Before I start, I just have to mention a quote from Francoise, which I forgot to include in my last post… I think it’s priceless. We asked her if she would like to marry eventually. She grimaced and told us that she was going to keep trying to further her education. If she failed at that, then she “may resort to finding a partner.”
Okay, on with today’s posting………….
Rain and drought.
Thick green banana trees, tall grass and winding red clay roads.
Abject poverty with joyful spirits.
Peaceful and kind communities with the memories of unimaginable evil.
Today was another full day and I know I must write it all down as fast as I can, because the details are already becoming hazy as my need for sleep kicks in. Today we visited many of the children which we found sponsors for back home. I was able to see four out of five, so I kept busy.
Cascuis, translator extraordinaire, Tricia, another volunteer who was able to take pictures for me (my camera is still refusing to return to life), and I set out to first visit Charlotte.
Charlotte
Charlotte is Debbie and Danielle Hughes’ sponsor child. Armed with heavy gifts, including two 15-pound bags of rice, our van dropped us off at the base of a narrow footpath. We thought we only had a short way to go. After a 20-minute hike, we heard children screaming and laughing as they ran down to greet us. As we reached the house, we realized that it was Charlotte (8), her brother Godebert (7), her sister Emile (4), and her best friend/ neighbour Ange (7). Charlotte’s mother, Godelive, greeted us at the gate (her father, Charles, was at the market). Charlotte is in Grade 2 and her favourite subject is the local language, Kinyarwanda. Her family was very insistent that Debbie and Danielle must come visit them in Rwanda, so start saving your pennies girls!
Charlotte’s family has a cow and a small plot of land on which they grow cassava and bananas. They are extremely proud. While we visited, it began to rain, and like so many of the other Rwandans, the family jokingly thanked the Canadians for bringing the rain. As we left, it began to pour down and we made our way back down the steep trail, this time covered in slippery mud. The kids led the way and seemed to have no trouble in their bare feet, although my running shoes didn’t fair so well! All part of the adventure!
Jean D’Amore
Next we went to see Geoff and Katherine Kalsbeek’s sponsor child. With his huge eyes and big smile, he is a very beautiful boy… and I think he knows it! As I unveiled gifts of rice, cookies, Nutella, and school supplies, he whispered in my ear “Gimme football.” Unfortunately, I didn’t have one to give him, but Casuis informed me that Jean D’Amore lives and breathes football, so I will arrange to get him one later. We will also be buying his family a goat, which will provide them with milk, fertilizer, and kids for selling at market.
Both of Jean D’Amore’s parents were killed in the genocide when he was just a baby. He was sent to an orphanage. After the genocide, people started passing pictures of these unidentified orphans around, and his grandmother recognized him. Since then, he has lived with the grandmother, Stephanie, and Aunt Clarissa. Clarissa seems very young and has a one-year-old boy named Sharma (who I think may be the cutest baby ever). Her dream for him is that he will grow up to study. Clarissa also wanted to send God’s blessing to Canada and Geoff and Katherine on behalf of the family.
Jean D’Amore has decided that when he grows up he will be the president of Rwanda. And he is charismatic enough that is just might happen for him. I told him that we would watch for him on TV and were proud to be invited to the future president’s home. His is quite close with his soccer teammates (Patrick, Fabiola, and Oliver), and they joined in our visit. I gave the little cousin one of the dolls Joan Hunter knitted (which are a big hit all over Rwanda, by the way!), and all these tough 13-year-old soccer players wanted a doll of their own!
Later on in the day, we saw Jean D’Amour again, and he again whispered to me, “Gimme football. Gimme money. Gimme pens.” Turns out that my translator, Cascuis, is “best friends” (I believe we would call him a mentor or “big brother”) with Jean D’Amore, and I’m pretty sure the poor kid got in trouble after we left. Really though, these children have nothing, so can we blame them for asking for more when we come with a few gifts?
Most of the children in his area are genocide orphans. Though some of the details may be lost in translation, I believe that virtually the entire community was wiped out in the senseless slaughter. You may have seen the Ntamara Memorial in movies and on TV. Over a period of 52 hours, over 5000 men, women, and children who had taken refuge in the small village church were beaten with sticks, hacked with machetes, and burned alive. The victims’ clothes are now hung from the walls and rafters of the church in remembrance, along with three large shelves of skulls (many of them no bigger than my fist), one shelf of hipbones, and one shelf piled with extremities. Jean D’Amore and his friends live within 100 yards of this church.
Jean Pierre and Assumpta
Jean Pierre (7) is our sponsor child. Assumpta (10) is Angela and Brian’s. They are brother and sister, but I didn’t find that out until as we arrived on their doorstep. In Rwanda, parents pick the child’s last name upon birth, just like the first name. Wives also keep their own name. So in a family of five, you could have five different last names. When we found out that they were siblings, we thought we perhaps had too many gifts. However, once we stepped inside, we found out that there are six children, so the two large bags of rice and jars of Nutella were very welcome. The home also appears to be the local neighbourhood hangout.
Agnes is the mother and appears to take charge in the family. Gilbert is the father. Gilles is 22 and was at school during the visit; he is studying to become a veterinarian. Jacques is 19 and also in school, although he has not yet selected a vocation. Next is Emanuel (15), Aime Patrick (12), Assumpta (10), and Jean Pierre (7). There were two more children who died, but I do not know when or how.
Assumpta is a quite girl with certain elegance. She wants to be a teacher. Jean Pierre was extremely shy at the beginning, but after about 20 minutes, I caught him hanging onto my leg and staring up at me with a huge grin. He wouldn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the visit. The family has one cow and a goat, and we will be purchasing another goat for them by the end of our trip. They also have a small field in the back where they grow cassava, sorghum, and bananas (like so many other Rwandans). Still pouring rain, and Jean Pierre and Assumpta each grabbed my hand to show me around the land. Jean Pierre loves taking care of the cow and wants to be a veterinarian when he grows up. I told him, Assumpta, and their father (who was very interested) a bit about Angela and Brian’s farm, but I know that they want pictures and would like to hear much more.
Other experiences today…
Make no mistake, the poverty is real. And it has already hit us hard on the trip. Rwanda is much cooler and damper than we expected, and although the rain is good for nutrition, the houses are drafty and the stagnant water breeds mosquitoes (just an annoyance in Canada, but can be deadly in Rwanda). Today one of our other volunteers visited a sponsor child and discovered that her infant sister had died just yesterday. Causes are unknown. No doctor. No medicine. Mom gave birth to twins two weeks ago by herself at home. Today, one is gone.
Though the children are loved by their families and cared for by the communities, they are starving to find their own value. The flock to us everywhere we go, sometimes to dig through our pockets for “bonbons”, but they are quite satisfied just to play. One little girl – I’d say she was about three – reached up wanting me to pick her up. I did, and she rested her head on my shoulder for a while. She was heavy, so I put he down several times, but each time I did so, she would reach back up. As we left, I put her down for the last time, and she chased our vehicle crying, “Mama.” It seems surreal to me to have such a connection with a child… a human being, and never even get their name (she wouldn’t talk). Then drive away knowing that you will probably never see them again.
Well, I’ve gone on long enough. So, as the children hear say it: Bye-Yeeeeeeeee (two syllables), and Goot Niy-at (no matter what time of day it is).
