pounce out of that hole and I’ll die in an outhouse. Or not be able to have children.
Visiting the Genocide Memorial on Monday was just as tough as I expected. We took a tour of the capital city Kigali on a bus with a few Italian and Australian tourists and Epiphanie’s son Olivier. The Memorial was included in the tour, so beforehand we drove by a couple important/historic places like the oldest house in Rwanda, the mayor’s house, the hotel where Hotel Rwanda was filmed (where we’re still crossing our fingers we’ll get to stay at some point!). We also stopped in the building where ten Belgian soldiers were killed before the Genocide, an event that prompted the UN and other international forces to drop their peacekeeping efforts and move out of the country. The room where it happened had hundreds of bullet holes in the walls. Talk about eerie.
The site where the Memorial was built was on the side of a small hill overlooking Kigali to demonstrate what the victims saw as they fled the city in April 1994. Outside there were beautiful gardens around tombs where hundreds of thousands of people were buried. Inside it was arranged perfectly – the Memorial walked you through the timeline of the Genocide and didn’t leave anything out: the roots of the conflict (Belgians passed out identity cards; those with over 10 cows were Tutsi, the rest were Hutus, sometimes it was just based on your physical features)…the international politics surrounding the situation (apparently the French supplied $12 million worth of arms to the corrupt government)…the ways in which people were killed (one that made my stomach turn – mom don’t read this! – throwing a person in a well and then throwing rocks on top of them until the screams subsided)… how families were uprooted and separated…
The worst for me was the part dedicated to the children. It was very simple compared to the hundreds of pictures, texts, videos, and artifacts around the rest of the Memorial. There were simply a couple dozen large photographs of little children with short descriptions about them that their family members filled in. The descriptions included information like “favorite food, favorite game, personality type, best friend…” and gave you this glimpse into the life of an adorable little boy or girl…and then ended with: “cause of death: hacked down by a machete in his mother’s arms.” I totally lost it.
It’s unfathomable how millions of ordinary people like you and me can be driven to kill their neighbors. Jessica and I were trying to imagine what could drive a good, hard-working person with a family and friends to commit such atrocities…and the only way we could make sense of it was that it has to come down to fundamental facts: “I am starving, my children are starving and probably will die, but my neighbor has money and food, if I had what he has then my family will survive, and the government says he’s an evil-doer and traitor anyway. So, do I kill him and save my family or sit idle and let my sons and daughters die of starvation?” It reminds me of a quote that my dad found: "A hungry people listens not to reason, not cares for justice, nor is bent by any prayers." I really believe that's a central cause of the Rwandan Genocide.
The tour-guide tried to cheer us up afterward. We went to an outdoor shopping area where they were selling traditional Rwandan goods like baskets, dolls, paintings, carvings, and jewelry. I behaved and didn’t buy any souvenirs for myself (applause? Thank you). Then we saw the up-and-coming section of Kigali where the wealthy Rwandan businessmen are building their sprawling white-washed mansions complete with pools, pillars, gardens, and guest houses. Of course every city has that kind of district, but it amazed me how these people could build their meccas overlooking a city landscape dominated by mud huts, dirt roads, and other signs of serious poverty.
We had our first round of surveys today finally! Jess and I met Epiphanie, her son, and two translators at the YWCA’s headquarters in Gitarama center where six orphans came to be interviewed. Those whom we’re interviewing in Gitarama have “graduated” from ZOE’s Giving Hope Program, meaning that they received assistance, guidance, training, and education from ZOE for three years and are now living almost entirely independently. Some of them still attend support groups organized by ZOE, but for the most part they pay for their own health insurance, education, food, etc for themselves and their siblings (which could mean five other young children). It was incredible how involved they had become in the community and how proud they were of their accomplishments. Although we were focused on their progress since they were orphaned, hints of their traumatizing histories crept into our conversations. For example, one girl’s father was killed by his younger brother during the Genocide. Another boy didn’t know his father and his mother died of “poison,” which in Rwanda essentially means HIV/AIDS. Jessica and I each interviewed three people and it took about four hours total, partially because we were adjusting the survey questions as we went. Tonight we met with Epiphanie and reworded some questions and changed the ordering around so that it will definitely go smoother and quicker these next few weeks.
Other than that, the highlight of today definitely included persuading our driver to stop at a supermarket so we could buy Canterbury chocolate bars which were heaven in a wrapper. As a lifelong chocoholic, I have been on withdrawal since last Thursday, and it just wasn't going well so I had to give in. The food here is very good and healthy, but it’s starting to get redundant. We literally haven’t gone one meal without eating some combination of rice, beans, fries, bananas, green beans, and these weird things that look and taste like a cross between a kiwi and a tomato (kiwito?). Oh yeah, I spilled tomato sauce all over the table and myself at dinner today. Some of you know I’m a huge klutz, especially with food, but I was doing so well not spilling stuff during meals. Hopefully this won’t become a reoccurring trend like our menu already has :)
~Maddie
