oh computers

Its with great hesitation that I begin to type this post. And unfortunately, my concern has already proven to be well founded. I spent three days last week running all over Kigali in my attempts to get the laptop my work has leant me in working order. I had to buy a new adaptor cord and charger and attempted to get the keyboard fixed. Apparently, I'm not the hard nosed business person I thought I was! I told the electrician I needed the s key on the laptops keyboard fixed. The end result after hours of waiting around in a little store which was the size of a good walk in closet… three of the computers keys were now broken and I still insisted on paying the electrician because he seemed to have done his best! Everyone in the little shop now knows me by name due to my frequent visits...but unfortunately they all think my name is Christine.

I finally agreed to buy an external keyboard. This is the first time IM using the new keyboard and I’ve already found many problems. Even though I specifically said I needed an English keyboard, this is definitely a French keyboard. The keys are in the wrong places, the shift key doesn’t work`, so I have to hit caps lock to get a capital, and the apostrophe key doesn’t work, unless I hit control alt delete before I hit it! Also… I had the viruses removed…but as I have learned this morning…they are all still thriving…much like whatever animal is running around in our ceiling every night. It usually wakes me up twice me up at least twice a night when it and its friends decide to have dance parties and jump all over the place. Enough of my woes! I can think of many things that would be much more interesting for you all to read about

Even though Ive been in country for 6 weeks as of yesterday, this past week has brought me through a lot of firsts. I taught my first English class at an organisation called sisters of Rwanda, I went to the first of my soon to be weekly visits to an orphanage started by mother Theresa, and for the first time, Ive really felt as though Im a contributing member of my organisations staff! Ì now have a concrete work plan of my own and have helped translate a document. Its still far from, perfect, but Ive also noticed that over these past two weeks some of the French I learned throughout my primary schooling in French immersion has resurfaced. It has also been reinforced by local phrases and expressions that are becoming a part of my every day vocabulary. My ´Kinyarwandan is horrible…but none the less Im trying to use it as much as I can. Ive learned how to say “I want to go to” which is a very useful phrase especially when flagging down one of the moto taxis. I had to laugh at myself the other day when for the first time I spoke to a taxi driver only using my limited Kinya. I must have done a good job because he replied using the same language instead of switching to French or English. Unfortunately I didn’t understand his response and said in English “Im sorry what” His response had been to quote the price of the fare and i couldn’t remember if what he said meant 6 or 7 hundred. He mistook my inability to understand the language as an unwillingness to pay such a high fare...and without me ever bartering, he dropped the fare by 200! Im learning that Im sometimes most effective when Im not even trying and unfortunately the opposite is also true.

One of the strangest things that comes with living here has been realising that I am inadvertently part of this country's elite. I can afford to eat at the expensive restaurants, and if I miss the public bus I don’t think twice about jumping onto a moto, thereby paying 8 times as much. Last night Laura and I met up with another Canadian, and two of her Rwandan friends. One of the Rwandan guys brought along another British guy. Turns out that the British guy, some kinda garden architect who must have been at least in his late 30s, had just arrived in country the night before had been hired by the Rwandan gov to design a giant garden for a new museum. As we all sat eating on a balcony overlooking the night time cityscape of light covered mountains, it was hard to digest that the very same morning I was overcome with tears after leaving the orphanage where I had spent 2 and a half hours playing with and singing to 23 little one and two year olds who cried every time I set them back on the ground. More than any other time in my life Im being forced to meditate on the inequalities that exist between my life of relative ease and the lives of those I now interact with daily. I wonder how Paris Hilton will internalise all these realities when she visits the country next month!One of the biggest lessons I'm learning is that I need to give myself some grace as I work things through.

This afternoon Laura and I are both going to a three day work shop in a rural village in the western province. The workshop is run by the Trauma and healing department of my work, and its goal is to promote dialogue and renew the relationships that were destroyed during the genocide. Over the three days, the families of victims and offenders will live together as they participate in Trauma recovery workshops. This is the first group or individual counselling most of the villagers will have experienced.

Yesterday afternoon I decided that I wanted to visit the Gizozi Genocide Memorial and education centre before participating in this workshop. Laura and split a cab to the centre but I wanted to walk around on my own. The intern who worked with my organisation before I came left last week, but before she left we went for a long walk around our neighbourhood and she told me what had happened where I currently live and work during the genocide. Some of the mass killings took place just down the street from me in a school and a field. Living where many people died and knowing people who lost their families made reading about the lead up to the genocide in the memorial very difficult. The genocide is built on a hill top overlooking Kigali and over 250,000 people are buried their in large mass graves.

A little bit engaged...

Let me explain. This past week, I participated in a three day HIV/Aids conference hosted by my NGO. After going to work Tuesday morning and discovering that no one else was at the office, the other intern and I pieced together the bits of conversation we'd overheard over the past few days and soon realised that the entire staff, except for us, were already participating in an AIDS teachers training seminar. As so often is the case here, I had to invite myself to attend and walked back down the mountain I had just walked up to join my other co-workers. There is no type of formal information network at my NGO (or anyother place in this country!) so unless you're in the room when something is being discussed...you won't know about it. Once I signed up for the workshop and sat down on the wooden benches with the other 40 participants...I soon realised that this was not to be a typical North American training seminar.
To begin the workshop, the leader said that all participants had to introduce themselves by saying their name, level of education, and stating whether or not they were married. I would have thought this was strange a few weeks ago, but now that I've spent a month here, I'm completely use to being asked my name...and then being asked if I'm married. Sometimes, people don't even ask my name and just skip to the are you married part, yeah it gets a little bit annoying. Anyways, I was already dreading my turn to introduce myself after a group of 6 university guys all stood up and said that they were not married, but my dread grew when one of them said that he hoped to be engaged by the end of this workshop! It came to be my turn and I said (all in french) Hi, my name is Kathryn, I'm a 4th year university student from Canada...and I'm not married. Cheers erupted and some guy said "and are you engaged?" This is when, a bit to my surprise..I said "yes...I am a little bit engaged"and then sat down. Everyone laughed and the next person had to introduce themselves. I don't know what being a little bit engaged here means but if it means that I'm not going to marry anyone within the next three months that I stay in this country...then I don't think I'm completely lying by saying that I'm a little bit engaged!(Although if any of my Rwanda friends visit Canada...I may need one of you guys to pose as my fiancee)
A lot of the information that was presented in the workshop was excellent, and very factual. I've heard most of this stuff before but it was a good refresher and helpful to learn about some HIV/Aids transmission dangers that are especially relevant in this country. Once problem is that many people, especially in rural areas, share the same razor to shave their heads. If the razor is not properly cleaned, than Aids can be spread to all of the people in a village! Many of the participants grew concerned upon learning this information and were comforted to learn that here in Kigali, almost all of the salons have received HIV/Aids awareness training. Its been really hot here this past week and the room we were all sitting in grew pretty hot and muggy during the 8 hours a day we spent in the same room. To keep people awake and give them a chance to stretch, all participants were expected to participate in the 3 breaks that would take place randonmly throughout the day. I can't stress how hilarious these breaks were and I usually ended up near tears because I was laughing so hard. (It's important to know that this was a formal meeting and most people were dressed in full suits or at least office appropriate attire.) In the fist game we played, everyone had to stand in a tight circle in the centre of the room and, in order, take turns saying 1, 2, urgh. Strangely that was the entire game...I couldn't figure out why this was hard because all you had to do was listen to what the person before you said and you'd know that you either had to say 1, 2 or urgh. The game began and immediatly, someone was out. To make sure that others knew that someone was out, the unfortunate person had to walk to the centre of the circle..sqwat on the ground, and cover their head with their hands. I was praying that I wouldn't have to join all the sqwaters and I made it through five rounds. I was so proud when I overheard someone whisper "the Mzungo is good at this game." At last...I've done something right! Other games we played included swat the mosquito (a game which involved pretending that the people beside you were covered in mosquitos which you had to hit) and another game much like Simon says.
In addition to discussing HIV/Aids the workshop addressed typical gender roles and stressed the importance of sexual education. To start a dialogue over gender roles and marriage (my absolute least favourite subject here!) we all had to once again go around the circle and state what we were looking for in a husband or wife. They came to me and asked if I would like to share what I thought.... I was like absolutely! At this point all of the guys had stated that a good wife had to be presentable, keep a clean house, be good at entertaining and must be a good mother. I rambled over a few typical things and then said, "and he must believe that we are equals" The instructor asked me to explain what this meant so I said "ideally, I'd love to stay at home with my kids when they are young, but I also plan on working outside of the home. If this happens, then my husband and I will have to help eachother clean the house and raise the kids" This response received no comments and I wasn't hit on for the rest of the workshop! I think I'll make myself a t-shirt that says if I'm your wife you'll have to help clean...walking down the street may become a lot easier!
Two weeks ago I visited one of the poorest regions of Rwanda, Gikongoro. This area has been plagued by famine and the stories I listened to during my interviews were heart breaking. My co-worker and I visited four different women's groups which had received an HIV/training seminars. The purpose of these interviews is to see whether these workshops have helped the women, especially those who are HIV positive. A big complaint amongst the women was that they didn't have enough food to take their aids medication with... so it would make them sick. They'd then stop talking the medication so that they'd feel better,but then they'd fall sick with Aids. One of the small groups we visited met in a building that served as a church, but it had a few bedroms attached to the back. After the interviews were done, the women asked if we would go and see a sick man that was being housed in one of the rooms at the back of the church. We walked into a small room with bright blue walls where there was a man lying under a mosquito net. He was drenched in sweat and his eyes looked wild. He put a shirt on and sat up, leaning on his arm, to tell us that his medications were making him sick and that he needed to go to the hospital. Church members had been sharing with him what little food they had and were basically keeping him alive. He asked if he could pray for us so we ended up kneeling on the cold cement floor in front of his bead. He spoke Kinyarwandan so I had no idea what he was saying. I bowed my head but all I felt was anger. I was angry at everyone and everything that had made this man's life as hard as it was. Later on that day J and I walked over an hour to the next group we were meeting with. We had to walk directly passed the prison serving the district we were in. The stench coming from those prison walls was horrid and I can't imagine what life is like inside. We also passed one of the more gruesome genocide memorials in which the bones of over 2000 people are layed out on tables. The prision and the bones...living and dead reminders of what took place here.
I really need to stress that much of what I experience here in Kigali, and this country as a whole, is very positive. Most of the people I've met here are really generous, welcoming, and filled with hope for their country's future. People are proud to be Rwandan and so they should be, it is amazing to see how much this country has accomplished since the war. One of the biggest surprises I have experienced after arriving here is how safe I feel. Normal precautions aside, I sometimes feel safer than I do in some parts of Toronto!
One last story that is keeping in theme with the earlier part of this post is the hilarity I experienced while leaving one of the viallges I visited in Gikongoro. I was definetly the only Mzungo in the village, and perhaps the only that had been there in quite awhile. It is Rwandan culture to accompany a guest as they leave... sometimes for over a mile. About 7 people from the interviews walked with J and I through the village as we were leaving. Our little crowd was drawing quite a bit of attention and I soon began to feel as though I was the main attraction in a small parade. Little kids ran beside us yelling Mzungo and all of a sudden I was walking beside a man in a captain's hat. (Where he found a captain's hat I have no idea, but none the less there it was on his head") I shook his hand, and said hi, but he wouldn't leave. He kept yelling things to the people we were passing and then looking back at me. I would have felt a bit uneasy but there were so many people around all seemed fine. I kept asking my translator what he was saying but she wouldn't tell me. Finally I was like really, I want to know! She said "well, he's saying a lot of things but one of the things he is telling people is that you're his wife." Oh the things that happen here!
I must go but I want to wish everyone a great Thanksgiving. Laura and I are hosting a bit of a thanksgiving party for some of the people we've met here. We've spent the day looking around down town for things that are sorta close to thanksgiving foods. We're cooking dinner for 7 people in our toaster oven and on our 2 petrol burners so I'm sure I'll have a few more stories after this Monday. I even managed to find a few pieces of paper with maple leaves on them and we're planning on cutting some banana leaves into the shapes of leaves from home for a centre piece. I promise to take lots of pictures.

I love and miss you all!
Kathryn