Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Home Visits


Over the break between Term 1 & Term 2 in April, I had the chance to visit a few of the girls from Eleanor Roosevelt where they stay on their school holidays.  I skewed my visits toward the girls who have more English because they are better equipped to translate for the adults where they live.  

[There is an interesting debate to be had about sending these kids 'home' over school holidays.  Most of them come from pretty rough situations.  I think in the US it would be unheard of to send some of these kids back out to these conditions.  That said, Agahozo is a strange type of place in Rwanda and the mission is to make these kids productive citizens of Rwanda.  If they come out after four years speaking Hebrew with no connections to where they came from they'll be ill equipped to integrate back into society.  The thinking is to help them maintain some connections with guardians, neighbors or some other support network outside of Agahozo.  Luckily for me, I have no say in this matter at all.]

I went to visit Ornella in the Kimironko suburb of Kigali, near the big Amahoro National Stadium.  Ornella was home with a bunch of other kids aged 14-4.  We goofed off and talked about basketball practice and fashion.  It felt like visiting any kid in the states except maybe she was more polite than you would expect.  She made me tea and freaked out when I didn't take sugar in it.  (Rwandans like their milk and sugar with a tiny bit of tea flavoring.)  We talked about the loss of her mom, and how that has affected her.  She's very proud of her mom and protective of her memory.  Doing right by her mother's memory is a source of motivation for her now.

That afternoon, I went to visit Yvonne in the Nyamirambo suburb of Kigali.  That was quite a moto ride up steep and rain washed dirt roads. She lives in a modest house with her 90 year old 'grandsister' (this could be any older relative, really) and her sister who is 14.  Her younger sister is in one of those Christian sponsor-a-kid programs and she has an album full of photos and letters of people from Michigan she's never met. The program provides most of the nutrition in the household, and I was glad for it.  Yvonne's grand sister was very embarrassed not to be able to offer me tea, as hospitality is the custom for guests, but I tried to assure her I was just there to see Yvonne and to visit.  Yvonne was beaming and laughed the entire time.  We went for a Fanta afterwards.  She is an absolute dear and I will probably try to put her in my carry-on bag when I come home. 
Yvonne, her "Grandsister" and her younger sister

The next day, I visited Samila in Rwamagana, who lives literally feet from the bus station there. I met her Mom, or her aunt who she calls mom. Relations can be quite fluid. She might mean this woman serves as her mom now.  There were maybe 7 or 8 other kids in the house who came to meet me and Samila was helping to care for lots of them.  This woman could not believe I was not Jewish.  She was under the impression all white people are Jewish.  They made me a large meal with cooked bananas and also offered me 'ground nuts' peanuts, which is a big treat and usually reserved for celebrations.  Samila also tried to translate a strange story for me about a chicken and a dog eating the same food, and the chicken says the dog smells, but I think the fable was lost in translation.  Maybe they were saying I smelled bad.  I really have no idea.  This woman also asked me, "Are you a poor?"  [person is implied, in Kinyarwana the word for poor is like a degenerate.]  I had to pause.  Okay, I know by no stretch in the Rwanda comparison scale am I "a poor".  I am "a lucky".  But I am here to work for a year and help out however I can, but not field every request for money.  People ask me all the time for money.  Kids in the village ask me to buy them things all the time.   I was afraid the next question was for a donation.  "No" I finally replied.  I am not poor.  Would I be willing, in that case, to take Samila back to New York with me and send her to college?  "No, that is not possible."  I guess it never hurts to ask.

The next day I took a bus east to Kibungo to visit Adelaide.  I met her brother, sister and grandmother. Her grandmother makes these beautiful traditional tiles out of clay on wood.  Adelaide was happy to greet me. She made me sweet milky tea and 2 (two!) Blue Band sandwiches.  This is not my favorite food, but it was a very kind gesture. We visited for a while and talked about faith.  The word mercy came up a lot. Mercy is a concept I can get behind.  The home seemed safe and comfortable and they had a TV, the first I'd seen. Adelaide's grandmother insisted that Adelaide come with me to the bus station to put me on a the right matatu (bus-ish van) to Sake to see Grace. (This was a bit embarrassing and perhaps attracted a bit of mazungu attention, but that was mostly coming my way anyway.)

Adelaide's brother, her sister, Adelaide and her Grandmother proudly showing off some of her Grandmother's artwork.

Me and Adelaide

At the bus station in Kibungu I boarded my matatu for Sake, headed toward Gafunzo City to see Grace.  Matatus leave whenever they have at least 5 more than capacity for the van, so we sat there for a while. I didn't know exactly where I was going or when I would get there, or how I would get home from there, but I was going to see Grace, the very first of my girls to ask me to come to visit her.  The trip was on no paved roads, and they were pretty bad due to the rainy season. This was not my favorite journey.  Eventually, I saw a sign for the Gafunzo primary school so I asked to get out.  Once I stepped out of the van there was general alarm.  What was a Mazungu doing here? Where exactly was I going?  Moto drivers surrounded me.  Men left bars to come and see what was going on.  I called Grace and waited for her to come and fetch me.  Gafunzo city was like a slightly bigger Rubona, with a market, a couple of informal restaurants and shops, a school and a medical clinic.  

When Grace came to fetch me there was a crowd with her. The entire time I was at her house, people kept just stopping by, entering without knocking even, to see the Mazungu in Gafunzo city.  I guess they don't get many tourists in this small suburb if Sake.  Grace was so so so so so excited to see me.  She took me on a tour of the town. She took me back home and offered me a meal. When she took the lid off the pot I almost cried.  She had made me spaghetti. She knows, because I usually eat at her table, that when we have spaghetti in the dining hall I love it and have seconds or thirds. For me, its a big treat to switch away from the rice for a meal. The kids, in general, don't really like the spaghetti and see the event as unfortunate. Grace had asked her mother to purchase and make spaghetti for me.  I can only imagine what percentage of the family food budget for the week (month?) was allocated for this luxury.  Further mystifying to them is why anyone would pay more for this food which they do not like.  When the meal was served, only Grace and I ate, not the 6 or 7 other people in the house, though the small kids looked on wistfully.  There might have been a better way to handle this I guess, but I didn't want to show anyone up and insist we divide what was there 9 ways.  Mostly on these visits I go along with the advice of the host and just do what they say.  I hope I am following custom and I'm afraid to push for things to be different because I don't have all the details. Hopefully it all evens out eventually.  


Grace made me spaghetti!  (Sorry for the bad light.)

 Grace and her older sister


 Grace's sister and some of the kids living in this house. (Dorbs!)

Grace and her mom.

Oh my goodness, how gorgeous is Grace's mom?  This is Grace's actual mother, and I also got to meet her older brother, and older sister.  

I also, went to Rugalika to Jeanette's grave site, to see her home and younger sister.  She is buried right next to the family's two cows, maybe 6 feet from the house.  We will be working to install a gravestone for her, more on that in a future post.

Preview: I may take a handful of ibuprofen and try to run a half marathon on a pulled achillies tendon this Sunday. Stay tuned. 

No comments: