As I write this to be posted later I am sighting in Pasquel's car, with his friend Pasquel. I did not know these men an hour ago.
(the rest was written 8 days later)
I was waiting at the end of the road for a bus and none was coming. When this car slowed a fellow teacher asked them to give me a ride to Gitarama.
There were 2 men in the car, and a second teacher I know hopped in as well. We had a pleasant drive the 15 minutes into town, conversation mostly consisting of how I don't speak kinyarwanda.
The teacher was dropped and the driver and the Pasquels said they were going to Kigali and if I wanted a ride that far, I could have it, but they had to stop for a quick errand. Since I had seen my 3rd bad bus accident that morning, and thinking Rwanda is one of the most densely populated countries on earth, I said 'that would be great.'
As they ran their errand, I waited in the car and wondered if this was such a good idea. The Hotel California came on the stereo, and sin e it was in English and always makes me think of my cousin, I decided it was a sign that things were going to be fine. (when I told my mother later, she questioned this logic). The next song, the three of us were driving at this point, proved my sign: Imagine. And as I sung along and wondered at the words and if those dreamers had had their wish sooner and 'the world was one' maybe 1994 wouldn't have happened, a voice from the front seat joined in the singing as well.
Followed by Let it Be. I think John Lennon was smiling somewhere over how his music could bring people together...
shine until tomorrow; let it be.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, April 30, 2010
UA- part 2 Kampala
Kampala is everything Kigali is not: big, loud, varied, and dirty. There are chain restaurants, Nandos. And reasonably priced bookstores. There is an almost current movie theater. There is so much food!
So upon arrival we cleaned up and went out to eat Chinese. It was quite possibly the best Chinese I have ever had. Then Jess and I, unable to resist temptation, went to a movie. Which was not as good, but still an experience.
To get to the movie from chinese food we took a boda-boda, which is a moto. But in Uganda you can have 2 passengers! Slows it down.
So Friday we enjoyed an Americanized day. Fast food lunch at nandos. Another movie, this time with Kerry and Theo. And then time wandering around the bookstore. Dinner Friday was at a delicious grill where I was able to have schnitzel, and it was pretty good schnitzel. Then we went to a club called Iguana. Mostly travelers, but definitely fun.
Saturday we left Kampala for the day. Jess and I had heard that the Speke Resort had stables and for under $30 you could ride for an hour around Lake Victoria. Theo had never ridden before but Kerry an Jess both had experience.
When we went to the stables to ride, they asked about how much we had ridden. So they were nervous about us ridding but I managed to convince everyone it would be fine.
When they lined up the horses, I was in the back. And they gave me a fiesty horse- Merhdad. Merhdad would kick, so I had to stay behind. Also so we didn't lose any straggelers. Well we didn't really ride along the lake, we mostly rode through little towns.
I have rarely felt so priviliged. But people were friendly when we waved and said hello. I really enjoyed it. I think my horse and I would have enjoyed ourselves more if we could have gone faster, but I did manage to keep him in control.
The rest of the day was spent by an olympic size pool. Since it was off season, it was quiet but very nice. An interesting glimpse into how the other half lives- ok so 2% lives...
So upon arrival we cleaned up and went out to eat Chinese. It was quite possibly the best Chinese I have ever had. Then Jess and I, unable to resist temptation, went to a movie. Which was not as good, but still an experience.
To get to the movie from chinese food we took a boda-boda, which is a moto. But in Uganda you can have 2 passengers! Slows it down.
So Friday we enjoyed an Americanized day. Fast food lunch at nandos. Another movie, this time with Kerry and Theo. And then time wandering around the bookstore. Dinner Friday was at a delicious grill where I was able to have schnitzel, and it was pretty good schnitzel. Then we went to a club called Iguana. Mostly travelers, but definitely fun.
Saturday we left Kampala for the day. Jess and I had heard that the Speke Resort had stables and for under $30 you could ride for an hour around Lake Victoria. Theo had never ridden before but Kerry an Jess both had experience.
When we went to the stables to ride, they asked about how much we had ridden. So they were nervous about us ridding but I managed to convince everyone it would be fine.
When they lined up the horses, I was in the back. And they gave me a fiesty horse- Merhdad. Merhdad would kick, so I had to stay behind. Also so we didn't lose any straggelers. Well we didn't really ride along the lake, we mostly rode through little towns.
I have rarely felt so priviliged. But people were friendly when we waved and said hello. I really enjoyed it. I think my horse and I would have enjoyed ourselves more if we could have gone faster, but I did manage to keep him in control.
The rest of the day was spent by an olympic size pool. Since it was off season, it was quiet but very nice. An interesting glimpse into how the other half lives- ok so 2% lives...
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
End the Silence
A couple of weeks ago Jess invited me to a march. It was to raise awareness and end the taboo on talking about menstraution. Especially for school age girls.
Many girls in developing countries miss school when on their period. This is most often because of a lack of access to sanitary pads or facilities to change them while at school. Because of missing school 3 or 4 or more days a month, many girls drop out and do not finish secondary education.
So we joined about 150 people, school girls and some school boys, teachers both male and female, and other various people- mostly Rwandan- to march in bright red shirts through the city.
It was a succesful day.
When we left the rally at the end I was still wearing my bright shirt with kinyrwanda writing that said something about ending the silence on menstraution. We walked into a pharmacy and the pharmacist asked what it was about so we explained. He was surprised girls miss school so often and asked his assistant if she ever had. Her response: of course. His look of surprise was even greater.
Nice the we brought awareness to at least one person.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Many girls in developing countries miss school when on their period. This is most often because of a lack of access to sanitary pads or facilities to change them while at school. Because of missing school 3 or 4 or more days a month, many girls drop out and do not finish secondary education.
So we joined about 150 people, school girls and some school boys, teachers both male and female, and other various people- mostly Rwandan- to march in bright red shirts through the city.
It was a succesful day.
When we left the rally at the end I was still wearing my bright shirt with kinyrwanda writing that said something about ending the silence on menstraution. We walked into a pharmacy and the pharmacist asked what it was about so we explained. He was surprised girls miss school so often and asked his assistant if she ever had. Her response: of course. His look of surprise was even greater.
Nice the we brought awareness to at least one person.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Ugandan Adventures- part 1
There is a 2 week holiday in Rwanda to coincide with the Genocide Memorial week. And being outsiders, many expats choose to leave the country and not intrude on the national mourning. We joined this group.
On Thursday, the day following the Candlelight Vigil, we woke up at 5:00am to catch a bus to Kampala. The ride started uneventful- Kerry and Theo together and I had the window behind Jessica. About 3hours in, while I was sleeping a woman and her baby sat next to me.
As I continued to sleep for the next 2 hours, the almost perpetual breast feeding did not bother me. What did both me was when the mother changed the baby's diaper or rather just removed the diaper as the was not replacement. The removed diaper was hen folded and placed between us.
Disgusting? Yes. But not nearly as bad as when the baby had to relieve herself again, and did, on her mothers lap. It got better- the mother than started throwing up. And as Jess was awake in front of me that becam my cue to move to he row ahead.
We did arrive safely in Kampala, and other than my seat partner the 2 most interesting parts were when we drove into Uganda we switched from drivig on the right side to the left. And the second was crossing the equator.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
On Thursday, the day following the Candlelight Vigil, we woke up at 5:00am to catch a bus to Kampala. The ride started uneventful- Kerry and Theo together and I had the window behind Jessica. About 3hours in, while I was sleeping a woman and her baby sat next to me.
As I continued to sleep for the next 2 hours, the almost perpetual breast feeding did not bother me. What did both me was when the mother changed the baby's diaper or rather just removed the diaper as the was not replacement. The removed diaper was hen folded and placed between us.
Disgusting? Yes. But not nearly as bad as when the baby had to relieve herself again, and did, on her mothers lap. It got better- the mother than started throwing up. And as Jess was awake in front of me that becam my cue to move to he row ahead.
We did arrive safely in Kampala, and other than my seat partner the 2 most interesting parts were when we drove into Uganda we switched from drivig on the right side to the left. And the second was crossing the equator.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
16 years ago... where were you?
I was in 3rd grade. The O.J Simpson trial and the Tanya Harding scandal dominated the news. And those 2 events I remember very clearly. It wasn't until 10 years that I realized what else had happened...
From my window I can see the airport where the president's plane did not land. I can see the stadium where Tutsi's waited in fear, because although it was the UN headquarters, they knew the UN wouldn't save them. I can walk to the Kicukiro College of Technology where the UN left, and as they left the 3,000 people who had taken refuge there were slaughtered. In 100 days, 800,000 people were brutally killed, not in a madness that suddenly overtook a country, but in a perfectly planned genocide.
I remember the nightmares I got when I was writing my thesis, and I knew at the time they were nothing compared to the nightmare lived and relived by millions of people. I think that was why I felt most inadequate.
I have learned to hate the phrase "never again." Because, quite frankly, it's bullshit. People said it after the Holocaust, and Serbia and Rwanda and Cambodia and even Iraq happened. People repeated the phrase, but look at Sudan, and Congo.
Being born into Western culture is a privilege. We have relatively corruption free elections, heck, we can even not vote if we want. We have free speech. Colleges now have a higher percentage of women in attendance than men. I can go out to eat every day. I can drive a car, on (almost) pot-hole free roads. I can assume buses won't tip over a cliff. I can buy a tv, and I can watch more than one station repeated on 33 channels. I can wear a bikini on the street if I wanted. I can swear at the top of my voice in a mall if I wanted. I can go to a mall. I can curse our president in public. I can start a political party. I can call my congressman and senators and tell them what matters to me. And if they don't listen, I can vote against them. Ice cream is a privilege. Eating meat, or choosing to be a vegetarian, is a privilege. Eating food from your neighbor, and not wondering if it was poisoned, is a privilege.
But despite this privilege, or because of it, I do not have the right to be ignorant. I do not get to ignore the fact that almost half the world — over three billion people — live on less than $2.50 a day. I do not get to ignore trafficking. I do not get to ignore slavery. Or oppression. Or mass rapes. I do not get to ignore genocide.
Part of me wants you to feel guilty. And I'm sure a part of you, if you are still reading, is mad at me. How dare I assume that your life is easy? I don't. I know life is hard. But with great power comes great responsibility.
A friend of mine lost her grandmother this week. And I am so sorry for her loss, because it is a great loss, and I don't discount that. I just ask you to remember Rwanda, who lost a tenth of her population 16 years ago. Everyone of those 800,000 victims were someones Mother. Father. Sister. Brother. Child. Lover. Friend. Neighbor. Grandparent. Godparent. And they didn't just die, they were brutally murdered by their neighbors. I know Americans are more likely to respond to a single person's grief than an entire country's, but think about it today. Consider how fortunate you are and be grateful. Be grateful that you can't even imagine the horror that was here.
I know that I can't imagine what happened. I know I can't imagine the grief still felt. I know that no matter what I do, I can't make it go away or somehow better. All I can do is grade my papers, and go to the vigil tomorrow and lamely say "never again"...
From my window I can see the airport where the president's plane did not land. I can see the stadium where Tutsi's waited in fear, because although it was the UN headquarters, they knew the UN wouldn't save them. I can walk to the Kicukiro College of Technology where the UN left, and as they left the 3,000 people who had taken refuge there were slaughtered. In 100 days, 800,000 people were brutally killed, not in a madness that suddenly overtook a country, but in a perfectly planned genocide.
I remember the nightmares I got when I was writing my thesis, and I knew at the time they were nothing compared to the nightmare lived and relived by millions of people. I think that was why I felt most inadequate.
I have learned to hate the phrase "never again." Because, quite frankly, it's bullshit. People said it after the Holocaust, and Serbia and Rwanda and Cambodia and even Iraq happened. People repeated the phrase, but look at Sudan, and Congo.
Being born into Western culture is a privilege. We have relatively corruption free elections, heck, we can even not vote if we want. We have free speech. Colleges now have a higher percentage of women in attendance than men. I can go out to eat every day. I can drive a car, on (almost) pot-hole free roads. I can assume buses won't tip over a cliff. I can buy a tv, and I can watch more than one station repeated on 33 channels. I can wear a bikini on the street if I wanted. I can swear at the top of my voice in a mall if I wanted. I can go to a mall. I can curse our president in public. I can start a political party. I can call my congressman and senators and tell them what matters to me. And if they don't listen, I can vote against them. Ice cream is a privilege. Eating meat, or choosing to be a vegetarian, is a privilege. Eating food from your neighbor, and not wondering if it was poisoned, is a privilege.
But despite this privilege, or because of it, I do not have the right to be ignorant. I do not get to ignore the fact that almost half the world — over three billion people — live on less than $2.50 a day. I do not get to ignore trafficking. I do not get to ignore slavery. Or oppression. Or mass rapes. I do not get to ignore genocide.
Part of me wants you to feel guilty. And I'm sure a part of you, if you are still reading, is mad at me. How dare I assume that your life is easy? I don't. I know life is hard. But with great power comes great responsibility.
A friend of mine lost her grandmother this week. And I am so sorry for her loss, because it is a great loss, and I don't discount that. I just ask you to remember Rwanda, who lost a tenth of her population 16 years ago. Everyone of those 800,000 victims were someones Mother. Father. Sister. Brother. Child. Lover. Friend. Neighbor. Grandparent. Godparent. And they didn't just die, they were brutally murdered by their neighbors. I know Americans are more likely to respond to a single person's grief than an entire country's, but think about it today. Consider how fortunate you are and be grateful. Be grateful that you can't even imagine the horror that was here.
I know that I can't imagine what happened. I know I can't imagine the grief still felt. I know that no matter what I do, I can't make it go away or somehow better. All I can do is grade my papers, and go to the vigil tomorrow and lamely say "never again"...
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