I’m writing this on the airplane, as I complete my journey home. The last part of my trip has been an eye opening experience. Each night I meant to post the day’s events on my blog, but just never got around to it…
On Saturday we visited Prisca and her family. Before 1994, Prisca led a comfortable life in the city. But after her husband was killed in the genocide, Prisca was barely able to take care of her family. Not only was she illiterate and thus unable to find a job, but being gang raped in front of her children along with the death of her husband had left her with deep emotional wounds, physical disabilities, and HIV. Several years after the genocide, Prisca walked her five children down to the lake, told them to stay put, and wandered off with some rope to try to find a place to hang herself. Along the way, she came across a World Vision staff member. They began talking and for the first time, Prisca felt hope for the future. Since then, World Vision has helped her family by building them a home, providing them food as needed, and trying to help Prisca find income generating activities that are possible with her disabilities.
Prisca’s family was our “day in the life” family. A few people in the group stayed behind to cook lunch. Others went to collect firewood. I went to fetch water with two of Prisca’s children. We marched off from the house a bunch of naïve Westerners, excited for the cultural experience… we didn’t know how much we were going to be changed. In their community, the water is turned on only twice per week. A few neighbours have running water and collect is in reservoirs when it is turned on. These neighbours then sell the water to the rest of the community. So, we went to the first neighbour. No water. The second neighbour. No water. The third. None. By this time, we had turned into quite a large group of people with empty water buckets growing more desperate by the minute. Keep in mind that there was a language barrier, so the Canadians were very confused by what was happening. Fortunately, a teenager with great English skills joined our group and we were caught up on the situation. There is often no water. Most of the time, Prisca’s family just goes to the swamp for water, which is two kilometres each way, three times per day.
After an hour and a half of searching, we finally found water. We were jubilant as we watched the jerry cans fill up. That was short lived. We then had to carry the jugs home. They were so heavy! We tried carrying them on our heads; after about a minute, we felt as though our heads and necks would explode. It took us about 45 minutes to drag the water back. When we finally got back to the house, we were exhausted. I can’t believe that the children do this three times everyday. In fact, we found out afterwards that water is sometimes one of the reasons that children can’t go to school… spending two to three hours fetching water thrice daily hardly leaves enough time for education. We all swore that we would never take running water for granted again. So, friends and family, please hold me to it!
The World Vision staff had Sunday off, so we spent a relaxing day at a local lake (bottled water in tow). That night we went out for dinner and ran into some young street children. Peter must be only seven or eight, and his brother couldn’t have been that much older. We asked where their parents were, and the only reply we got was their eyes glazing over in both fear and sadness. They weren’t allowed in the restaurant, but we ordered them some food. We intended to bring it out to them ourselves, but the waitress misunderstood and brought it out to them. So, we never saw them again. When we exited the restaurant, we noticed sidewalk chalk drawings where the boys had been waiting. As we examined their artwork, it began to sink in with me that these were just children. I feel like we failed them. I think Peter might always haunt me.
On Monday morning, I went to visit Aline’s family (Michael and Sarah’s sponsor child). Living in a mud shack with almost no fertile land, they are one of the poorest families we visited. Aline (6) is a quite and sweet girl. She has a mother, a father, a sister (7), and a brother (1). I recorded all of their names in my notebook, but my luggage is currently in a police station in Paris (long story), so I will have to update this later. Aline seems healthy enough, but her sister looked withdrawn and her brother looked ill. I inquired about their health, and the sister is going deaf. In Canada, this is a disability which can be overcome; in Africa it seems like a death sentence. She is already having trouble following along in school. If she can’t continue, what will become of her? The brother’s eyes were glazed over, and his belly is swollen. After I got back to the World Vision office, I asked Cascius to follow up on them. One thing I’m beginning to realize here is that you can’t save everyone, but you must save those you know about. So, we must make sure the little boy is taken care of, and that the little girl has every opportunity to live her life to the fullest.
Later that day we went to the jobsite. One of our team mates – Cathy – was always on the lookout for different ways to help. There were often many children at the site, so this day she wanted to make sure they got some juice and a healthy snack. We had the children line up, and some mothers carrying their babies also joined in. As I handed a juice bottle to one woman, I noticed the baby on her back wasn’t moving, and his eyes were rolled into the back of his head. For a moment, I thought her baby had died and she hadn’t yet noticed. Fortunately, the child moved (barely), giving me a small sign of life. I asked one of the World Vision staff members to find out what was happening.
The baby had been sick for two weeks. The father is in prison, and the mother is having a hard time supporting her three small children. The national health insurance program is $2 per year, which is unaffordable for the family. That day, we were able to help. We arranged for the family to be registered, and took the mother and baby to the hospital. But there are so many we didn’t help. I hate that a child almost died for a lack of $2… and I can’t accept that many actually do die. In Rwanda, the infant mortality rate is one in five.
The next day we saw the mother at the site, and were surprised to see that she had the baby with her. I couldn’t believe the difference. We were never able to figure out exactly what was wrong with him, but he was a far cry from the limp figure we had seen just the day before.
Tuesday was our last day and we had a celebration with the World Vision staff in the afternoon. We were entertained by a group of dancers and singers, who we found out afterwards were a peer education group who teach others about HIV prevention, testing, and stigmatisation.
It was hard to say goodbye to Rwanda and the friends we had made. We all left saying that we would come back. Whether we said this because it made the farewells easier or whether it is actually the case is yet to be determined. The people of Rwanda are magnetic. To leave without any intention of returning would have been impossible.
