Manolos in the Bush

African Tea - To Go!

2010-05-27T04:22:00.000-07:00

The best part of being back in America? My hot beverage to-go cup. At first I balked at the thought of putting all the time in to a travel cup of African Tea, since I prefer a whole pot full when I make it.

However, many early morning teaching sessions have inspired me to perfect the to-go African Tea and now I'm sharing it here with you!!

Ingredients:
1 C. Water
1 C. Milk (Organic, Regular, Whole, Skim - whatever, I recommend 2%)
Ginger to preference (I use about 8 slices off of a root)
Raw Sugar (I haven't tried it with processed sugar, I love the raw kind and that's what they have in Rwanda)

1. Boil water and ginger together.

2. Boil milk.

3. Put 1 teabag in a to-go cup while you wait for liquids to boil.

4. Add sugar to preference and pour hot water (hang on to the ginger, unless you want it taking up precious space in your cup) over tea bag.

5. Add boiled milk.

6. Mix well and Enjoy!

Loving Love

2010-05-24T18:54:00.000-07:00

As a staunch 'soloist' and single lady, children and couples often did very little in the department of 'impressed' in my brain. Children didn't make me coo and couples didn't make me saw "Awww." Mostly, both things kicked off my gag reflex. Some of that has changed - perhaps I'm growing up or perhaps I've been out of the 'game' for too long and I'm becoming a softy. Am I pulling a "Carrie-Bradshaw-considering-children/future/marriage-with-the-Russian" in Season 6? I don't think so - but these stories are working pretty well at softening all my guards.

First, I subbed kindergarten last week for two days. I floated amongst two different groups of students so I got to really 'crash course' the kindergarten flow. Mannie - who I was warned about before beginning the class as a pretty hyperactive kid - quickly became my favorite. It helps that they all barely clear my knees, so they're at perfect head-patting-ignoring-your-questions height. So, we're comparing some stories which includes a venn diagram (two intersecting circles). I draw the two stories and Mannie gets truly concerned and says "Dat looks like a BUTT!" I (and the class) try to ignore his sentence, so in true hyperactive fashion he yells "WHY DOES DAT LOOK LIKE A BUTT?!" I am truly dying inside I want to laugh out loud so hard. Other than that, every day I've subbed in kinders there has been a birthday party which has included crazy sugary snacks and treats.

Next, over the weekend I went with my mom to see some family. My uncle is in the final stages of fighting lung cancer that has spread all over his body. I don't think he's come to terms with the fact that death is incredibly close because he kept saying "Hopefully, next time we see each other I'll be in better shape." It was heartbreaking to see this man, who has lived such an incredible life, not yet be ready to admit it's almost over. I remember last summer when I came to visit him and we talked politics and oil - our views differed, but our humor towards the audacity of it all in D.C. was completely aligned. I didn't agree with him, but I loved the way he said the things he said. He truly believed in the great America of his day and it's promise of now. But - besides my reminiscing, the most magical moment of the visit with him was my aunt. She is short and fiesty. She referred to everything as 'ours' or 'we.' "We have chemo next week," "Well, we had another seizure yesterday," "Our legs aren't working with us right now." The love between those two was almost overwhelming. It was that epic love that spans wars, Presidents, decades and pop stars. My aunt told me a story about seeing Johnny Cash at a little concert and she went to the stage, with my uncle and his camera in tow, and as she asked JC for a kiss on the cheek and my uncle looked down to advance his film, Sir Johnny Cash himself kissed my aunt on the lips!! Not before autographing an album cover for her. I was cracking up - my uncle, the esteemed photographer - for the first time ever missing a historic moment like that!

Lastly, strawberries. Nothing makes you appreciate nature and food more than strawberries. I love them. A few weeks ago, my brother drug me out to our garden - which was barely even green - to pick weeds around strawberry plants I could barely see. I teased him the whole time, thinking all this senseless work, these didn't even look they would have any fruit! And boy, this weekend I stuck my giant, muddy garden shoe right in my mouth. Our garden has hundreds of strawberries growing in it right now, tons of them ripe and ready for the picking. My mom - of course in her post-op stockings - spent all morning Saturday picking out all the ripe strawberries and cleaning them. This morning, I had them cut up with a banana. There is something so natural about picking the food you eat. I went out this afternoon after I got home from the school and spent a few minutes picking out some really ripe, happy looking berries. I can't wait to eat them - I feel like I actually really worked for that food and it makes it taste even better!

In my next life - of perhaps some sort of modicum of adulthood - I want to have a garden full of berries. My favorite berries - black, rasp and straw - so that I can work on them all summer and eat them up on top of everything. Maybe after I graduate from berry garden mastress, I'll graduate to herbs. I hope the rooftops or yards of the next city I find myself in are ready for me - I'll be cultivating them just as soon as possible.

Childrens

2010-05-18T05:11:00.000-07:00

Part of my job search includes substitute teaching at my old elementary/middle/high schools. Usually, it's fun because I get to see younger siblings all grown up or pool rats that now tower over me and clearly wouldn't be stopped by a whistle. But other days.... other days are like yesterday. Yesterday I worked for a 1st grade teacher and, well, it was a challenge.

First, these kids whined like there was no tomorrow. They whined about everything. One girl, Karista whined at least every 25 seconds. I am accustomed to children whining in non-English, so this whole "me-understanding-everything-you-say-with-your-retainer-in" thing was really annoying. They told on each other every other minute for things such as "Kenny won't stop looking at me," or "Gage keeps saying 'Blah Blah Blah' to me."

Then, there was that one kid. There's always one. The one kid who just... well, peep the stories then you can decide for yourself. First I noticed that he was extremely ADD - and not that like, wimpy excuse for ADD - he, literally, could not sit still and if he was sitting still he was turned away (not facing his homework) and trying to distract the kid behind him. Then, while I was reading he was running around the room with a red permanent marker looking at me and pointing it at things. Then... then he pulled the trigger. It was indoor recess (whomever thought of this idea should be killed) and he turned on the radio. I walked over to be all teacher-like and make sure nothing was broken and he screamed. No, really, screamed. And said "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" I had to use my body to block his access to the radio. I was praying the PE class would whip them in to shape and exhaust them for the last two hours of the day. But no - as I started to work on the science assignment he went back to the teacher's computer and started pounding on the keyboard.

me: "Please come work on your paper"
him: "NO!"
me: "I'm giving you the answers, if you don't do this now you won't be able to finish it."
him: "Don't tell me what to DO!"

Ok kid... you should die. You should eat glass and throw yourself in front of traffic. Clearly, I didn't say any of these things out loud - but sharing them here makes me feel overall less violent towards him. Then I notice he is trying to put things - not discs - in to the disc drive of the teachers computer.

me: Walks over, pushes his chair away from the computer he's about to do damage to.
kid: "DON'T PUSH ME! IF YOU TOUCH ME I WILL TELL MY MOM."
me: I didn't push you, I pushed your chair.
kid: "I WILL TELL MY MOM"

so - that was my day at 1st grade. I think, Kindergarten may put these stories to shame, but for now I hope they suffice.

These stories really make me think about the differences in kids culturally. These kids I taught yesterday clearly have no respect or ideal of what authority is. One of the teacher aids that was in my classroom said "There's no one at home teaching them to respect authority." I agreed, but it worried me. Why is it that these children need someone to teach them to respect authority - even if it's just teachers. In Rwanda, most of the children we worked with never pushed me to the point I was pushed to yesterday. Sure, some of them pushed our buttons, but I could also assert myself as their teacher and they would listen. We could almost always divert their attention to the lesson and, above all, we could give them one colored pencil and one coloring sheet and they would be quiet and concentrated for HOURS.

But I know that these kids didn't have someone at home telling them who they should respect. Most of them barely had parents present to cook for them, let alone teach them life lessons. So how do they learn? Is it something they overhear so much they just take it as common behavior? Are there so many Americans around that think authority is crap and pass that on to the porous sponges we call children? Maybe it's a rural Indiana thing - maybe this wouldn't have been an issue somewhere that have many parents highly educated and clearly have a revere for education. But then again, barely anyone in Rwanda had a primary school education - so its not like there was a pulse through the country encouraging children to attain education. Most of them wanted the girls to get married or baptized instead of going to secondary school.

Maybe it is what the kids eat. I think this can all be blamed on junkfood and soda. Down with those commercials about the sad mom who can't buy her kids soda because of a tax on high fructose corn syrup! She's ruining America! She's making the children crazy! At least I know now, it's not a lack of materials or resources as I've seen them abundantly available every classroom I walk in to. It's the children - and that's where we need to focus.

What Comes Next...

2010-05-16T11:22:00.000-07:00

To our fellow volunteers:

Coming home to America (or whatever Western country you are from) is not only the strangest experience, it's remarkably sad to go through. It takes a long time to mourn the loss of your life in another country - especially somewhere like Rwanda. The weather will shock you, the pace will shock you, the supermarkets will be strange. You'll wonder where the bananas tree are and people at coffee shops will look at you funny when you mutter "nothing is as good as African tea" and walk away with your Venti coffee.

But, once you start to move forward - you will, we promise - you'll find that talking about your experience really helps. It was hard for me to talk about at first, because I just couldn't figure out to answer the question "SOooooo, how was AFRICA?!" in shorter than a 4.5 hour conversation. However, I had the opportunity to address three different groups of high school students at my old high school and it felt really good. I picked a few highlights of my trip: where I lived, what I ate and a daily schedule. I shared those stories with them and even made a powerpoint slide show with photos. It felt good to tell them about Rwanda and take it from their textbooks to an actual experience. You'd be surprised the things these 15 & 16 year olds want to know. Also, you may be the first person they've ever met who's been to Africa. I had one girl walk up to me after my speech and sigh, look at me and say "Why do you think the US didn't intervene in the genocide?" A lot of the students I spoke with were studying or had studied Rwanda in a World History class so they were really engaged with what life is like in Rwanda.

Don't expect people to understand. They'll ask weird questions, but if they're worth the time you're spending answering their questions - they'll let you explain and listen intently. Again, going to Africa isn't an everyday experience and most people don't know anyone who's even been to the continent - so consider yourself Rwanda's newest spokesperson and share your story with anyone who will ask. People won't understand your cravings for casava and they won't understand why you try to quickly go in and out of those intimidating mega supermarkets. They probably won't be as excited as you are when someone says "beans and rice" and you'll just need to let them experience Meddy before thinking they'll love it as much as you. Give them time, let your stories be their basis of understanding.

And, a special note for those of you going home and looking for a job. It will be hard. You will wish that you were going back to college or a job that waited for you, etc. For me, I came home to unemployment and the prospect of it not ending in the near future.

First, see if your local high school will let you substitute teach. It's awesome and you'll realize how extremely lucky students in the US are. It'll also give you ample time to not be on the computer job searching.

Use the internets and email friends. I used my "Hey! I'm back from Africa" intro to many people and mentors to open the door in to letting them know I'm on the job search. The only interviews I've had to date are ones that people helped grease the entry way for me with personal connections. I scoured online listings, job banks and Craigslist for openings and sent out hundreds of CVs.

It will take time, be patient.

Don't close yourself off to only certain cities. I had my heart set on NYC - but heard from no one in any firm I applied to there. I reassessed my search and got calls from firms in LA and San Francisco. I also interviewed in my home state capital, Indianapolis. In this economy and this market - being flexible is important - even if it means deciding you have to buy a car, after you haven't owned one in about 3 years.

Lastly, have a little faith. It's okay if you spend a few hours each day watching tv and reading the newspaper instead of applying for and searching for jobs.

I like to joke that coming home from Rwanda and transitioning back is like recovering from surgery which takes about 6 weeks. You'll need time to acclimate yourself back in to this society and to get used to things. Give yourself that time. Spend time with your family, upload your thousands of pictures to your online networks, download new music and feel it out. You'll know when the time is right to close the chapter of your life in Rwanda and start the next one. Don't worry if it takes you a few rounds of searching for possible flights to Kigali on your next vaca - that doesn't count.

What to Expect, When you're Expecting... to go to Rwanda...

2010-05-16T11:09:00.000-07:00

Or, as our dear friend Will put it when we were scouring the internet for useful information, “Less, ‘It was so inspiring!’ more ‘What to pack’.”

Getting To Kigali:
We did the path less traveled (albeit cheaper, it was not for the traveler who is weary in the slightest of… well, basically anything, specifically volcanic ash clouds) through the Entebbe-Kampala airport. We flew in, took a taxi to downtown Kampala and rode the Jaguar Bus (about $16) to Kigali. It’s an uncomfortable, long, bump journey – but in the end it saved us a few hundred bucks as opposed to flying in directly to Kigali. Other than that, you can usually find Brussels Air doing flights from the States in to Kigali. We also just learned that KLM will start flying from the states (via Amsterdam) in to Kigali. KLM is our favorite airline (minus the GIANT customer service nightmare incurred during the aforementioned volcanic ash cloud.) and they have fantastic inflight food and movies.

Accomodations:
If you are a volunteer with FVA, you will be both surprised and pleased! FVA owns two guest houses: Favour Guest House in Remera, and another house in Kimironko. In both houses you will share a room and a bathroom with, at most, one to two other volunteers. There is always running water and occasionally it will even be lukewarm. You get a very respectable breakfast (most days) of fruit, bread, tea and sometimes instant coffee. Dinner is actually VERY good. You buy your own lunch. If you live in Favor Guest House, you will be steps away from several markets, internet cafes, restaurants, banks, Western Unions, and other conveniences. If you live in Kimironko, you will be close to nothing.

If you are not a volunteer with FVA, Kigali offers a wide range of accommodations, from a room with no running water for about $10 a night to a very nice room with your own bathroom for about $30. We stayed at the Favor Guest House, but nearby was Chez Rose - a fantastic guesthouse (be sure to check out the funky 'tree table' in the courtyard).

Basic Kinyarwandan (Kin-yar-wandan)
Oya - No
Yego - Yes
Murakoze [More - A - Coz - A] - Thank you
Bite se? [Bee - Tays] - What's Up (Hello to young children, informal greeting)
Muraho [Mer - A - Ho] - Hello! (Formal)
Mwiriwe [Meery - Way] - Hi! (Informal - use anytime but the afternoon/evening)
Undishaka [Un - di - sha - ka] - I want
(Blog Update we did for Kinyarwandan 101)

Neighborhoods:
Kigali isn't exactly the easiest city on Earth to figure your way around. "Town" is pretty basic, it's the center of Kigali, where the Union Trade Center is, where the buses stop when they're going to town, Milles Collines, etc. Remera is where we lived and it's biggest landmark is the Chez Lando hotel. Also, you'll probably read about Sole Luna, the awesome Italian resto that's right down the road from Chez Lando. Remera is quiet and clean - but the bus stop (the end point) is really crazy because there are a lot of buses going out of the city from there. Kimironko is near Remera - if you turn towards Chez Lando and keep going straight (past the stadium) you are well on your way to Kimironko. There you'll find a super market - tons of local produce and meat, big craft stalls and seamstresses. The University is also located in Kimironko.

Nyabogogo is what we like to refer to as the Times Square of Kigali - it's busy and crazy and there's a huge bus stop there where buses come in from multiple countries. There's a market there as well but we never went to that one. Kacyriu and Kicyciru (those are definitely not correct spellings, ha!) are pretty residential districts. Kacyriu is where Ivuka Art Studio (see below) is located and also where the American Embassy is located. Kicyciru is close to the big charter schools in Kigali (ISK and Green Hills) and is a little more expensive residential area.

All the neighborhoods have tons of restos and markets and people selling MTN minutes. We liked Remera the most because we lived there for three months. It's clean and pretty cheap (internet is 300RwF/.5 hours - whereas in town its about 600RwF/.5 hours). Having Chez Lando and Sole Luna within walking distance is also pretty awesome :) Google maps has some pretty great updates on Kigali, so it's helpful if you need to look at it.

Transportation:
The Kigali public bus system is remarkably easy to use, once you get the hang of it. Men stand at the bus stops and yell the ultimate destination of their transport – “Kimironko!” “Nyabogogo Nyabogogo Nyabogogo!” – and attempt to herd you on to their bus, whether or not that bus is going in the direction you originally intended to travel. You will quickly learn which buses go by the places you would like to stop, and remember “OYA” for when a conductor grabs you and aims you the wrong way. The buses are extremely cheap – 150-180RwF – because, as we have mentioned, they are dirty, extremely overcrowded, and always smell as though someone’s armpit died in transit. Also, people will sit directly on top of your appendages. We always recommend sitting near a window.

Motobikes are awesome – for questions, comments and concerns, see previous post devoted solely to this, our favorite means of transportation. If you don’t know how to get where you’re going, find a moto that does and hop on. ALWAYS NEGOTIATE THE PRICE UPFRONT, and don’t pay more than you said you would. When you get off, hang on to your helmet while you wait for your change. We’ve never had a moto drive off on us, but we don’t feel the need to take chances. Motos are slightly more expensive than buses, ranging from just under a dollar to about 800 - 2,000RwF, depending on distance. Make sure you get a motobike wearing a green vest/helmet that means they've been certified by the government to be able to drive the bike.

There are regular taxis, but they’re more expensive and we sometimes found them extremely shady (ie: a man would drive up in his car and say ‘taxi?’). We only used them in the most dire of situations (sudden downpour while walking home from an evening out, etc).

What to Pack:
- Shampoo & Conditioner : it’s all imported here, so it’s very expensive
- Lotion, Body Wash & Lady Products: ALSO, very expensive in the stores here
- Bugspray
- Sunscreen
- Chapstick
- Deodorant
- Water Bottle
- First Aid Stuff (basics, Aspirin, Cold Meds<-- Extremely hard to find in Rwanda, Band-Aids, etc) - Clothes: First – long skirts (you’ll be climbing over 18 people in a minibus, hopping on the back of a motobike or working with children who barely clear your knees, long skirts are best), tank tops, tshirts, jeans, capri length pants (no shorts, you’ll be uncomfortable unless you’re working out), maxi dresses (comfy and good for the weather), hoodies for cold evenings - also good to carry around for the quasi-frequent rain showers that come out of nowhere.

o In general, bring clothes that are loose fitting materials because the hot in Kigali is not like the hot you’re used to. Also, if you get caught in the instant (and short) sun showers you’ll dry out quickly.
o Mens: Basically, whatever you want. Pants and Tshirts. Men aren’t typically expected to be dressed to the nines in public in Kigali. Definitely bring a few light cotton button-downs and a nice pair of pants or two in case your placement or infrequent church attendance requires them.
o Shoes: Flip-flops. If you find yourself walking a lot, sneakers. Whatever you’re most comfortable in.
o Rainboots: brought ours and didn’t find them useful, plus they took up way too much room in our luggage. The rainy season isn’t exactly what you’d expect, so bring a rain jacket and an umbrella – you’ll be fine.

Bring It or Buy It – It’s Cheap!
- Soap (They sell Dove soap at Simba for 900RwF)
- Umbrella

Recommended Sights and Sounds:
- The bar scene in Kigali is both awesome (banana beer!) and daunting (bars, everywhere). The nightclubs are infamous for pick-pocketing, but most bars are extremely laid back, have seats outside, serve the beer very cold and the prices are manageable. If you pay more than 1,000RwF for a Primus, you’re getting a muzungu price, go somewhere cheaper. We have no idea how to get to any of these bars, but a motobike will be able to drop you at their front door :)

o Papyrus (good drinks, pretty view)
o Pasadena (Salsa dancing extravaganza every Thursday night)
o Sundowners
o Cadillac (We didn't prefer the nightclub there, but every Friday there's karaoke and the setting is amazing. They also have a Mama Africa cafe in there which is really good.)

- Ivuka Arts Studio: Become part of Rwanda’s blossoming art scene. This art studio is more than a showroom, it houses the resident artists and their workroom is in the back. You can drop in anytime during the day (Charles is the ‘manager’ but you can always find an artist more than willing to show you around) and there is often work going on until the sun goes down. Swing by around 3pm or 4pm on Sunday and catch the studio’s world-touring dance troupe practicing. Ivuka is behind Novutel (make a right at the ‘Internews’ sign on the main road – about 50 feet from the bus stop; walk to the first big T in the dirt road and make a left; Ivuka will be about ½ mile up the road on your right). http://ivukaarts.com/. Find Charles, Collin, or Innocent and tell them Nicole & Kaitlyn sent you.

- Genocide Memorial Sites at Nyamata and Ntarama: Both are chilling reminders of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide. They both include crypts that you can walk in to and mass graves where identified Rwandans are buried in caskets. The tours are often given by survivors, not just of the Genocide but of the murders that took place at the sites.

- Genocide Memorial Museum

- Milles Collines Pool: Its 5,000RwF ($10) for a chair and a towel at the (in)famous hotel, but if you have a Saturday or Sunday with nothing to do, it’s a great way to spend a day. The water is crystal clear and cold and the people that work there are fantastic.

- Amahoro Stadium: Outdoor concerts here are awesome (2,000-5,000RwF) and the soccer (football) games are exciting too.

Things to do in Town:
- UTC (Union Trade Center) has the fixings of a small mall right in city center. Inside you can find Bourbon Coffee (Rwandan Starbucks, overrun by muzungus, but its good coffee), Mille Collines (Fabulous clothes! Not exactly inexpensive, but the clothes are glorious), an MTN store, an Electronics store and an internet café.

- Nakumatt & Simba (Home of the Big Burger): Located very close to each other (Nakumatt in UTC, Simba on the other side of the traffic circle (near Centennary House) these two markets offer the greatest of Western conveniences in Supermarket fashion. They are the cheapest places to buy anything from Shampoo to Cadburry bars. They both have legit bakeries and a butcher and even a freezer section.

o Simba has a fantastic restaurant. The prices are reasonable and the food is enough to make any Western pallate feel at home. They have burgers (2,800 RwF), omellets (1,500 RwF) and the famous African tea (1,400 RwF).

- Aroma Coffee: Located near the entrance to the Kimironko Bus Station/Market this small coffee shop has great drinks, teas and pastries. There is also wireless internet – it’s a good un-muzungu’d coffee place.

- Kimironko Market: The produce prices are unparalleled here (200RwF for an Avocado!) so take a Saturday and head out to the market to pick up fresh produce. You can also find a fantastic selection of Rwandan crafts (much more reasonable prices than the Craft Market in Town). Be ready to bargain – they run a fierce operation, but we found the women almost always the easiest to bargain with and they always offered the best deals. If you have a specific budget in mind, ask a local what they would pay for things and use that as your bargaining tool.

Weekend Trips:
- Akagera : Use BiziDanny’s Tours, they offer great prices and door-to-door service. For about $80 we had our park fees and our SUV covered with 5 people in it. It will be, by far, the best $80 you have ever spent in Rwanda.

- Gorilla Trek (OR! For budget minded travelers-->) Hike in Volcanoes National Park : We didn’t choose to do either of these options, but heading to the OTPR (Rwandan Tourism Office) in Town will be able to give you all the information you need.

- Bujumbura, Burundi : Travel is safe there nowadays (but TIA, check the security status before setting off). You can take a Belvedere Bus there for about 12,000RwF roundtrip. The beach in Bujumbura is gorgeous and we heard there were lots of fun things to do in this city over a weekend.

- Butare : A beautiful smaller town in the south of Rwanda, this is also the location of the National Museum and National University.

- Gisenyi : Use the Belvedere Bus Line (the entrance is directly across from the entrance of UTC (near the Akagera Toyota Car Lot). The tickets to Gisenyi are 2,800/each way and the bus trip is about 3 hours. When you get to downtown Gisenyi, walk down the road towards the T (away from the volcano) and you will see a sign for the Presbyterian. The guest house here is simple and cheap (2,000 RwF for a room in the dorm; 8-12,000 for single/double rooms) and the staff are great.

o Go to Goma, DRC. The border is within walking distance. (US citizens the entrance Visa is $35). There isn’t a lot to do in Goma besides go to the site of the volcano eruption that happened about 10 years ago, but it’s a sweet stamp on your passport and interesting to say that you went there.
o Find a place that serves Chai tea (It’s the best in this town due to the huge Muslim population)
o Beach sit for free on the public beach, sit in the Serena Hotel’s beachside garden or pay 3,000RwF to sit by their pool or in one of their beach chairs. If you go to Serena, find a waiter named Yves - he's awesome and was a great friend to the RAs and one of the other volunteers during our time there.

Back in The Saddle

2010-04-27T18:00:00.000-07:00

Checking in from the grand Hoosier State here, reporting that it is weird as hell to be back in America.

From the moment I walked in to my mother's house (where there was a hand-made welcome home sign) to the moment I sat down at the computer to start writing this, I have been struggling with balancing the "Rwandaself" and the "Americaself." Neither self is better than the other in total, but together, they truly are my "Bestself."

First part of "Bestself" was to take the longest shower I've had in the last four months. It included many different soaps, shampoos, conditioners, body scrubs and moisturizer. The bathroom was a literal fog when I was done with it. After that I went to the kitchen and was disappointed. I was craving chapatis and samosas!!

I set off the next day to the store to purchase "Rwandaself" requirements: ginger, raw sugar and soymilk (ingredients for African tea) and naan bread (as close as I could get to chapati). I've been scared to eat anything super-processed for what it will do to my stomach, so I've been sticking to pretty basic meals. Then my dad had us all over for dinner and served the most amazing chicken noodles and mashed potatoes with a huge salad and a strawberry/rhubarb cobbler. I ate and told stories about Rwanda and had so much fun. It was so nice to be surrounded by family, but sometimes my reminiscing about Rwanda made me incredibly sad and miss it so much.

So far in the interest of maintaining the amazing friendships in "Rwandaself", I've been able to talk with or email with or chat with everyone back in Kigali and that is truly comforting. There's nothing better than knowing technology prevails over oceans and thousands of miles.

It has been nice to shop at grocery stores, but it's still overwhelming. There's no hotbox with warm goodies in the form of samosas, fresh bread and chapatis. I can use my Visa card at every turn and I drive to and from the store (I would walk, but its about 10 miles away). There is something nice and relaxing about being able to drive a car - even though some of the country roads rival the potholes of Kigali.

So, besides the fear of food making me pray to the porcelain Goddess - I'm bringing as much of Kigali to Indiana as I can. I'm still perfecting my African tea - the soy milk substitution is hit or miss, but I've definitely mastered the ginger! And I continue to dig my room out of the madness I left behind, it's strange not to be in a tiny dormstyle room with my best friend. I'll sometimes yell out at her, and then remember she's not 50 feet away at all times. I think I've gotten to the point where every comfort here in America has a corresponding feeling of missing something in Kigali.

In closing, there is so much I miss from Rwanda but I am really happy to be able to talk with my friends every day and whenever I want. I'm really happy to be with my family (even though they are CRAZY!). There will always be a piece of my heart in Rwanda and I think about my kids every single moment of every day - there is almost nothing I miss more than them. The job search is daunting and requires more patience than I have the capacity for. I start substitute teaching at the end of the week AND they've put me on two school districts, which will hopefully keep me distracted while I wait for responses from companies.

We're still rockin' the Manolos attitude, except now the bush is in Mass and Indiana. The good thing, is that the bush is a little more familiar and a little less full of foreign animals and languages. But it is still full of questions unanswered, chapters to be written and dreams to be fulfilled. The blog will be different from now on, but so are we, and that's really exciting.

Leaving On A Jetplane - one of these days

2010-04-20T01:36:00.000-07:00

Morale: Much Improved
Beer Supply: Abundant and holding steady
Days Trapped in Uganda: 5 and counting

On Sunday, we managed to locate the one reasonably efficient KLM employee working out of Uganda - the only woman in the office, naturally, and a flight attendant to boot. She has tentatively re-scheduled us to fly on Friday, so if we don't get on a plane before then, at least we have a seat. There's an air of optimism today as Schipol has opened and planes are going in and out, and the UK is opening airspace, but there are, as ever, a number of complications. Unless we have a confirmed seat on a connecting flight, we cannot get on ANY plane to Amsterdam. It's still a question of wait-and-see.

In the interest of preserving what was left of our sanity after our adventure in the tent, we went to the zoo yesterday rather than stalking helplessly around the airport. It was amazing. It's technically a "wildlife education center", and many of the animals aren't even in cages. Those that are, like the lions, were never more than a few yards away. We were INCHES from an ostrich, which ambled over to check us out after RA1 called to it, and they are the most awesomely absurd creatures. We hung out with three camels that were tethered to the playground equipment and ran into hordes of monkeys that run around like they own the place - a few of them were carrying babies or teaching their offspring to jump from branch to branch on the trees. We also saw rhinos, crocodiles, otters, giraffes, zebras, hyenas, turtles, cool birds, very old trees, and the most awe-inspiringly huge snakes, which RA2 likes very much. One was a python which appeared to have eaten a cat.

Last night we were booked at a steep discount in what we are referring to as "The Palatial Sweet", which has a full-size bed for each of us, with a set of stairs rather than a ladder leading to the top bunk, our own bathroom and a little porch area. Seriously, the height of luxury. Many many many thanks to Dad and Mama Soli for ensuring we could remain there, as we have moved all 8 of our bags every morning for the last 5 days. Many thanks also toMama Stipps, for continued funding, and to Tami for amking a deposit from Boston in New York so we could get it Entebbe. It has made RA2 rethink her stance on globalization.

In other small adventures, we had both ordered the grilled fish without incident several times for dinner, and gotten nicely breaded fillets. Last night, RA2 ordered the grilled fish, and received a whole flayed creature, head still attached, little burned eyeballs staring blankly and accusingly up at her from the plate. RA1 showed her how to eat it and it was delicious. Our standards of civility may have changed somewhat.

You Can't Go Home But You Can't Stay Here

2010-04-18T03:47:00.000-07:00

We slept on the front lawn of our hostel in a tent last night.

We do not wish to discuss this.

It's becoming clear that Amsterdam is not opening today, and with so many delays, when flights are up and running they will probably put passengers on their regularly scheduled flights, leaving those whose flights were cancelled to fight it out Gladiator-style in the nearest stadium in order to keep the populace entertained until the World Cup. "Two will enter one will leave! Two will enter one will leave!"

We have come to the deeply disturbing conclusion that we may not go anywhere for another week, and since neither of us maybe necessarily got a great night's sleep, we've put on our "We want answers" face, honed over many years of being paid to acquire answers for others, now being put to, we hope, optimal use for ourselves. We discovered that KLM operates out of the EU, and there are a series of laws that govern their relations with their passengers whether said passengers are stranded in England, Uganda, or on the moon. We will be discussing this with the KLM attendants when they arrives at, we hope 5pm, as they have not seen fit to yet open the office (only many hundreds of desperate stranded people here, no rush!).

We're considering trying to talk our way into an extra week in Kigali, as it will be more enjoyable and less stressful than continually stalking KLM attendants. We have a bed tonight, the beer is plentiful, and our families (bless you a thousand times over) have made sure we have enough money to keep buying both of those things until someone lets us go home.

On the various plus sides: many of our fellow travellers and refugees are awesome, and one bought and cut up a pineapple for us (with a swiss army knife) on the steps of our hostel yesterday. We saw monkeys running around the airport today! All the music played here is the soundtrack to our high school years. CNN is really entertaining right now, and keeps running such encouraging headers as "Volcanic ash cloud getting worse", "Passengers expect to be stranded for up to an additional week" and "Travellers running out of money."

Stuck Like Someone Who Can't Drive Stick

2010-04-17T04:59:00.000-07:00

You know what, friends? We had it a little easy here in Africa. The water was almost never hot, but it was RUNNING. The food wasn't any good unless Damian cooked it, but it was plentiful. And when the good Lord, so popular here and in Rwanda, bowed his head over our situation, he was like, "Look, you should really get the full experience, you know?" And so we just happened to schedule our flight home on the day that a volcano that had had the good grace to lay dormant for TWO HUNDRED YEARS went and erupted in Iceland, disrupting airspace across Europe in ways that we literally struggle to conceive of, screwing up our flight home in ways we go beyond struggling to understand.

The Manolos are currently stranded in Entebbe, Uganda - literally in the middle of Lake Victoria. Unfortunately, the views don't make up for the delayed flights and EPIC VOLCANIC ASH.

We were on the second flight to be delayed out of Entebbe, so we're crossing our fingers to be on the second flight out of here to Amsterdam. The second flight may come as early as Monday, or as late as Wednesday - your guesses are as good as the actual information we have received. We have - in typical Manolo fashion - befriended the local KLM agent, Godfrey, and are pumping him for information every chance we get.

Once we get to Amsterdam it's fair game as to when we'll actually get back to the contiguous. We're praying for the air space to open up and be smooth sailing once we leave, but we're also just praying to get out of Africa and in to Europe... at least in Europe they have to like, feed us and stuff. We understand that Amsterdam is a virtual IDP camp, but tonight, due to full hotels and hostels from stranded passengers, we are quite LITERALLY camping, in a tent, on our hostels front lawn.

We'll try to keep you posted with the random and limited internet access we have and hope you'll all pray for us. One of us is a Jew, and we have been informed that since the Jews killed Jesus her prayers come at a discount. We were informed this, by the way, since our arrival in Uganda. Know what we miss right about now? RWANDA.

xoxoxox
Soli and Stipps

Reading in Rwanda

2010-04-13T07:11:00.000-07:00

RA2 really does love her alliterative little blog titles, and apologizes to all who, justly, find this habit immensely irritating.

Deprived (sometimes quite happily) of movie theaters, TV, general mindless consumerism, and most entertainment, really, besides each other, 600RWF Primus, and Ian’s Guitar-Playing Remera Bar Sing-Alongs, the volunteers generally and the RAs in particular have spent a great deal of time reading. Books are prohibitively expensive here, so we have traded two dozen or so between us all. Below is our Rwandan Reading Review. At least one RA read every book on this list, but in general, what with the trading and the time to kill, we both read almost all of them.

Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie

Rushdie’s grasp of the English language is, to understate the matter, exceptional. Take as an example this line, not even from the book itself, but from the introduction to the 25th anniversary edition: "then all at once I understood that there was no contest, that Children of Midnight was a banal title and Midnight's Children a good one." The book follows a group of children born at the midnight hour of the independent state of India’s birth, endowed by their magical nation with a special set of widely varying powers, talents and traits. The narrator writes the book while rapidly falling apart, physically and emotionally, and the book itself follows the same pace as his deterioration, beginning strong and slow, ending quickly and frantically, spiraling all the while and taking the reader with it.

Say You’re One of Them by Uwem Akpan

This collection of short stories explores various conflicts in different African countries through the eyes of children living through them. They include a brother and sister unaware they are being prepared by their uncle for a life of slavery, a Muslim boy fleeing with Christians from conflict and two girls finding a friendship around religious strife. The title piece, “Say You’re One of Them”, is about a family of Hutus and Tutsis being brutally ripped apart by the Rwandan genocide. It does an excellent job giving at least an idea of this country’s pain and was, to say the least, particularly poignant to read while here.

A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson

RA2's mother sent this in a care package after she mentioned a weird desire to read it that came to her upon her arrival. There must have been something to it, because reading the author's account of his months spent hiking the Appalachian Trail with his ill-equipped childhood friend were strangely reminiscent of our time in Kigali. Like the RAs, Bryson traversed an unknown landscape for the sake of adventure that he came to feel, at long last, a certain mastery of, which he retains a clear fondness for, and which he would very much like to return to, and probably will throughout his life. Like Kigali, the AT had its own language to be learned and geography to be navigated. Like the RAs, Bryson spent a lot of time dreaming of Oreos and a long, hot shower, as well as sleeping on weirdly uncomfortable surfaces. The book is wickedly funny throughout and has made RA2 draw up plans for hiking when she gets home, because God forbid she spend any time in one place.

Avalon by (apologies - RA2 cannot find the author online and needs to just post this already, as she has been drafting it for what seems like eternity)

A very nice, interesting break from our usual reading material (thanks Mama Stipp!), the book follows two people who can’t get their act together through court intrigue from Britain to Iceland in the 16th century.

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

Being in Rwanda gave interesting perspective to this story about the African-American experience in a rural Ohio town. It is painfully sad and simply told, following two young sisters as they watch their friend undergo experiences they cannot begin to comprehend. It depicts endless internalized racism and self-hatred, something everyone who works with children, as we have done here, is concerned about.

Baking Cakes in Kigali by Gaile Parkin

More than anything else RA2 has ever read, this book captures the feeling, the daily idiosyncracies and the intimate ins-and-outs of life in Kigali. Written by a woman born and raised in Zambia, it holds the flavor of life in Rwanda in a way a book about the country's history never could - partially because Rwanda is, in every sense, a startlingly young nation. Angel, a "professional somebody", cake-maker, grandmother and amateur matchmaker, meets a series of customers and reveals intimate details of Rwandan life as she learns their stories. This book covered some of the most fascinatingly mundane aspects of the culture here, including most countries' tendency to claim that AIDS is everywhere except within their borders, the population's deep belief in voodoo and witch doctors despite their devout Christianity, the common occurence of men taking two wives and what that means for Rwandan women, and the way genocide survivors live in a country that took their families.

The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas

Our fellow volunteer Ian traded this to RA2, jailhouse style, for a pack of cigarettes and information about the outside (probably not true). A book-within-a-book, the not terribly strong plot becomes completely brilliant when the author uses the story as an opportunity to explore a series of odd, scientific, meta-physical ideas that one gets the idea had been kicking around in her head for awhile, looking for any flimsy opportunity to be expressed. At least half of the book was fascinating enough to be worth reading the whole thing.

What is the What by Dave Eggers

Thank you Emily Mowery! This was RA1's Christmas present and it was truly an amazing read. It tells the story of Achak Deng, one of the "Lost Boys" in the Sudan's civil war, almost entirely as he related it to novelist Dace Eggers. The two men depict Deng's life from IDP camps to barely-legal immigrant in the United States with heartbreaking honesty, and the tragedies contained bring the story of a refugee in to crystal clear perspective.

You've Come a Long Way, Maybe by Leslie Sanchez

A personal gift from the author to RA1, the book looks at the somewhat disparate question of what the media's sexism towards Sarah Palin, Hillary Clinton and Michelle Obama means for women in politics. It was nice to bring a piece of DC with us to the bush.

It by Stephen King

As RA2 wrote home to her loved ones, this book found its way into her possession at a perfect time, in a perfect way, with the usual ka of all things King-related. As we mentioned, books are rare and expensive here. On our way to Gisinye for the last week we would spend there, we stopped at Nakumat (Rwandan Walmart, ish) and she wandered away to gaze longingly at the books, most of which were slim "beach book" romantic-comedy paperbacks costing an average of 30 unjustifiable USD. On that particular day, though, she noticed a stack of Stephen King books. The only one she hadn't read but wanted to was It. She checked; they had it. As it was the length of a Bible, she knew she couldn't afford it, but she flipped it over anyway. At 9USD, it was the cheapest book there, and probably cheaper than she could even buy it used at home. She purchased it IMMEDIATELY. When we arrived at Gisinye we were not led to our usual room attached to the dining hall building, or to one of the rooms on the main building, or even to one of the buildings a stone's throw from the other two. Instead, we were led down a volcanic-rock lined path (unlit, naturally) down 4 steps that probably led directly to an as-yet-unknown circle of hell (Dante never visited Africa, that we know of) and to a virtually abandoned set of rooms from which we could not see the main set of buildings, nor could anyone see us. Nor, for that matter, would anyone hear us if we screamed as we were being hacked to pieces in the night - and did we mention we were in a technology-free northern Rwandan town bordering the Congo? it was the perfect setting to read one of the most terrifying books ever written about childhood nightmares and things that live in sewers, drains, basements and dark places. When RA2 did manage to sleep that week, she was afraid to put any appendage over the side of the bed, and kept imagining she saw faces in the window. THIS EXPERIENCE COMES HIGHLY RECOMMENDED, JUST FYI.

The #1 Ladies Detective Agency by Alex McCall

In reviews, this book draws frequent comparisons to the aforementioned Baking Cakes in Kigali, leading one to wonder if reviewers bothered to actually read the two books. While both books take place in African countries (Ladies is set in Botswana) and feature female main characters who learn about their customers' lives through their work, Ladies is by far the sharper, more interesting and better written of the two. While Baking Cakes is, ultimately, about Rwanda, Ladies is about a strong, fascinating, independent woman and her extremely interesting neighbors, and happens to be set in Botswana. Also, Ladies is now an awesome show on HBO, which the RAs love (Baking Cakes has yet to achieve this fame), thus proving once and for all its superiority. Baking Cakes is an excellent book in its own right, but if idiotic people insist on comparing the two, no one shall call them equal, the end. Richard, thank you for the loan!

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

This book about crazy people and a man slowly driving himself insane seemingly for the fun of it is written in such a way that reading it feels in and of itself slightly schizophrenic.

Flapper by Joshua Zeitz

We ended up reading a surprising amount of non-fiction here, and this was a great example of a fascinatingly rendered, historically accurate account. Using the Fitzgeralds as an anchor, the book traces the music, theater, literature and movies, as well as the more prominent personalities, that were touchstones of the jazz age. The direct-source quotes from writers like Fitgerald's (increasingly insane) wife Zelda and Lois Long are particularly interesting and often encompass whole pages.

In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz by Michela Wrong

Drawing occasionally from the themes and and passages of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness and written by a journalist who actually lived in Congo while the AFDL was moving in to liberate the country from an ailing Mobutu, this book was a strangely eerie one to read while living in Rwanda. It is one of the best examples of the frequent attempts by visitors to Africa to encapsulate and render widely relevant their time on this continent. Wrong traces Mobutu's corrupt history, her personal experiences during the changeover, the history of colonization and its impact on the independent state of Zaire's psyche, and the West's gigantic and hugely whitewashed responsibility for Mobutu's reign and the economic fall-out, while managing to tie the narrative together - no small feat for a book that seems determined to do a lot in 300 pages. Some of the book is based on her interviews with infamous Zairean players, including one of Mobutu's sons. Her observations are pointed and her prose is excellent. It was cool and strange to recognize places she named as places we ourselves had been, to realize the enormous and awful history that had been under our feet, and to get a clearer sense of Rwanda's and the genocide's part in undoing the already unstable country.RA2 has never been particularly interested in Africa's history outside of Rwanda, but recognizing now that the borders between countries are a product of very recent colonization and based on arbitrary interests in minerals and resources, she would very much like to read every book like this that she can get her hands on when she returns home. Richard, thank you for the loan!

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

Recommended by Dad (Mr. Soligan), this was one of RA2’s favorite books of the trip – one of her favorite books, really, of all time. Set during the Golden Age of comics, the story follows two cousins, one a native New Yorker, one barely escaped from Nazi-occupied eastern Europe, as they create one of the biggest super heroes in comic book history. Engaging, funny, and brilliantly sharp, this book will break your heart in astoundingly creative ways roughly every dozen pages.

and

The Yiddish Policemen's Union by Michael Chabon

After hearing how much the Manolos enjoyed Kavalier and Clay, Papa Soli sent this one along in a care package with the caveat that, "like Kavalier, this may require a certain Jewish sensibility to enjoy." He then pointed out that the time the book spent on the NYT best-sellers list just went to show how many Jewish readers buy books (or, yes, also, how many Jews live in NYC). Based on the never-realized concept of a Jewish settlement in Sitka, Alaska, the book takes place in a world in which Israel never survived the 6-day war. A crime story that takes place in 2008 but recalls hard-bitten detective stories of the 1920's, the books best thread (of many) is the realistic yet gorgeous love story. When the narrator describes his ex-wife as a Jewish woman who lives out of her handbag, the kind of woman who will be the continuation of the race and religion, you know just which woman he means, and just why he'll never stop loving her.

Sometimes in April

2010-04-12T11:44:00.000-07:00

April marks two things for Rwandans: the start of the rainy season (totally skewed by climate change, as we have mentioned) and the month of mourning for all that was lost in Rwanda's genocide.

The genocide remains, by and large, a peripheral part of life here. Sixteen years after the worst of it, people are beginning to mention it in conversation; we get snippets of stories, a moment here or there, a girl we work with turning to point at a building and saying, "We hid there, after they killed my parents." There is a struggle between the need for privacy and the need to have the events that occurred here known and remembered.

We were aware that April was a totally different story, but were unsure what to expect. Last year was the 15th anniversary, and stories from ex-pats included people crying all through the month, in restaurants and on street corners. We were told that no music is played except mourning music, what little nightlife there is dies down considerably, and schools are closed for the first two weeks of the month. And we have found that this is all true, to some extent, but it doesn't really do justice to how Rwandans commemorate their loss.

April 7th, Wednesday, was the official Genocide Memorial Day, a national holiday for which all industry closes. We went to the stadium to hear the president speak (this marks the second time the RAs have been present when a sitting president gave a speech - we were both also there for President Obama's inaugural address). The stadium is a perfect example of Rwanda's struggle for both privacy and recognition. For the first two hours, a narrator droned on in Kinyarwandan, and throughout the stadium, you couldn't hear a pin drop, except for the people going into hysterics. There was pure silence from thousands of people, and then the screams of what could only be someone being ripped apart, in absolute agony, then more silence, then more screams, as Rwandans either experienced flashbacks or engaged in a socially acceptable form of grieving. According to our friend Amir, last year's 15th anniversary was worse; he said it was as though people in the stadium had lost their loved ones that very day. The stories that were triggering this grief were not repeated in English.

When President Kagame spoke, he alternated between Kinyarwandan and very pointed English intervals. He is an excellent speaker, and clearly beloved by his countrymen, some of whom were good-naturedly mimicking his mildly eccentric speech patterns next to us. Even though we only understood half of what he said, the half-hour went by quickly, and people around us would occasionally burst out laughin at something he said in Kinyarwandan. But when he switched to English, he had a point to make, and it was largely political. He chastised people who claimed there wasn't free press in Rwanda (there isn't, in some major ways) and those who say Rwandan's don't feel free to express themselves (they largely don't, politically). He made the extremely fair point that it is these same countries who call for greater freedom of expression that get angry when Rwandan's point out the role they played in the genocide (a great deal of the speech indicated that France's President Sarkozy irritated Kagame considerably during his recent visit). His speech, to our delight, also included the perfectly enunciated phrase, aimed at Western countries, "I. Don't. Give. A. Damn." But most of what he said about the genocide was said in Kinyarwandan, privately, to his fellow countrymen, in words the muzungus wouldn't understand.

By and large, aside from a slightly eerie day in which every single bar, store and restaurant in the city was closed, life moves on this month much as it always did. But occasionally, something reminds us that privately, Rwandans hold this time sacred. Assumpta, who manages our guest house, has worn something purple every day. When we were in Remera, a place known for it's drunks and giant $1 bottles of Primus (the two are probably not unrelated) as well as it's truly unspeakably appalling "bathrooms", almost every bar on the street (made up entirely of bars) was closed, and we were asked to leave around 10pm. We've seen more soldiers on the streets this month, and in places we don't usually see them, as genocide deniers sometimes do things like throw grenades at memorials during April. And today, RA2 realized that Rwanda Television, the only television station available to most of the population and renowned for it's extraordinary bad taste in programming, was showing nothing but genocide memorial themed music videos. This month, mourning is a private experience that a whole country shares.

Tell Me That You’re Alright… That Everything is Alright

2010-04-12T08:08:00.000-07:00

We’re at that point. The point where we can say things like “This time next week I will be: in a shower, in clean sheets, in a bed bigger than a twinsize (made of something besides RwandaFoam), drinking an iced coffee, etc.” But, for everything we’re looking forward to, we are incredibly, incredibly sad to be leaving Rwanda.

It’s hard to explain. As two girls who really love heels, America and Perez Hilton, how can we miss this developing country with its uberlimited internet bandwidth, 20-people-in-a-space-meant-for-7 bus rides, and perpetually muddy feet? But we will, because somehow this country has completely stolen our hearts. And if anyone knows the RAs – our hearts are famously hard to steal.

We came to Rwanda for one reason – and it was not the typical, bleeding-heart, volunteer reason. It was because we needed to see our lives from a new perspective (cue new Panic at the Disco song…). One of us quit her job and is in the process of finding a new one and the other was accepted to every grad school she applied to. Our lives are in completely different places, but the fact that we needed to turn our backs on our old lives and move forward with new glasses was at the heart of both of our motivations for coming here.

And Rwanda did not fail us. It may have tried to get us down (scrunching us into bus seats; making coffee irrationally difficult to find in a country for which it is a major export; frowning upon eating in public), but some days it gave us a sunrise or a sunset or a city view that took our breath away. Some days Rwanda sent us children who were dead set on making us miserable and other days their cuteness and sweet faces made us melt. Also not to be forgotten were the $1 beers that were as big as our heads… and some days, those went a long, long way.

We became part of Rwanda’s blossoming art scene. We learned a pretty formative Kinyarwandan vocabulary. We become muzungu aunties to a newborn. We saw giraffes and zebras. We pee’d in places that we dare not even THINK about ever again. We became “Teacha! Teacha!” to a hoard of children. We became experts in chapatti selection and samosa quality. We became lovers of Primus. We went to Congo. We stood on the shores of Lake Kivu. We were extremely, unquestionably lucky.

And now, its time to open a new chapter. Fortunately, we truly feel like we’re keeping in the same book. Before we came to Rwanda, we were excited to begin a whole new book. But now, this book, the one that has Kigali as its first chapter, is the book we’re excited to write. It’s the book that one of will write from grad school and the other will write from a desk somewhere. It’s the book that lets us start over, never forgetting where we came from, but always knowing where we get to go. It’s the book that’s scattered with African sunsets, giraffes and a group of children who are walking around (seemingly unknowingly) with pieces of our hearts in their grubby, dirty little hands.

Leaving Rwanda is a mildly terrifying prospect. We are happy here. We know what each day will bring. Home is completely unpredictable (finding jobs, paying bills, turning our cells back on), but we know that it's time to finish the story of our lives that we started here (with the understanding that this will take, at minimum, another 120 years and infinite mixed drinks). As we move on, Rwanda will move forward, and as excited as we are to see how it turns out for this, our strangely adopted country, we’re even more excited to see what our book will look like.

You Heard That Right: The RAs Go To Church

2010-04-05T02:45:00.000-07:00

On Saturday one of our beloved 16 year old students, Jen, invited us to attend her baptism. In the usual T.I.A. fashion, everything from attempting to show up on time to the follow-up afterwards led to a series of mini-adventures, some quite beautiful, most ridiculous.

We had been told that the church was in Kimironko "by the mosque." We had no idea where it was, and the moto-taxi driver informed us it was actually in Kybagabaga which, due entirely to its name, is RA1s favorite place on earth. When we got to the mosque we started wandering into churches looking for Jen - "Jen ari hehe?" and "Baptism of Jen ari hehe?" - with minimal success. Finally we wandered back up to Kimironko and ran smack into Jen herself, who was looking for us (thank the sweet Rwandan Lord, although we still cannot determine WHY, not that we care). We met Jen's mother and hopped on a bus to Nyabagogo and then on moto-taxis to take us up into the mountains (two notes: the baptism was NOWHERE NEAR THE MOSQUE, thanks, and we spent a lot of time on motos that day). We got about halfway up the mountain when all the motos stopped and Jen's mother got off and began arguing with them. The words "amafaranga" and "nyangahe" were tossed around, leading us to conclude that because of the extremely steep terrain, they were asking for more money. In response, Jen's mother walked off with a purposeful stride, still carrying the moto helmet, until the men in desperation agreed to do what they had agreed to do in the first place, and we all got back on our motos. The trek was so steep that in parts we all, drivers included, had to get off and walk the bikes up the hill, which has never happened in the three months we have been here. But the view was spectacular. We walking along a gushing river, staring at the most beautiful green vistas imaginable. When we got to the top we found a crowd of people and, weirdly, a photographer, and in one of the usual weirdly surreal Rwandan moments, found a crowd of people insisting on having their picture taken with us. Occasionally a woman would throw one of us her baby, adjust her outfit, reclaim her child, smile for the camera, and wander off.

After a few minutes of this and several phone calls, Jen's mother concluded that we were in the wrong place.

Jen and RA1 got on a moto TOGETHER, another new and interesting moto feat for the day, and sped back off to the very bottom of the mountain to make it to Jen's Baptism, while RA2 and Jen's mom went for a long walk. Halfway down, the moto returned, RA2 presumed, to carry her and Jen's mother back down to meet them. But no. The moto, having not negotiated the price upfront, wanted an exorbitant amount of money, and not having gotten said exorbitant amount from Jen and RA1, had come back up the mountain to try his luck with the other muzungu.

By the time RA2 and Jen's mother got down the mountain, Jen was good and baptised. RA1 watched as the Pastor dunked Jen, fully clothed, under a wide and gushing river, true Come-to-Jesus style, and asked her afterwards, "Are you happy?" Jen smiled beatifically, "I am very happy," then smacked her lips, frowned, and said, "That water is very bad."

Afterwards one of the three church pastors, a woman, invited the RAs to attend the service following the baptisms. One bus ride and a moto later, we arrived at the actual church, which was, in fact, quite near the mosque. A terrifically energetic preacher, appearing to have The Spirit coming through him in vast quantities, ranted, prayed, cajoled and extolled, frequently emitting a full-bodied "HALLELUJAH" followed by the congregation's equally heartfelt "AMEN!" At intervals, the entire church would get up out of their chairs and dance with unrivaled enthusiasm, occasionally dropping to the floor in unison to pray for their specific names. The no-less passionate but slightly more controlled pastor would then rise and, praying in both English and Kinyarwandan , would explain the Kingdom of God, which apparently asks for your energy, your time, your power and your money (in an odd stroke of weird, we heard her giving the same sermon on the radio this morning over breakfast). Some version of this went on for several hours until RA2, late and hungry, quietly excused herself.

RA1 stayed to witness what was clearly the highlight of the day: a Rwandan exorcism. At some point roughly 4 hours into the service (not joking) two of the pastors went over to a woman lying on the floor and began shaking her violently and praying. The man next to RA1, who had been translating, looked at her thoughtfully and said, "She has a demon," then returned to watching the events unfold. As the pastors went on shaking and praying until RA1 feared they might actually break the woman's ribs, the man would sometimes turn and comment thoughtfully, "They are getting the devil out of her," or "Yes, she has a demon."

In summation, we have truly never seen Jen so happy. When she sings and dances she is a completely different person. This country desperately needs extracurricular activities.

Folks, We Haaaaaaaave a Winner

2010-04-05T02:44:00.001-07:00

Claudine has named her beautiful daughter Cynthia, pronounced, in the French-influenced Kinyarwandan way, Sehn-tee.

Surprise Visit

2010-04-02T08:34:00.000-07:00

It truly is Good Friday!!!! Today we got a phone call telling us that the women we visited in Gisenyi had just arrived in Kigali and were coming to see us. We pulled ourselves out of our various stages of post-Salsa night (hey, they told us we had the day off!) and ran down to the office.

We'll post pics as soon as we get our hands on them from today - but we are very excited to bring to you today all the picture updates from our last trip to Gisenyi. You can check out the full album on our Snapfish account.

Words can't begin to describe the women we've met in Rwanda - but especially the women in Gisenyi. They are so brave and so energetic. They came in to Kigali dressed to kill and carrying a letter to the FVA headquarters requesting additional support for their upcoming ventures to reach out to more women. They told our bosses Claire and Willy that they had been really encouraged by our visits and wanted to keep expanding their network. The Manolos wanted to cry (ok, maybe we did cry....) we were so excited for these women. Then - they really did make us want to cry when they proposed that their foundation, when they have it up and running, should be named after us. [Little did they know, both of the Manolos are deep in job search mode currently and could have possibly jumped on any opportunity to find employment ;-)].

It was an amazing visit, even though it was so short. We hope you enjoy the updates below of our trip to Gisenyi - they are anything but short, but they are everything as in filled with tons of pictures. These women have a really special place in our hearts and we hope reading their stories and our experiences with them will spur you to acts of courage and inspiration in your day.

Gisenyi Misc

2010-03-30T23:58:00.000-07:00

just another day in paradise...

Just a few pictures of the HOARDS of children that followed us to the women's houses, walked around with us on the streets and generally made us feel like we were being paparazzi'd

...We love this place...

General pictures of merriment around Lake Kivu & the Volcano (Our last time to see them for a long time)

Gisenyi Day 5 : Sewing & Final Meeting with the Ladies

2010-03-30T23:57:00.000-07:00

It was a sad day. First, because RA1 had to use a ‘village bathroom’ which equals, a latrine. A latrine minus a toilet and a hole that stretches across the entire bottom of the bathroom house. The bathroom house also had a door. However, aforementioned door covered about 1/3 of the doorway.

Besides general bathroom related horror, we had a great morning sewing designs onto bedsheets with our ladies. We got to see some of their finished products which were incredible to say the least. The designs were intricate, yet not kitchy and so beautiful. It takes 2-3 months for the ladies to finish one sheet. The sheets aren’t the best income generator for the women, so as of right now, the embroidery is a side activity they all take part in.

Our last activity in Gisenyi was to sit in on a co-op meeting. We had some things to catch up on since our last meeting, like had the ladies thought any further about funding options for securing their own meeting place. The ladies had some clear apprehensions towards microfinance. Once bitten, twice shy type thing and they were nervous to open up the information about their co-op far and wide. We completely understood and also talked through some other options.

These ladies have been able to do so much (clearly demonstrated in the short amount of time we were able to see) and we have no doubts that they are going to do amazing things in the very near future. We are so proud and so lucky to have met these women and been able to share this week with them. They are such an inspiration to two young, American, Recovering Assistants and we will hold them in our hearts forever.

Gisenyi Day 4 : Farm Visit & Clinic Tour

2010-03-30T23:51:00.000-07:00

Last time we came, we ho’d. This time we came, we ho’d not. Because our ho’s were not needed – they had planted THE ENTIRE PLOT OF LAND! There was corn for days. CORN FOR DAYS. RA1 felt at home for a few brief moments in the giant corn field – until her eyes fell upon the mango trees thrown throughout. We were really excited to have our dear fellow volunteer Margaret with us to give her a little taste of what we had been doing with the women.

Since there was nothing for us to do at the farm, Christine took us to the clinic she works at. Christine dispenses medicine to HIV positive patients, does individual and couples’ counseling, and works at the hospital each day. As we walked into the building where counseling takes place the patients broke out in a traditional Rwandan ‘Welcome Dance’ and cheered as we walked in. (Full Disclosure : We were so NOT equipped to counsel, so we’re wondering why exactly these people are excited for our arrival!!) We're not sure if words can accurately express the hope that flooded that room full of people. They were smiling, laughing, clapping and were sitting in a room waiting to receive medicine for a disease that will eventually end their lives. It was so inspirational to see the faces of women, teenagers, children, men and the elderly all joining in on the singing when they were in this room to face the reality that they were fighting a disease that would take their lives.

Before we left, Christine showed us her mushroom operation. Mushrooms have a nice piece of protein in them, but are very expensive in Rwanda. Christine grows them at the clinic (in the mushroom house – see pics) and sells some of them and gives others to the patients gratis. Even if its more of a mental thing on the nutritional value of mushrooms for HIV/AIDS patients, it clearly goes a long way as the patients were way excited to get the boxes she handed out.

Gisenyi Day 3 : Tye and Dye

2010-03-30T23:50:00.002-07:00

When we said these ladies had a factory we weren’t kidding. But this time, we came to shop! We did some of our own patterns (and by ‘our own’ we clearly mean they showed us what to do and we did it!) and then they let us help with the dying. It was fun visiting with the ladies and then they made us an amazing lunch of sweet potatoes! Check out below the step-by-step process we went through with them to make some beautiful tye-dye cloths.

Sidenote: we met the coolest little girl in the world – Baby (her nickname… still not sure of her first name). She loved RA1s sunglasses and spent most of the day not taking them up and making RA2 flip her upside down.

Gisenyi Day 2 : Doll Making With Ruth

2010-03-30T23:50:00.001-07:00

Our last visit to Ruth included us showing our venerable non-talent for sewing. This time around, Ruth gave us a much easier task: braiding doll hair.

Clearly, we were both once partial Barbie princesses, so this was a fun and easy task. Ruth told us that she had been selling her dolls like hot cakes and was in the process of preparing a big order for an upcoming Craft Exposition to take place in Kigali in May. This is awesome visibility for her and the ladies she works with.

She also told us that the woman who had taught us last time was in Butare for two months with the Imbuto Foundation (Janet Kagame’s Initiative) teaching more women how to make dolls and other income generating skills. It was another day of mind blowing accomplishments for our ladies. We were also pretty excited to snag our own dolls [no photos though – they may or may not be presents for some of our readers ;-)].

Gisenyi Day 1 : Mining With Vestine

2010-03-30T23:49:00.001-07:00

Last time we were in Gisenyi, we didn’t do the big plunge into the volcanic rock mines, but this time – we were down. The men and women that work in these mines are phenomenal. RA1 had always considered the summer jobs in her homeland (bailing hay on farms) as the hardest jobs on Earth. She was quickly corrected via 90 pound rocks being stacked on heads.

After touring all FOUR of Vestine’s mines (she had bought three more since the last time we had visited!) we went back to her original mine. As we watched the men slinging the hammers and breaking the rocks, we decided that now was the time – seize the day if you will. We headed down to the mine and asked the men if it would be okay if we gave the ol’ hammer a few swings. With a perplexed look, he looked to Clemence (our translator/Girl Friday) to make sure we weren’t losing each other in translation.

Since we were properly armed this time with cameras, enjoy the photographic evidence of our mining prowess.

To The Field We Will Go

2010-03-21T01:51:00.000-07:00

Hey faithful readers :)

Your resident Manolos are heading back out into the field this week!! We're excited to see these women that inspired us so much on our last trip. We're looking forward to using heavy hoes in the field, sewing dolls with them and purchasing some of the fabulous things they make. AND we're traveling with a camera this time so you will see so much photographic proof of us in the villages it will make your head spin!!

We'll be a bit limited on the internets, but I'm sure we'll amass a bevy of stories to share with you throughout the week.

xoxo
nic & kaitlyn

Radio Rwanda

2010-03-18T05:10:00.000-07:00

Everybody dies famous in a small town - and for a big city Kigali is a very, very small town. Tuesday afternoon our friend Charles called and told us that he has two friends who do a radio program every week, and they needed guests for that evening. Since it interfered with dinner, the highlight of our day, it's a good thing we owe Charles many favors, or we might have said no (Charles is Collin's brother, of Ivuka fame, and pretty much runs everything with iron-clad efficiency). As it was, we said yes, grabbed our fellow volunteer Margaret (MARGE!) and got a very cool inside look at mass communications in the developing world.

The two hosts of the show are women, which we thought was awesome. They do an English-language show called The Melting Pot, which they hope reaches people trying to learn English, but they're pretty sure just reaches people who know them personally. Their show is on a Muslim station, so we were told no swearing and no Jesus. This is a shame, because what ended up happening was that all of us sat around and traded ridiculous stories of things that happened to us due to communication failures and culture differences, and some of our best stories definitely involve Jesus. Nevertheless, we managed to be entertaining enough to get invited back again next week! We will most likely be in the middle of our last trip to Gisinye and unable to take them up on the offer, but luckily, through us, they have tapped a rich reserve of volunteers with many hilarious accounts of our ineptitude. We also got to meet Mark, a friend of theirs who is organizing a genocide awareness march on April 7th, the national day of remembrance. There are going to be marches in Kenya and Uganda as well, and next year, they're hoping to organize one in NYC, which we will totally be attending. Mark actually worked as a radio host for awhile and it definitely showed; he was incredibly professional and lovely to listen to. He also wasn't bad to look at - we suggested he should look into TV. The two ladies also graciously caught us up on some of the music we had missed over the last three months (hello, Wyclef did a new "We Are the World"?! why were we not informed!!), and entertained us by attempting, for what we would discover was the one millionth or so unsuccessful time, to get the call and text-in system at the station to work for them. They also broke some things, like a chair and a set of headphones. Basically, it looked a lot like it would probably look if the Manolos were allowed to run rampant around a radio station with no chaperones - AWESOME.

Newest Little Member of Our Rwandan Family!

2010-03-18T04:42:00.000-07:00

Our friend Claudine, whose daughter Sylvie RA2 is sponsoring through school, just had a little daughter, and we had the privilege of meeting her the day after she was born. As we told Claudine, not every little girl comes into the world with two ready-made muzungu aunties! Rwandans don't name their children until they're three weeks old, and the conversation about that went something like this:

Claudine: What are you going to name my daughter?
Manolos: ???? We're not going to name your daughter! YOU'RE going to name your daughter!
Claudine: OK, I will tell you a name, and you can name her that.

Since Claudine's daughter was born on International Women's Day, we did throw out a few appropriate ideas: Hillary (Clinton), Margaret (Thatcher), and Debra and Kelly for our moms.

We've said over and over that the best part about living here for three months has been having the time to form deeper relationships with the people we work with, and there couldn't be a better example of that than the privilege of being here long enough to get to know Claudine, meet her daughter the day after she entered the world, and watch them name her.

It was also really interesting to get a sense of what maternal health looks like here. The baby was born in a clinic, not technically a hospital:

The women have a dorm-style room to recover in afterwards. They bring everything they might need with them, including their own sheets:

Does the look on that baby's face, or it does it not, say "Who the hell are you, and why are you made of the wrong stuff?"

Yes, that IS in fact RA1 EVER SO GENTLY cradling a newborn. They were right - the strangest things happen in Africa:

Beautiful mommy and new baby!

God Bless Marc Jacobs

2010-03-15T02:56:00.000-07:00

---Disclaimer: Completely unrelated to anything in our lives dealing with Kigali or Rwanda---

Since we are a blog named after a certain fashion label - I would think us remiss to not even mention the fact that Paris Fashion Week just wrapped. Being in Rwanda where people can barely afford school for their children and a week's worth of food has made me so completely reevaluate my attitudes towards consumerism and materialism - BUT - I will always appreciate fashion. Always it will be the one art form that I understand and love and eat up like chocolate ice cream. Our oft mentioned oasis, Ivuka Arts, is a haven (or harem of beautiful men?) for appreciating art. So I find it completely acceptable to take one teeny, tiny blogpost to discuss my recent appreciation of the Fall 2010 Louis Vuitton Line by Marc Jacobs.

Jacobs pays homage to the time when women's bodies were women's bodies, boobs' cups runethd over and hips actually existed. However, lest we forget that Miuccia Prada was the first to usher in the curvacious in Milan in February - but this was the closing show of Paris fashion week - this is the statement of the year and who better to make any statement than the deliriously talented Marc Jacobs. Here in Rwanda, as we have previously mentioned, being thin is not desired. It often connotates poverty, disease or inability to bear children. So it is with great adoration of Marc, his style and his show (entitled "And God Created Woman") that I proceed.

I'm not sure when I actually ever saw buxom on a runway (Minus the Victoria's Secret fashion show) - particularly on a Paris runway. Buxom counted out many fabulous models from even gracing the Parisian runways; Elle McPherson, Catherine McNeil, Bar Refaeli (and my new favorite model, Cameron Russell). But Jacobs - being the genius he is - put these models front and center in outfits that exentuated their waists and pushed those boobs up and at full attention. It was clearly a throw back to the now famous and infamous days of Mad Men and Revolutionary Road with a twist (leather gloves in earth tones, plaid with patterns, corsetted tops with metallic skirts, etc). And then there was this and this, which I've decided need to be in my closet. They should be there immeadiately. Sooner is better.

He busted out nip-waist jackets that make every woman love her reflection in the mirror, accentuating the natural waist and slimming down any pair of hips. As well as these jackets with puffed sleeves which balance out the line from head to hip. He also had these fabulous long jackets that were remarkably slenderizing (yes, I know they're size 2 models, but you get it).

His knits were superb. I've always thought a sweater can go one of two ways: frumpy or ribbed. Michelle Obama and her cardigans have proven me wrong over the past year and Jacobs takes it to a whole new level. There is a white, knit sweater that he put over a full ballerina skirt that says "Bring it on boardroom!"

Then: the S's - Sleeves and Shoes. Thank you Marc Jacobs for saying goodbye to the spaghetti strap and cutting down on the sleeveless. Thank you for using thick straps and that glorious '50s/'60s décolletage neckline that makes every woman look amazing. Thank you for the trendy little heels the models were wearing. The block heel (which can ACTUALLY be worn off the runway) with the delightful little Parisian bow were a smash and were one of the final touches on an amazing show; to be upstaged only by the following...

The bags. Oh darling, the bags. The LV Speedy bag was at its heyday in the '30s and Jacobs is bringing it back with his own flair. Jacobs has a knack for making the most glorious bags on the market and with LV's precision and recognizable shapes - we were bound for a masterpiece. Some were covered in fur, some were sequined, some were metallic and all were fabulous.

So from one of the world's curvy girls, thank you Marc Jacobs. Thank you for making a fabulous show of looks that remind us all what fashion is: fashion is putting on the outside what you're feeling on the inside. And believe me: Ladies, we're feelin' fabulous!!

xoxo
nic

How I Fell In Love In Rwanda

2010-03-15T02:44:00.000-07:00

I’m sure some of you saw the title of the post and thought – “Whaaaaaat?” This is not a love letter and its not a confession of elicit romances set to the tune of a blog post. It is a thank you. A thank you to a certain someone(s) that make each day here in Kigali remarkable. A thank you to the children that took my Grinch-like heart (towards children) and made it grow 'three sizes larger.'

Thoughtful friends of mine will surely be picking their chins up off their desks at this precise moment. I have never lied about my… shall I say indifference – I feel aversion would be too strong – towards children of all ages. I specifically signed up for a program that involved adults and not children here in Rwanda. On my first day in the country (after a serious lack of caffeine, my first day of malaria pills AND 72 hours with no sleep) I was introduced to a large contingent of children who I was told “will be your kids!” I was horrified. Who were these children? Why would they be mine? What exactly would I be doing with them? WHERE WERE THE WOMEN?!

It was similar to dating, those first few weeks. I never knew what the next day would bring; I would make plans that were often sidelined; I was interrupted; I was misunderstood; some days were amazing, others made me want to eat glass. Ok – so it was like dating in DC, not the rest of the world. After a month of basically tolerating each other, the children and I came to a good place: they went back to school and I didn’t have to teach them everyday. This would be what we would refer to as the “honeymoon phase” in a relationship. We were happily rolling through tutoring sessions, they were teaching me how to teach them in Kinyarwandan (I learned words like “Listen” “Write” “Sit” “What is this?”) and dance lessons were also included.

After six weeks – it was official. I had fallen in love with my kids. I knew all of them by name (highly useful when needing to tell them to stop hitting each other or when needing one of them to translate) and they all knew my capacity to speak their language. I wasn’t under the stress of developing lesson plans, so I was able to enjoy being with the kids and doing their homework with them. Kaitlyn was able to turn a Marie Claire into a reading comprehension project with our older kids and I was able to fully realize my grasp on middle school math. The kids helped me learn how to explain things in Kinyarwandan, taught me new words and new traditional dance moves – in exchange I provided them with the opportunity to master things like: The Electric Slide, Musical Chairs, The Chicken Dance and geometry (clearly listed in order of importance).

So, this letter is to you my dear, dear children of our little school house. Thank you Pauline for always comprehending what I’m saying and translating what I say to younger students. Thank you Jean de Dieu for that one time you wrote an entire multiplication table on your leg because I forgot to give you scrap paper. Thank you Redempta for loving your name and always saying it in a way that sounds like “Re-Dumpt-A.” Thank you Olivera for looking like a chipmunk and clicking your tongue in a way that actually sounds like a chipmunk too. Thank you Sandrine for being the smartest little girl I have ever met and for always letting me hug you every time you walk in the door. Thank you Adison for being 5 and for all the things that make you awesome like every time I say “Go home” you say “NO!” but then leave anyway. Thank you for loving high fives and making them an acceptable form of reward for a job well done. Thank you for playing with our hair when we've ran out of things to do in class. Thank you for singing Meddy at the top of your lungs in the bus on our field trip.

When I think about all the things I will miss about Kigali and Rwanda, these children are at the top of the list. They dominate the list actually. I don’t know many children under the age of 12 that I like that much – but these kids I want to put them ALL in my luggage and bring them home with me. I want them to be a solid presence in my life everyday. As I stare down the barrel of 4 weeks left with these amazing kids, every day is special and every day with them I’ve begun to appreciate more than they know. I figure they all probably think I’m crazy when I hug them a little longer than usual nowadays – but hey, what is love if there isn’t someone clinging on til the last moment?

Sincerely,

nicole

Getting A Leetle Overinvolved

2010-03-14T00:15:00.000-08:00

It's a gorgeous, bright, sunny morning in Kigali, which was preceded by a heaven-sent, beautiful and sunny week. The rainy season came early (CLIMATE CHANGE IS REAL, FOX NEWS) and we haven't been able to walk anywhere without being at the very least armed with an umbrella since about mid-February, so this has been a truly delightful change. Yesterday your RAs took a trip to the Mille Colline (yes, the Mille Colline, of Hotel Rwanda fame) and sat by the pool for the day. Laying out by the pool is a huge treat here, because it runs anywhere from $6 to the more expensive $10 required by the Mille, but we won ourselves a solid Best Teachers Ever award this week, and we decided to splurge. Even our 60 and 70 SPF couldn't quite stand up to the beast that is the ultraviolet light this close to the equator, and we're both spending the day nursing hard-won sunburns, but it was a glorious way to spend a Saturday. We had two laid-back, quiet hours and then another two full of screaming, splashing children, one of whom ran up to RA2 STARK NAKED and made a grab for her ipod while RA1 looked on, cackling, offering exactly zero help or emotional support.

Since neither of us even want to think about it, this will probably be the last mention of it in this blog, but we are 2/3 of the way through our time here, and staring down the one-month gun barrel. We have squeezed more action into 2 months than seems possible: giraffes, endless trips to the studio, dancing, karaoke, Primus, two trips to Gisinye, tye-dye, English classes, basket-weaving, Primus, a day by the pool, brochettes, Indian food, Chinese food, Primus, shopping, the bus system, and constant new adventures and discoveries, and we have every expectation that the last month here will hold the same.

As we've mentioned, being here for so long has enabled us to create amazing connections with the women and children we work with, and we've gotten particularly close with Claudine's family. Claudine recently gave birth to a baby girl, and both RAs were declared "muzungu Aunties" - we hope to put up pictures of our visit to her at the hospital soon. RA2 also decided to sponsor her first daughter, Sylvie, through school. Sylvie is in the rare and enviable position of having a mother who is very dedicated to and excited about her education, and a father without any inclination to interfere. The only thing she needed were school fees and money for all the incidentals Rwandan "free" public schooling requires: one or two uniforms, a notebook, a pencil, a backpack, a canteen, and a roll of toilet paper (we have no idea, we didn't ask). The cost is prohibitive for most Rwandan families, who largely rely on donors and foundations to scrape by each year, but comes out to just $80 a year for pre-school and about $200-$400 a year for primary and secondary school. University, if a student gets accepted, is only about $500 per semester, at two semesters a year.

Clockwise from top: Claudine, Sylvie's new principal, RA2 and Sylvie, registering for school.

Sylvie, her serious little face, and her new school equipment, which she refused to take off.

Sylvie and her beautiful mother, all set for school.

Happy National Women's Day!

2010-03-08T01:36:00.000-08:00

My whole life I have been lucky enough to be surrounded by amazing women. I’m also very lucky that I live in a country where women have amazing jobs, stunning careers, fabulous heels and killer apartments/houses/homes. However, today is different. Today, I am lucky enough to be in a country other than my own that celebrates women in a way that the US has yet to do. Today in Rwanda is National Women’s Day. Schools, banks and most offices are closed for the day in honor of the holiday and celebrations are taking place all over the city.

It’s truly eye-opening to be in a country where so many things lag behind my home –access to deodorant for example – but continues to be so progressive in a multitude of ways; particularly for women. This country dedicates a National Holiday to women; which probably has something to do with the fact that they have the most women legislators in any government in the world. It’s not a holiday Hallmark made up and there aren’t any greeting cards for it, but there is this recognition that Rwanda’s government and its people will give one day to honor women. Now, perhaps some of you are thinking – one day? One little day? America dedicates national holidays to Veteran’s, dead Presidents, etc – but nothing is dedicated to women. Nothing is even dedicated to one woman – MLK gets a day, but nothing for Rosa Parks?

Women of America (and the amazing men on this email list) we should be a little pissed off. I’ve never appreciated America more than I have after being in a foreign country – but come on, let’s do something for the women that make our country amazing. Start talking about it, blogging about it and bothering people about it. A bunch of old, dead guys (not belittling their value in any way) have National holidays so why not one for every woman? Considering the current state of things, perhaps the bankers and legislators need another day off anyway!

So – in the meantime – here’s a toast to you ladies. Even if America won't recognize us as the backbone to our country– I will do my own dedication. Here’s to the ladies that have mentored me. Here’s to the ladies that have held my hand through career moves, tough choices and vibrant triumphs. Here’s to Secretary Hillary Rodham Clinton. Here’s to Margaret Thatcher. Here’s to my mom and here’s to all the moms. Here's to the women of my first job who taught me everything I know about being fabulous. Here’s to all the women that live somewhere other than Rwanda and don’t think their progress and lives are valued. The ladies of my volunteer program will be saluting you all today, by way of many Primus(es) and many laughs.

-nicole

Our First Care Package!!!!!

2010-03-05T03:53:00.000-08:00

Much to our very great excitement, we got our first care package this week, from our dear friend Genevieve Wanucha, who writes The Blood Sugar. The contents of this package can only be described as phenomenal. We might've gotten JUST A TOUCH EXCITED upon opening it:

RA2 may possibly have used Glamour to bribe some of the older girls into doing their homework, BUT JUST TRY AND PROVE IT. There was a great article on a Harvard grad who started a business making sanitary pads out of banana tree fibers after she found out that women in many developing countries have to stay home from school and work when they get their period, and lose a lot of income that way. The business she founded is called SHE (Sustainable Health Enterprises), and the article explains that she opened the first factory here in Rwanda, largely because she knew she could count on the support of the many women in Parliament. RA1 then had the brilliant idea of emailing SHE to see if we could see their operations and bring some of our older girls to witness a revolutionary woman-centered start-up in the works. Fingers crossed that they get back to us!

One morning this week we found ourselves with 9 kids, mostly beginners but with enough shades of in-between that we couldn't simply do the ABCs, and there were too many levels to split between just the two of us. We really wanted to use the AMAZING new supplies we had received from Genevieve. All of a sudden RA1 looked up and said, "Color by number," to which RA2 replied something along the lines of, "You are made of GENIUS and WIN." Not only did the kids practice their colors, numbers, and, much to our surprise, their sharing, but they were absolutely the quietest and most well-behaved we have ever seen them. As an added bonus we actually hadn't considered, they were extremely excited to bring them home. Most houses here have very little by way of decorations, and for some of these kids this will be the only picture they have.

One of our older girls benefited very directly from Vive's thoughtfulness. Our Girl Friday Clemence had noticed that she didn't have a sweater, and she looks gorgeous in the one Vive sent.

Vive, we can't thank you enough!!!!!!

xoxoxo,
The Manolos

Kigali: Proving It's Not What You Wear, It's How You Wear It

2010-03-05T03:22:00.000-08:00

The RAs have recently begun to work with a group of women who, mostly through the awesome power of micro-finance, have become fairly successful - even extremely successful by Rwandan standards. Yesterday we went to see Alice, who along with two other women owns a very nice restaurant. They were selling second-hand clothes, but decided to open their own business when they got a loan. They paid the first loan back in 6 months and are considering a second one so they can expand. Alice took us back to see the kitchen, which made RA2 a little nervous that they would never be able to bring themselves to eat in a restaurant again, but not only was it very clean, it was very cool. There were big open pits with pots and meat cooking over them and the biggest pile of meat and onions we have ever seen. Alice and the other women rent their restaurant space, and share the building with two other, complementary businesses: a bar ("We cannot sell beer because we are Christians") and a game room in the back. They're going to be taking English lessons with us once a week, and Alice was very excited to hear we would help her write out her menu in translation. "People come in and they are asking me for chips, and I think, oh God, what is this chips?!"

Today we met Jackie, an utterly fabulous woman who owns a small store that sells clothing and eggs. These may sound like incongruous business practices, and it was definitely funny to see all these sharp clothes behind the counter and piles and piles of eggs on the floor in front, but it was actually a great business strategy. Jackie gets both her clothes and eggs from Uganda, where they can be bought for much cheaper, even after paying for a taxi to transport them. She and the woman who runs the shop with her have a few big contracts with hotels, including our favorite chain, the Serena, here in Kigali. She also sells them and the clothes out of the shop. She has a loyal customer base because she only charges enough to make a very small profit, and people know her prices are always fair. She also has a great deal with the farms who supply her eggs; someone picks up the eggs for her, and she pays the farmers after she sells them.

This leads us to two points we've picked up about women and business here: women always pay their debts, and women in business bring their neighborhoods up with them. Even though they don't get paid upfront, the farmers always get their money from Jackie, and Alice and her friends paid back their loan in 6 short months. Jackie sells her eggs cheaper than anywhere else, allowing locals who normally couldn't afford them to better feed their children. Jackie, Alice and all the women they work with also employ local women who wouldn't otherwise have work, and Jackie sends two of her children to boarding school in Uganda, where they are getting much better grades than they were and learning English. We're so excited to have them meet the women we've been working with. They're an incredible inspiration, and they demonstrate how far women in the country can move up, and how quickly, with just the smallest amount of help.

The thing that is most striking about these woman is how different than they look from the women we work with. They look relaxed. Meeting them was a complete breath of fresh air; it really makes a difference when you don't have to wonder how you're going to feed your kids the next day. Women here literally wear their success. Everyone here takes care of themselves and their children, and try to keep their one or two shirts as clean as possible. The people we know who don't have much money usually own just a shirt or two and some cloths that they fold to make skirts and carry babies, and even the people we know here with a reasonable income only own a few outfits. But the successful women we know here make sure their few outfits are fabulous, and they wear them with great pride and confidence. Men wear suits to work, and I think the attitude with which they wear them could be described as "casual". There's more of a sense from men that their success is inevitable. But successful women wear it like they earned it, and it's very cool to see. Jackie was wearing a brown satin shirt with gem buttons, a brown and maroon patterned skirt with gold trim, and zebra print shoes with a cute pink manicure. It has made me re-think my approach to clothes, and consider what it means to wear the success you earned with pride.

A Day In Our Life

2010-03-03T02:01:00.000-08:00

The Wimenz
So – it has been our lot in life to be surrounded by strong, independent and amazing women. That luck did not falter when we left the contiguous. Even though the language barrier is huge and daunting, the spirit of the women we get to see two to three times a week is phenomenal. Their laughs brighten our early mornings and turn around any mood we may have gotten ourselves worked in to.

Again, we always go back to the fact that coming here for three months (however burdensome on our personal lives, careers, futures, etcetera) is all coming full circle now. When we see the women in the morning they’re so excited to see us even though all we can give them in return for their excitement are basic English lessons and a standard Rwandan greeting. Never has it been more clear to us that in our overly talkative, highly analytical lifestyles we are missing a lot. Words are sometimes not the best tool of communication – sometimes a smile, a nod or a hand gesture goes further in bringing us closer to others.The Kiddiepoos
It’s no secret to anyone in the RAs’ lives that children weren’t EXACTLY the reason we came to Rwanda. We came to work with women, but have ended up –indirectly – working with them through their children. The walls of our small school house (read: outdoor patio under a tin roof that has a chalkboard in it) have seen us go from triumphant celebrations at the reciting of the ABCs to utter desperation at explaining the difference between 13 and 30 while simultaneously writing triple digit multiplication problems (and CHECKING THEM) for advanced students. However, as they say, we’ve started to hit a stride of sorts. Most of the children coming in our doors – even though we never know when or what day they will come – are familiar now and we’ve quickly devised ways to deduce their skill level.

Are we working with the bare minimum supplies and resources for these students? Yes. Absolutely. Are we ripping printer paper in half and making handwritten worksheets for students since they barely ever remember to bring their actual homework with them? You betcha. Are we helping? We think so. If keeping kids in our classroom for an hour keeps them out of an abusive situation for 60 minutes or gives their stressed out mothers an hour without them in the house. Sure – we get frustrated, we’re climbing up a huge wall of language difference and are often 8:1 teacher to student ratio with children WHO DON’T SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE AS US.

My favorite time of day is when I get to do math tutoring. Do you remember my grades in math mom? I do – they were not good enough to qualify me to teach – but I can say that my triple digit multiplication skills BY HAND are going to be phenomenal by the time I get home. Are those handmade worksheets those kids are working on you ask? Why yes, yes they are.

For example – Kaitlyn teaches ABCs to one student who has severe ADD and two children who have never been to school. Ever. Twenty minutes later she is explaining lab procedures to chemistry students.
Our lesson plans have also been known to include the following:

Reading: (aka: Fending off the page-ripping fingers of children for the ONE book we have):
Computer Class: (aka: googling whatever they want to learn in English):
Vocab: ("Turtle" vs "Tiger" Lesson, obviously!)Social Studies & Cultural Awareness: (aka: keeping the kids entertained for the last 15 minutes of class or finding a reason to read Marie Claire whilst teaching)
Shapes & Colors: (aka: Watching kids fight over pieces of paper, teaching them how to share the minimal supply of crayons and listening to constant shouts of "Big Puzzle! Big Puzzle!")
Body Parts: (aka: A reason to teach them how to do "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" and making them do it really fast)
Tired Teacher Time: (aka: I believe they call this study hall or 'prep' in America)
Colors & Numbers: (aka: Walking in in the morning, RA2 saying "What should we do today?" <...RA1 furiously Googling...> "Color by number." RA2: "GENIUS!"All in all, we were sent here to do one thing, are doing a few things that weren’t really in our plan, but are loving all the stories we have at the end of the day. The women, the kids; they give us some pretty unconditional love in the form of hugs, laughs and spirit.

Edu | ma | cation

2010-03-03T01:56:00.000-08:00

The RAs have spent many evenings on the porch of our house discussing the various programs and policies in place here in Rwanda. We often come back to education since we have been tasked with the job of being an educational resource for the children in FVA’s program. For the children in school we are a tutoring/supplementary resource – which is quite enjoyable for us because these kids are in school and some of them so smart they are an inspiration to work with. On the other hand, there are some children that we are, literally, the first line of defense in their educational attainment. This is for various reasons such as 1) their parents cannot afford to send them to school; 2) they are preschool age and preschools here are mostly private which is very expensive for locals ($40/term); or 3) FVA has yet to be able to secure a sponsor for their school. Often we are working with youngsters who need the most basic of lessons (123s and ABCs). To the outside viewer you might say “But Nicole/Kaitlyn, the ABCs must be so easy to teach!” Remember – these are children who have NEVER been in an educational setting. They have never had to sit still and listen to a teacher. Also – many of them have illiterate parents, so the hope of giving them lessons that they can practice outside the classroom is minimal.

So, it brings us back to policy. RA1 has had a general distaste in her mouth for the American educational system (inflated college tuition, no child left behind, etcetera) but it took coming to Rwanda to realize that although our system is lacking – it is beneficial in so many ways. In America you learn to learn from a very early age. Costs are – for the most part – minimal for a public school education. Going to school is a requirement, not a privilege (perhaps we can move this progressive view of education over to healthcare……but that’s another blog update entirely) and there are legal repercussions for the PARENTS who don’t ensure their children are in school.

Perhaps America doesn’t have it all right, but being in a country like Rwanda where the spirit of the people is indomitable but so many areas need so much work, makes me appreciate America. It has also reinforced the fact that, to me, education is the way out. Education is the tool for a civilized society, an economically advanced society and a place where democracy is unavoidable. Smart people don’t stand for bad policies or corrupt politicians. Illiterate and uneducated people have no capital to fight back with.

We're Back!

2010-03-02T03:22:00.000-08:00

Ok - we didn't actually leave. It's been raining a lot in Kigali, so we've been a little lazy on the internet cafe trips. HOWEVER! there are many fun updates planned over the next couple days and many of them will include multiple photos.

But - as we like to do because we love our followers - here's a quick photo update for you!

http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1847532024/a=1844700024_1844700024/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

Mini Safari Adventure!!!

2010-02-22T02:34:00.000-08:00

Forget those sanitized, group, paved road Safari adventures you've heard about. We're bringing you the story of 4:30am wake up calls, getting hit by branches while driving down muddy roads on the top of an SUV and seeing no less than 25 giraffes at once. You've been warned.

Scene of the crime : Akagera National Park
Date : Crack of dawn, February 21, 2010
Seekers of Adventure : The Manolos (RA's, 105, etcetera), Tsufit, Drew, MARGE, Kimironko House Kids (Cat, Annie, Vanessa, Alex) & justin (Irish's co-worker)

Our cell rings at 4:57am to let us know our ride is at our backdoor. We go outside to see - perhaps - the BIGGEST, MOST COMFORTABLE cars we have yet seen in Kigali. They are giant, 4-wheel drive trucks which have more room in them than any bus we've ever ridden in here (not saying much, but still). Our driver has told us to pack breakfast, lunch and lots of water, but provided a full case of bottled water! We knew this was a good sign.

After picking up the Kimironko House Kids we set off in the dark to Akagera. As we watched the sun rise over the mountains of Rwanda, we got closer to Akagera and our driver was apologizing for driving a bit fast. In our haze of vehicular comfort we assured him that we would clearly be driving faster so no worries.

When we pulled off the main paved road onto a dirt road our excitement began to build and when we pulled in to Akagera we were pretty much balls of energy (It was roughly 7:30am so you can imagine that this was particularly unnatural for us).

We paid our $30 park fee, and got a guide. SURPRISE! Our driver had popped the top of our truck and turned it into a 'Best-Safari-Panoramic-View-Vehicle' ever. Of course the RA's claimed a sweet piece of location right on the back (amongst MANY SAFETY BARS MOMS) and we set off on our way.

Our car was second in line as the guide was in the first car. Suddenly, we see a roadblock ahead. Downed tree you ask? No. Perhaps a stalled SUV? Wrong. BABOONS. Many, many Baboons. Big ones, small ones, babies hanging from mamas. They were so close to us and so awesome. Did you know that some baboons look like they have orange eyes? True story. They also travel in huge groups so they are all over the place.

First Stop : Lake Ihema
Mission : Hippo Spotting

This lake redefines huge and gives even our favorite Lake Kivu a run for its money. On one side of the lake is Tanzania and inside the lake are hippos!!! We saw tons of birds near the water - but as we pulled up closer to the lake we saw those telltale bubbles and ripples in the water and knew hippos were there! Then - joy of joys - one of them raised his GIANT head up out of the water to say hello. We drive to another part of the lake (past many baboons) to see another group of hippos. YAY - there is a baby in this group! The baby was awesome, but the fella in front of the baby was not playing around - he didn't take his eyes off us the entire time.

Second Stop : North End of the Park (70 minute drive) [FYI: the animals migrate through the park over the seasons.]
Mission : Zebra, Giraffe, Warthog Spotting

RA2 has not been subtle about her desire to see a giraffe. However, we knew not to get our hopes up as 1) TIA and 2) disappointment sucks. After pulling in to the park part 2, we hop up onto the top of the truck but as we set off into the (LEGIT) bush, we realize this is not going to work as branches seem to be happily reaching out to grab us. We drive through about 20 minutes of bush and suddenly it breaks into a huge savanna. Surrounded by some of Rwandas' finest mountains the view is breathtaking. Even from thousands of feet away we can see the fields are spotted with hundreds of animals.

We have a driving tour of many different antelopes and huge families of zebras. Then, in the distance, we hear the tracker say 'do you see the giraffes?' RA1 restrains RA2 from jumping off the truck and running breakneck towards said land of giraffes. We full steam ahead and the closer we get, the more we can make out the shape of a giraffe. NO - many giraffes. WAIT - there are like 4 of them. NO NO, MORE!! We apparently stumbled upon a group of no less than 25 giraffes. On the way however, we did stop to pay homage to a few water buffalo as they are big and pretty awesome.

We were exhausted and UNSPEAKABLY FILTHY by the time we returned to Kigali, and roundly agreed that not only was it the highlight of our trip to Africa so far (and won't likely fall in the rankings), but it was actually possibly the best day of our lives. We got to ride around, ON a car, staring at baboons a few feet from us, making faces at hilarious looking baby giraffes, and taking in the most gorgeous panoramic vistas either of us could never have imagined. We don't know how we got this lucky, or as we frequently as one another in various tones, "how is this our life?", but we'll take it.

Full Safari Pics Here : http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1828080024/a=1844700024_1844700024/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

What are YOU doing this weekend?

2010-02-19T02:57:00.000-08:00

We'll be heading out for a mini-Safari on Sunday through the Akagera National Park. Our driver picks us up bright and early at 5am and we spend the whole day at the park.

We're keeping our fingers crossed for hippos, holding our breath for elephants and praying for a giraffe!!

More about the park here and here.

Have a good weekend!

Life or Something Like It

2010-02-19T01:47:00.000-08:00

Your faithful RAs settled on the length of time we would be in Rwanda - 3 months - as accidentally as we settled on Rwanda itself; we just let fate and visa rules guide us. As in the case of Rwanda itself, fate's guiding hand intervened perfectly in terms of timing. While one of our fellow volunteers has already left and others leave in a few weeks, we have just settled into a life here, and while there are plenty of exciting things left to do, there's a routine and a sense of calm at times that is really comforting. We generally get up at around 6:30am, not because we're such go-getters or early risers (those of you have met us at 6:30am will VEHEMENTLY AGREE, I'm sure), but because breakfast goes out around 6:30 and when the fruit is gone, it's gone. For Rwandan pineapple and tree tomatoes, we'll commit physical violence if we have to. Getting up on time is just our way of insuring minimal bloodshed.

We leave for the office around 9:00, and it is a 3 1/2 minute walk, or, more aptly, exactly one Beyonce or Better Than Ezra song long. When we arrive, T.I.A. Since the kids have started school there is actually LESS order to our time with them; they show up as occasion, their mother's mental health, or their own need to pass math demands. We can no longer bank on having child-free afternoons, and have told the FVA office to plan to always have someone on standby, as we cannot abandon our work with the women here in favor of chasing children around all day every day. Four days a week, yes, BUT NOT FIVE. You see our steely resolve. We keep ourselves and the kids entertained on off days by teaching them the difference between "tiger" and "turtle" the best way we know how - WITH RIDICULOUS HAND GESTURES. RA2's father recently asked her what qualified her as a teacher, and we hope this picture will demonstrate visually what we already affirmed verbally: absolutely nothing qualifies us to be teachers. But these kids now know the difference between a tiger and a turtle, and are reasonably certain it involves claws and the word, "GRRR!", and that is something. The tall, gangly, adorable muzungu on the left is Drew, who has graciously started helping us out on afternoons. It's turned out to be great in terms of giving the kids, and the women, a positive male role model.

The length of our stay has allowed us to work some of our personal causes into the program, and hopefully establish a continuity to maintain them after we leave. As of today, we will be teaching a theater class every Friday afternoon at Gisimba orphanage designed to engage the kids in discussions around HIV/AIDS, gender-based violence, poverty, and whatever else they come up with. RA2 is glad years of community theater will finally be put to good use; RA1 will be in charge of all things related to crayons, paper, markers, scissors, and "big dish", as RA2 has an aptitude for none of these.

We've also been working closely with Claudine, a beautiful, very pregnant young mother whose daughter Sylvie made off with RA2's heart and has thus far refused to return it. Claudine has recently asked us to be, if possible, present at the birth of her next child. She should give birth in early March. We're incredibly honored that she would want us t be part of such a momentous event in her life, even if all RA2 will be able to do is sit in a corner rocking back and forth insisting she "don't know nothin' bout birthin' babies." Claudine is hoping for a hospital birth, but she lives on a series of poorly designed and labor-inducing dirt roads, so if the baby decides it's coming at home, it's coming at home. We're feeling lucky we happen to know a strapping young gentleman who has helped women through labor before, and hoping he can at least give us some breathing exercises to keep us busy and out of the way if we're actually there when the time comes.

We spend our evenings reading before dinner, which has been served a lot earlier since Ian learned to say, "I am very hungry" in Kinyarwandan and wandered into the kitchen rubbing his stomach and repeating it plaintively. We're all but devouring books here; RA1 is midway through, in the span of a week, a book that took RA2 about 4 months. There's time in the evenings to talk about what work we've done that day and what ideas have been kicking around in our minds. We occasionally break up the evenings by going out. Last night was Tsufit's 25th birthday (happy birthday sweetie!!) and we have many ridiculous pictures of Ian in a hat, and probably some of Drew and RA2's unwise decision to hop on a child's merry-go-round after at least 2 Primus'.

This weekend we're scheduled (fingers crossed) to go see Akagera national park, which is something RA2 has been looking forward to since we arrived. Fingers crossed for amazing animals, particularly a gangly-legged, awkward looking you-know-what. We have been advised not to get between hippos and the water, and our American education says to never smile at a crocodile, so we should be all set.

The Long-Awaited Ivuka Update!

2010-02-17T03:07:00.000-08:00

Since we arrived, we've been spending a lot of our free time at Ivuka, an art studio/art co-operative in Kigali. It was founded by an amazing man named Collin (that's him on the left).

There aren't a lot of people making art in Rwanda, and RA2 has been known to describe Ivuka as "water in the desert". It's a gorgeous, open space where people create art, share art, and spend time together around art. In keeping with that spirit, Collin also founded a children's dance troupe dedicated to traditional Rwandan dance, essentially to give the neighborhood kids something to do. They're in the studio every Saturday and Sunday, and whenever they have free time, dancing and banging (LOUDLY) on drums. The troupe has been to Holland to perform and Collin is constantly promoting them, trying to figure out where else they can perform. They're really incredible.

Our friend Richard recently represented Rwanda in the equivalent of the Art Olympics. Every country sends a painter and a sculptor. This was the first year Rwanda participated, and this gorgeous piece of art was Richard's contribution.

Auggie is another one of our favorite people (on the entire planet, possibly), mostly because his smile is so amazing it can light up a universe, but he also makes beautiful things that we love to look at.

The guys (and lady - hi Chance!) at Ivuka have been amazingly good to us, letting us just hang out and paint. Art therapy is a really nice way to unwind after a week of cranky children. Richard has begun to refer to our paintings as "abstract", which is both generous and kind. Chance has been trying to teach us to dance, bless her hopeful heart.

If you want to learn more about Ivuka, or would like to invest in the future of Rwandan art AND have something beautiful for your living room or bedroom wall, you can check them out at www.ivukaarts.com, or email Charles, Collin's brother Chief Officer in Charge of Everything at Ivuka at ivukaarts.kigali@gmail.com

A Shout Out To Our Homies

2010-02-17T03:02:00.000-08:00

Many of the volunteers here are keeping blogs about their time in Kigali. They are also posting pictures there where you may or may not spy a pic of your favorite Recovering Assistants. There's so much that happens here everyday its quite impossible for us to capture it all in one place - plus all the volunteers are doing something different in their programs which often provide highly entertaining stories.

We hadn't realized how lucky we were to have such an amazing group to spend our first month with, until we heard some stories about other groups in the past. We've fallen in love with all of our fellow 'vols' and hope you enjoy their stories as much as we do =)

Lyndsey's Blog (Her last day with us is today, but she's the only volunteer in our group to have gone and seen the gorillas!) : http://www.getjealous.com/getjealous.php?go=lovesafrica

Tsufit's Blog (Our resident Kosher-Orthodox-Surviving-on-Ricecakes-in-Rwanda vol, has an equally awesome blog. I would read it just for the food adventures that she goes through- and she's one of the top quoted people on our guest house quote board.) : http://getjealous.com/kosherinrwanda

Wrapping your head around it…

2010-02-15T00:59:00.000-08:00

As we live in a house full of internationally minded individuals (mostly women, woot!) we often find ourselves in the midst of all-night discussions about being somewhere with such a vibrant but tragic past. We often find ourselves discussing with our Jewish roommates the differences and similarities between the ’94 genocide and the Holocaust. And sometimes we find ourselves stumbling over our very expensive, very elite educations on the question of : How do Rwandans do it? How do they forgive?

It’s interesting living somewhere that is post-conflict, but that so badly wants to move forward from their past. I struggle with their motives, but understand their intentions of not wanting to be referred to as 'post-conflict.' If you call your country post-conflict for so long does that impede your ability to move forward in the international arena and does it make you look vulnerable? To be honest, I think Paul Kagame wants his country to no longer be the charity case of Africa and wants to do things like ban the omnipresent primitive wall security barriers (Broken glass bottles cemented to the top of houses' security walls to keep intruders out) because his country is safe now. Again, I understand his intentions, but I still struggle with the motives behind trying to move forward in a rapid pace. This country is peaceful and this country has made leaps and bounds in progress. But I still find it too soon to declare that they’ve officially moved on from the effects of the genocide. RA2 has suggested that for them to be post-conflict they will have to peaceably make it into a time where all the children/young people that survived the Genocide are adults or when there are no longer any survivors.

When we think on the progress being made, RA2 and I often find ourselves comparing it to the Civil Rights movement. The United States continues to be plagued by the remnants of the Civil Rights movement, as well as extremely racist events, commentary and associations. I’m not sure we can even say our country is “post-civil rights movement” as we still fight daily to protect the things our elders fought for in the Civil Rights movement. Let’s not even start on the way we’ve moved backwards (and yes, sometimes, forwards) in rights for women. But somehow, Rwanda has managed to skip a lot of the strife and growing pains that come along with progress after a tragedy. Genocide victims are living next to genocidaires in every village, slum and neighborhood in this country and you don’t hear everyday about violence between the two groups. Some of the Rwandan Genocidaires were responsible for some of the most brutal and senseless killings (more to come on that in our entry about Nyamata), and although many of them have been brought to justice through local gacaca courts – a lot of the ‘lower ranking’ individuals live daily with victims and victims’ family members on a day to day basis. How does that work? Are Rwandans just hardwired differently? Are Rwandans just more able to let go of their grudges and forgive? I know they don’t forget, but are they able to simply forgive and move forward in the name of a peaceful Rwanda?

There are so many things we think about since we’ve gotten to this country; but this is one that we often come back to : How do they do it? Where did they find this capacity to forgive? On this teeny-dot-on-the-map country in the middle of East Africa, how have these people figured out how to move forward? Is it because in a country where some people had the capacity to commit brutal acts of violence against their countrymen, other people have the capacity to forgive on some of the most grand scales imaginable?

We don’t know, but we’re working on figuring it out.

Pictures Part Deux!

2010-02-10T07:14:00.000-08:00

http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1797904024/a=1844700024_1844700024/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink/COBRAND_NAME=snapfish/

Hope you enjoy!!!!

xoxo
stipps & soli
the manolos

Gisneyi 2.0 (Friday – Monday)

2010-02-10T06:41:00.000-08:00

So once we had finished the hard labor of farming on a mountainside, sweating more than we do in our spinning class at the WSC – we had a pretty downhill last two days of work in Gisenyi. Friday morning we headed in to what can only be described as an 1800s style sewing circle. The women had HUGE bedsheets which they sketched some designs on. They used these big, cloth sewing circles to cross-stitch yarn into the designs they had put on the sheets. The designs were beautiful and since they were using yarn, the patterns showed up bright and thick against the thin bedsheets. RA1 came up with ideas for pillowcases, which she will be expanding on upon her return to America.

After about 3 hours of sewing, we ran out for a quick samosa and came back to a bead making factory that had been concocted while we were gone. Beadmaking kind of goes like this:

1) Cut measured strips of glossy paper (posters, calendars, etc). They are fat at the top (inside of the bead) and taper down into a point.
2) Take tiny strips and start rolling. If your fingers start to burn or cramp up you know you are doing it correctly.
3) After about 15 minutes of rolling, you get to the end. If your bead doesn’t look lopsided you have successfully made a bead. If lopsidedness does occur – start at #2 and try again.

After 4 tries, 45 minutes and a few sweaty fingers, RA1 finished a bead. Perhaps the woman was humoring RA1 and just let her use the gluestick to finish the bead, or perhaps she was actually successful. We will never know.

Next, we went around the corner to teach a class in a nearby building. Of course (per TIA standards) no one had come to unlock the door so the neighborhood hauled out a chalkboard – where they found it and hauled it from, we will surely never know – and we began our English lesson with about 15 adults. We did very basic greetings, counting to ten and family describers. We know – from our years of teaching experience and our short weeks of teaching Rwandan children – that attention spans basically crap out around 45 – 60 minutes. As we ended the lesson, we noticed that a large contingent of boys had gathered outside the building walls and were listening to our lesson. As the adults left we heard cheers – yes cheers – of “Teach us English!” “We know English, teach us!” RA1 heaved a sigh of acquiecense while RA2 stepped up and taught a full-on English Grammar lesson. She rocked these kids’ worlds with things like “Who, What, When, Where” and introductory phrases. Then she pulled out the smoking gun of English teaching in Africa (again, per our years of teaching experience) and started a game of Simon Says. We were barely winded after an hour with these kids and if we didn’t already know about the time/retention ratio previously referenced, we would have kept teaching them until the sun set. They were such an antithesis to our Kigali kids who are so privileged to be able to hear a lot of English in their daily lives just by shear fact of living in the capital city. These kids were quite literally dying and crying and shouting to learn as much English as we would teach them. It was an amazing way to end the week.

We had an amazingly relaxing weekend to prepare us for the last day of work (and a full day of travel) so we were excited to go to the activity marked “marshrooms” on our schedule. However (per TIA standards) we arrived to a tye-dye making plant being operated out of one of the womens’ front yard. (Sidenote: In Kigali, there are no yards. There are shanties upon shanties upon hole-in-the-wall restos and cafes. In Gisenyi, people have yards, bigger houses and generally more space.) There were about 10 buckets full of dye, at least 40 different tyed sheets and many, many helpers; not including the 20 children that followed us from the road shouting muzungu and being generally excited to see exactly where these crazy white girls were going up the side of a mountain on a Monday morning.

As the sheets were immersed in the dye buckets, the final products became some of the most beautiful patterns and sheets we had ever seen. In Africa, you can use these bolts of cloth for tons of things: dresses, shirts, sarongs, etc. Although RA1 has a staunch rule against tye-dye in any part of her clothing regimen, a few of the sheets were starting to look like pretty amazing sarong options. Then, as we were standing up to leave the women stopped us and said they were making us lunch. We literally feasted on some of the best burnt corn and rice/sauce/meat combo we had had since we’d been in Gisenyi. It was so good and the meat was super tender and the corn was amazing. Then one of the ladies that we’ve been working with almost everyday brought in fresh squeezed pineapple juice, which had clearly been touched by God. It was so sweet and fresh that I started to loathe Dole and their weak attempts to create this taste anywhere but where pineapples grow naturally.

So, besides the general lack of most of our quasi-modern conveniences afforded to us at our guesthouse in Kigali, Gisenyi was a wonderful place to spend a week. We were able to meet new women, interact and share with them in a brand new way and feel that we had given these women a new found connection to the Kigali office that they hadn’t felt before. We may have boggled their minds when we jumped out into the fields with them to hoe right along beside them, but we had never felt more welcomed than when they invited us into their homes and hearts to listen to them.

Telling Tall Tales in Rwanda

2010-02-10T01:23:00.000-08:00

We're back to our "real lives" in Kigali, and hope to update you soon on our last few days in Gisinye, which were productive and beautiful, because time in Gisinye generally is. But here in the present, there are small children with eager faces and short attention spans to be attended to (and we don't just mean Ian and Drew), and today was absolutely my favorite day of teaching so far.

Since the older kids have gone back to school for half days and now only require tutoring, I had a class of just 4 - a 9 yr old boy who was way ahead in both English and math, a 7 yr old boy and a 7 yr old girl on roughly the same levels, and a 3 yr old girl who I thankfully had the time to do special lessons with, since there were so few students. We started with numbers; they can count 1-10 in English, but they can't identify the numbers individually or out of order. Then we switched to English for the end of the class.

Coming up with creative ways to teach the alphabet has been a challenge for all of us. Last time, my class got through the letter H, and I had pictures with words underneath to help them remember ("ant", "bat", "hands" etc). This time, the printer was broken, so I decided to try something I'd been thinking of for awhile: fairy tales. I'm hoping if the kids catch on, eventually they'll tell me Rwandan fairy tales. I took a class on the origins and sociology of folk tales in college, and I found it fascinating. If you look at early fairy tales - Grimms, for example - they're simply re-told popular folk tales absolutely soaked in Christian moralizing. Also, they're brutally violent. For the most part these stories were told to children to illustrate what was good and what was bad behavior, and to imply that if you behaved badly you might, just MIGHT, be thrown into an oven and eaten for dinner. And the bad guy would only bother to cook you first if you were really, really lucky.

So we skipped the moralizing and the scary, for the most part, and I told them a simplified version of Little Red Riding Hood. Afterwards we talked about "big" and "bad" and "little", and then, my kids acted out scenes. I told them they could do it in Kinyarwandan if they would use the English words they'd learned as well, and it was one of the coolest things I've ever seen. The little boy playing the big bad wolf gave himself a deep raspy growl and chased the girls with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm, and the shy little 3 yr old got right up and told him what big eyes, ears and teeth he had. But the best part was the basket.

I had told them that Little Red Riding Hood carried a basket to grandmother's house, and without my suggesting it, they reached for props, using the chalk box as a basket. And the little girl stuck it right on her head. It hadn't occurred to me they would think of a basket going anywhere but over their arms (and I should have known better!!); it hadn't occurred to them that a basket of goodies would go anywhere but on top of their heads. It made me want to re-write and re-illustrate a series of American/European fairy tales specifically for them. Think of Conderella here!! Jealous stepmothers and stepsisters, girls being forced to work and miss school - that happens here every day. But at the end of THIS Cinderella story, Cinderella isn't going to be saved by a Prince. She's going to be saved by a local woman with HIV whom she always cooks for when she has time, who decides to sponsor her for school. HA! How's that for moralizing? I'm going to spend the rest of the day re-writing Sleeping Beauty. This will be the best new game EVER.

I also need to learn how to say "Be your own hero" in Kinyarwandan.

What If She's An Angel?

2010-02-04T06:11:00.000-08:00

The RAs are indeed coming to you, LIVE, if definitely not in real time, from the beautiful mountainous Gisinye. Monday night we made it to the concert at the stadium, which featured many MANY Ugandan artists, each of which got to sing only 2 or 3 songs, most of which were lip-synching. We spent a good part of the evening playing "Name That Pop Act." "Ugandan TLC!" "Ugandan Ne-yo!" "Ugandan Usher!" "Ugandan Lady Gaga?" etc. Some of the acts were actually terrific, including a bizarre, definitely live rap group who know our friends at the art co-op and featured, bizarrely enough, a member dressed as a Sheikh. We did NOT get to see Medi, but we're here for many more weeks, and we are sure we'll track him down.

I have a Rwandan reading over my shoulder, with absolutely zero shame. He speaks excellent English and apparently reads it as well. He wanted to know who I was sending this to, and seemed to understand when I said it was a blog.

Tsufit's camera was stolen at the concert, which means 3 out of the original 6 we had amongst us are gone (Stipps' needs some repairs but will be fine). Africa is re-absorbing our cameras at an alarming rate. The lack of cameras, tragically, is the reason there is no photographic evidence of any of the following:

Tuesday we arrived in Gisinye and went to see a volcanic-rock mine owned by one of the women here whom FVA's GBV program helped, Vestine. It was AWESOME. That is some seriously physical labour. They hack away at the rocks with giant hammers. Goats were running around looking for scraps - there are goats everywhere here. We met the Vestine's husband, a pastor, who is missing all of his left arm and half of his right arm, below the elbow, and has some deep scars in his face. We asked one of the other women, Christine, what had happened, thinking he had probably been attacked during the genocide. But no: she said they had been wealthy, and in 2000, a decade ago, his friends tried to rob him, and they were the ones who had done this to him.

Wednesday we got to make dolls, which was extremely awesome. We're crazy about these dolls they make here, with baskets on their heads and babies on their backs, because that's just how the women here walk. We got to actually stitch their faces on: eyes, eyebrows, nose and mouth. That afternoon, we went up the mountain to teach a class for kids, and waited about 45 minutes for our guide to take us what turned out to be only a 3 minute walk. We kept the locals entertained simply by existing. We drew a crowd, and finally a man shouted at them all to go away, we weren't going to do tricks or anything. They yelled back that they'd never seen a muzongo and wanted to keep looking; if we wanted them to go away, they said, we would tell them. Our translator Clemence interjected in horror, "No they would not!" Meanwhile, the local children kept RA1 entertained by teaching her a game in which you sit on the ground and throw rocks at a ledge and try to get them to stay up there and not roll or bounce off, which kept her mercifully occupied for the better part of 30 mins. In a genuine T.I.A. experience, When our guide arrived to take us on our 3 minute walk, we discovered know one had actually told the kidswe would be teaching this class, FOR THEM. We agreed to move the class to Friday (we'll see how that goes) and went back to the bus stop. At this point, the dark clouds that had been threatening all day opened up in a torrential downpour, and we took shelter in a one-room tin roof salon, watching as the (soaking wet) owner tried to keep all the electricity from blowing, by touching electrical wires with his wet hands. Meanwhile, the man behind Clemence was obviously drunk and, we were afraid, about to fall over on her at any moment. The storm was so bad it took down branches and part of the roof of the restaurant at the hostel we're staying at caved in. But Gisinye really needed the rain.

Today we walked up the hill to farm, which we were super excited about. On the way, we saw a pig on a bicycle, which RA2 considered the highlight of the experience. The pig was, as it were, hog-tied, and flung over the back of the bike with its head very close to the ground, which must have been one of the stranger experiences of its soon to be discontinued life. We also gathered an entire PARADE of children yelling "Muzongo!" in teeny-tiny excited voices. This actually happens so often we hardly ever mention it, but this was quite a crowd, they were adorable, and they had props, including tires they were spinning beside us as they ran to keep up.

We had been told we would be picking maize (tough, big corn that is delicious when you grill it) but when we got there they were tilling the soil by hand with big hoes, and they wanted us to sit in the shade and watch, which would have been no fun. So we took off our shoes and grabbed us some hoes. It was awesome, and the rich soil feels amazing when you bury your feet in it. After tilling, the women picked fresh maize and threw it on a small charcoal grill, and we ate it outside. Christine asked us if we knew the story of the angel the lord sent to Abraham. We did not. She said, "The Lord sent an angel to Abraham to see how he would be received, because God only gives us things we can handle*. Abraham and his wife received the angel, and the angel told God it was good, and even though they were old, God sent them a child, because he knew it would be received well**. So, I am telling the other ladies that we never know what God's plans are, and we should always receive everyone well, and you might be angels***! But you will go back to your homes and tell people how you were cared for here." To which RA1 had the good sense to reply, "You are OUR angels." And they are.

We had a really productive meeting (we hope) with the women after, and it raised some of their real concerns and questions. Apparently they were in a good place as an organization, and then several of the people working with them robbed them, and they're having a lot of trouble getting back up and running. During the meeting, Vestine passed around some pictures of herself. They love cameras here because they so rarely get pictures of themselves or their children, and we were sorry we couldn't take any this time. One of the pictures was of Vestine and her husband, before they were robbed, and there he was, holding his daughter in two strong hands, looking worlds different in the eyes than the man we had met. They are a very beautiful couple.

*All RA2 could think of was the line from a Lori McKenna song that goes "Oh but God only gives us as much as we can take... I guess."
**All RA2 could think was, "God used to really micromanage. What is he doing now? Is it because there are too many of us? Did he just give up? I mean, he doesn't have to get into everyone's details all the time, but he could stop by and say Hi..."
*** All RA2 could think of was a line from a country song about a little girl with cancer who needs help: what if she's an angel?/sent here from heaven/and she's making sure that you're doing your best to help one another/brother are you gonna pass that test?

Hero's Day

2010-02-01T05:55:00.000-08:00

Rwanda has two major holidays to commemorate the Genocide: Hero's Day and Genocide Memorial Day. One is for celebrating those who fell, and the other is a national day of mourning. We are lucky enough to be in the country for both, and today was the happier of the two occasions. Clemence, who has replaced Peace as our Girl Friday translator and is absolutely fabulous, took us to the equivalent of the local town hall to be part of the... let's call them festivities. This "town hall" is one room with long benches and, we got the impression, a kitchen or prep room in the back. The 60 or 70 people in the small room ranged from about 12 yrs old to what looked like 70.When we got there (late - just like Rwandans but it is beyond awkward to interrupt such a solemn occasion) they led us right to the front row. After the first speaker finished, a man got up and explained in English that the man has been discussing Rwanda's three kinds of heroes, heroes he had known, and how the youth could step up to be heroes. Then they began to dance.

They were doing traditional Rwandan dancing, which we've been lucky enough to watch a lot of and even take a few lessons in from our friends at Ivuka, the art co-op. The men have stronger motions and more rhythmic stomping, while the women move more gently and weave together intricate arm positions. Halfway through the second song, they began pulling all of us, the volunteers, up to dance with them, and if we embarrassed ourselves they were very kind about it.

After the dancing they pulled out bottles of Fanta (they love this here), Coke, and beer, and passed it around, and followed it up with what looked and tasted like tiny delicious pizzas. These are people who celebrate their fallen heroes with beer, food and dancing - who doesn't love that?! If I were ever a hero, that's how I'D want to be honored.

While we were eating and drinking, they kept the music on and the accompanying videos as well. We couldn't understand why all the videos were of men in uniforms dancing until "Rwandan Military Band" flashed across the screen. This is the best military band EVER. It's like a cross between a giant boy band, traditional Rwandan dancing, and the army. It's phenomenal.

By this point, we had made some friends. The RAs were talking to an incredibly kind man named John, who looked tired and sad but was eager to make conversation. Everyone asks us what we think of Rwanda and we always say the same thing - we love it, it's beautiful. When we told him he said, "Good. Please spread the word to others." I feel they do a truly amazing job here of balancing the twin duties of acknowledging the past and trying to move forwards, and on the day of honoring the old, this man was thinking about the new. Ian had made a new friend as well, who wanted him to drink a banana beer. It's just what it sounds like - beer from fermented bananas - and it's drinkable but awful. The label say 15% alcohol but the locals know it's always more than that and random tests generally show it to be about 25%. By the end of the light lunch Ian had finished one - did we mention it was not yet 1pm? - and they were looking for one of us to say a few words about why we had come and what we thought. Ian, as usual, is in many ways our best representative, and he got up, threw out the few words of Kinyarwandan he knows, thoroughly charmed the crowd, and made a ridiculous speech that included phrases like "The food was really good, and the drink as well." We hope the woman who translated caught the spirit of the message and maybe not it's exact, word-for-word meaning.

There a few new volunteers but only a few of them are staying for longer than two weeks. There's a concert tonight at the stadium, which is right behind our guest house, and we're all going to try to go. Rwanda has one major popstar, Medi (sp?), and he has apparently been the special guest at EVERY concert since Ian arrived, so we're all hoping to see him tonight. We know every word of his songs, since there isn't much else to play around here except gospel hymns (we know all the words to those too). As of tomorrow, the RAs will be coming to you LIVE from Gisinye for one week. Gisinye is the town we went to our first weekend here (beautiful beach, giant holes to fall into etc). FVA has programs out there so they're sending us to work with them. We are so excited for a week of meeting new and amazing people, sitting on the beach, and drinking the touched-by-Jesus 100RWF chai tea we found in a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant down an alley.

Motobike 101

2010-01-31T01:49:00.000-08:00

Motobikes are motorcycles that have been converted into awesome modes of transportation all over the city of Kigali. Besides the general rules like, do not lean too hard in any one direction as you may tip over the bike, there are some general ‘rules of engagement’ for those who decide to take the cheap compromise between buses and taxis.

1) The drivers have a vested interest in your safety as it is totally tied to their own. A driver wants to crash as much as you, dear rider, want to. Unlike the bus drivers who are comfortable with the safe bubble a bus gives them between their riders and the pavement, moto drivers have no such bubble and therefore always make sure to do things like make you put your helmet on even if you just did your hair for the first time in a month and are on your way to a club.

2) Like so much in life, the first time is the scariest. You won’t know where to put your hands, you’ll appear to driving directly in to oncoming traffic and your driver may or may not pick up their cell phone and take a call. Refer to rule 1 for the later situation and for the others, just open your eyes and enjoy it. It’s more enjoyable than walking, faster, and a great way to see the city. The RAs personally enjoy because we often get crap (or no) directions to places so we just ask the motos to take us there.

3) Negotiate, Negotiate, Negotiate. There will never be a time a moto or a taxi driver will start off at a fair price. If you want that luxury – ride the bus friends. I prefer to ask a local what they would pay and work with that number. Later at night is more expensive, but the buses aren’t running so they have a bit of a monopoly during those hours. Don’t fret though – you’ll learn what the price SHOULD be pretty quickly and if they know you know, then they won’t mess with you.

Let your hair down, jump on a moto and enjoy it! It’s the one epic convenience that Africa has over the US. And I’ve been in more accidents with taxis (1) than I have in motos (0) – so that ratio should give you full confidence to hop on the back and ride on.

"The List"

2010-01-30T07:36:00.000-08:00

Hello loved ones,

Even before we arrived, people were asking us what they could send. We
wanted to make sure we got a clear idea of what both the people and
the programs would need to thrive. FVA runs the GBV program (our
program) which includes a school and income-generating activities for
women. FVA also works and places volunteers with EDD (street boys'
school/orphanage) and Gisimba (orphanage). We, personally, wanted to
do something more direct than sending money - but bear in mind, money
is always appreciated here, and it always goes to extremely good use.
FVA, for example, "sponsors" many students - pays all their school
fees, without which support they would have had to drop out. Three
kids here are still waiting for sponsors and will rely on the two of
us for the entirety of their education over the next 2 months - think
of the children!! FVA has been our home away from home and our family away from family since the moment we landed in Kigali - in all our dirt and sleep-deprived glory. They continuously amaze us with their grace and generosity.

We also completely understand if, like us, you want to see the
tangible results of your contribution. IF YOU DONATE, WE WILL
PERSONALLY MAKE SURE YOU GET A PICTURE AND A LETTER OR EMAIL DETAILING
EXACTLY WHERE YOUR CONTRIBUTION WENT.

And with that, we give you The List:

- Clothes for boys and girls from infancy to 18 yrs
- Clothes for men and women
- Shoes in all sizes, from children to adults (did your kids grow out
of crocs? those are VERY
useful here!!)
- English language workbooks (Rwanda changed its national language to
English recently and there is a big learning curve)
- Math workbooks, all levels (we'll copy the pages so they'll last forever!)
- General school supplies (paper, colored paper, pens, STICKERS,
markers, chalk etc)
- General office supplies (paper, pens, folders etc)
- Books in English - particularly simple picture books for teaching and learning
- Toys for infants, babies, toddlers and children
- DVDs for children - particularly DVDs they can learn from such as
Dora the Explorer or Bob
the Builder, but also fun ones like Disney movies. Gisimba has a TV
but the kids spend a lot of
time watching German dance competitions!

They can be mailed here:

Kaitlyn and Nicole
c/o Faith Victory Association
P.O Box 2800
Kigali, Rwanda

In terms of personal stories:

- Claudine has a 3 yr old daughter and is expecting a baby. She lives
in severe poverty and has trouble feeding her family from day to day.
She hasn't had time or money to prepare for the baby, and she needs
baby clothes, cloth diapers, spit up wipes, and clothes and shoes for
Sylvie, her 3 yr old.

- There are 3 children at FVA without sponsors relying on us for all
their schooling. They need picture books, English language workbooks,
and math workbooks.

- EDD has only one computer for over 100 kids - and they LOVE their
computer classes with Ian. They would love the old computer you've
been thinking of replacing!!!!!

- Gisimba runs three kindergarten classes now that the older kids are
headed back to school, and they need colored paper, crayons, glue,
stickers for rewards, books, computer paper, pens, pencils...

There's plenty of need, and anything you send will be appreciated. The
women love beautiful things and take very good care of what little
they have. Luxuries like soap and body lotion are very expensive here
and they absolutely cherish them. The kids here have literally no toys
and we have seen them occupy themselves by playing with things like
electrical outlets and wire hangars - true story. Anything you send
will light up someone's world - and not in the way that a wire in an
electrical outlet will!

All our love,
Kaitlyn and Nicole
Stipps and Soli
The Manolos

PICTURES!!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-01-28T03:23:00.000-08:00

Houston, we have lift-off. After a mere 14 hours of uploading, one of us has an album on Snapfish you can peruse! More to come, as obviously free 14 hr windows of time are readily available here :p No, really, enjoy the nearly 200 pictures!! And we'll get more up soon.

All our Snapfish albums as we upload them:
http://www2.snapfish.com/photolibrary/

And RA2's album (uploaded!) specifically here:
http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=1755948024/a=1844700024_1844700024/

Bringing Up Baby/Out of the Mouths of

2010-01-27T06:45:00.001-08:00

Yesterday RA2 got to do her first home visit to see Claudine, who is expecting a new baby in March (we'll be here!). Claudine has a BEAUTIFUL daughter named Sylvie, who has the suspicious look of RA2's cousin Kate and the independent nature and big smile of her fairy goddaughter Nadia. Claudine also lost a child to SIDS about a year ago, and she is so excited for her new baby.

After two weeks here, we had a few big breakthroughs yesterday. At times we have felt that while things like home visits were awesome and very informative for US, they might not be as helpful to the women we're working with as we would like them to be. But out of the information that came from several hours of chatting yesterday, we made some huge steps forward. First, women here always carry their babies on their backs. It's beautiful to see and really cute, but they get TIRED. They have to have their baby strapped to them even while making dinner, because cribs are expensive, and if they put the baby down on the bed, it might roll off if they aren't paying perfect attention. Also, obviously, their child sleeps in bed with them, exacerbating the exhaustion and complete lack of privacy. After a brief discussion of "baby baskets", Claire had an amazing idea; since these women are weaving baskets anyway, why not find a design for baby baskets? They could use them themselves, AND they would be very marketable.

During that conversation RA2 also realized there's very little infrastructure in terms of organizing the volunteers; Claire heads up all of us as well as running the entire GBV program, two truly daunting tasks. Since rebuilding it (bigger better faster stronger) is EXACTLY what the RAs do, we've been thinking of creative ways to apply our unique skill set (there's a resume sentence for you - "Applied unique skill sets to new and challenging situations IN AFRICA") to make Claire's life easier and introduce some continuity to the volunteer program. Yesterday, for example, we drafted Claire an email she could edit and then send out like clockwork to every volunteer two weeks before they arrived.

A recent counseling session with an amazing, very bright young woman named Jen who is having a lot of problems at home had your fearless RAs stumped for a little while. She had mentioned perhaps wanting to grow up to be a journalist, so RA1 was working her DC connections, thinking of something special to do for her. Then, last night, RA2 just so HAPPENED to meet a journalist named Gloria who writes for The New Times, the only English language daily paper in Rwanda. Not only did she say Jen could come visit her at her office and get a feel for journalism, she said the paper has a children's page and they always need writers! We're connecting Jen and Gloria this week and setting up a time for them to meet soon - how cool would it be for Jen to see her own byline at 16!

Finally, in an out of the mouths of babes moment which can only be regarded with a shrug and a T.I.A., RA2 was privy to a conversation between the womenfolk at the house this morning tye-dying. Willy, Claire's supervisor and head of FVA, had told us that hanging out with the women would give us an opportunity for them to open up and be comfortable, and even with the language barrier, after two weeks they seem to be getting used to us. Sitting in Louise's house today with her two boys, Edison (about 6) and Addison (about 4) who are students of ours and who are ADORABLE, Peace translated the "funny" conversation they were having. Apparently, praying last night with the whole family, Addison asked God to "forgive my father for stabbing my mother and for using bad words and for hitting her and drinking." Oh, and also, "please help my lazy uncle find a job so he can support my auntie." They were all cracking up laughing. Man, we thought we had perfected the art of "laugh or lose it," but these women PUT US TO SHAME.

T.I.A.

Photographic Proof!!!!

2010-01-27T02:30:00.000-08:00

Scroll down - our first photo update is below!

We are slowly, but surely working on getting more photo updates posted - but as previously mentioned - internet is a bit like in the 90s here.

Your patience always makes us very happy!

The Occasional Odd Moment of Grace

2010-01-26T06:53:00.000-08:00

We apologize for the unusally long time between posts but we went on adventure this weekend (we have an adventure in the works for next week too, and we'll let you know if it works out - as a nice young traveler we met this weekend told us, "This is Africa. It's better not to make any plans.") and we're trying to do a really special update about it. IT WOULD INVOLVE PICTURES, if it works, which many people have been asking about. We appreciate all your patience on that front, as every update of any kind from here must be forcibly wrenched from the unwilling, rusty jaws of Rwanda's excuse for a technological infrastructure. Perhaps some of you remember dial-up. Think back to the 90's. Now imagine that instead of owning the incredibly slow computer you were working on, you paid by the minute for the privilege of using it, and answering 6 emails or doing the simplest of updates took, at minimum, 2 hours.

Still, there's something friendly and comfortable about internet cafes, and I will be a little sad when the rest of the world goes the way of the US and gets rid of them in favor of home computers. Internet cafes are a lot like payphones, actually.

We've each had an opportunity to teach for a few days at this point, and I have never felt more empathy for those who take on this task as a career. I can't imagine anything more difficult and consuming on a daily basis, except, perhaps, being a nurse. At the same time, I've never felt less sympathy for the complaints I've heard about teaching in the states. Oh, so you had a classroom of 24 students? Why, do did I, and they ranged in age from 4 to 16. Your students had all different skill levels, you say? How funny! My 16 yr olds could speak conversational English while one of my 9 yr olds was nearly fluent. I had a 5 yr old doing long division and a 12 yr old doing subtraction. In addition to this, my students and I do not speak the same language, making it difficult for me to ask the proper questions in order to determine WHY my 7 yr old girl has wandered away from the classroom and is staring at her reflection in a car, WHILE DANCING. I also need to learn how to say, "Please stop touching one another inappropriately" in Kinyarwandan. Also "Please stop hitting." Also "Please line up," "Stop", "Please speak louder", "Please be quieter", and "Please stop smearing one another with the glue stick I have already confiscated twice."

RA1: Get over it, they're just kids.
RA2: I will NOT, and you can't make me.

In all seriousness, the kids are mostly adorable, and we are frequently able to split up the classes into more experienced and less experienced students. We can run for a translator if we need one, and sometimes we can actually get one for the entire class. Bless RA1, she has them doing worksheets and projects, and they adore her. Starting next week, we should actually have an idea of what students will be showing up every day, which will both be phenomenal and allow for some continuity in our lesson plans. Right now everyone sort of shows up hodge-podge, and yesterday Claire had to remove to children who it turns out don't even ATTEND our little one-room classroom and try to determine who they belonged to and how they'd gotten there.

Working with the women is, as ever, amazing beyond words. English lessons are the best part. The women really want to learn and they get excited to improve our Kinyarwandan. We worked very specifically on buying and selling today, appropriately (RA1's brilliant idea). We did basket-weaving afterwards and one of the women brought her 2 yr old daughter, Carina, who was beautiful, bright and reminded me very much of my friend's daughter who is the same age. But that poor Mama looked tired beyond words, so RA1 took Carina for a little walk and made funny faces at her, which was just enough to keep her distracted for a little while. She's at the age where all she wants to do is cling to her mother, and I don't think the woman is getting any sleep.

I also had to have a somewhat uncomfortable talk with a woman today who does manicures and pedicures and wants to have people staying at our guest house book appointments with her. There are some very small changes she's going to have to make in order to meet western sanitary standards, and we can't advocate for her comfortable unless she does. She was very kind and receptive, but it's still incredibly awkward to tell a grown woman how to make changes to her business, a business I have never personally been involved in.

Some aspects of the project are going incredibly well, others are going to need to be worked through slowly. But that's exactly why we gave ourselves 3 months here; when I think of how much we've done in only 2 weeks I'm astonished.

Weekend Getaway

2010-01-25T04:28:00.000-08:00

So, as much and as hard as the RAs work, sometimes, you need a little break. One may ask oneself, what do two fabulous single ladies DO in the country of Rwanda with a weekend off? We have discovered, friends, that they go to Gisenyi, Rwanda: the local equivalent of the Hamptons (or the Vineyard for our DC family).

Gisenyi sits on the coast of a ginormous lake, Lake Kivu. Lake Kivu shares borders with Rwanda (to the south'ish), Congo (to the north'ish) and Uganda (to the east'ish). We booked two nights in the guest house of the local Presbyterian church (roughly 2000Rwf a night - or about $4 a night) and took the "Virguna Express" bus for a little over a 4 hour ride to town which cost us 2800RwF one-way (Yes, in total it cost us little more than $30 for a full weekend trip, including transportation and lodging). Luckily, since we are fabulous assistants and sometimes have assistant ESP, our hotel was literally 54 seconds from the bus stop and thus the center of town - such as it was.

After an adventurous jaunt that actually took us past the infamous Stipp Hotel (aptly named of course) to the border of Congo (oops, we missed the street signs) we ducked into a little backyard bar, sat under a African version of a cabanna and had dinner. As we walked back, RA2 failed to pay enough attention on the unlit road and walked into a hole. Oh yah. INTO a hole, which came up to about her ribcage. While she's extremely luky she didn't break anything, she did take most of the skin off her left leg below the knee. Rather than reacting to the shock and pain of the fall like a normal person (tears, perhaps) she instead freaked out and yelled at everyone who tried to comfort her, ask her anything, or even speak. Public apology: SORRY ABOUT THE YELLING AND THE SWEARING. It was bad. Luckily the volunteers here are of a kindly and forgiving nature, and Ian patched her up with what was available and then took her for Rwandan medication (beer).

After the exhausting day of working all day, traveling on a bus and walking all over Gisenyi we turned in for the night, excited for a day of sunbathing. Saturday brought with it a fantastically sunny day. RA2 discovered a great little pastry shop and ran into 2 traveling Austrians, Manuel and Helmut. Manuel took her to the pharmacy for supplies and fixed her leg up properly. Austrians are required to take a first aid class when getting their license, and according to their good samaritan laws, anyone who doesn't stop at the scene of an accident can be prosecuted. At this point, RA2's leg definitely looked like an accident scene.

RA2: Well, you saw my leg before, Ian fixed me up.
Manuel: Yes, I saw. I meant to ask you about that - was he drunk at the time?

No, but, thank you Ian, you are an Irish angel.

RA1 slept in a bit later and found a fun little cafe that brought you the most amazing chai tea (100RwF - $.20) that has ever graced her mouth and chapati bread (100RwF - $.20) kind of like naan bread, but more fried and a bit sweeter. So - yes - less than $.50 for breakfast; it was clearly a sign of an amazing day to come. Ian had discovered a nice hotel a few minutes from our guest house that had a great private beach, so we wandered over to the Lake Kivu Serena Hotel.

The garden and beach area provided some of the most beautiful views of Goma, DRC. We felt like we had accidently found a tropical paradise in the middle of sub-saharan Africa.We totally considered sending that picture home as a postcard: "Many needy orphans here. Please send cash."

It's hard to explain what a change this hotel and beach were from even our hostel. The streets of Gisenyi, like Kigali, are lined with kids asking for money, tiny EXTREMELY inexpensive places to eat or purchase necessities, lots of dust and little commerce. This was like - America, basically.

We ordered some scrumptious Rwandan coffee blendy/icey drinks and headed out to the garden.
RA1 got restless and ordered a beach chair (3000 RwF) and sunbathed for a few hours and RA2 did the same in the garden.
Funny enough, since someone promptly stole RA1's chair as soon as she stood up to get out of the sun for a bit - they didn't charge her (told you: amazing day). The sky started to look foreboding, so we headed in to the hotel's posh lounge/lobby and waited out a wee rainstorm.

For dinner, we had discovered this amazing restaurant that was quite literally an alley way that had been sectioned off, filled with chairs and turned into a restaurant. They were serving three menu items: a buffet (in Rwanda, a buffet is when there are several food options, like at home, only you don't go back for seconds - you pile ONE plate with AS MUCH FOOD AS POSSIBLE. it's an art we haven't yet perfected, but give us time), roasted corn on the cob and omelettes w/ fries. We opted out of the buffet and all ordered a cob of roasted corn, omelettes w/fries and some sort of 'tea.' Our tea came quickly and was some sort of concoction that tasted a bit like cider, a bit like fermentation and a bit like vinegar. We are still unclear if it was alcoholic or not. Our food came within 15 minutes (a RECORD in Rwandan service times) and the food was filling and so tasty. We went back to the guesthouse full and ready for an awesome sleep. Most of us were planning to wake up at 6am the next day to take a day trip to Goma in the Congo (RA2 had to opt out due to gimp leg - everything about the Congo is RA1s story! RA2 is going to go sometime in the next few months with the new volunteers). Then - we came home to a surprise.

Our room, that had been full of just us, was now full of women we didn't know. Which in most cases would be totally fine, but in this case we were ready for a good long sleep and it appeared these women didn't sleep at all. Ever. We weaved our way through the women to brush the teeth, change into pjs, pack for the Congo trip, etc. Finally, when we were all tucked into our beds, happily under our mosquito nets, we realized: the other women are not going to stop talking. Dutifully, RA2 flipped off the lights. The talking continued. An hour or so later, we were blissfully asleep in a sun-filled-day-induced coma. Then, 4am happened. A phone rang, a conversation started. It ended about 25 minutes later and we breathed a collective sigh of relief for our almost two more hours of sleep. Then, 5am happened. The door to the shower room, which redefined loud and creak, was opened and closed approximately 74 times. RA1 was, awesomely, sleeping right next to the shower room door. Around 5am it was apparently time to wake up because the radio came on - from someone's cell phone - the conversations started and there was no escaping. The apocalypse of loud talking had just bombed our room and we were not getting a full night's sleep. We grumbled out of bed and two of us set off in search in breakfast and perhaps a quiet place in the road to sleep and the rest set off to the border.

The border of Rwanda and Congo is surprisngly small and quiet. We arrived around 7am, quickly got exit stamps from Rwanda and headed to the Congolese side. They speak French only (ONLY) in Congo, so one of our tripmates was translating everything with the border guards. They checked our Yellowfever cards and filled out our entry visas for us. After 5 of us had finished and paid $35 to cross, the office realized they had ran out of copies of visas for the last two of our travelers. We waited while someone took a donkey to the nearest Kinkos, waited 47 minutes for copies then slowly walked back (I'm only guessing at the reason for the delay of course) and we finally set off into Goma around 8:30am. I must say - for the Congo, which I pass judgement and expectation on purely from the news, photos, Heart of Darkness and Poisonwood Bible - it was rather unsurprisingly normal. Normal for African city standards. We wandered in to the middle of town, found a little restaurant and ordered breakfast. Breakfast in Congo is: tea, bread, and cheese. Simple. Filling. Awesome. Our friend, Stefan, talked to one of the restaurant goers (who was drinking a Primus at 9am - he rocked) about getting up to one of the villages that was still covered in the volcanic rock that had covered a majority of the city about 10 years ago when one of the volcanoes erupted and sent lava flowing in to Goma. He did the following things to make our trip awesome and as painless as possible: found someone to exchange our RwFs for Congolese Dollars; Found 7 motobike drivers to drive us to the village; Negotiated a fair price to take us to the village, wait for us to look around and then drive some of us to the border the some of us back to the restaurant. Again, he was a rockstar.

We hopped on motos and took one of the most beautiful rides through Goma and up into one of the villages. The roads are littered with volcanic rock and the dust/dirt is pitch black. We arrived to the middle of the village which was about a 1/2 a square mile of just huge volcanic rocks. A local (and about 60 local kids) circled the curious group of muzungus - yes, it transcends borders - to tell us the story of the volcano's eruption. The lava in the area we had been standing in was over 10 feet deep. The area we were in is the last are to be rebuilt and the rocks from that area were continously being used in rebuilding efforts for walls and fences around houses.

It started to sprinkle a bit and as we rode away from the lava rocks, I had a realization: I was riding on a motobike, down a hill covered in volcanic rock and it was starting to rain - the old me would have been angry at the rain and worried about falling off the moto; the new me that is slowly emerging here in Rwanda thought that it was perhaps the single most awesome moment of her life.

Half of our group headed back to the border to catch a 1pm bus while the other half headed back to the restaurant to say thanks to our friend who hooked up the entire trip for us. He invited us in for a Primus (at 11am - I love Congo) and stayed to chat with us for a bit. He suggested ending our day in Goma with a walk down to the harbor. Reaching the harbor we saw that Gisenyi looked just as epically grand and beautiful as Goma did from the beach. There were lots of boat taxis offering rides to Bukavu (another Congolese volcano town on the lake) and some little lakeside restaurants. We also saw about 60 Congo families participating in the worldwide phenomenon of "Sunday Laundry" on the beachside. They were using a beached boat as a clothes line and shouting "French? Bonjour! English? Hello!" at us as we walked by. We ducked in to a nice hotel near the border for a quick restroom stop and some tea. It was clearly catering to the muzungo crowd that we could see that most guests were aid workers and humanitarian organization volunteers. We made it back to the Congo border around 3:30pm, came back into Rwanda, exchanged some of our Congo money back to RWFs, discovered we had totally been had by the money exchange man and hopped on motobikes back to the guesthouse. Grabbing one last delicious chai tea for the road, we happily slumped in to our bus seats and set off on the 4 hour ride back to Kigali.

We had never been so happy to fall into the Favor Guest House beds and call it a weekend.

The Power of (More Than) One

2010-01-22T02:31:00.000-08:00

Since starting our program 4 days ago I’ve realized that the most powerful thing we provide these women is the fellowship they have once or twice a week. The RAs are not the most stringent in their religious beliefs, but the one thing organized religion provides for its members is a sense of community and fellowship. The women we work with all have different stories, different homelives and different family structures; but the common strand is that they all have come seeking something from the GBV group. On the surface of course, they are seeking training for IGAs (Income Generating Activities), but under that is a sense of belonging.

The stories of these women range from husbands who do not work and are illiterate, to abusive husbands that threaten to kill them. We had one woman tell our supervisor that her husband often threatens her life and that she has had to move into her children’s room to feel safe. She is HIV positive. Other women are coming to learn so that they can provide for their young children in hopes of a better future for them.

So as we end the week on a positive note of epic basket-weaving, a finished load of handwashed clothes, hemmed dresses and awesome school days, we continue to be excited about what we provide these women: a room that contains a sense of belonging for women who often feel so alone in their world. We’re excited to be a part of their community and to have been accepted so quickly and fully. These women are the backbone of Rwandan society even if they are often invisible. They are working, literally, their hands to the bone to provide a better future for their children and that, friends, is one thing that we couldn’t be happier to participate in.

Workin' 9 - 5

2010-01-21T03:03:00.000-08:00

Gender Based Violence Placement (Days 2-4)

So far, we’ve been able to expand our skills in the following: basket weaving, tye-dye and teaching children. RA1 & 2 have never been rumored to be amazing with children, but we must say – not to toot our own horn or anything – but that we’re doing a good job. Lindsey was the first to work with the children and told them all about Canada and her family. RA1 & 2 followed up on the family lesson with teaching the children how to do introductions of their family and of boys (his name is...) and girls (her name is...). It sounds very rudimentary, but the children have been mandated by the government to learn English so we’re using various methods with them including, but not limited to: “Body Man ('these are my hands,' 'this is my nose'),” “duck, duck, goose,” “head, shoulders, knees and toes,” “tracing time,” “coloring time” and “red rover.”

The women, of course, are the main reason for this program and BOY do those women put us to shame! We learned to do basket weaving with the teacher, Habiba - we affectionately refer to her as HABIBATEACHER and we think it makes her laugh. She was great, but I think she thought RA1’s baskets were crap and she gave RA2 a brand new basket to work on due to her lack of confidence. Cordina is a cute young woman who is having her second baby and makes great baskets. She sat beside RA1 the first day of basket weaving and provided lessons on top of endless laughs. ESPECIALLY, when she grabbed RA1’s hand and put it on her tummy since she couldn’t communicate in English that she was preggers. RA1 – clearly, the one with the aversion to newborns – was equally horrified and crying she was laughing so hard. We finished this day on a high note, coming up with publicity and marketing ideas for the womens’ various products and agreeing to come in an hour early on basket weaving days to teach the women English. In exchange, they are going to teach us Kinyarwandan.

After basketweaving, we walked with Elise to her manicure and pedicure lessons. Elise has roughly the education of a third grader, so she is learning to do manis and pedis to make a living. We walked for what seemed like hours, to arrive to a shop – roughly the size of half of a cubicle in America. We sat down and were promptly serviced for manicures and pedicures. In total, a full mani/pedi cost 2,000 RwF or - $4. We’re working on setting up some times for the women to come to our guest house and do mani/pedis. First however, we must work on communicating some health and safety standards for our women beauticians because there was a huge lack of rubbing alcohol in the place we had our nails done and although we’re brave and doing this for their practice – we want to make sure they are able to give a high standard of service to the next women so they can charge more and make more money and be independent – YAY WOMEN!

Our last group of IGA (Income Generating Activity) is tye-dye. The first time we went we were taken to Kristen’s house where she was teaching Louise and Mary how to tye-dye. The next day a woman named Melissa came to join. The women sit together, gossip and tye up white bolts of fabric to prepare for dying. Then they boil water and put dye, some sort of acid and some sort of powder into a bucket (we weren’t allowed to participate in this part because we haven’t gotten our hot little hands on a set of Dexter-approved work gloves) and mix it together. They quickly put the white fabric in the buckets of dye and basically handwash the fabric in the dye. After about 5 minutes of that they take the dyed fabric out, remove the strings and dip it into a mix of water and some special powder which keeps the color from fading, then rinse. After they’ve finished they hang the fabric up on the clothes line to let it dry. They’ve learned to fold the fabric in a way that if you split it in half, you have two matching pieces. You can buy a full piece of fabric for 5000RwF (roughly $10) or one half of fabric for 3500RwF (about $6.50). A lot of the fabric is purchased with the intent to sew it into something fabulous like a skirt, dress or scarf.

Basically we’ve learned how the women in Rwanda, who can’t afford school, make a living. It’s been a fascinating experience filled with laughter and us waiting for the translation of a gossip session from Claire. As we’ve mentioned before, we’re pretty much writing the GBV program from scratch, so there’s tons of opportunities for us to put our assistant hats on and help the women sell the fabulous products their making. It is extremely cost prohibitive for women to purchase a stall at the local markets (300,000Rwf or roughly $600), so we have to come up with creative ways to get their products out in the world. Unfortunately, we’re still learning the functions of publicity in a country we’ve been in for barely a week – so it’s a work in progress, much like you’re beloved RAs.

T.I.A. Part 1

2010-01-20T02:46:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Africa, where random occurrences that don't quite fit the overarching narrative are both common and entertaining. We'll try to fill you in occasionally on the adventures of the muzungas in Kigali.

1) Our first full day here, orientation day, Willy (Claire's boss/FVA director) drove the RAs, Maggie May, and Ian to the Genocide Memorial. When we came out, we divided up and piled back into our car. 3 or 4 minutes later, we realized we were in the wrong car, with a man none of us had ever seen before. We climbed over each other to get out, apologizing profusely. Turned out he hadn't noticed either - he had brought 3 muzunga girls and 1 muzunga boy to the memorial, and 3 muzunga girls and 1 muzunga boy had gotten back in the car! Perfect. Apparently we all look alike.

2) It is well known amongst our friends that RA1 maintains a base level of ZERO interest in children. Occasionally she tolerates them as a curiousity, and she has even come to enjoy RA2's young cousins and fairy goddaughter. But in general, children are something she maintains a safe distance from. It turns out that in Rwanda, when a bus gets full and a mother has her hands full, it is customary to dump her child on the nearest person's lap. Our 1st bus ride, a mother climbed on and looked around, hesitantly gesturing at RA1 - who handed her bag to RA2 and sat happily with the child on her lap. It helped that the little girl looked EXACTLY like one of RA2's cousins, for whom she has a fondness: big smile, big dimples, and a fuzzy little ponytail. Still, no one would believe it who hasn't seen it. I SAID I WOULD TELL EVERYONE AND I DID.

3) The "guest house", where we are staying with the other volunteers, is a hostel - an old-fashioned inn. That's why there is a cook (Damian), as well as three young women who clean, do laundry, and generally run the place (Assumpta, Console and one other who's name I haven't caught - I'll get it). The guest house has visitors who aren't with our program; currently there are 6 or 7 Lithuanians, who appear to all know each other, who have been there since before we got there. There's also a handyman named Innocent. We can always tell when it's Innocent's turn to put his music in the cd player because it switches from the Christian Gospel favored by the ladies to rap and R&B. Since Innocent was cleaning the front yard and washing his car one morning, RA2 decided to hand over her iPod while she took a shower. And that's how we found out that Innocent GETS DOWN. Whenever he thinks no one is looking, he busts some seriously awesome moves. If he realizes someone can see him, he stops immediately and pretends it never happened. The iPod exchange is totally worth it.

Working Girls (and Boy)

2010-01-19T09:12:00.000-08:00

Note on previous post: the rest of that nursery rhyme is "home again home again jiggety jig." Thanks mom!

Yesterday all six of us got our assignments. We (who are now "recovering assistants" or "RAs", thanks) were lucky enough to get to go and see where everyone would be working, because we stuck close to Claire, our fantastic coordinator who also runs the GBV (gender-based violence program) with which we are working directly.

We started off by traveling to the site of FVAs new orphanage, which they hope to have building permits for in March. Currently its farmland, and they will continue to grow crops there and use the money they get from selling them to support the orphanage and other FVA programs. Sustainable! We love it. They're growing peanuts, lots of corn, bananas, PUMPKINS (I know go figure) and they have papaya trees. Ian "picked" a few papayas (you knock them out of the tree with a stick and try to avoid them as they fall directly towards your head) and RA2 managed to knock one down as well.

We dropped Ian off at Les Enfants de Dieu (Children of God), an all boys orphanage that takes in street kids. They get a full education and have a really interesting internal system of government. The boys elect ministers - a minister of education, a minister of technology - from among their peers. These ministers have control of the orphanages entire budget and administration. The adults and directors must go to them for permission to purchase or change anything. It gives the boys a great learning experience, agency and empowerment.

Maggie May is teaching English to teachers at a private school.

A NOTE ON THE ENGLISH THING: In hopes of opening trade and tourism with neighboring countries who were colonized by Britain (such as Uganda) as well as North America, about a year ago, Rwanda made a decision to switch to English. Having been colonized by Belgium (it's all about colonization here), they spoke French for many years, and many people still do. Kinyarwandan was introduced as a common, unifying Rwandan language, and everyone speaks it (Muraho!). And then a year ago - English. Learn it. It's like the government of America declared, "Everyone must speak Swahili." Teachers don't know it, and they have to pass on this knowledge they don't have to their students. On the plus side, for us, teaching English here is NOT a vanity project. If we pass on one word of English while we're here, it's huge. The people Maggie May is teaching will, we hope, be passing on that knowledge to children who have a real chance of bring Rwanda into a better future.

Many people here are TRILINGUAL, putting us and our 4 words of Kinyarwandan to shame.

Tsufit is teaching Gisimba Orphanage. It was founded by (and is named for) a man who saved 400 people during the genocide by hiding them in the orphanage and buying off the genocidaires one at a time when they came around. He's a hero in Rwanda and is mentioned at the genocide memorial. We plan to spend some time at Gisimba and we're considering productive ways to do that - story time, dance hour. The older kids there go off to boarding school, and one of the women who is working at FVA and going to university (getting her degree in Sociology!) lived at Gisimba for 9 years. They do their best to give the kids there every opportunity, they get an education, and many go on to be very successful. That said, there are so many young kids there in need, it is incredibly overwhelming. As you walk through they grab you, grin at you, or hide behind a bigger kid and stare. They love digital cameras and the smile on their face is amazing but it breaks your heart when you have to take the camera back and they look miserable - or worse, cry. One kid was particularly awesome. He had a big smile no matter what and took very, VERY good pictures, whether by design or accident we may never know. He had a little kid who clung to him, who is deaf-mute and almost never happy, but clearly loves this older boy. We found out later he's HIV+.

C-Note, RA1 and RA2 (like Little Thing 1 and Little Thing 2, but not as long to type) spent yesterday afternoon realizing that GBV is starting from scratch, which is both overwhelming and exciting. It leaves us a lot of room to expand and hopefully tailor classes to the women's exact needs.

Today was our first full day of work. GBV consists of women who come to participate in "Income-Generating Activities" and talk and spend time together, a small school of roughly 8 with WIDELY varying skills and ages (Peace is our translator/TA for this, and we adore her), and women who come in for counseling. Our working schedule currently has us switching days for the school (tomorrow is my first day teaching!) and participating in IGAs, as well as offering classes on whatever the women feel they'd like to learn about, and doing home visits and counseling as needed.

If you're thinking we're not qualified to be doing these things, join the club! But our friend Zak gave us an excellent reminder: We're not qualified, but we're the most qualified people in the room. Fake it til you make it. And now we know a little but about what it's like to be an army medic who walks into a hospital and is treated like the Surgeon General - and expected to perform surgery. We now have two mottos: "Go slow, you'll reach", which we saw on the back of a truck, and "But I only know first aid!"

Spice Girls go to Market

2010-01-17T01:10:00.000-08:00

"To market to market to buy a fat pig..." it was the only line of that nursery rhyme I could think of yesterday and it is STILL bothering me.

So, off to market we went - an "open air" market, by which they mean a "very crowded series of stalls and tables under a roof with no doors or walls which is not designed for those with claustrophobia." Our group, and thus the dynamic, will change about every two weeks as new volunteers arrive and some of us leave, but we got off to an awesome start. The five girls (three plus us), known collectively as the Spice Girls, are:

Margaret (Maggie May), originally from a town very near mine in Massachusetts, spent a few years in DC and had the good sense to flee - we have a lot in common. She is interested in coffee and microfinance, and for that and many other reasons is AWESOME.

Tsufit, also a DC refugee, just quit her job in NYC as an assistant at a non-profit! and seemed to have a similar experience in that role to mine. We came all the way to Africa to meet a former DC girl turned recovering assistant, and a former DC girl from Boston. Also came all the way to Africa to: listen to Dolly Parton and Celine Dion (played with alarming regularity) and meet a girl getting her degree from UMass, which we will get to. We have a lot of "we came to Africa to" moments.

Lindsey (C-Note), from Canada, and this is not her first rodeo; she worked in a refugee camp in Ghana, got herself sent home in a wheelchair from Thailand, and seems to have been everywhere in between.

Ian, currently our lone male ranger (he doesn't appreciate his nickname so I'll keep it out of the blog - for now) is 20 years old and left a job working with the homeless to travel the world for a year. He reminds me of Fred, looks like Will, and therefor calls up an irrational and unearned affection. Also plays the guitar (EARNED affection!) and speaks British fluently.

Told you guys you'd see your names in print!

We got lost on our way to the market (ahemian'sfaultAHEM) but it allowed for really ridiculous exercise we all felt deep in our muscles this morning, and also allowed us to accidentally pick up what can only be described as two street urchins. We turned around and there was one, clearly the ringleader with an impish little face, hanging on to C-Note and babbling excitedly to his friend, who was trudging along unwillingly. When next I looked the instigator was holding Maggie May's hand and had one arm wrapped around his friend's shoulder to prevent escape. They were still talking, and I assume the conversation went something like this:

Instigator: No, this is awesome! Crazy white people, who knows what they'll do? Maybe they'll cast a spell or eat someone!
Friend: I want to go home.

They didn't ask us for money or food and eventually ran off.

We met a nice young man on the way, Frances, who's father (I believe I got this right) is the minister of Rwandan coffee - just about the best job ever. He had a tattoo of a basketball player on his arm ("It's not Jordan! It's ME! I'm learning his moves from the internet."), has a brother in college in the United States, and spoke perfect English.

When we got to the market we went on a rampage for fruit, haggling over prices and collecting anything we couldn't identify with almost unholy glee. A woman told me not to take pictures in the marketplace, and we realized later she may have been trying to help me out - a woman tried to charge me $1 (500RWF) for taking a picture of the biggest pile of garlic I had ever seen (and I have seen BIG piles of garlic). There were bunches of green bananas taller than my knees all over the aisles, huge piles of beans, live chickens in the back, and men trying to sell us grocery bags even though we had clearly brought one. We got papayas, mangoes, passion fruit, tree tomatoes!, a giant pineapple, two avocados, tomatoes, and an onion for less than $3. Trip to future travelers: the women start you at a more honest price than the men, and if they see you effectively haggle with someone, they get pretty honest, and you can just go down the row. I made the mistake of trying to haggle a woman who was actually giving me a fair price, not realizing that we were being treated like people who knew what they were doing! We haven't gotten to the crafts yet but we'll be back - some of the other volunteers have picked up beautiful jewelry.

We got one of the best compliments we could ever receive in the market. A woman told us we "dress Rwandan". Rwandan women dress conservatively but very nicely, and saying that was like telling us we fit in and were dressed respectfully - which is all we want!

We went on a coffee rampage on the way home but couldn't find any. Tea is abundant here, and delicious, but only a few westernized places will sell you a cup of coffee. But I noticed that everyone was drinking giant, frothy mugs of something white. We stopped into one last place and asked for coffee. They didn't have it, but an older woman pointed to the benches and motioned for us to sit down. An invitation from an elder is an honor - we sat. We tried a few words of English - nothing. We tossed out some French - no response. We tried the four words of Kinyarwandan we knew - oya, nothing. Well, we're out of ideas. I pulled out my Kinyarwandan translation sheet in desperation, and the older woman pointed at it, nodded to the women in the shop and said "Kinyarwandan." As in, that's the nonsense the Muzunga is spouting. Somewhere in this, I accidentally ordered a glass of the white frothy stuff in the midst of trying to ascertain what it was. I was informed it was milk and they set one in front of me. I knew I might regret it later but there's enough things to be careful about so I took a sip. Oh, milk alright - fermented milk, tasting a lot like yogurt. Cold, and actually really weirdly good. Most of the girls tried it and my partner in crime split it with me with enthusiasm.

A girl in the corner (the entire cafe was the size of a bathroom in the US) spoke up shyly in perfect English, and we all got to talking. Her name is Cossy and - go figure - she's getting her online degree at UMass! She asked what we thought of Rwanda and we fell over ourselves describing how beautiful the country is and how much fun we were having. She did what so many Rwandans have done when we answered that way: humbly thanked us for appreciating her country, and told us that it was "not as good as yours." She kept suggesting "nicer", western places for us to see in the country than that particular neighborhood, which is poor, and we kept explaining to her that this was incredibly fun and beautiful. We traded numbers and she wants to have us over for tea, which will be awesome.

She then informed us the women spoke Swahili.

Three languages to grab-bag from is going to have to be enough - until we learn enough Kinyarwandan to haggle effectively, we can't tackle a fourth!

Kinyarwanda Lesson!

2010-01-17T00:49:00.000-08:00

Here in Rwanda the native language is Kinyarwanda. Here’s a quick tutorial for you all at home!

Muraho (Mer-a-ho) – Hello | to a stranger or on first meeting
Mwiriwe (Meeri-way) – Hello/Hi | to an acquaintance or someone you’ve met before

Those are the first words we learned and the ones we’re the best at. However we’re picking up some new ones pretty quickly.

Amakuru ki? (A-mah-coo-rue-kay) – How are you?
Ni Meza (nee-may-za) – Am well
Mwaramutse (Mar-a-moot-say) – Good Morning!
Murakoze (moor-a-co-za) – Thank you
Hehe? (hay hay) – Where?
Nangahe? (nan-ga-hay) – How Much?
Yego (yay-go) - Yes
Oya (o-ya) - No

Orientation

2010-01-16T07:03:00.000-08:00

It was so fantastic to get such a thorough introduction into the country, the culture, the language and the people we’d be working with. Our two supervisors, Claire and Willy are by far two of the most kind people we've ever had the privilege of meeting. Claire repeatedly told us that she ‘wants us to feel no stress’ while we’re here and that our hearts were so valuable to them. She gave us all sorts of tips on spending money, how to spend it, how much to expect to spend, etc, as well as instructions on what to do when we're not feeling well, how to get around and what to visit.

Claire gave us a one hundred year history of Rwanda leading up to the genocide and forward. We later learned that she had lost some of her family and she had been on the run on her own for a very long time before coming back to the country. I cannot explain in words how inspiring it is to hear her story and then realize that a she has come back and her job is to make this country a better place and manage the volunteers that come here to help.

We went to lunch at this wonderful hotel restaurant, Chez Lando. It’s our main geographical marker here in our neighborhood - the taxis can find it! The food. The food was amazing. We both got mango juice with some weird delicious cinnamon aftertaste. I had chips (fries), and a chicken kabob which came with so much meat I could only finish one of them! One of the girls had a fruit salad that I can only describe as being touched by God. We learned about an amazing little fruit called the ‘tree tomato.’ It looks a bit like a plum with a shiny red peel.

The next part of our visit was the Kigali Genocide Memorial. Since we chose to come here and learn what there was to learn, we don't feel it's fair to subject everyone to what are definitely disturbing descriptions of violence. If you'd like to read about our visit to the museum, you can read on, but if not, skip the next few paragraphs. The experience was incredibly moving for us, but this is a country that was ripped to pieces not long ago. Everyone here over the age of 2 can remember what happened - it's going to be an unavoidable part of our time here. What we saw in the museum was sometimes very graphic, sometimes very disturbing and always, incredibly sad. If you feel touched to do so, the museum takes donations online (http://www.kigalimemorialcentre.org/old/helping/index.html).

The museum is staffed by survivors of the genocide and contains about 300,000 bodies of genocide victims who were given a proper burial at the memorial. For many families, this was the only peace they were able to get after the tragic deaths of their family members – a proper, Christian burial. One of the most touching parts of the museum was the children’s section. Full disclosure – I thought it was of child survivors of the genocide so I walked in with a big smile on my face, looking at the beautiful pictures of children; the first plaque I read said this:

Name: David

Age: 10

Favorite Food: Milk & Cookies

Last Words: “Mama, UNAMIR will come for us”

Cause of Death: Tortured to death.

Then this:

Two Sisters

Ages: 6 & 7

Cause of Death: Killed by a grenade thrown in their shower.

Then:

Name: Thierry

Age: 9 months

Cause of Death: Hacked apart by a machete in his mother’s arms.

I cannot explain how impacted I was by this. There were almost 30 children’s profiles in this section of the museum. To us, the death and mayhem that occurred in the city we’re living in now seems incomprehensible. The thriving city we live in with smiling people, shouts of “Muzungu, Muzungu!” (that means white person-more on that in a moment) and the kindness we’ve experienced – just didn’t seem to reconcile with what happened here so long ago. In Kigali, the genocidaires were given thousands of names of Tutsis and at a predetermined time, they were to begin killing all Tutsis on the lists with the goal of killing 1,000 every 20 minutes. Much like the Nazis, the brains behind the Rwandan genocide had plans and strategies and ravaged a population. I was – I cannot come up with another word, so I apologize if this is too strong – appalled at the stories of some of the church leaders who invited Tutsis into the churches saying they would be safe, and then surrendering all of them to the genocidaires to be killed. But then, as I turned the corner, I saw the stories of many who hid Tutsis in their home to protect them. My favorite story was of a woman who was known as the ‘town crazy lady’ came to the door as the mob approached and acted like the crazy lady they all thought her to be and scared them all away! I thought about how heroic all these people were and how such small actions made the difference in the lives of millions.

We took a walk in the beautiful gardens outside where the bodies of the genocide victims were finally laid to rest and chilled a little. It was a lot to take in.

After that we went downtown to the UTC (United Trade Center) to exchange money and buy Rwandan cell phones. Muzunga, as we mentioned, means white person. People here aren't saying it to be rude or mean - it's like they're excited to have correctly identified you. They say it the same way you would say "Giraffe! Giraffe!" if one were to walk down the street. The guy who sold us our phones was great - he accidentally called the cheap phone the Muzunga phone, because its white, and we each bought one. We're going back to practice English with him, and he's going to help us work on our Kinyarwandan (universal Rwandan language, of which we can now say 4 words).

We rolled in to the house around 7pm for dinner, which was some awesome baked fish (Tilapia we think- but not like Tilapia in the states. Tilapia that is thick and sweet and comes from Lake Victoria!), pasta, chips and grilled veggies. They truly feed us so well here, its crazy!

Then we and two other volunteers decided to go to the bar behind our house (no literally, there is a bar in our backyard) for one of the famed Primus beers. These costs 800RwF (roughly $1.50) and are the size of a 40oz – AND they are really good! The bar didn’t have tables, instead there were small bungalows dotting the courtyard and you sat in one at a table with chairs. The bungalow next to us got all excited about the Muzungas and one reall brave guy came and politely introduced himself. Another, Isaac, originally from DRC, came and asked to take a picture with us (yes, we are also like giraffes in the sense that we are exotic zoo creatures) after asking if we were allowed to take pictures with black people. We assured him we were. THEN – the lights in the entire bar, block and district went out. The guy from the next bungalow leaned over, smiled and said, "This is Africa!" T.I.A. friend. We finished our beers by candlelight and went back to the guesthouse.

It’s been crazy, but so incredible! We’re genuinely having the time of our lives here. Get excited for the market update – you won’t believe the bounty we found at the market and then what we got to do afterwards with one of the coolest Rwandans we’ve met to date!

All our love,

The Manolos

Planes, Buses and Automobiles

2010-01-16T06:55:00.000-08:00

Before leaving, we took advantage of last minute American amenities like cupcakes, grilled cheese (thanks Rei) and free continental breakfast (thanks Mama Stipps!). We got on a shuttle to the airport and went to KLM to check in. Ten minutes later we realized we were technically flying Delta and we (and our combined 150 lbs of luggage) were very far away from the proper terminal. Undaunted, we navigated O’Hare, settled in and waited for our first flight to JFK. We might have played “Empire State of Mind” when we flew in; we’ll never tell.

JFK International was a new kind of mess involving shuttles. We shall never speak of it.

Our international flight from JFK to Amsterdam was AWESOME. KLM offers seriously good food, your own screen, and a choice of movies. We recommend this to future flyers. Unfortunately, by the end of the trip we were on about hour 20 of tiny, tight little seats. It’s good that we like each other, and that people moved to let us sit together. Also by this point we possibly did not smell very good.

When we got to Amsterdam everything was closed, including our terminal; some kind of crack-of-dawn hour there. They have a very cute airport and they sell tulips. Go figure. We got into line under economy class (we had to go through security there a second time to get to our gate) and our bodies, grateful to be horizontal, promptly passed out. We were rudely awakened a few minutes later and informed we were 2nd and 3rd in The Wrong Line, so we dragged ass over to another line in which we were 75th and 76th, respectively. Half an hour later we realized we HAD been in the right line, went scurrying back, and landed at about 30th and 31st, respectively. Watched more movies for 10 hrs on more tiny tight little seats.

36 hrs and counting, we can finally see Africa. AWESOME. We were beyond maybe not smelling good and exhausted, but thrilled. We looked at our options and decided to take a bus instead of a puddle jumper, saving a lot of money and waiting around, and giving us a chance to see both the Ugandan and Rwandan country side. We asked a few natives what a taxi to the bus station should cost - $20 each for an hour ride! Sweet. And that’s how we met Sard.

Sard, our driver, turned out to be a native of Kigali Rwanda (our home for the next 3 months) who had been living in Uganda for 7 years. As he’s old enough to remember the genocide, we could understand why he wasn’t in a hurry to return to Rwanda, but his animosity was downright funny.

“What should we absolutely see in Rwanda?”

“Nothing, there is nothing to see in Rwanda.”

“What should we eat in Rwanda?”

“Nothing, the food is terrible in Rwanda.”

And so on and so forth.

But he loves Uganda, so he gave us a tour, including Lake Victoria. Even at night everything was beautiful. We got his email so he can pick us up at the bus station when we get back.

When we got to the station he suddenly became concerned – "don’t make friends", "don’t talk to anyone about money", "you have too much luggage!", "your skin color matters here." And then he waited there until we had our tickets to leave. Sard is awesome.

It was 11:30p and we waited for a 1am bus bolt upright. When we finally loaded we were way in the back on a bench meant for 2 now holding both of us AND our carry-ons AND a large woman AND her bags. As if that wasn’t restful enough, Uganda’s southern roads are… fascinating. They appear to be paved with motorcycles, the speed bumps are as tall as children, and we had a new sympathy for tenderized meat. We did not sleep - but we did giggle, a lot.

But at 6am the sun came up, and we could see the mountains through the mist. The landscape redefined green. The richest, most gorgeous colors we’ve ever seen. Everything was so beautiful, but the further you get from Entebbe and Kigali, the more you have to adjust your concept of poverty.

When we got to the border we experienced the African past-time of “fluking” (FLEW-KING: like cheating, a word we learned from Sard) which in this case meant pushing, shoving and elbowing to get to the head of the line for the exit stamp at Uganda's customs office. A man casually twirling a baton casually admonished them they should not do that. They ignored him. We waited three times as long in line as necessary, and then turned around to find our bus was gone. Hoping it had merely “moved” and not “driven off with all our worldly possessions for the next 3 months”, we crossed the border into Rwanda on foot and were never so happy to see the Jaguar sign. We got our passports stamped and our plastic bags confiscated at the border, and at 9:30am, 3 hrs late (standard Africa time) we landed in Kigali, exhausted and unspeakably filthy. An amazing man named Jean of God was waiting for us to take us to the FVA office and then to the guesthouse. He drove very well on very paved roads but spoke only French - so, generally, we were very pleased with this part of the trip.

We’re so glad we got to experience something more than the airport, as our travels were much more interesting than the other volunteers’, and we were even more excited to SHOWER.

all our love,

the manolos

Here, Safe and Sleepy

2010-01-14T04:06:00.000-08:00

But let us just quickly redefine both "safe" and "sleepy" for you. For anyone who had a passing concern about our safety, rest easy at night, please, knowing that we live in a fortified compound. We're not kidding. The "guest house" is essentially its own gated community, it is amazing. Everything locks. So yeah - safe! In other news, WE GET OUR OWN BATHROOM. Is that not ridiculous? We are so spoiled. There's even warmish water. The place reminds one of the assistants exactly of a convent (her aunt is a nun, she would know). Very plain and clean, comfortable, two beds and nightstands per room, and many references to God's blessings.

As for sleepy, we arrived this mornign at 10am after 3 straight days of traveling - 72 hours absolutely without pause. What little sleep we did manage to catch was always had sitting up, what with there being no beds, and always at inconvenient times, as we tried to push ourselves 6 hrs ahead to minimize jetlag. Add to that MANY FREE MOVIE OPTIONS on the plane, and our general excitement, and naturally it was a total disaster. We're both so tired we're cross-eyed, but we're not allowed to go to bed until 8pm, so we can sleep through a proper night and be bright-eyed and bushy tailed for orientation tomorrow. If we nap we won't sleep, and then it will go on like this for eternity. But at this point, if we glance sideways at a bed, it's over.

The extent of our French is being pushed quickly, not only by the many lovely people we have already met who can speak only a little English, and our wish to communicate with them, but also by things like this website, which here in Uganda appears in French, making navigating it much more difficult on aforementioned non-sleep.

We're excited to spend tomorrow getting in-depth details about our work here!!! which will definitely be the most exciting part. Once we're settled in this weekend we can change some money into bizarre denominations (500 RWF for a bottle of water!!! (means 1USD)), and sit in an internet cafe and regale you all with our tales of planes, buses and automobiles.

IT'S THE FINAL COUNTDOWN

2010-01-10T12:36:00.000-08:00

If your mind didn't go to a very hair-metal 80s band place reading the title of this post, we're not friends.

Tuesday we get on a plane to JFK, make a connection in Amsterdam, land in Uganda and head to Kigali. In about 16 hrs I'll be headed to Chicago. I am not so much exactly totally packed, but I have a fairly impressive pile of crap in the living room. In order to fall off the grid for 3 months, both of us had to suspend our cell coverage and car insurance, inform our banks we would be leaving the country, leave enough in our accounts to cover miscellaneous bills while gone, cancel our medical insurance, obtain travel insurance, pass criminal background checks - and this is all AFTER we both eliminated rent and utilities. They don't make it easy but we're making a break for it anyway.

If you would like to send us a care package or donate to one of the many orphanages and women's organizations the program works with, you can reach us here:

Our Names
c/o Faith Victory Association
P.O Box 2800
Kigali, Rwanda

Letters and envelopes take about 10 days, and packages take about 4 weeks.

I always said I wouldn't believe we were really going until we were actually there, and two days before we get on a plane, it's still true. I am, however, getting increasingly excited, 9 months (!!!!) after we started planning this little escapade, to actually post about Rwanda FROM RWANDA. Almost there!

Secondhand Lions

2010-01-08T19:32:00.000-08:00

I've decided, that when people talk about me I want them to come down to the final thought of: She went out with her boots on.

Now, when I come back from Africa and am back on the payroll of some company somewhere I can only hope and pray they're Spring '11 Manolo Blahnik black booties; but the thought none the less remains. I want people to think of me as the person who never went down without a fight - who grabbed life by the balls and shook it within an inch of its life. I want people to say that when adventure presented itself, I followed and when a risk came up I jumped and landed safely on the other side.

As I set off on a weekend that will be full of endless checklists, packing - unpacking - final packing, letting my mom go through my packing, and finally zipping up the bag, I wanted to leave a final (pre ocean crossing) word, nay, a challenge to myself.

When we're on that plane, flying to another continent and people happen to think about the Manolos on their way to Rwanda I want them to say - they didn't let a moment pass them by; they went out with their boots on.

When we post our first pictures of the first few days in Kigali, our house, our antics, our miniadventures I hope people open them up, look at them, laugh at us and then think - these two girls are living out loud and savoring the moment; they went out with their boots on.

When we overcome the first bout of homesickness, a moment when things seem to be falling apart or when we face our first problem millions of miles from home I hope our friends will say - they pushed through the mud, came up on the other side and made mud pies; they went out with their boots on.

After almost two months in Indiana, with countless episodes of 'country living 101' I can think of no better motto to put in my last post before crossing the ocean. My boots may have been Ugg boots this winter, but they were steadfast and strong when I was unloading truck fulls of wood, being a midwife for a dog in labor and loading a wood burning stove. I know that I won't have boots on per say in Africa (because it's warm enough for FLIP FLOPS!!!) but I know that spirit of determination and resilience will be radiating through my fingertips - ready to pitch the first log of challenge into the burning stove.

Friends, the first hill in the rollercoaster is almost over and the next week will be the headrush, eardrum pounding, speed thrill downhill thrust we've been waiting almost a year for - I can't wait to see you on the other side.

We're Going Out With Our Boots On!!

We Have the Greatest Friends.

2010-01-08T11:06:00.000-08:00

As our departure quickly approaches and we make piles of clothes and flipflops and things - some of our amazing friends have taken a few moments and sent us email words of encouragement and love. I couldn't help but repost them here because they were such pieces of sunshine in this snow covered tundra I'm writing from. Thank you for being amazing friends!
____________________________________________________

"and though it's not much, it moved me to put together a small, 7-track EP for you. I know that I will listen to it often in the coming months, and think of you both.

Since I'm sure you have enough people telling you to be careful and safe and eat plenty of penicillin and wipe your hands from the dirty continent, I can focus on a different and obviously more important message, which is to do the opposite of all of those things. It's an adventure, dammit, so treat it like one. I hope they have gin there (whiskey might be asking too much). I, for one, am envious of the opportunity you two have carved out for yourselves and am sure that, one way or another, it will make you into better people than you are now (which for me is a little like trying to figure out the square root of a negative integer). Even if you DO actually wipe your hands.

105 is my favorite. I love you. Have a wonderful journey.

P.S. I have the strangest feeling I just quoted Donna Lewis."

---------

"finally, you better have booty called a ex in Indiana because you are not allowed to have sex in africa. end of story.

oh man, are you missed around here? seriously, the office is not the same without you. but don't think about that! there is a world of adventure they awaits you. live it up while you are there, and don't say no! see everything you can see, do everything you can do and be everywhere you can be.

"The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time." ~ Abe Lincoln"

--------

I know you are getting more and more excited about Africa... Your life is seriously about to change forever! This will be an experience you will never forget.

Packing

2010-01-05T16:35:00.000-08:00

The title of the post says it all: we've hit the home stretch. We really can't believe we're at the packing stage of the game, but here we are with piles strewn around the house and lists out the wazoo (lovely mental picture, I'm sure). Currently, each assist is planning on bringing in her carry-on:

doxy pills
1 change of clothes
sunglasses
sunblock
small facewash
1 pair of contacts
pertinent paperwork
books
earplugs
eye covers

and will be concealing passport, tickets and money about her person. Packing list for the big bag includes:

several long dresses
pajamas
flip-flops for the shower
flip-flops for walking
rainboots
sneakers
exercise clothes
3 months worth of sunblock
" of contacts
" of contact solution
first aid kit
LOTS of ibuprufen
personal sanitary products
camera and ipod - we were informed we would be glad we brought them and would be able to charge them.

1 asst is bringing multiple memory cards and both are bringing usb cords.

Here I would like to insert a plug for Walmart, as a service to future travelers. Though their labor practices are REALLY UNACCEPTABLE, credit where credit is due. Asst 1 went there for her prescriptions and paid less than 30USD for her doxy, as it should be. Asst 2 went to CVS, where they attempted to charge her 115USD. No kidding. Asst 2 then went to Walmart, where she was able to fill the doxy and a prescription for a broad-spectrum antibiotic for less than 80USD. That is a significant difference, and both assts are now relying on Walmart for many of their travel needs. We hear Costco and Walgreens are also good, if there's one near you.

Shopping list at present includes:

immodium (good idea from oft-travelling cousins)
bacitracin
triple antibiotic ointment
calamine lotion
more sunscreen
poncho (the last month or so of our time there, it will rain all day, every day. fun!)
diflucan
probiotics
daily multi-vitamin

Both assts are now also in possession of REI quality hiking backpacks. Aren't we prepared? One of us might not necessarily FEEL prepared, but as a recovering asst, I know that lists help establish a false sense of control - essential to surviving on foreign terrain. I know helpful blogs have been to us - I hope to put up a list of key sites before we leave - and I hope this list will help others with the daunting task of deciding what 40 lbs of their life to take on a mission to the bush.

If Wishes Were Horses

2010-01-02T07:56:00.000-08:00

I love traditions. I come from a big family that's full of them, and I find them comforting. I got two new traditions for New Year's day this year that I'm excited to carry into the future. The first is southern: black-eyed peas on NYD for luck. This is so ingrained in my southern side of the family, who are in the military, that whenever they lived abroad my aunt packed a can of black-eyed peas, knowing you can't just run down to the grocery store in Hong Kong to pick one up. Considering she sometimes had to think of this almost a year ahead of time, while packing up two children and an entire household, that's a pretty serious commitment. The second is, apparently, Polish: you live the year as you began it. If so, I will spend it sleeping, vaguely hungover and being fed and loved by family and friends. There are worse ways, I'm telling you. Next year I'll make a point of having a more productive day, ALSO full of food and love.

I was unable to even think about Rwanda in the past few weeks, between travel, the holidays and The Wedding. But now that the last big event before the trip has passed, I'm nervous, excited and a little overwhelmed (I'm also exhausted - I would go to Africa at this point just for a full night of uninterrupted sleep). I explained my trip to and answered questions for 150 different people over the last five days, one at a time, and it's finally dawning on me we may actually be going. There's nothing between now and the 11th except packing, working, reviewing my french and, god willing, napping.

Good-bye 2009, you will not be missed. Hi 2010 - BRING IT.

...Rules to Live By in 2010...

2009-12-30T14:38:00.000-08:00

========================================
resolution:: [rez-uh-loo-shuhn] the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.
rule:: [rul] a principle or regulation governing conduct, action, procedure, arrangement, etc.
============================================

As I often do, I'm going to buck tradition this new year's eve and instead of making resolutions, I'm going to make rules. Rules to live by for 2010. I'm reading this interesting book by David Kessler, MD about our brains and how we can change our behaviors. Basically, Kessler says we can change our behavior through creating 'rules' for our brain. The longer we act by these rules (ie: I will not snack after 7pm) the more engrained they become in our behavior and become locked in the executive function of our brain. After a while, our brain just turns these 'rules' into normative behavior.

Whereas resolutions can become more of just anthems we live by instead of things that actually change our behavior. Or, they just become a check-list of things we do instead of helping us grow through them.

1. Let my mind see the sentence before my tongue says it.:: I often find myself saying the first thing that comes to mind and sometimes it would have came out so much better if I would have thought about it for a minute. It also opens the floodgates to be quick to anger or defensiveness.

2. Say yes (a bit) more.:: One of my defining characteristics is that I say "No." I say no when I don't feel like doing something that doesn't directly benefit my happiness. I try not to say no when I know saying yes would make someone else really happy - but I think I need to do more of it. Say yes to travel, yes to risk, yes to new cities and yes to new people and friends. Perhaps not yes to a new credit card.

3. Explore more kinds of music.:: In the few short weeks I've been home my sister has basically let me raid her iTunes playlists and I've discovered so many awesome new artists and albums. It was so nice to send out mix tapes for Christmas presents that had songs on them I knew my friends hadn't heard before or hadn't been played on the radio. I'd like to discover even more music!

4. Live Louder.:: Needless to say, spending the first three months of the year in Africa is most certainly the 'loudest' I've ever lived - but I want to make sure I take the attitude of searching out a higher meaning to my days carries through even when I'm back. I want to spend more time finding a job and making sure I'm living somewhere and doing something that makes me feel fulfilled not just fill my days. I want to be open to living anywhere. I want to be open to love. I want to be more open in general to all the things going on around me. I want to live out loud instead of in hi-fi.

5. Learn to cook a full chicken.:: I just think this is something I want to learn to do. In 2009 I mastered fried plantains, so I need a new food to master in 2010. If only for the fact that I know tons of things to do with shredded chicken, I just don't know how to do the part before the shredding. AND a good friend made me a roast chicken once that kind of changed my life.

6. Learn to can something - preferably pickles (the bread and butter flavor ones).:: Mostly as an homage to my country-livin' family, but secondly because it is an awesome way to (cheaply) make really awesome holiday baskets!

7. Embrace European attitudes towards food and wine (ie: lots of good wine and great meals).:: I need to expand my wine pallette and I also want to let go of the American attitude towards food which is: insatiable and constant appetites. I want to focus on a few really awesome meals each day that fill me up but don't put me into a coma. I want to explore more tea and coffee options. I want to make food an accessory to the outfit of life - not a pantsuit.

2 Stories For the Ladies with 2 Days Left in 2009

2009-12-30T10:59:00.000-08:00

Being as the Manolos are both women - anytime we see inspiring stories about women we feel compelled to share.

First is a story about the most admired women in the country. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham-Clinton held on to her number 1 spot on the list. You didn't need to be living under a rock to know that Clinton has faced her share of sexist media punching in the last year, so it's good to see that people still hold her in the highest regards. These lists to me often reflect the aspirations of the people they poll and it feels like a triumph that people aspire to see more women like Hillary Clinton in positions of leadership. It gives me hope that the ultimate glass ceiling may actually have the potential of being cracked if we continue to view smart, well-spoken, driven women as our most admired.

The second story is about women in the workplace. Titled 'We Did It!' Economist features a profile on the status of women in the workplace and the fact that in the very near future, women will cross the 50% mark and make up the majority of the workplace. The story is hopeful and shows that in a time of financial strife and corporate collapse - there may be a glimmer of hope: women. Although women face more challenges than men in the workplace (less pay, family responsibilities, etc) we have come a long way from the Mad Men era. The story does a great job describing the challenges and benefits of a majority-women workforce but there is one thing I don't see present in the story. Something the Manolos experienced first-hand; a trend that we hoped was isolated but that we fear was not - the lack of the "Good 'Ol Girl" network.

Over two years working at various corporations with varying and diverse co-workers both of us experienced or heard stories of some of the most intense criticism and harsh treatment from female counterparts. We saw a 'woman eat woman' world where competition was standard and brutal. We saw young women come through the doors of our companies to only face harrassment by upper management men. We saw women opt to make a fresh-off-the-college-boat girls into blackberry toting assistants running personal lives instead of pushing them into challenging roles of managing accounts and supervising interns. We saw jaded, cynical attitudes directed at the wide-eyed young women entering the workplace.

Needless to say, we were surprised, but we persisted on. We saw hopeful networks of women who wanted to lift each other up and develop the careers of younger women. We saw the guiding hand of some of our women mentors reach out and lift us up; challenging us but leaving the demoralization at the door. We heard stories of the 'old days' while looking forward to a future of women who owned the societal networks just like men do now.

We are hopeful. We are hopeful that enough young women have experienced negative relationships with older 'chip-on-their-shoulder' women, that they will put in extra time to developing relationships with and mentor younger women. We hope that we will be able to help younger women get a pedicured toenail in the door to start working towards the career of their dreams. We hope that if we ever get to the level that we need an assistant we will make them feel like a valued team member and set them on the path of world-domination one blackberry message at a time. So, closing out the year on a hopeful note is something we couldn't be more happy to do.

In the words of good friend and author, Leslie Sanchez, "We've Come a Long Way, Maybe."

Percolator! (the coffee pot, not the dance)

2009-12-22T11:40:00.000-08:00

"A cup of coffee shared with a friend is happiness tasted and time well spent."

There truly is nothing the assistants love more than coffee. Okay - well - GOOD coffee. One thing we've been particularly excited about is the locally grown Rwandan coffee we'll have access to for three glorious months. Coffee is quickly becoming one of Rwandas most accalimed exports - even garnering the support of the Clinton Foundation in their Hunter Development Program.

Today we stumbled upon another fanastic program centered on sustainable growth of Rwanda's rich coffee bean resources through USAID. The SPREAD Project (Sustaining Partnerships to Enhance Rural Enterprise and Agribusiness Development) is the USAID Agribusiness Project partnered directly with Rwanda. http://www.spreadproject.org/rwanda_exports.php

First, for all our friends, here is a list of locations (Murky's Coffee in Arlington, VA & DC; Intelligentsia in Chicago & LA; and select Starbucks to name a few!) carry beans from this project.

We can't wait to share with you the first cup of Rwandan coffee... the assistants are already scheming things that don't need to be packed just to make room for the coffee we plan on bringing back!

Just Do It

2009-12-21T20:36:00.000-08:00

"...you got tuh go there tuh know there. "
-Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston

I enjoy watching people's reactions when we tell them we're going to Rwanda. Some, realize the genocide was 15 years ago and go - Wow, what is that country like now? Others, quickly think of Don Cheadle and say - Is it safe there - are people going around the streets with machetes?! Of course, we acknowledge and are preparing for our own personal safety, but until we hit the ground and start living in Rwanda - we won't be able to talk about what it's like. We'd be remiss to consider ourselves experts on the country after mere travel blog reading and research.
As we grow ever closer to our departure date I've begun thinking less about our role in Rwanda and all we'll be doing - and more about Rwanda, the country.

I've been wondering what makes the people of Rwanda tick. What do they get excited about and what do they think of America. What do they listen to on the radio? What do their libraries look like - and are they filled with African writers or all kinds of writers? I wonder about how long the sun stays out and if people are outside a lot when they're not working. I wonder if it's a walking culture or a driving/car culture. I wonder if they buy all their groceries at the beginning of the week or if they go each night. I've wondered if they make guacamole. I've thought about what times they eat meals - are they early risers and late dinner eaters?

So, I've thought a lot about the quote at the beginning of this entry because until you can talk about a country or its people - you have to go there. You have to immerse yourself in it and then you MUST talk about it. So many times we learn about other countries and other cultures through Wikipedia and Google. One of the main goals of the Manolos blog is to tell our friends and families as much as we can about this country that many of them won't experience besides through us and the stories we tell. I haven't had many close friends travel so far from home for such a long period of time, so I'm so excited to be giving my first-hand account to everyone I care about.

I've so been trying to not only, soak in new experiences (loading wood from the back of a truck into the basement; getting a pick-up unstuck from mud; driving in snow/ice again) but appreciate them and hold them close. I'm working to train my brain to savor each moment and each new experience. I'm trying to look not through a rose colored lens, but through a little less cynical lens. I want not only my planning and my physical self ready for the trip - but I want my mental self totally open and appreciative of each experience. Because everything from waking up to working to chatting will be completely different there. Much like my morning coffee in DC was rushed and sometimes violently pursued, coffee in the morning in Indiana is (much like Indiana) never rushed and always sipped instead of gulped down in a caffeine induced frenzy.

Still Need Stars When You're Wishing at Night

2009-12-21T19:14:00.001-08:00

You know how certain memories stay with you, the sense of them so disctinct that it can bring you back to a moment in time as though you're still right there? I can remember 4th of July, 1995, with absolute clarity. The year I was 9. I was running along the beach with my friends, waiting for the fireworks to start, and I looked up suddenly and found myself so stunned by the night sky I got dizzy and fell down. I wasn't sure what was different; it certainly wasn't the first time I'd star-gazed. I just knew that the stars suddenly looked like they were right on top of me, close enough to touch, and a clear night in New Hampshire can still bring me back to that exact moment. To this day the first thing I do when I get out of the car up there is look straight up, just to have that feeling again, that the sky and all its mysteries are endless and very, very close.

I've seen the sky over Massachusetts in every mood and every season. I navigate by it; it brings me home. I measure the weather and the coming storms against its colors. I crave it when I'm so unfortunate as to be far away for too long. I learned later that it looks different from the NH sky because NH was and remains largely uninhabited and entirely devoid of major cities (have you ever seen Concord? neither has anyone else). When I went to Mexico I was shocked - it wasn't that the sky seemed closer, just that it was so full, and it went on forever. You could see stars behind stars behind stars, and it continued in every direction for, as near as I could tell, eternity.

In Washington, D.C. you rarely see the stars at all. But it does make for some very cool moons, larger than they should be, entirely alone in the night sky.

So what are the stars going to look like in a city that more often than not doesn't have electricity in most buildings, on a continent that mostly lacks for artificial light? What constellations can you see there during the winter rainy season? I try to follow Orion when I can. Not only is it a widely referenced romantic notion in many of my favorite works of literature, but aside from the Big Dipper and, obviously, the Scorpion, its one of the few constellations I can accurately identify in a pinch.

...Life In Motion...

2009-12-14T16:48:00.000-08:00

"To live is to be marked. To live is to change, to acquire the words of a story, and that is the only celebration we mortals really know. In perfect stillness, frankly, I've only found sorrow."

- The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver

I've always tried to live by the motto 'live out loud.' The past few years, that vision has been a bit clouded by things like career, drama, a city that feeds on all your baggage and a lifestyle of endless workweeks with nonstop blackberry attention. The Assistants have been fighting to wrap our heads around what exactly we want to gain from this adventure we're departing on in a few short weeks. Lately, even as the stress piles up on having enough money for clean water and everything else on our checklist, it's becoming more and more clear why we chose to do this: to live, to expand our thinking and to take the chance of letting ourselves not have a plan.

Here's the thing about the Assistants: we're planners. We plan everything. We plan down to the minute and we itinerize and we make tabbed folders and binders. We've been living life through a very planned and precise lense - and it was fine because it was our job - but that lense got real heavy, real quick. Now that we've been able to detach from that type of lifestyle, we've been able to say - forget the posty notes, forget the agendas and let's just live each day as it comes. Even if this comes mainly from the fact that we're both way too broke to plan anything on any sort of financial stability - we still have started to fathom what it will actually be like to wake up in the morning and not feel the world crashing down around us in the form of checklists, to-dos and planning.

Speaking of living - today I helped my brother (who is a corn-fed, tall, strong ass farmboy) get our farm truck unstuck from the mud. For some reason, I felt high I was so excited I could help him. I was raised in town, so trust that I have zero experience in 'farm living' so I walked outside in a pair of crocs (Gasp! - I know) got beside my brother and helped him shove the truck out - okay, full disclosure, I pushed a couple times, then he made me get in the cab and hit the gas while he pushed. I felt like I was touching a different kind of lifestyle and I didn't feel an ounce of resentment towards it or an ounce of 'this is below me' attitude.

I've been feeling that I'm moving closer everday to being more of the person I want to be in my life and less of the person I have to be to survive. It's also becoming more clear that if these minor experiences are opening me up in ways I couldn't have imagined - Rwanda has many surprises in store for me, my psyche and my life. I'm starting to let go of the fear that those surprises will be something I'll regret and closing in on the idea that these surprises are going to change my life in amazing ways.

When It Comes to the Rainbow

2009-12-12T16:29:00.000-08:00

An interesting (or, you know, terrifying) question of human rights has been raised recently that brings a new dimension to our travels abroad. Our flight will land in Uganda, and we will take an 8 hour bus ride down to Kigali. Uganda faces a number of challenges right now, including constant plots to overthrow the government and the kidnapping, training and amassing of "child soldiers" along the Northern Border (we will be ABSOLUTELY NOWHERE NEAR THERE, in case you're wondering). But everything's relative, and these problems combined with an otherwise stable government and not completely tanked economy make Uganda a fairly normal country in Africa. It is also a largely Christian nation (although as with most of the continent there is a significant Muslim population) and as a result, Western Christian leaders - particularly American Christian leaders - have sought to have an influence there. In the U.S., despite the recent success of the Catholic Bishops in pushing anti-reproductive rights legislation through Congress, we have at least a nominal separation of church and state, but Christian leaders are not hampered by such restrictions in most African countries. They have managed to make the political ENORMOUSLY personal. As a direct result of Western interference, a new bill will be voted on shortly in Uganda. A Times article explains its consequences better than I can:

"I am the gay doctor," the physician whispered to me, making sure nobody
around heard. He talked about the gay and lesbian couples who go to his office
to avoid ridicule in public hospitals. "They know they can trust me, and trust
is a big issue," he said. "There is the stigma of being gay, but also the stigma
of being [HIV] positive. They are such hidden communities. Nobody wants to deal
with their problems."
In a matter of weeks, the Ugandan doctor's admission
to TIME could land him in jail and his patients on death row. An
anti-homosexuality bill now before Uganda's Parliament would include some of the
harshest anti-gay regulations in the world. If the bill becomes law, the doctor,
who asked that his name not be published, could be prosecuted for "aiding and
abetting homosexuality." In one version of the bill, his sexually active
HIV-positive patients could be found guilty of practicing acts of "aggravated
homosexuality," a capital crime, according to the bill.
Thanks to a clause in the would-be law that punishes "failure to disclose
the offense," anybody who heard the doctor's conversation could be locked up for
failing to turn him in to the police. Even a reporter scribbling the doctor's
words could be found to have "promoted homosexuality," an act punishable by five
to seven years in prison. And were any of the Ugandans in the park to sleep with
someone of the same sex in another country, the law would mandate their
extradition to Uganda for prosecution. Only terrorists and traitors are
currently subject to extraterritorial jurisdiction under Ugandan law. Even murderers don't face that kind of judicial
reach.
(Update: Reports out of Kampala late Wednesday indicated that
the death penalty may be dropped from the final version of the bill, which may
come to a vote as early as two weeks from now.)

A lot of Ugandans don't think much of the bill either:

If Uganda's anti-homosexuality bill becomes law, it will be little short of state-sponsored "genocide" against the gay community, a prominent member of the Ugandan Anglican church said this week.
Canon Gideon Byamugisha said the bill, which recommends the death
penalty for anyone repeatedly convicted of having gay sex and prison sentences
for those who fail to report homosexual activity to the police, would breed
violence and intolerance through all levels of society.
"I believe that this bill [if passed into law] will be state-legislated genocide against a specific community of Ugandans, however few they may be," he said.

As for the evangelical leaders whose misinformation, falsehoods, misrepresentations and outright lies lead to the bill, they're rapidly back-tracking, finally condemning the bill after weeks of being hammered in the media. Here's a phenomenal Rachel Maddow interview with one lying scumbag whose book - and the lies it contains - are directly quoted in the bill as evidence for why harsh measures against gay men and women, including DEATH, are necessary to protect society: http://videocafe.crooksandliars.com/heather/rachel-maddow-takes-cure-gays-author-richa#comment-1380818

All in all, it puts a different spin on the struggle of being a first-world resident in a developing nation. Rserving judgment is clearly important. You don't want to be the American who goes to Italy and complains that you can't get a Big Mac, and you sure as s#@! don't want to be the American who goes to AFRICA and passes judgment on their development. The whole point is to learn, to take an experience away and hopefully give something back while you're there. Here we have an instance where Western leaders were clearly manipulating an African goverment for their own bizarre gains; it's sad, it's appalling and it's terrifying. But where does that leave the question of judgment? Is it enough to say Westerners should never have interfered? What kind of agency does that give Uganda? If this happened in Ireland, no matter who influenced it, I would hold Ireland accountable for what it was doing to its people. Does Uganda deserve the same treatment?

"...and you're doing what over there?"

2009-12-10T16:20:00.000-08:00

The last few months people have been asking us about what we'll actually be doing once we hit the ground in Kigali. Well, besides the requisite avoidance of malaria and shopping of local produce, coffee and tea - we're going to be working with local women. In celebration of our most recent post, we're copying verbatim the program guide we were just sent this morning. It gives specific info on what we'll be doing, what's expected of us and what we can expect.

After reading the information - it was really exciting to see that we'd be doing some personal counseling with victims. Of everyone I know, the Assistants are the best at listening. We spent our formative years in DC listening to bosses, listening to coworkers, listening to clients and listening to strangers on the phone. If we excel at anything, it's listening.

The second thing I was most excited about was working with some of the out of school teens in Rwanda for informal English lessons to help them be more active in the workforce. Although most children in Rwanda complete primary school (up to 6th grade by US standards) - barely any complete secondary school. I see education as such an integral piece of a progressive nation - especially for advancing the lives of women. The World Bank's "2001 Household Living Conditions Survey" reported the average number of pregnancies was 5.6 for women with no education, 4.4 with primary education, and 2.7 with tertiary education. Although our program track focuses on the victims of gender based violence - we will have a role in providing some basic education tools from business management to English. If our work can provide a path to a stable source of income and limit a woman's vulnerability to become financially trapped in an abusive relationship - I consider our time there a success, even if we only get to one woman.

About: The program is aimed at assisting victims of Gender based violence (GBV)as well as carrying out activities that aim at reducing this vice. Activities will include education on GBV, trainings on small scale business management as well working with out of school teenagers.

Location: Gasabo, Kicukiro, Nyanza and Rubavu districts districts

Expectations of the project: your project will have its own expectations in regards to your volunteer responsibilities and duties, but you are also are expected to bring your own knowledge and skills with you and possess a positive outlook and a proactive style towards your work in order for your volunteer time to be successful.

Type of work available: You will be involved in psychosocial support (counseling) to GBV victims and also visiting and follow-up of victims for care. Other activities will involve teaching English in informal set ups to out of school teenagers and Women while interacting with them.

Additionally, volunteers will work with IGA groups in training associations on small scale business management, small scale agricultural activities that can generate income as well as daily monitoring of the activities of these associations.

Project ideas: You are encouraged to bring in creative and practical ways of fighting GBV as well as coming up with sustainable ways of problem solving.

About the Womenfolk

2009-12-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

"There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women."

- Madeleine K. Albright

Have you ever noticed how the prep time for a meal takes longer than the cooking itself, or how researching a paper takes longer than writing it? The past few months have been like that. Filling out applications while working to save money while moving while sending letters requesting letters of recommendation while visiting while working while packing. And now we're at a pretty amazing place where the chopping and measuring is done, we're mixing it together, and we're preheating the oven. As a case in point, today was my last day at my temp job, where I have really enjoyed spending every day for the last few months. But no longer working is leaving me with a few weeks to travel, stand as a bridesmaid in my cousin's wedding, pack, and write this post I've been meaning to use as a chance to clarify my thoughts, even for myself, on why exactly I feel such a strong need to work with women.

In a happenstance of universal balance, I am applying for M.A. programs in gender and women's studies while preparing for three months as a volunteer in a gender-based violence prevention program. There are other volunteer tracks, every bit as important and some as relevant to my studies and interests; the HIV/AIDS prevention program, for example, speaks to the needs of women and children who are heads of household, and calls on my training as a gay rights activist (oh yes, I know how to put the condom on the banana. TRUST.). Yet I still felt the most important work I could do would be directly with women.

As we've mentioned, Rwanda is an unusual case amongst not just African nations, but all nations. Their relative peace followed by abrupt and terrifying violence and their subsequent westernized approach to justice have all created a set of unique circumstances in terms of both culture and economics. But no facet of this development is more singular than how women have taken a new place in Rwandan society. Following the genocide, there were more women in Rwanda than men. This alone created new circumstances. Women needed to be able to inherit land from their male family members who had been murdered. Women needed to be not only allowed, but encouraged to run businesses. And a generation of Rwandan men has grown up for the first time in a society where women are equals. The westernized approach to justice I mentioned also means that the political system has been totally restructured over the last 15 years, with one of the new laws being that women must hold at least 30% of elected offices - and the other 70% must be split between men and women. As a result, Rwanda became the first parliament in the world with a female majority. That's incredible, crazy, and rapidly changing the face of one of the fastest developing nations in Africa.

All of these things make Rwanda the most fascinating case study a hopeful M.A. in gender theory could ever wish for. What has Rwanda developed that is translatable? What's transferable? And what commonly held beliefs about gender development can this nation prove or disprove? What experimental programs can they lend credence to or prove useless in practical application? One of the things I personally hope to examine closely while I am there is the success of microcredit programs. I've been interested in these since I first read about them in college. Here in the U.S., we give loans on, oh, say, a house. Big loans. It takes 30 years to pay them off. We do slightly smaller loans for things like higher education. A tiny loan is a credit card; quite frankly, the holder of that debt hopes you never pay it back, but pay interest in perpetuity. Micro-credit loans are tiny, tiny loans, with strict payment plans. They often encompass financial counseling, and they are meant to help women and their families become financially independent. A woman might take out a loan for a cow and a chicken, for example, and use it to feed her family, sell any extra milk and eggs, and use that extra money to pay back the loan. The program is happy she paid it back quickly, so they can turn around and lend that money to another woman - or maybe two, if she paid enough interest. You'll notice I keep mentioning these loans in terms of women, and there's a good reason for that. Micro-credit programs exist in many nations, including small African countries, and bigger countries like India, but they all have one thing in common: they work best when they only lend to women. In many cases, they only work AT ALL when they lend exclusively to women. Men hold just 6% of micro-credit loans in Rwanda, but they represent 4 out of 5 loan defaulters. How is that possible? Why is that? Is it cultural? Why does it happen in so many countries? Interconnected as these issues are, I also want to examine: how does women's financial independence play into or deter gender-based violence? How has reproductive rights in a small, only recently de-colonized and still very religious country been influenced by such a dominant female presence in politics and in every aspect of the developing economy?

I struggle constantly to narrow my interest in what is such a huge field, such a small title for such a broad range of needs. I try to remember that it's more important to do one thing and do it well than to spread myself across not just countries but continents, not just ages but generations, not just issues but whole genres in an attempt to do whatever small part I can to meet every need, a feat not yet achieved by the combined power and (vague and inconsistent) interest of hundreds of nations. I'm currently obsessed with starting a charity and a non-profit. For the cost of a lunch out with the girls - $36 - a woman in Africa can be given everything she needs to save her life during childbirth, still the leading cause of death amongst women in developing nations. I want to start a "Ladies Who Lunch" charity, where women put down $36 for a meal, we give the money to hospitals in Africa (Tanzania and Rwanda are particularly vulnerable, tantalizingly close to meeting women's medical needs with just a little more funding), and they listen to a speaker instead. I'm also struggling with a local problem. Here in the United States, former child prostitutes are turned away from shelters because they are hesitant to deal with sexually active minors. There are currently about 44 beds in shelters where former child prostitutes are welcome - and roughly 200,000 competing for the privilege of a place to sleep. Most of them get lost in the foster system, become runaways, or are held indefinitely in detention facilities as material witnesses to a crime: their own statutory rape. Here are the most vulnerable members of our society, already victimized by circumstances beyond their control, being victimized yet again by our culture's inabilty or unwillingness to accept children who are sexually active, whether that was their consenting choice or not.

And don't get me started on Afghanistan. It's better if I just don't read about the state of women there anymore. If I disappear, you'll know where my flight is headed. What a mess.

People like to remind me how lucky I am to be alive at this time in our history. Women can vote! they remind me. Women have equal rights, they run for President! And it's true in many ways. But it isn't enough. It isn't enough to have what we have here, and ignore how many nations oppress an entire gender, more than half their population. And it absolutely isn't enough to rest easy and pat ourselves on the back, thinking about what a great job we've done. Before the Shah of Iran was overthrown in the 70's, Iranian women had equal rights to men in the eyes of the law. They worked, they went to university, they dressed as they pleased. And then, in the interest of progress, they helped overthrow what they saw as an unjust regime, only to watch helplessly and horrified as it was replaced with one that took away their rights and over the years grew more and more violent towards them. If it can happen there, it can happen anywhere. And as I watch Stupak amendment pass the House of Representatives, and see Secretary of State Hilary Clinton advocate for the needs of women and girls in every single thing she does from one of the highest seats of power in our government, I do wonder which way we're going. But the way I see it, we can always tilt in either direction, and only constant work and diligence will keep us on track.

Nicole's Flight - DONE AND DONE!

2009-12-04T13:04:00.001-08:00

Nicole's flight confirmation screenshot!!! ow ow- we're getting close folks =)

All Over These Internets!

2009-12-03T15:19:00.000-08:00

Hey ya'll! You can catch us on Facebook too - we'll try to update both as frequently as possible with as much info as we have.

Flights get booked tomorrow! The end is near! We're almost there!

edu'ma'cation

2009-12-01T19:25:00.000-08:00

Today was my first day as a substitute teacher. I'm not sure if you've ever met middleschoolers, but they are certainly a challenging bunch. I have decided that being a middle school professor is by far the hardest job in the world - harder than my life as an Assistant, for sure. I have a few exciting stories to share with the masses.

-One girl asked me if I was 'just a substitute' or if I was doing this to be a real teacher. I said "No, actually I'm doing it in between leaving DC and going to Africa." to that she responded "I think being a teacher would be better than going to Africa - same amount of bloodsucking insects though."

-I let the kids call me by my first name. I had hoped it would help them be generally respectful - it worked with the 7th graders, not the 8th graders.

-In general, 8th graders are far more difficult than 7th graders. I figure there is something totally hormonal and psychological that explains that. or maybe they just take up more room because they sure are louder.

In general I enjoyed most of the kids and thought they were all pretty great. However, there were some bad apples. I wonder if there is anyway that educational experience can be individualized so that students can maximize their potential without outside influence from other students that may not be at the same level. For example, we watched a video today in the class I was subbing. A few loud talking students disrupted the entire experience for the class - whereas, what if they had all been watching the video on their laptops.

It also really made me think about what its going to be like working with similar-aged kids in Africa. Will they have the same respect issues? Will they be eager to learn? Will there be some kids who are eager and others who are annoyed? How do cultural differences affect our attitudes towards education? All these things I thought about working with the kids today. Maybe the thinking got in the way of disciplining and thats why they haven't called me back for another day!

or, "Boston Marriage"

2009-12-01T16:23:00.000-08:00

I love the word "partner". I love what it means, and all the cultural meanings we have imbued it with since its origin. I love it partially because I have always worked in the gay community, so for me it has come to express love and a life built beyond what society cares for, because its what you need. But I also love it because to me it expresses EQUALITY between two people, the idea that life is an adventure you are going on together. I love it because it leaves gender with all its loaded meanings out of the equation entirely, and I love it because it refers to lovers and friends alike. I love the phrase partner-in-crime, and the way it feels when someone I love says "my partner" rather than "my girlfriend" or "my lover", although those have their place too. I just love everything it means and everything it stands for, and everything it says about a relationship it applies to.

Think about all the kinds of partnerships one might refer to with that word. Partners in a law firm, partners on a police force or in the military, partners in life, partners on an adventure, partners of convenience out hunting treasure and meant to soon part ways. It's such a cool word, such an awesome way to describe someone and such a neat thing to be. A "partner".

My partner in crime and I are buying our plane tickets on Friday - we'll keep you posted!!!

File It Under "Crazy But True"

2009-11-30T19:50:00.000-08:00

The assistants have left the building.

We are no longer running your life, your company, or your city. DC will just have to go on without us, as it has so many times before, as woman after woman exits out the revolving door and finds something new and exciting to do with her time. In our case, Rwanda. Go big or go home, that's how we roll, friends.

We had a pretty epic moving weekend (see motto above) in which one assistant got pulled over in Jersey (learn from our mistakes edition #4326785: trucks are not so much welcome on the Garden State Parkway) and took out some shrubbery (it looked at her funny) while the other survived torrential downpour in a loaded moving van. No one slept and several of us drank vodka with polish sausage as a chaser. There may also have been whiskey. BIG UPS AND THANK YOUS to the DC moving crew who loaded 2 trucks with 2 beds, 1 bookshelf, a futon and several dressers as well as, oh, hundreds of boxes, probably.

This is the moment we waited for: the beginning of the beginning. And we're so excited. Thanks for the memories DC, we'll do you proud. You made us who we are and we couldn't have done without you. You will generally not be missed. That's just who you are.

On the road...

2009-11-30T19:37:00.000-08:00

Well - it has happened, the assistants are in their rightful places in Indiana and Mass. We had some amazing friends come over this weekend to help pack boxes, bleach things down and carry very heavy (and some fragile!) into moving trucks. Fueled by coffee and sheer will, we found ourselves actually moved out of the city. I won't lie, as I was driving a moving truck into the city at the crack of dawn and the sun started to rise over DC and the Washington Monument and Jefferson Memorial began to sparkle (like Edward Cullen!) I got a little teary. Okay - true fact, I cried a little. In my defense - I also cried a little when I got to my home state and saw the "Welcome!" sign. There were so many emotions running through us over the day - we started out sad to leave each other (again, after so brief a time together) but excited to get home and then as we left we realized with some epic anxiety that this officially meant we were leaving and meant we were going to Rwanda in six short weeks.

Now that I'm home, I'm moving in to a new bedroom in a house that I have never lived in. My parents moved while I was a senior in college, so I've never really had use for a bedroom here. But now - not only do I get to move all my stuff from DC into their house, I get to move the first 22 years of my life from one room to another, while infusing my DC life in to it. All the while, trying to remember what I really don't need, putting it into a clear plastic bin and storing it in my new closet - which is, by the way, the largest closet I have ever seen. The fun part about all of that is going through the wreckage of my entire adolescence and college life which is strewn through photos, tickets, nametags and passes, notebooks, journals, etc. I just found a journal that I kept when I was a summer camp counselor, the summer I fell in love for the first time. That will be fun to read one cold winter night.

The other exciting discovery was a set of china tea cups. There were six of them, all white with this beautiful little blue art on the side. I was in love with them and ran downstairs asking my mom where she got them and if I could have them. She said they had been my grandmothers and that I could wrap them up and keep them. I have never met my grandmother - she died before I was born, but I instantly felt a connection to her through these teacups that I knew I would love and that would grace whatever kitchen I found myself in next. It made me excited to feel close to her, excited to dip my toe into the pool of 'thinking-about-the-future' and made me excited to find other treasures buried amongst a room full of things.

Unfortunately, I didn't find anything else (yet - I'm about halfway done) as exciting as the antique tea cups, but I did find some old cross country pants from high school, my robe, jackets from all my old sports teams and my letterman's jacket. My mom got excited during the move and found photos from our family vacation to Disneyworld. My sister and brother had some of the most amazing photos in the pile. Seeing them so young and so happy was an awesome break to their current "teen angst" selves that we currently live with.

It's an exciting time for the assistants - we're making so much progress and are so close to touching down. Tomorrow one of us gets to substitute teach for the first time in her home state -- Jr. High Science - where she hears there is a very cute, young, new principal. Good things are happenin'!

Grace

2009-11-26T09:32:00.000-08:00

We began our journey towards Rwanda almost a year ago, and at times the road has been difficult and the dream seemingly forever just out of reach. But at the worst moments - when one of us lost our job, when one of us got robbed, when one of us didn't get the raise we'd been counting on, when one of us had to move (one of us was definitely the more massive mess this year, granted) - something has always come through, some small break from the universe or moment of clarity that made it all possible. At no point over the last year has saving every penny and working as much as possible and dealing with the red tape and bureaucracy been easy, but more importantly, at no point has it been impossible.

But this week, so close to the finish line, was the hardest week yet. We came up against a wall that, partially due to exhaustion and stress, seemed completely insurmountable. For longer than a moment, we thought we might have come all this way only to fail. And then two completely unexpected things happened: one of us received a generous donation from our employer, and one of us received an equally generous donation from an anonymous source that may or may not be the Polish mafia. Seriously: this actually happened. We both unexpectedly, unsought and unasked, received a windfall from the universe that means we will both be buying our flights next Friday, and in 6 weeks, barring acts of God and natural disaster, we will be on the ground in Africa.

When Assistant 2 found out her good news, she got on the phone with her friend Devin, barely able to explain what had happened, she was so stunned. And Devin said, "Well, that's what grace is - it's an unexpected, possibly even unearned gift just when you need it most."

We are so glad grace is with us on this journey.

A special thank you this Thanksgiving also goes out to our friend Pawel, who is amazing beyond words, and a true gift in our lives.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-25T19:06:00.000-08:00

I have a friend who started a blog called "Naked Thanks" where she and her co-hort write one thank you note every day for a year. The entries are "naked" in the sense there are no false pretenses, no heavy adjectives to fill the spaces, just raw thanks. It's incredible and hilarious and these two women have a fantastic point of view that makes for amazing reading. But after being inspired by some of their entries I thought of a few things I was thankful for - and although I'm not a pro, I'll try to make them as naked as possible.

-Thank you best friend. You know who you are because I just call you 'best friend.' Thank you for teaching me the wonders of cooking a hot dog "New England style." Thank you for not making me feel fat when we would have nights filled with brownies and box mac and cheese. Thank you for having a rooftop pool for a few months. Thanks for cleaning when I was up at 5am everyday media monitoring and not making me feel badly about it. Thanks for introducing me to the wild world of 'sleepytime tea.'

-Thank you DC Public Transport. You have introduced me to some of the greatest stories in DC. Thank you for mixing all sorts of people all together, putting us in a cramped space and making us ride together while you wildly pump the brakes and fling us against each other. I have often enjoyed the smells of my fellow Washingtonians early in the morning after their sweaty trek to the bus. I've sometimes even been lucky enough to slip in to one of those trains that doesn't have working air conditioning in the summer - now boy, those are a fierce hot ride!

-Thank you for rain. It proves who in DC can really drive.

-Thank you for sleet. For if I hadn't seen it actually fall to the ground with my own two eyes I would have never believed it. Where I'm from sleet is what accrues on the ground after it came down as snow and a few hundred cars drove through it. It definitely did not fall from the sky and it was not considered 'winter weather,' sleet was what winter threw up and let everyone stomp all over. There is some sort of comparison there but the witty comment is escaping me...

-Thank you for the right not to be represented in Congress. They're screwing everything up so badly right now, it gives me a sense of ease to know that I didn't have any responsibility in bringing any of them in.

-Thank you for lobbyists. Only, because they throw all those parties with all those free cocktails and the awesome spanokopitas. They may get a bad rap, doing all that special interest business and blocking legislation - but they really throw some awesome parties. If you're ever thinking about coming to DC, follow those hill staffers right to all the awesome parties that include free food and booze.

-Thank you for the endless summer. It allows all the ugly men in DC the chance to get tan so from afar or whilst intoxicated look like sunkissed adonises.

The Two Big Ws

2009-11-23T16:20:00.000-08:00

When we explain that we are going to Africa, much like the Ws of writing you learned in grade school (who what when etc) two big Ws arise, as politely as possible, in conversation: "Why" and "White". Several combinations can occur, the most obvious being, "Why are two white girls going to Africa?". Sometimes there's the approving exclamation: "Why, how wonderful that two white girls want to go to Africa!" Sometimes we get the encouraging "You won't even begin to understand yourself until you've been a white girl in Africa!" Both of these basic sentiments, to me, sum up the real problem when we explain our trip: the notion that we are going to save Africa, or Africa is going to save us. Neither of these statements is true, and each one is damaging in its own right. We are going to Africa for the opportunity not only to travel somewhere we've never been, meet people we've never met, and have experiences we've barely dreamed of in a country and on a continent completely unlike our own, with an utterly different history and development and languages, but also to really immerse ourselves in life there. We wanted to make a point of going for three months to give ourselves the opportunity to do more than sight-see, and we wanted to work with this gender-based violence prevention program in order to learn as much as we can about the women who live in Rwanda and their experiences (women, their experiences and their needs are getting their own equally long-winded blog post, trust - we are drafting as we speak). We certainly hope to touch lives and have ours touched, but in all fairness, we are people who hope for that depth and richness in EVERY experience, from our jobs to a night out. In this case, we hope to be giving ourselves opportunity, circumstance and time for an experience even more out of the ordinary, and even more complex and layered.

I have been thinking about this particularly since returning to a small, extremely liberal, almost paralyzingly well-educated state. Remember how so many kids you went to college settled down in that small university town because they loved it so much? Well here, all those kids went to Harvard.

I had a conversation a few nights ago with a friend who is, in fact, a Harvard graduate, and another friend of ours who went to a small arts college. Both work at a high school in a wealthy neighborhood, but both started teaching in the Metco program. Essentially the grandchild of school busing programs, Metco brings economically disadvantaged students to this school system with all its money and resources. In the interest of giving the kids a sense of community, they have their own room to use as a study and designated as well as free time to spend there. Their awareness of their race and the place it gives them in their school makes them unique students, and has, in my opinion, rendered these two women unique teachers. In addition, one of them is half white and half Japanese. During the conversation they brought up a program they despised, designed by the school to help teachers with their racial and cultural sensitivity. The class involved "unpacking their knapsack of privilege." This was how I discovered neither of these extremely well-educated liberal women had ever read Peggy McIntosh's arguably definitive undergraduate manifesto on race and privilege in America, "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack."

As we discussed it, I re-read it for the first time in almost 7 years, and found that, older and more aware of the intersections in my identity, I found flaws in the rules McIntosh lays out for identifying white privilege; namely, that the rules completely ignore gender. For example: "4. I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed." This is not true, because I am a woman. I am extremely careful about when I shop and where I shop, concerned not simply about being harassed, but about being physically harmed. Or this, "15. I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group." While this is true of my race, it is NOT true of my sexual orientation; I have often been asked to speak as though my experiences were universally representative of the LGBTQ community. There were also numerous examples where something ceased to be true if everyone in the room knew I was Jewish. While I still feel the basic concepts presented in McIntosh's work are valuable and absolutely should not be disregarded, she writes from multiple points of unacknowledged privilege - she is an upper-middle-class, employed, well-educated woman - while focusing solely on the privilege of her racial status. I found upon re-reading that McIntosh's work seemed steeped in the kind of white liberal guilt that leads people to believe I am going to Rwanda to save Africa - or going to Rwanda so that Africa can save me.

How do we talk about race in an age that we want to be post-racial, in which post-racial dialogue is being hailed by the President himself as the way forward to unity in our nation? How does an experience we would have gladly had in Mexico, or Eastern Europe (and in fact, I hope we will someday have the opportunity to live, work and volunteer in these places and many more besides) change for us and the people we encounter when we take our race and a wretched history of colonization into account upon the evaluation? Should it or does it change our motives or our behavior?

We both went to public universities with much higher than average minority representation and followed that up by living in a city with a large African-American population and a rich and at times fraught racial history, and then took it upon ourselves to move into a neighborhood in which the white people are way outnumbered. One of us worked for a small company owned by a powerful African-American woman and staffed by an extremely diverse group of mostly women (to be touched on later!). As such, I think we can safely say that we have more experience with the very unusual phenomenon (in America) of UNDERrepresentations of whiteness. We have been clearly informed that this in no way prepares us for Africa, where our skin color will very much matter, particularly since we will be spending a lot of time outside Kigali, and may at times be among the only white people some Rwandans have ever seen.

Of course, our whiteness doesn't exist in a vacuum, and I'm looking forward to thinking about, writing about, and experiencing how our gender intersects with our race to shape our experience as we travel; Women, after all, are Why we are going.

Shippin' off....

2009-11-20T07:46:00.000-08:00

I must say... the last few days have been pretty surreal. The assistants will be reunited in less than 7 days. Boxes have arrived at the 105 for packing and rolls of packing tape are piling up. The final days in DC are shaping up to be pretty amazing. We've scored 4 floor-side tickets to next Tuesday's Wizards game; an 80 minute Swedish massage on the Friday after Thanksgiving; A Florida Gators Snuggie; A pizza & wine night; too many lunches and dinners to count and nights full of reliving the "DC Glory Days." Our separation is becoming even more bittersweet as it draws closer and we come to terms with saying goodbye to some amazing friends, some sites of amazing memories and some of the most defining years of our lives.

We'll be doing a grand "Ode to DC" the day we officially pack up and leave the 105, but as we say goodbye there are some memories that stand out so crystal clear to me as truly amazing.

-The first time the Assistants realized they were destined to be besties. It was a night of DVD watching and wine at one of our apartments and we were almost done with the DVD before we realized that we had been talking the entire way through the movie. It was the first of many, many deep discussions to be held over quesadillas and liquor.

-Summer '08: The summer of wisdom teeth removal, The DNC, and a rooftop pool. We were crispy fried tanned from all-day pool side days on Saturdays, giddy with every Saturday night involving a bottle of tequila, margarita mix, and quesadillas. Every Sunday was spent with coffee and laptops poolside. It was also the scene of our first roadtrip together from DC - New Hampshire which involved me learning how to drive out of Manhattan and not end up in the Bronx (there was a lot of shouting and one of us may have shown a boob just to get over to the right lane). We both spent most of those months incessantly planning for The DNC, booking flights and hotels, and planning parties for people who had much more money than us and that we weren't going to be going to. We itinerized, we planned, we executed and we did most of it from a laptop on a roof by a pool.

-Election Season: We door knocked. We went out in the cold to GOTV. We collected pins to wear on puffer vests. and then - we celebrated. We danced in our offices, we talked on two phones at the same time, we popped bottles of champagne that were paid for by our employers and we danced in the streets with thousands of new best friends. Then, we did it all over again during the Inauguration - except that time, we brought one of our mothers along for the ride.

-Roadtrip | Summer '09: We centered our internal Thelma and Louise. We drove around, through and into most of the entire east side of the country. One of us got laid off in the middle of the trip. One of us was labeled "dangerous single girl" at a wedding reception. One of us drove for 14 hours straight (Indiana to New Jersey) and turned in to some sort of giddy/laughy/delusion version of herself - she was given a free mudslide in return. One of us was surprised by a visit from a boyfriend while the other was grilled about the tattoos on her back. We both enjoyed every blackberry-free minute of sun-filled vacation bliss.

"And So It Begins"

2009-11-18T18:53:00.000-08:00

To be honest, there is no excuse for how long it has been since I've posted. Asst 1, bless her heart, has really stepped up to the plate. What happened, you see, is that I got tired, and overwhelmed. I moved home a few months earlier than planned, which has been amazing. It's been two years since I got to spend a really significant amount of time with my family, and my grandfather is living with us right now, which has been wonderful. Fall in New England is my favorite thing. Not my favorite time or season or place: it is my favorite thing. I love it so. I spent Halloween in Salem (yes, THE Salem), picked my own apples and pumpkins, and ate more things doused in cinnamon (including donuts) than I would ever admit to a nutritionist. I have been very happy.

At the same time, being away from the constant support of this dream that was offered by Asst 1 is hard. We gchat, but it's not the same as collapsing on the futon every night to bitch about our days. But every time I start to think I dreamed a little too big on this one, taking the trip of a lifetime while the economy is tanking and I'm trying to apply for grad schools, something has saved me. At the hardest points in working for this, when I've been staring at the numbers thinking, "No, it's just not going to happen, it's not going to work," something has, miraculously, in the words of the great Tim Gunn, MADE IT WORK. I have been cramming in hours at my temp job at a delightful local company that takes school pictures for about 400 schools in the area, you see, and my life has narrowed down to numbers. Everything, always, is about numbers. I can't say its about money, because I am extremely blessed in that I rarely consider money anymore. I'm not paying rent, nor do I buy my own groceries (and oh God, yes, I feel like I'm 13 again on many, many occasions). No, what I think about is numbers. Next week, I will have, say, 800. 400 needs to go towards my visit to Seattle. That leaves 400 for tickets... and so on. It's already gone before I've even earned it, so it's all just numbers!

But as I mentioned, by sheer grace of goodwill, those numbers are really starting to work. All of my immunizations are done except for yellowfever*. The program itself is completely paid for. I'm down to just flights and spending money, and damn it feels good. Next weekend I'm driving down to DC for The Epic Move, where Asst 1 and I, who can make a production out of anything, have a 3 day 6-ring circus planned. It involves the new Twilight movie. Don't judge. You know you love it too. After that I'm going to visit my best friend in Seattle, another city I've never been to and am extremely excited to see for the first time. Then the holidays, and my cousin is getting married on New Year's Eve. And then. um. we leave.

So I feel like it's going quick - GOOD THINGS ARE HAPPENING!!!

*side note: Asst 1 and I both decided to take PILLS to immunize ourselves against Typhoid. I had no idea this was an option, but instead of a shot that immunizes you against Typhoid for a year, you can take 4 pills, one every other day for 8 days, that will leave you immune to it for FIVE years. Isn't that wild? And yet, I was disappointed. I mean, these pills are LIVE TYPHOID CULTURES, for the love of God (apologies, living with my extremely Catholic, church-on-cable-watching Grampy has had a severe impact on my vocabulary, obviously), and they were... disappointing. Just little pink pills. I don't know - I guess I expected them to squirm or something. Since I am a giant procrastinator and painfully forgetful, I am only just now getting around to taking these this week, because my mother reminded me that we live in New England and could lose power at any moment, and if I got Typhoid all over her fridge she was gonna be pissed.

25 Years : A Reflection

2009-11-15T15:42:00.000-08:00

So, over the last 14 days, both myself and Assistant 2 have celebrated entering our 25th year of life. Not only did we make sure it was a grand celebration, we both realized that we were living epically different lives, yet still maintaining the same path. I knew turning 25 would be a great chapter opening in my life, but I've started to realize a few things that will now continue happening on a more frequent basis. I suppose that now that I can rent a car w/o the epic extra fees, there are some things that are expected by society. So - I tried to make them into a simplified list, so that every one else turning 25 will have a bit of a 'chapter of contents' to expect in this new page - turner of an age!

The Proverbial Question:
I've never been shy about where I come from and that it is country through and through. I love being from the country - we keep things simple and we love to breathe easy. However, along with that are the lowpoints. These lowpoints have become much more realized now that I'm 25. For example, the proverbial question comes up much more often. The proverbial question for those of us from the country is: Are you married? Do you have kids yet?

YET?? YET?!?!?! I'm still grappling with the fact I'm not in college any more, let alone thinking about procreating! And then there's that whole finding someone to put up with for a significant period of time to take on the procreating.

Life (and Photos, Books, Clothes, etc) Piling Up:
I'm not a fan of clutter as many of my former roommates are very aware. I'd much prefer to have a drawer for the clutter than have clutter sitting out - that's just how I roll. But I'm coming to learn that I'm accumulating much more STUFF. More clothes that are not tshirts and jeans/sweatpants acculumating in my closet. More photo frames gathering on my walls, dressers and bedside table. More jewelery on my necklace holder.

Then there are the things that don't physically accumulate. Baggage from relationships, jobs and experience piles on on. Responsibilities from work, family and friends becomes deeper and sometimes (hopefully) more rewarding. Pressure piles on: Pressure to get on the right career track, pressure to commit to something (career, city, relationship, etc), and pressure to start achieving all those things you dreamed about when you said "When I grow up....." I just hope that after all this pressure, we get diamonds on our toenails or something!

Mac & Cheese and Wine:
So, as significant an age as 25 is - there are certain things that we DON'T have to do. There are things, pieces of our past, that we can continue to hold on. Things that we can still keep, but that won't impede our growth. Things that will keep us wondering, keep us young and keep us amazed by this life we have. We don't have to give up meals that consist of wine and a boxed meal. We don't have to waver in our beliefs anymore because if we've been believing them this long, we might as well keep on with them. We don't have to settle. We don't have to let go of our youthful vices like Sour Patch Kids, Teen Romance Novels, and cheesey reality tv (I think there's a clause in our birth certificates that say these things need to relinguished at age 40. There may be some sort of Congressional Investigation Committee to look in to this and change it to 45 - we are living longer you know.)

Slowing Down, Speeding Up & Holding Steady:
Slower: Time it takes to run a mile; metabolism; time to enjoy a good glass of wine (You can't chug after age 25, its just not classy); spending time with family; enjoying a good meal with good friends.

Speeding Up: Stress from job, relationships, spawn; a want for travel and adventure; frequent flier point accumulation; the search for perfection.

Holding Steady: Sense of humor; enjoyment of caffeinated beverages; realization that you'll never be 20 again, nor will you ever be 15 again.

Exercise Ball Chairs:
The older we get, the more time we spend in a chair. No more midafternoon PE classes and no more elective courses in the physical education department. Lots of the time from waking to getting home for dinner is spent sitting. So, I've decided that from now on, I'm substituting my office chair for an exercise chair. I'm hoping that a) this will keep away those bothersome lower back problems and b) will work on those pesky ab problems associated with sitting so much.

The First of Many:
.... drive rental cars/trucks without extra fees.
.... start eliminating toxic friends without feeling bad about it.
.... travel internationally alone and afford it and feel ok splurging.
.... feel free to spend money on a nice bottle of wine and apps instead of gorging at dinner.
.... finding peace in being single, or alone on a Saturday night, or eating out in a party of one.

Favorite Things

2009-11-11T17:35:00.001-08:00

It's time once again for "Thing We're Looking Forward To!" We were lucky enough to have one of the past volunteers of our program send us some great photos that got us really excited!! check them out!

This photo is from the house and is looking into our village, the Remera District in Kigali. Towns everywhere look so much different than America - this is such a great view of what we'll be seeing everyday in Kigali!

Some past volunteers of the program in this photo. It's a cool look at the front of our guest house as well. It has such a cozy, collegiate feel to it right?! And their smiles are so exciting and so awesome... I can't wait to be in their shoes!

This is actually one of the bedrooms in the house we'll be staying in! Mosquito nets are definitely part of the awesome decor - how much does this remind you of your first bed at college?!?!

This is one of the past volunteers who did the teaching program and these are some of her adorable students. The smiles on their faces makes me glow deep down inside. I'm so excited to meet some of these amazing young people!

Interesting Article

2009-11-09T07:40:00.001-08:00

In the Wall Street Journal today about young adults volunteering time in other countries. It was so amazing to read this girl's story because 1) she went to Kigali, Rwanda and 2) she was broke and making it work too! Some of my favorite highlights then the link for the story.

"she was working overtime until midnight most nights to pay for a volunteer trip to a Rwandan orphanage."

"'Working seven days a week is hard, but their smiles make up for my loss of sleep or brunches with friends.'"

A Helping Hand in Rwanda, Wall Street Journal 11.09.09

Reaching Out & Looking Up

2009-11-05T12:30:00.000-08:00

It's been an awesome week for the assistants. I'll let my partner in crime expound on her exciting last seven days.

For the both of us however, we've had some excitement. My friend, actor, Isaiah Washington, put us in touch with an amazing woman named Floriane who has a organization in Rwanda. She's offered to meet up with before we leave, give us tips on the country, tell us more about it and even meet up with us when we've landed in Kigali! Her organization is doing some amazing things, building a village for displaced families and we're so excited to have such an amazing woman in our corner.

Second, we got in touch (Finally!!) with a past volunteer of our program. She did the teaching track in our program, but nonetheless, she had some great info about what our life will be like in Rwanda. She told us about our house, our village and some of the cool things we must do while we're there. She also put us in touch with someone who has done our exact track, Gender-Based Violence Prevention, and we just reached out to her a couple days ago.

Finally, a good friend of mine is living in South Africa until the end of next year and he and I are trying to get a little Kigali-Jo'burg visit straightened out. I've been dying to see Jo'burg since we started planning this trip and now, I have a friend there that I can meet up with for the obligatory siteseeing!!

Generally, things are coming together - exciting things at that. There's literally, only one more step. Okay - one more GIANT step - and a few (lots) little things and this is on our doorstep. We've got some flights to book and some moving to do, but, aside from that, we're on the downhill side of this trip and it is exciting. Just a few more weeks of shoestring budgets and discount shopping before booking the big flight. Then, we're basically good to go.

It's an amazing time right now and we're literally looking in to the bright light at the end of this tunnel, which will open into another HUGE tunnel of adventure. We hear there are abundent baboons in this tunnel. And elephants and hippos... this tunnel is probably the best thing ever. We love this tunnel.

Hallo-weekend!

2009-10-30T20:06:00.001-07:00

Lots of fun things planned for the assistants in Boston and DC this weekend. Plans include debauchery, in costume... look forward to many updates to come. After this weekend it's officially November and three weeks until our official departure of self and property from DC. Good things are happenin'!!

take care to not consume too many candy corns this weekend!

xxoo

All My Ladies

2009-10-29T10:08:00.000-07:00

Our program in Rwanda is centered around working with women and gender based violence prevention. To be honest when I (Asst 1) picked this as my preferred program it was a bit arbitrary. I didn't see myself in any of the teacher or medical programs. I must say though, my thoughts around this decision have changed quite significantly. A lot has happened in the interim to push that change along: my best friend decided to pursue a degree in women's studies, I started paying a lot more attention to women's issues, my new roommate was a women's studies major and we have some epic convos, I participated in a discussion about the "state of women in America," a friend launched a book "You've Come a Long Way, Maybe" about women's role in the 2008 election and, of course, the date for Africa was drawing ever close.

Last night I went to a book party for the release of "You've Come a Long Way, Maybe" and it was so inspiring to see these women together - no matter their political stripe - really examining what it means to be a woman in the public eye in the 21st Century. I was lucky enough to participate in an intimate "pre-discussion" that was turned in to this amazing video. After talking to a friend, we decided that our goal for the book was to see that it could prove a Republican could be a feminist at the same time!

Don't get me wrong - I think conversation and dialogue is truly the only way to solve problems, and some of my very best friends are staunch conservatives. They make my arguments better and stronger and therefore we have an even better conversation. But, the fundamental difference I've continued to find is that many of my conservative counterparts believe that our country is an even playing field and that everyone here has an equal opportunity to pursue their dreams. Maybe they should check out my college student loan account before they believe that to their core!

However, this gives me hope, that conservatives have begun to realize that the level playing field they've imagined all these years doesn't truly exist. If it has to start with realizing that women and men don't exist on a level playing field I'm okay with that because I think it will lead them to realize that the level playing field doesn't exist anywhere. It doesn't exist in healthcare, in education access or in pursuit of happiness. Sure, we live in a democracy - an awesome one, but not the best. I do believe that a democracy is the best system in the world, but it assumes that all have a level playing field of choice. I think in America, we've turned in to the democracy that demands that you purchase choice - and that, is the truly sad fact.

Stand Up Beautiful Lady

2009-10-27T12:45:00.000-07:00

This email is from charity:water. It touched me and I wanted to share. It gets to the core of why I'm (Asst 1) going to Rwanda - to make someone, anyone, feel better than they did before.

________________________________________

Will the beautiful women of the world please stand up.

Driving down a bumpy road in the middle of Northern Uganda, we were kicking up dust as we headed into the rural countryside. I was traveling with teams from two other non-profit organizations to evaluate the work of our shared local partner, Joy Drilling, who was drilling wells and training communities in sanitation and hygiene. Before piling in, I made a last minute decision to jump into the truck's flatbed. The Ugandan drilling crew looked stunned that I'd do such a thing, but I didn't care. I was happy to suffer a little dust for the view.

From my vantage point in the truck, I watch women gather up their children and move to the edge of the road to let us pass. Their feet are gnarled and calloused: a result of thousands of miles walked barefoot over rocks and mud. With babies strapped to their backs, their brightly colored skirts sway and their knees quiver and brace under the weight of water and children. Most balance pails on their heads, while some grip 80 pounds of water with sweaty palms, a bright yellow 5-gallon Jerry Can in each hand.

I'm in awe of how they manage. But of course, they have no choice. The average woman in Africa walks three miles every day for water. Often, it's water from putrid rivers or disease-infested swamps. Worldwide, women are more than twice as likely as men to collect drinking water.

Without warning, our truck suddenly swerves off the road and up over an embankment. Dried corn stalks thump against the side of the truck as we plow through a field. My knuckles are white as I try to hold on and not bounce out.

Moments later, we find ourselves in a clearing and in the middle of a huge celebration. Esther, our photographer, pokes her head out the window, smiles, and yells back at me, "Looks like our mission's been compromised!" I usually prefer to surprise communities by our arrival because it makes it easier to monitor how our water points are functioning without hundreds of people watching. But once you visit a few communities in the neighborhood, rumors of your presence spread like wildfire.

We jump out of the truck and walk into a party. The women meet us with exuberant cheering and dancing. Pure and loud joy rocks the village.

* * *

This is when I met Helen Apio. While most women hung back politely, Helen jumped toward me and screamed two inches from my face. Technically, it was singing. But the high-pitched shrieking was so loud and reverberated with such energy and emotion, I knew I had to talk with her.

She told me about the new freshwater well in her village.

"I am happy now," Helen beamed. "I have time to eat, my children can go to school. And I can even work in my garden, take a shower and then come back for more water if I want! I am bathing so well."

A few of the men chuckled to hear a woman talk about bathing. But all I noticed was Helen's glowing face, the fresh flowers in her hair, and the lovely green dress she wore for special occasions. Touching her forearm, I replied, "Well, you look great."

"Yes," she paused. Placing both hands on my shoulders and smiling, she said, "Now, I am beautiful."

That really hit me.

My job is to focus on sustainable development, health, hygiene and sanitation; to make sure charity: water's projects are working in 20 years. But nowhere on any of my surveys or evaluations was a place to write, "Today we made someone feel beautiful."

How Helen became beautiful is the real story.

Before she had clean water, she would wake up before dawn, take her only two 5-gallon Jerry Cans, and walk almost a mile and a half to the nearest water point, which happened to be at a school. Because there simply wasn't enough water for the area's population, she'd wait in line with hundreds of other women who also valued clean water. Helen's only other option was to skip the wait and collect contaminated water from a pond.

Helen spent most of her day walking and waiting. She told me each day she'd say to herself, "How should I use this water today? Should I water my garden so we can grow food? Should I wash my children's uniforms? Should I use it to cook a meal? Should we drink this water?" With two children, one husband and 10 gallons, Helen had to make choices.

I saw the shame in her eyes when she described how she would return from her long trek to find her two young children waiting for her. They were often sent home from school because their uniforms were dirty. Helen just never had enough water.

I saw now why she was so eager to scream out her joy and gratitude. She wanted me to understand that this gift from charity: water was real. With the new well in her village, her life was transformed. She now had choices. Free time. Options. Also, Helen has been chosen to be the Water Committee Treasurer, collecting nominal fees from 51 households to use for the maintenance of their well. Water Committees are often the first time women are ever elected to leadership positions in villages.

Last month, Helen was standing in line waiting for water.
This month, she's standing up for her community. And now, she is beautiful.

- Becky Straw
photos by: Esther Havens [http://www.charitywater.org/projects/fromthefield/uganda.php]