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A Piece of Rwanda in NYC

“Do you speak Kinyarwanda” is not a phrase you hear often in New York City, so you can imagine my surprise when I heard it in the heart of Chelsea on Tuesday night. “I hear you just returned from Rwanda,” Zac Nsenga, Rwandan Ambassador to the US, said while extending his hand out to mine. My natural reaction, which always seemed to impress people in Rwanda, was to reply “buhoro, buhoro" (which means "slowly by slowly," according to Rwandans), and it naturally rolled off my tongue. He laughed, and I got the chills, wondering if I’d ever have the opportunity to say it again.

Reflections on a year

Komeza. Buhoro, buhoro, nirwo rugendo. (Continue. Slowly, slowly, such is the journey.) - Rwandan Proverb

So I guess this is my last post...

What's a year? I've measured my time by the length of my hair, what's left of my toothpaste, and the ink in my pen. I survived my transition from a little white office in a big black building to my little green village tucked into one of Rwanda’s thousand hills.

I admit, since I left NYC, there may have been times I've missed washing machines, waking up to a hot shower, and ice cubes; but when I return home, there will be more times I'll miss the way the bold colors of my laundry reflect the sunlight on my clothesline, waking up to the sound of cows mooing in the rain, and the satisfaction of a juicy 50 cent pineapple.

And somewhere in between my sponge baths and malaria pill-induced dreams, I found time to scribble 80 pages in blog on border-crossing bus tickets, math notebooks, and MTN phone cards. I remember the first time I wrote; I propped my computer on my lap underneath a mango tree, and stared at the misty hills. I was in the middle of a painting. Within a month, a blanket of heat would absorb the hills’ moisture, revealing the lush patchwork of countless shades of green that would soon become the backdrop of my life.

And have I changed since then... or have I been changed? Are the subtle differences I've noticed in myself the result of living in Africa for a year or are they the result of moving on my own and living on my own anywhere for a year? The surfacing and not surfacing of my familiar quirks taught me to differentiate which are products of my surroundings, and which I create on my own, protecting and carrying with me wherever I go.

But I am only human, after all. And how easily do we change? Surrounded by people who have nothing, still I found my mind wandering to boys. Still I found myself fiercely, frighteningly independent at times. Sitting on a crowded matatu, still I felt alone. Still I couldn’t help finding it rude when a little boy in a tattered sweater declared “muzungu – give me my money” simply because he was hungry, and no teacher taught him how to ask nicely.

The reality, the truth is that there were times I felt a little checked out, a little lonely, a little too far from home. I felt an intense pressure to appreciate every moment, guilt for wasted years not understanding how privileged I am, and more guilt for wasting time thinking about feeling guilty.

Then there were the times when I'd see my visitors' shocked faces as the terraced Rwanda hillsides clashed with their recent memories of sidewalks and subways, and I'd feel a simple comfort just knowing I live here.

For the first time in my life, I was able to truly appreciate each passing moment; I soaked in the carpeted landscape and hugged the kids every chance I got. My friends here teased me for my unrelenting positive attitude and perpetual amazement of everything that surrounded me - it’s just that I’ve met other volunteers when I’ve traveled in the past, and I always felt I would give anything to do what they were doing... I never lost that.

Hands down, the best part of my goodbye party was this song(/dance!!) by Narcisse (one of our security guards):

“Do you think you will marry a teacher?” - Me

“No!” - R. (a teacher)

“Why not?” - Me

She leans closer...

“Teachers are poor.” - R.

Pretty sure the lyrics to this song have something to do with Jesus,

but I still love it.

Sarah left last weekend, meaning I am officially the only volunteer and the only American left at ASYV. The worst part about being the only volunteer left in my house is that I have no one to play Rumikub with and that I think I hear scary things at night.

The best part, however, is what E. showed me today:


Also, Sarah made a friend in Kigali who left a going away present for her with me. The present was inside of a brown paper envelope that was unsealed, so I obviously took a peek. I was disappointed at first when I saw that the present was wrapped, but then I took a closer look and needed to see no more:

More moments I'll miss...

"Have you been touching Mor, Gilboa, and Andrew?"

- D. (one of the kids... pretty sure he meant "keeping in touch with," but it was still really hard for me to say yes with a straight face)

Just another normal morning in Rwanda

Despite feeling a bit like I was violating her and despite being nervous I was going to rip one of her teets off, this is likely the happiest you'll ever see me at 6:30 AM:

This is what happens when you try to steal a calf from its mama

Photo credit goes to Sarah.

P.S. We're waking up early tomorrow morning to milk the cows. No big deal. This is my life.

School Anthem (English Translation)

The kids wrote this:

When We Will Meet Again

I am longing to meet you, my lovely parents
We shall meet when I have resurrected the whole family
I am missing my lovely parents
We shall rejoice together when we meet again
With friends and relatives
Parents and children
Those who separated
Even me, I will meet my father
And we shall rejoice again

Daddy and mommy, you left me when I was very young
But it wasn’t your wish
You left an incomplete work
But don’t worry
I am alive and alright

Not all people are bad
Now I have other parents
Who welcomed me
They are lovely and merciful parents
Please let’s join hands together to thank them
For the wonderful love they show us

.

And the rainy season has begun

But the best thing about the rainy season is...

The kind of moments I'll miss most

The other day, I was having a bit of an off morning, which I suppose is natural when you're 1000s of miles away from and 6 hours ahead of everyone you know and love from home.

And then I saw the farm worker who I gave the aqua socks my mom sent me to:

How could I not be in a good mood after this?

ASYV Road again... but on a moto

Can't break old habits...

As clearly illustrated in the images below, the preferred method of transporting items of all shapes and sizes here is via the top of the head:






Though Rwandans make this hands-free solution appear effortless, I find it incredibly difficult. And it's not just the balancing that's difficult - they carry 20 liter jerry cans full of water on their heads; I've tried this, and the result feels like my head is trying to smush my neck inside of my body (I fell on my face carrying them once. Yet again, I have a scar to prove it).



I totally see the benefit of having full use of your hands, but the other day I saw a woman in full Rwandan flare balancing a shiny new suitcase WITH WHEELS (!!!) on her head. It was awesome. Sadly, I didn't have my camera, but I did catch this woman carrying a BACKPACK on her head:

Really, really wish I had my camera right now

One of our cows is loose again... this time, it found school.

Typical post-dinner conversation when you live off of beans:

J.: You are small, so you have little farts. I am big, so I have big farts.

E.: And your mom is old, so she has old farts.

Want to volunteer in Rwanda/Africa?

One of the most amazing things about being here has been seeing something come out of nothing, while an unexpected difficulty attached to that has been trying to reconcile the fortuitousness of ASYV with the world outside still waiting for help. In my free time, I’ve tried to do what I can by helping Elie Nduwayesu, founder of "Fair Children Youth Foundation," who is in the process of opening his third school focusing on educating deaf children, vulnerable youth, and women struggling to rebuild their lives.

Elie’s schools are located in the northern part of Rwanda called Musanze. While Musanze is an international tourist destination for its beautiful volcanoes and gorillas, the tourism stands in stark contrast to the local poverty. Elie’s foundation provides an integrated program that provides skills to community members, so they may rebuild their lives after the consequences of genocide, HIV/AIDS related diseases, poverty, and disabilities.

I had the opportunity to visit Elie’s schools, and I was able to communicate with the children using the most basic level of sign language I could remember, which is limited to spelling out every word by signing letters of the alphabet. I signed my name, and in unison, they spoke, “Benna.” Together, they gave me their own name for me: two hands sign the letter “B” while motioning the sign for “thank you.” I want to give them the world. So does Elie. Determined, he takes personal loans from the bank to fund his schools, telling me it’s worth it just to see these kids smile, and he’s right.

Elie’s dedication and the kids’ motivation despite his means motivated me to become involved with his project. I’m currently recruiting volunteer social workers and teachers to teach English, sign language, provide psychosocial support activities, and give training in a variety of vocational, computer, and business skills. Construction is also still needed at both urban and rural centers.

Please contact me for details and an application if you or anyone you know is interested:

bennawl@gmail.com

http://www.fairchildrenrwanda.org/

Inappropriate for the blog?

I was innocently reviewing my favorite recently discovered Google Analytics feature today, which allows you to see what keywords people are googling that lead them to your blog, and I kid you not:

#62.

benna balls

1

Another fun project

I've seen clothing and goods with “Made by the women from x cooperative in x country” labels for sale in NYC department stores, but I never quite digested the reality of what that meant until now.

Over the past few months, I have been working with a small cooperative in Kigali during my free time - it's been wonderful. The Kinamba Project is a primary school attached to a cooperative that employs the students' mothers (mostly former prostitutes) as seamstresses. The women sing and clap whenever I enter the room and the kids slap me five and jump on my back; the little “Made by the women from Kinamba in Kigali” tag comes to life.

Mor and I partnered the cooperative with Urban Outfitters, Inc., and we have been making awesome limited edition bags and Necklaces (I got to pick the fabric and design the necklaces!) to be sold at Urban. Proceeds go directly to the women and the school. Look out for them in the coming months!

The School:




The Cooperative:





VIDEO:

The one good thing about Mor & Gilboa leaving is

that I moved into their old room and get to take advantage of all the fun things Gilboa crafted: bedside table (I was using a cinder block before), hutch to turn my table into a desk, shelf (/shrine?) with candles next to a picture of Gilboa and Tzuf on the farm, which I left as is, though I'm still debating whether it's more awkward to leave it up or take it down... Would Mor be uncomfortable knowing Gilboa's face is the last thing I see every morning when I leave my room?

The best part though, is that my bathroom light finally works! Yes, our village has working lights virtually everywhere except for my old bathroom. For the past 9+ months, when I woke up in the middle of the night, I was forced to choose between complete blackness or a middle school dance party strobe light (which was actually kind of fun when it wasn't 3 am). This may sound like no big deal, but it led to two late night injuries, the second of which was mildly serious and drew blood... I walked around with a bandaid on my face for 2 weeks and I have a scar to prove it.

Only in Rwanda #2

On the phone with Ethiopian Airlines, just after completing purchasing my ticket from Kigali to Cairo:

Me: Actually, could I also book my ticket from Cairo to JFK through you, even though it's a different airline?

Agent: Yes I can do that for you, but not right now.

Me: Ok - is the system down?

Agent: No. It's 5:30 and I want to go home.

Mor's goodbye gift

The other day, two of the women who work on the farm came over in their Sunday best and presented the following goodbye card to Mor:



In case you can't see it clearly, it reads:

"My sweetheart: Loving you is all that I want to do."

"My joys of living come from the pleasure of loving you and having you near me."

A-mazing.

My road

On a bus in Uganda

As a teenager growing up car-less in New York City, I never had that rite of passage cross-country road trip that every American kid dreams of; the closest I ever came to crossing anything was riding the subway from Chinatown to the Upper West Side... But here I am, on a bus driving across a different country: Uganda.



It may lack the romantic hair blowing out the open windows and coming of age classics blasting through my speakers that I've imagined all my life, but my airplane headphones and “road trip” ipod playlist (I wonder if I realized I was mocking myself when I titled it that...) will have to suffice.

It's 5:45 AM. I took an ambien, but the road is bumpy, and I swear the driver is purposefully avoiding the paved parts. I'm sitting in the last row, and I just bounced onto the lap of the woman next to me, whose left leg and butt cheek are already occupying half my seat. She refuses to open the window for me in fear of messing up her freshly twisted hair extensions, though she happily makes an exception to buy a goat brochette and cassava dough from a man on the street. The juxtoposition of the brochette stench with the cute family of goats on the road, combined with the fact that cassava dough literally smells like barf and that I'm writing this on the back of my bus ticket, is making me queasy.

I forgot the Ugandan border is less than two hours from Kigali. I'm awake, but drugged and loopy, and our bus driver is shuffling us to the front of the line, telling us to hide our paperwork. We don't know why. I'm thinking this is what illegal immigrants smuggling themselves to to US from Tijuana must feel like...

That bus ride was just the beginning of quite the adventure... we rafted on the Nile River, which is known as the best white water rafting in the world; spent a night at a local Reverend's house who literally killed a goat for us and told us he didn't believe there were poor white people in America because “all the poor white people turn black”; took a 7-hour matatu ride with 23 people (a matatu comfortably seats 14); and went on a 6 hour hike in the Rwenzori Mountains, where the female guide wearing a skirt and flip-flops offered to carry me.

Rafting in Jinja:



Zach enjoying the feast the Reverend's family prepared for us:



Hiking in the Rwenzori Mountains:







(please note my awesome fanny pack below - $1 in the Kimironko market)





Lake Bunyonyi:



Dinner in Kigali for my birthday:



More pictures HERE

Only in Rwanda #1

Today, I was having a cavity filled at the dentist and the power went out.

This literally could not have less to do with Rwanda

But I have to share...

Lex has a Taylor Swift obsession comparable to my Hanson obsession (except I was 12). She entered a contest to dance in her video and live on stage with her at MTV's VMAs... AND SHE WON. She filmed the first part last week:

"I was dancing so close to her that her hair hit me in the face. Then at the end she hugged us all... I told her I loved her... and she said she loved me too."


They went shopping so they could dress like "hip and trendy 16 year olds," per the instructions.

Boniface's genius moment #2

I don't think Boniface has ever seen a beauty mark before because yesterday he pointed to one on my arm and dead seriously told me it was evidence that I'm turning Rwandan.

Tanya

Tanya left for good at midnight a few days ago. I wasn't sure how I would feel when she left - whether it would hit me, or whether I would be in a constant state of thinking she's about to walk through our sliding door.

Eight months ago, we arrived to this tiny landlocked African country knowing absolutely no one. We have since become a family - anchoring and understanding each other without needing explanations. And I do feel a hole now; I feel an empty room adjacent to mine, an empty seat on our couch, an empty cup of tea, and the first sign of the reality that this isn't forever.

The night Tanya left, she said something that really stuck with me. She spoke about a girl who, as she said goodbye, thanked Tanya for her help carrying things to her house on her first day at ASYV.

Tanya orchestrated the painting of our 80-foot mural, garbage bins throughout ASYV, front gate, chicken coups, as well as a large mosaic bench and plaque in school.

Still, this girl was grateful that Tanya had helped her with her bags.

With her story, Tanya reminded all of us that it's easy to forget the moment when we get carried away in end results; that to these kids, the little things we do naturally that no one has ever done for them before - the things we often overlook because we're looking too far ahead of ourselves, are what make each day for them and are what they'll remember about us once we're gone.

Dad & Dana visit Kenya & Rwanda!

There's something fantastically indescribable about seeing animals in the wild that I've thus far only seen in zoos. There are no trained handlers, no de-thawed butchered steaks, and no metal fences.

The countless species coexisting here and the way they just melt into the landscape is so incredible that it's almost a caricature of itself. Zebras seem to strategically position themselves so their stripes bleed into rainbows on the horizon. Lions hypnotize us with their size until they're dwarfed by a family of elephants walking by in a single file line moments later. A cheetah climbs on top of the highest mound in sight, as if she's done this so much that she knows we'll get the best shot when sun is in that position and when she looks at us from that angle. But we're not in Disney World's "Animal Kingdom"; these animals are not marionettes on the strings of some trainer waiting with treats behind a bush. This is real.

Sometimes we're so enchanted that we forget to take pictures, and sometimes we concentrate so much on capturing the moment that we don't even notice our LCD screens and 4x4 Jeep clashing with the prehistoric-looking rhinos and crocodiles, making them seem anachronistic. But we're in their world, they're not in ours.




I can't think of a good transition right now, but here are some facts I picked up along the way:

1. Warthogs are probably my favorite animals for the following reason:

They have "such short memories" that when a lion is chasing them, they'll stop running after 100 feet because they'll forget why they're running.



2. When lions are in heat, they do it every 25 minutes for 7 days straight.



3. Rhino horns are made out of Keratin, the same thing human fingernails are made from, so it doesn't hurt them when their horns are cut or damaged. Apparently my dad didn't find this too interesting - despite seeing a few wild rhinos, he felt the rhino sanctuary was "a bit disappointing" because "all they had one one blind, hornless rhino."

4. My dad started a food diary:

My dad decided that he wanted to start writing in his journal so he wouldn't forget all the amazing things we were experiencing. On our first truly incredible day of sights (cheetahs, lions...), Dana and I asked him to share an excerpt with us:

"This morning they served a beautiful buffet - there were eggs, sausages, pancakes, croissants, and the most delicious pineapple. Lunch was even better - they served Indian food, traditional Kenyan dishes, salads, pastas, and more delicious pineapple... exclamation point! [Yes, he actually said "exclamation point!" out loud in case we didn't get his excitement]."

Food highlight of the trip: Breakfast & champagne with the hippos:



More pictures from both Kenya & Rwanda are in the PICTURES section to the right (here too).

Essential items for surviving in Africa

I recently received a package from my mom containing the following:

1. A headlamp (because I told her I saw a snake on the way to dinner one night)
2. Neosporin (because I fell on my face carrying jerry cans of water once)
3. Dried Fruit (because I'm in Africa and it just seemed appropriate to send trail mix?)
4. 3 Umbrellas (because it rains a lot here...)
5. Hand Sanitizer
6. Tevas (My personal favorite. See below for what motivated her on this one - the best part is that the warning is for when I get home to the bacteria-ridden streets of NYC):

This page was sent to you by: Mom

Message from sender:
Warning re flip-flops. For when you return to the city. This could be really dangerous.

NY Daily News: Flip-flops are a magnet for dangerous, deadly bacteria

The flip-flop is the preferred summer shoe for many New Yorkers. But on city streets, the flimsy footwear can be deadly. That film of grime that coats your feet at the end of a day of flopping around town is some dangerous dirt.

HP Book Drive on cnn.com!

A few months ago, I wrote about the book drive I worked on with the The Harry Potter Alliance.

It was an amazing success thanks to everyone who listened to the podcast and donated, and it was just mentioned in this article on cnn.com!

My weirdo obsession

While everyone else comes back from the market with bags full of signature Rwandan fabrics, handmade baskets, and banana leaf place mats, why is it that every time I come back with a lone oversized whittled wooden map of Rwanda or Africa??

I can honestly spot these things from a mile away and I swear they magnetically draw me to them. Not only are they the one souvenir here with no practical value (what does one do with not one, not two, but THREE of these? Hang them on a wall? Display them like trophies?), but they're also the one thing that I can pretty much guarantee people from home will have zero interest in if I attempt to divvy up my collection.

Despite the fact that I've let go of my need for hot water, Ben & Jerry's, and Tivo, apparently I can't survive without these:

I don't even know these people!

Benna in Rwanda is written up in the Online start up GHOST Magazine - woohoo!!

Renewed Appreciations

I've been here 7 months now. I feel at home to an almost crippling extent, existing in the moment so much that I forget each passing day strikes a line through yet another box on my thinning calendar.

I try to appreciate my limited time by recognizing the little things that have become delightfully ordinary, the things I'll likely never again experience once I'm gone: How I still check if my phone is vibrating every time I hear a cow mooing, how a flushing toilet has the ability to put me in a good mood, how a spider that looks like a prop from the "Honey I Shrunk the Kids" set chilling on my floor is just no big deal, how the sky looked from the middle of the football field when all the power went out for miles the other night, how in 5 months I'd probably give anything just to take a lukewarm sponge bath or scrub and wring my clothing out to dry only to find them mocking me from a muddy pile on the ground when I return home from school.

And last, but most certainly not least: These kids. Oh man, these kids. I have to say, an unexpected really nice side effect of the Opening Ceremony was my inadvertent comparison of the distance in the relationships between kids and visitors, and the closeness of the relationship between kids and me.

It was clear how genuinely the guests wanted to know the kids, and it filled me with an incredible appreciation for the fact that I do, and how they constantly remind me through the little things they do: J. pauses to scan her unfamiliar audience during her biology presentation, finds me, winks, and continues; C. timidly answers questions from someone and then extends her fist toward me for a pound, exclaiming “Yo Wise, whadddup?” (our inside joke ever since she told me she wants to learn slang... and to name her first daughter "Wise" after me); the entire singing club comfortably laughing at me every time I start crying while watching them practice the ASYV Anthem; how I pounce on E. during capture the flag because I know his little body is stronger than it appears, and how he confirms my decision as he continues running toward the flag, carrying me on his shoulder as if he doesn't even notice...

Mural Evolution/Tanya is A-mazing

The Canvas: An (over) 80-foot long wall attached to the back of the dining hall.



The End Goal: This image, a collage Tanya created from paintings the kids made when asked to draw what ASYV means to them.



The Process:

1. Project a picture of the collage onto the wall and trace its outline:



2. Paint:

Peanuts

We hit a biker on our way to Kigali the other day. A crowd immediately swarmed our minibus - not to see if the guy was ok, but to take the opportunity to SELL US PEANUTS.

Annnnnnnd, we bought some (yes, the guy was ok).

English is improving "buhoro buhoro" ("slowly by slowly," as they say)...

Me: What are you up to?

D.: I am going to swim.

Me: (confused look)

D: Douche!

Me: ...Shower?

D.: Shower!

I'm becoming an artist!

Taking a Year Off

"When someone goes through a stressful experience, they usually require some time off to clear their head, regain focus, and recover from the pain and suffering. Of course, in white culture these experiences are most often defined as finishing high school, making it through three years of college, or working for eleven months straight." - stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/taking-a-year-off

Chilome

Despite everyone telling me I'll see the world differently when I get back home, I don't feel like I've undergone any drastic life changes in the past six months. I'm not sure if it's that I'm not embracing change, I'm changing without being conscious of it, or that I was grateful and aware of my privileged life at home to begin with. Regardless, I admit that today I did have one of those eye-opening moments that teaches you to step back and think about where you're from and how your life may be different from those you cross paths with.

For the past several weeks, we've been renting a room in an apartment in Kigali that we use occasionally on the weekends. Apparently it's standard here to have a "house boy" who lives in the house, cooks, cleans, buys groceries, etc. I was a little uncomfortable with it at first, and avoided having him (Chilome) do things for me, but after coming to terms with the fact that he is paid well, this is his job, and walking up the hill to the Kimironko market can be slightly hellish when it's hot and I'm hungry, I became more ok with handing him a sheet of paper with a few items I wanted for lunch and snacks.

My first list looked something like this:

2 BREAD ROLLS
2 AVOCADOS
3 TOMATOES
1 ONION
1 BAG GARLIC
3 MANGOES
2 BANANAS
1 PINEAPPLE

I went over the piece of paper with him and he nodded his head, understanding. About an hour later, he returned with 2 entire loaves of sliced bread, 1 mango, 1 pineapple, 1 avocado, and about 500 tomatoes and bananas. Naturally, I was a little confused.

The next time around, I thought I'd try my luck in Kinyarwanda:

2 UMUGATI (PETITE)
2 AVOCAT
3 INYUMYOI
1 IBITUNGURU
1 TUNGURU SUMU
3 IMYEMBE
2 BANANA
1 INANASI

Again, we went over the list together, and the same thing happened, except this time I got a papaya instead of a mango. I hated that I was a little frustrated, but I couldn't help it. I was craving mango. I hate papaya.

I asked Elsa (who also rented a room in the house) what the deal was and if she was having the same issue. She had been, until she figured out what my myopia had prevented me from seeing even as a possibility: Chilome can't read.

I honestly think my mom is trying to make the blog now:

On Wed, Jun 3, 2009 at 12:42 PM, Jane Levine wrote:

Did you see that NYTimes article about rafting in Uganda? It can be VERY VERY DANGEROUS. VERY HEAVY RAPIDS. I would NOT recommend it --- if you do it, I would ask for the easy route. It sounded EXTREMELY SCARY ---and I do mean EXTREMELY.

---------------

P.S. This is my mom and me in the Reptile House at the Bronx Zoo, just after she finished pointing out all the East African animals she told me I wasn't allowed to pet.

The cow

On Saturday, as I was leisurely painting in the art center, I saw my favorite cow dart by the window. Oh, my life is funny, I thought, and got back to painting. I lifted my head about 5 seconds later, just in time to catch one of the farm workers run by, chasing after it. This cow is seriously trouble.

I have a dream

Rachel, the English teacher here, asked if she could tape record the American volunteers speaking English so that the kids could listen to the recordings and practice their pronunciation. Sarah (a short white girl from Minnesota) was first up to record.

Her task: The "I Have a Dream" speech.

Goodbye Oren

The other night, Oren said "ijoro ngiza" to one of the guards, which means "good night" in Kinyarwanda.

The guard, misinterpreting his pronunciation, gracefully turned around and whispered, "I love you too."

He continued walking for a few steps, and then turned to face Oren again...

"So much... forever."
-------
Today was a very sad day for everyone because Oren went back home to California.

So, Oren, from all of us at ASYV: We love you... so much... forever.

Murambi School Genocide Memorial

An off-white cable-knit sweater with red stars hangs loosely off one woman's shoulders. A young girl wears the royal blue school uniform I see the Rubona kids wearing every day as they pass me on their walk home from school. The woman next to her wears a necklace; small black beads cling to the middle of her chest and her fingers reach for the cross that hangs from it. Another woman is holding her baby in her arms - terrified looks preserved on both their faces. And the hair – so many of them still have their hair.

This is a reality I haven't seen - a tangible reality beyond the photographs hanging from the Kigali genocide museum walls. This is a reality that can't be spelled out and printed on a sheet of glass.

There is a stench of death. I find myself naturally wrapping my sleeve around my hand and reaching for my face, and I feel guilty for protecting myself from the reality of the mere scent of death because it makes me feel less than completely comfortable for a few moments. So I unblock my senses and let it enter me.

Then I step outside and the fresh green hills and children running and laughing suddenly clashes with my attempt to process it all - creating this awkward contrast of absolute life and death. It's hard to believe that the beings in and outside this classroom are related - that they could coexist inches from each other - that these bodies could have ever possessed the vitality the little girl who just asked me for water possesses. And then there are the tiny bodies, the ones that never even got a chance to live at all.

Perhaps even more disturbing to me than the young children, are the teenagers. I was ten years old in 1994, and these teenagers were my sister and her friends' ages. They were older than me... they should be older than me... and now they're not.

While I'm doing what I can to pay them respect, I'm struggling with whether they really would have wanted me to see them preserved forever in their state of absolute vulnerability – the irony of their bodies scattered across the very classrooms which were built for them to learn and grow.

The rooms look like our classrooms - and these could have been our kids. I might be looking at S. or J.'s mother. I imagine how the kids would feel here – knowing it could have been them, knowing one of these is their mommy, and unable to figure out who to cry for. I can't get it out of my head.

Kyle's goodbye party

Kyle, an awesome short-term volunteer, left last week. We were all very sad to see him go, and a bunch of the Rwandans threw him a raging going away party on his last night.

The party came complete with food, beverages, dancing, and posters, such as this one:

The only thing better than a goat...

is FOUR cows... all preggers!!


And the following actually occurred yesterday, as if it were normal:

Oren: Benna! Wanna help me with a fun project?

Me: Sure! What is it?

Oren: One of the cows got loose. Let's go catch it.


And we did - straight up City Slickers style. This rebel cow (and unborn child) is so mine...


Above: The problem cow.

Why my mom is a genius even though she doesn't know it:

On Tue, May 12, 2009 at 1:12 AM, Jane Levine wrote:

(No Subject)

Did you pick out a goat yet? Does it need shots? What happens if the goat gets loose and eats all the food in the organic vegetable garden? Goats will eat anything...

I'm serious about that goat: Step #4

Me: We want to get it tomorrow. Where do we go?

Jean Pierre: To the market.

Me: Really? I don't think I've ever seen anyone selling goats there. Where are they?

Jean Pierre: In the food section.

I'm serious about that goat: Step #3

Me: We're doing it. You're sure I can handle it, right?

Eddy: Of course! It is very easy.

Me: And you're sure I don't need to set up a blanket or anything for it to sleep on?

Eddy: I am sure.

Me: And you'll take care of it if I go away?

Eddy: No problem.

Me: Dahh! I want to go get it NOW! There's nothing else I need to know, right?

Eddy: I think you should get a sheep.

Me: Why?

Eddy: Because goats are insane.


Whatever, I'm still getting one.

I'm serious about that goat: Step #2

After conducting a bit of research on goat-rearing (yes, I'm serious) and having the following conversation with Eddy, I've made the decision that the time has arrived:

Me (pen and paper in hand): Ok, I'm ready. Tell me what I need - I want to prepare everything before I bring it home.

Eddy: A rope.

Me: Cool. What else?

Eddy: Grass.

Me: Done. What else?

Eddy: A goat.



Seriously? Why is this goat not in my lap right now.

I'm serious about that goat: Step #1

Me: Can you help Oren and me buy a goat?

Jean Pierre: To eat?

Me: No!

Jean Pierre: For what then??

Me: To take care of.

Jean Pierre: And then eat?

We're famous!

http://newsroom.mtv.com/2009/05/07/hills-star-whitney-port-others-attend-fundraiser-for-rwandan-youth-village/

We're hungry

A while back, I mentioned that there is no word for “snack” in Kinyarwanda, meaning it's slim pickings between meals here. This was extremely difficult for me at first, as I have breakfast at 7:30 AM and lunch isn't served until 1:00 PM. The combination of not having a refrigerator, power bars being “prohibitively expensive” (- A. Gurwitz) at $20 each (nope, not an exaggeration at all), and the fact that I believe I may be slightly hypoglycemic, led to my being hungry literally all the time.

Now, if this is how I felt, a borderline midget at 5'2", you can imagine how Kyle, a 6'5” giant, and Oren, a solid beefcake, felt when they arrived and found they'd be living off rice and potatoes.

You can also imagine our excitement when a girl coming to visit the village for a few days asked us for any special requests... Oren & Kyle immediately sent her an e-mail exclaiming they were starving and needed protein bars.

When she arrived, she emptied her bag as the boys salivated in anticipation of its contents, which included the following:

1. One box of Atkins bars

2. One box of Slim Fast bars

3. Two absurdly large creatine bars

And all this for the nice price of $50.

Kyle's first reaction was to attempt to weasel himself out of the deal, while Oren jut shook his head and whimpered, “is there no happy medium between slim fast and creatine??"

$2

Just to clarify...

I've already received a lot of concerned e-mails (thank you) because of my last post, so I just want to reassure everyone that, despite being a little shaken from Friday night's events, the kids are back to normal and happy.

Tonight, L. (one of the kids) asked me how I felt about Friday night, and I told her I'm not concerned about it. What I am concerned about is every day that's not Friday - every day the kids don't express their emotions and let them build and build until the next "Friday" comes along. But the truth is that they've been through a lot, and we can't erase their history. We're not trying to. We all express our emotions in different ways. This was theirs.

Memorial

I hesitated posting this because it's heavier than my usual posts, but it's reality. I can't pretend that the smiles always mean these kids are ok, and I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw last week.

last week marked the 15-year anniversary of the beginning of the genocide. For three days, we sang at camp fires, lit candles, and listened to speakers. On the third day, some of the kids spoke.

I haven't posted anything directly from my journal up until this point, but I just don't have it in me to write about this again:

Today changed my definition of “traumatized.”

I read that I would be working with traumatized youth. Youth who have experienced terrible trauma that they can't rid themselves of. Youth who can't move on. Youth who are angry and depressed. Youth who are helpless, but not hopeless. Youth who are emotional, and at times, irrational.

That's not what I saw today.

Traumatized is hollowness swallowing faces that don't understand why they are alive. Traumatized is hearts throbbing so severely they pull their bodies to the floor. Traumatized is writhing and convulsing at the brief moment of a memory for a face they can't recall, a death they know they saw, a death they're not sure if they remember, a death they wish they wouldn't imagine, a death they don't understand.

Traumatized is being asked to stand by a window to protect sixteen year olds from their memories. Traumatized is hands pinned to bare foam mattresses on the dining hall floor we usually dance on.

I'm scared. I want to write something encouraging, and that's all I have... I'm scared.

Jew

About half of the muzungus here are Israeli, which has been a bit confusing for some of the Rwandans.

For example, Innocent told me I'm a fake Jew because I don't speak Hebrew.

I decided to prove him wrong:

My greatest achievement

One of my goals when I got here was to get my split back... and I got it!! Not only did I get it back, it landed me the honor of appearing on Lex's blog.

I have got to start setting goals more often.

Pet Goat

Walking around the village the other day, I saw two random goats tied to handfuls of weeds - like dogs waiting for their owners outside a supermarket. When I asked Nir what the random goats were doing, he told me that they belonged to a construction worker, and the worker had told him that he was going to slaughter one of them (the cuter one!) that night. This is when I decided that I was going to buy the goat from him to (1) save its life and (2) get myself a pet. Then Andrew made the valid point that if I paid the man for his goat, he would just buy another one, and that one would die instead. So now I have to steal a goat. I didn’t do it this time, because it will take some planning, of course. But next time…

Boniface's Genius Moment #1

Boniface picks up a DVD and studies it...

"Forty... Year... Old... Virgin."

Pause.

"Wow!"

Longer pause.

"Is that even possible?"

Dictionaries

Boniface, a chemistry teacher here, just came into my office and asked me for a dictionary. I come from a world where paper dictionaries are nearly obsolete, and I handed him all I had: a French-English dictionary from 1992.

He explained his problem to me more clearly: He had just given a chemistry exam, and one of the questions was to name the elements. About half the students listed, “earth, fire, water, and wind.” They meant air, but there is only one word for both wind and air in Kinyarwanda, and they were not aware of the difference in English.

Were they wrong? They would have scored 4/4 if they had been taking a written test in Kinyarwanda, but did they deserve 3/4 because the test was in English? What exactly were we testing them on? Without dictionaries to explain the subtle differences between words in a language with countless more words than their native one, is it really fair to turn every test into an English one, in addition to the a test in a specific subject?

Notes from Harry Potter Reading #1

Me: Please feel free to stop me if you have any questions or need me to explain anything. Ok, I'll keep going...

Mr. Dursley pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek.

P.: What is "peck on cheek"?

Me: It's a small kiss on the face - here's an example (I kiss my hand and touch it to P.'s cheek). Any other questions?

C.: Yes... Another example. Please.

Camping in Akagera

I went camping in the middle of Akagera Safari a few weeks ago. I was very brave, until I started asking questions (after the deal was sealed and tent set up, obviously):

Q: Is it normal to be able to camp in a safari?

A: Of course … the only difference is that they usually have fences around the campsite.

Q: Do other people do this? And are there people guarding the campsite since there are no fences?

A: Yea, tons of people do it!* A guide comes and sets up our tent** and campfire*** and guards the tent**** while we sleep.

*We were the only people there. **A guide attempted to set the tent up (Safari’s tent, not ours) and couldn’t figure it out, so we did it instead. ***He set up a fire NEXT to a circle of rocks indicating a fire pit, and then asked us to ****drive him back to the office.

Q: Since our guide peaced, are we going to live?

A: We’ll be fine as long as we don’t put our tent too close to the water, since hippos are aggressive and elephants are known to trample tents. Wait, elephants actually don’t live by the water... don’t worry though, we’re cool.

--

At around 4:00 AM, I woke up to the sound of rustling grass and a steady stream of flowing water. I immediately remembered that we had accidentally dropped a hot dog into our fire and forgotten it. Clearly, a lion had found it, and we were next. I lay with my eyes ridiculously open, and my hands in fists, ready to defend myself.

After about an hour, I heard an unmistakably human sound come from one of the obscure shadows of the beast that the rising sun cast on our tent’s walls: a low, reverberating, and unmistakably human belch. Never in my life have I been so happy to hear someone burp.

In the morning, we picked up our guide, who was nice and refreshed from his rough night protecting the office. We told him we were most excited to see hippos and elephants, and he told us elephants are rarely seen in Akagera, but we would try to find them by following trails of fresh elephant dung. He told me that they call it "inzovu amase" in Kinyarwanda, so I told him that we would call it "fresh elephant shit” in English. He then proceeded to shout "fresh shit!" every time he saw some.

Setting up the tent, which was the size of my big toe.

I know sunrise pictures are cheesy, but this was RI-DICULOUS.

ok, so the hippos were a wee bit disappointing...

but the elephants RULED.

Mosquito Net Troubles

Attempt #1: Obvious failure.



Attempt #2: This one was dangerous—I accidentally pulled it down in the middle of the night and got trapped like a fly in a spider web.



Attempt #3: I got it! And, you know what? It feels like a fort, and I kind of like it.



P.S. As you can see, my floor is cement and I sleep with a mosquito net… yet my walls have MOLDINGS. By this measure, I’ve upgraded from my Manhattan apartment.

My dream come true...

Sarah's friend founded The Harry Potter Alliance, a non-profit that engages young Harry Potter fans in social justice by drawing parallels between the books and the real world. Through events and donations, the HP Alliance raises money to prevent genocide, poverty, and inequality around the world.

We just partnered with them to create the "Accio Books!" drive to collect Harry Potter Books for the library I've been working on with a few others, and I get to be in charge!! WOOHOO!!

The book drive is currently featured on their homepage (the full article is HERE) - I'll be the ASYV representative on the conference call they mention!

Starting next week, I'll read a chunk of Harry Potter to the kids every Wednesday night.

If you want to get involved by donating Harry Potter books, visit the site on Sunday and sign up.

A HUGE thanks to everyone who collected/is collecting books (both HP & non-HP) for the Village. Everything you've done is incredible:

Grey NYC
Wendy Steinberg
Fallon Koplin
Alexis Kaplan
Alyne Kaplan
Erika Garcy
Kyle Koeppel
Olivia Zaleski
Pamela Rykowski
Megan Shackleton
Becky Malinsky
Rachel Jonas
Adam Mirels
Elana Schulman
Lindsay Barron
Jane Levine & Paul Casowitz
Dan Wise & Dana Kasarsky
June Zeitlin & Howard Chernick
Beth Handler & Larry Kahn

If you are interested in donating (ANY) books, please E-mail me and I'll send you everything you need to know: benna@asyv.org

School started (and I have a real job)!

While I’m sad that what I’ve been referring to as “Camp ASYV” is now over, everything at school has exceeded my expectations to an absurd degree. One girl finished every one of her placement tests in 15 minutes flat—and she aced them all. She wasn’t the only one who rocked the exams though, seventy-seven of the kids (62%) finished with averages above 90%. Keep in mind that these kids did not take placement tests before arriving at ASYV—we based acceptance on vulnerability, not intelligence.

Before we gave the tests, we had a long meeting about whether we should give the tests in Kinyarwanda or English. Nir & I pushed for Kinyarwanda because we felt it would ensure that the results would accurately reflect the kids’ knowledge of the subject matter rather than their ability to understand English (even though classes will be taught in English). However, we ultimately decided to give the tests in English (we provided some Kinyarwanda translations upon request).

Our reason:

“You have to understand that it’s impossible to give an assessment test for something like geography in Kinyarwanda; for example, we have no word for ‘civilization’.” – Wilton (the Principal)


Morning mist behind my bathroom window & walking up the hill to school.

P.S. If you're still interested in what I do, here's a little tidbit – it’s the introduction I wrote for the ASYV NYC Board of Directors for our first School Report, which we'll issue every month (more pictures are below it):

Introduction: Notes from the Teachers' Lounge

On January 12, 2009, LiquidNet Family High School at the Agahozo Shalom Youth Village opened its doors to its first 125 students, ages 15 through 19. LiquidNet Family High School, named after its American Sponsor, is nestled in the hills of the Rwamagana District in the Eastern Province of Rwanda. It sits on the peak of a hill, overlooking Lake Mugesera and hills that stretch on for miles, symbolizing the students' ability to see far into their lives and achieve their goals. As our students work hard to achieve these goals, they will bring value to themselves, and subsequently their communities, country, continent, and world.

The kids’ first day of school began shortly after sunrise as they trotted up the hill to the dining hall. With bellies full of hot porridge, tea, and butterflies, they continued up the hill to school, carrying backpacks that volunteers had filled with notebooks, pens, periodic tables, and calculators. Despite the fact that school was not scheduled to begin until 7:30 AM, many kids showed up as early as 6:30, excited and nervous for their first day.

In place of first period, their day began with an introduction to the school by Nir Lahav, the Village Director. Wilton Ndayisenga, the School Principal, followed with a motivating speech, introduced all of the teachers, and announced which students belonged to which homeroom class. Each teacher briefly introduced themselves, expressing excitement for the school year and stressing the importance of being active and studious.

By 8:30 AM, the 125 students had divided into the five freshly painted classrooms, pens in hand and eager hands raised. By lunch time, the students had completed their first 5 periods of the year in a range of subjects, including Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Math, History, Geography, English, French, Kinyarwanda, and Instrumental Enrichment. IT will also be added to the roster as soon as the computers arrive—hopefully this week.

While LNFHS is a school in Rwanda, many things separate it other schools in Rwanda.

First, at LNFHS, our goal is not simply to teach the students to learn, but to teach them how to learn. We are doing this by using "Mediated Learning Experience," a skill we learned while we were in Israel for teacher training at the Feuerstein Institute. Every day, we give the students a daily lesson in "Instrumental Enrichment," which helps them learn to think both critically and creatively. The students have expressed pride in this class, and they exhibit its results through their performance in all of their other classes. Our goal with this class is to help the students understand that they are capable of achieving anything they want, as long as they put their mind to it and work hard to for it.

Second, the relationships between teachers and students surpass any we have seen formed in other schools we have taught in. The students and teachers share lesson ideas with each other, work as teams, and openly provide feedback to each other. During lunch on the first day, the kids were stunned when the school Principal pulled out one of the blue plastic chairs and settled himself among a table of students; they had never eaten at the same table as their principal before. Because of the comfortable relationships established between teachers and students here, students are not afraid to ask questions or ask for help outside of the classroom.

Third, the students exhibit pride for their environment and enthusiasm about learning, both inside and outside of the school walls. On their way home from their first day of school, students stopped in the school Administrative Assistant's office to say hello, and salivated over the textbooks lining the walls. Unable to distribute the books because there weren't enough, she handed one lucky student, Jackie, her personal copy of Twilight. The other day, during lunch, Jackie handed the book back with a piece of paper and pen; she had underlined vocabulary words she wanted definitions for so she could improve her English.

ASYV is not an orphanage and it is not a boarding school. At the end of each day, students leave their teachers and classrooms with buzzing minds, and head back down the hill towards their home at ASYV, mirroring students who go home from school at the end of the day around the world.

In this report, you will find further detailed information regarding school personnel, students, schedules, and the school environment.



1 & 2. Front of school, 3. View of Lake Mugesera from inside


4. View of Lake Mugesera, 5. Back of school


6 & 7. Literally right behind school. There are avocado trees back here that I climb whenever I need a snack.

Notes from Yesterday's Biology Class

"Can I have another example of a system?" - Boniface

"Digestive system." - D.

"Good. Can someone explain why it is a system?" - Boniface

"First, you put food in your mouth, and then you chew it. Then it goes into your stomach." - N.

"Good. Does it go anywhere else?" - Boniface

"Yes." - F.

"Good. Where?" - Boniface

"Out the ass." - F.

-

"I like your... how do you say... boobs." - Israeli volunteer (in reference to Tanya's rain boots)

I promise my next post won’t be serious

I went to the Genocide Museum & Memorial yesterday.

The last room is wallpapered with so many pictures of victims that my eyes struggled with where to focus.

There is also a wall with photos of survivors. The stories are insane—one woman saw a baby trying to breastfeed from her dead mother’s chest; another woman realized her mother was dead when she saw a woman wearing her clothing.

Innocent is one of the survivors featured. I actually wrote the following a while ago, but wasn’t really sure when to post it. Right now feels appropriate, so here is his story:

“It’s made a mark on my life. Even though I was lucky to survive, I cannot forget it. Those scenes frequently replay in my head like a film, even though it was a reality,” Innocent (one of the counselors here) wrote for his story in We Survived.

Innocent was fourteen when he, his parents, and seven siblings fled their home to hide from the Interhamwe. His family included 188 descendants from his grandfather; within a week, he was the only one left. He was shot in the foot, but he still managed to run.

He hid in the mountains for 2 months, surviving the last six days in a cave with no food or water. Desperate for water, he left his hiding spot, and a group of attackers found him.

“I asked them why they were doing this. I knew already, but just wanted to hear them say it. They had a registration book which was used to record all those killed. My family made up most of the population of the area, and I was the only one missing in their book.” They showed him the book and told him they were looking for him, “now they had found me, and they wanted to kill me.”

He prayed, and then they hacked his head with a machete 4 times and left him to die.

Five days later, a nightmare that someone was trying to kill him knocked him back into consciousness. He spent the next two days walking to a hospital to either “be healed or be killed.” Once he arrived, a woman treated him and stitched his head. The next day, another woman undid the stitches. This cycle continued for a month.

After he healed, he lived in an orphanage and studied because he “felt obliged to start a new life because orphanage life didn’t offer much future.” He went on to study at the Kigali Institute of Science, Technology, and Management, and became motivated to help repair younger genocide survivors to start new lives too.

Today, Innocent works as a child counselor here at ASYV. He walks around with a gigantic toothy smile, gets a kick out of saying “yo” whenever he sees me (I taught him well), and refuses to call me anything but “Banana.”

A night at the Embassy

We watched Obama’s inauguration at the US Embassy in Kigali last night; surrounded by American electrical sockets, boxed wine, and muzungus, I couldn’t tell if it made me feel closer to or further from home. Despite 20 years living in Manhattan, I have never once connected Times Square to the comfort and memory of home (exception: when we blindfolded Jenny and took her on an NYC sight seeing bus…), so when a sliver of Times Square appeared in the corner of the TV and made me happily nostalgic for home, I realized I felt further.

That wasn’t the only thing that made me feel further, though. At one point, all the power except the sound of the TV went out. Huddling in a tiny African country in an even tinier diet coke of America to watch a blank screen in the darkness and listen to a half African man make history was pretty unreal. Maybe it was the 1950s feel of us all trying to get closer to what felt like the only TV in town, or maybe it was just that I hadn't seen a TV in six weeks, but the moment felt huge.

Out of the US and back in Rwanda, I experienced the same feeling of home when we left Kigali the next morning, as that unmistakably huge African sun peeled through the 6 AM fog and our bus passed over the pavement and onto the dirt road that led us back to the Village.

ASYV New Years Rager '09

The lyrics to the English song we are dancing to in these pictures are, "I do you, you do me. Do me, do me, do me." The kids sang along. I did not.

Sometimes language barriers are a good thing.

Best Christmas present EVER

Two donors canceled their trip last minute and had non-refundable reservations for an all-inclusive lodge in Parc National Des Volcans and permits to hike in the bamboo forest with GORILLAS, and our village director let Andrew and I go instead!!

We ran into one technical difficulty about an hour after we left the village: Andrew realized he forgot the permits. It was totally cool though, because it meant that I got to take my very first ride on a moto taxi to go back and pick them up. This is when I discovered that I am OBSESSED with moto taxis (I was obviously singing "Unknown Legend" at the top of my lungs inside my head the entire time):


(That gash through my helmet is comforting).

After a long journey up north to the Rwanda/Uganda/DRC border, we finally arrived. I can't pick one favorite thing about the lodge, so here are three:

1. The bathroom was the size of my Stuy Town bedroom / I took a bath / the water was HOT
2. They brought fresh pineapple and passion fruit juice to our room whenever we wanted
3. We had DESSERT


The gorillas were incredible; they exhibit such human-like qualities through the simplest things, like the way they scratch their necks and hold their food. We were really close, and one of them actually started heading right towards me as we were leaving, which was pretty terrifying but also fun.



This is just the biggest worm I have ever seen:

-

In an effort to maintain an environment where the kids are free to be spiritual and follow whatever religion they choose, Sifa asked one of the Israeli's, Mor, to replace the word "church" in the schedule with something spiritual, but less religious.

The result:

Muzungu

School doesn’t start until January here, so when I’m not working with the principal to prepare for the opening, I’ve been helping out wherever else I’m needed.

The other day, I weighed and measured all the kids in the clinic. I’m pretty sure the nurse (Eugenie) forgot my name, because the kids laughed after she said something to them in Kinyarwanda – I understood one word, “muzungu,” and figured it out: “The white person is going to help.”

Here’s another phrase I learned in the clinic: N’dimugufi (I’m short).

This has nothing to do with Rwanda,

but I had to share this e-mail I just got from my mom:

subject NYTimes.com: Bangkok Nightclub Fire Kills 54, Injures 100

Message from sender:

Not sure why i am sending you this, other than to say that i was never a big fan of clubs. I think they are dangerous.

A cheesy one

I just took a crumpled tissue out of my bag because I wanted to write down what S. just said to me, but he tapped me and handed me a neatly folded piece of lined paper from his back pocket. He's been keeping paper with him to write down new words he learns from me ever since he told me that he wants me to teach him English and to be his best friend. He just asked me if I thought that he would be able to change Rwanda. I said yes, and he agreed.

Earlier today, I had the emotionally draining task of filling in information forms for all 125 kids. The forms were short; the kids have no home addresses, no emergency contact information, and their DOB is just a year. Aside from name, the only line I could consistently fill with details was:

Mother deceased? How?:

Father deceased? How?:

I wrote “yes” 250 times this afternoon--250 times, I wrote “genocide” or “disease.” I was numb at first; I didn’t know most of the names and they were just pieces of paper. Then I got to S.:

Mother deceased? How?: YES. GENOCIDE.

Father deceased? How?: YES. GENOCIDE.

In capital letters, just like that – just like all the others. And it’s not like I didn’t know already, but he seems so happy and full of life that he makes it so easy for me to forget. Here he was sitting next to me, telling me he could change Rwanda.

Language barriers

Innocent ("Until Proven Guilty," as he calls himself – he's the one who started "Banana") rocks at English. We watched a movie the other night that was French with English subtitles. As evidence of how awesome he is at English, he read every subtitle out loud to me.

He does a lot of interpreting for us, and I'm pretttty sure he adds his two cents, because what I say is suspiciously always way longer in Kinyarwanda. This may also be because everything in Kinyarwanda is longer:

Anne: I'll take ONE more question.
Eddy: Ok. I have two questions.
Anne: ONE more.
Eddy: Ok. I have one question—two parts.

In addition to being longer, things are often taken very literally; When Anne said "we're late – we better run" to Innocent on the way to dinner the other night, he took one look at her and darted off into the night.

Eddy, Me, Innocent

The kids are here!!

After a short conversation with A., where I said a few things in English that flew over her head and she said a few things in Kinyarwanda that flew over my head, she put her hand on my back and said, “very happy here.” It was awesome.

Also, I saw an E-NORMOUS snake on the way home from dinner tonight.

Breakfast & Eddy

Breakfast isn’t big in Rwanda. We discovered this after the following conversation:

Mor: “What will we eat for breakfast?”

Hilam (village chef): “Chai” (“tea”)

Mor: “No, for breakfast.”

Hilam: “Chai?”

Mor: “Not for tea, for breakfast.”

Hilam: “Chai.”

Mor: “Oh… I see now…”

This morning, while I drank my “chai” (which is not the chai you’re thinking of – it’s a little bit of black tea, a lot of milk, and a lot of sugar – it’s quite tasty), I spoke to Eddy. He asked me if I had a mom and a dad, just as casually as he asked the next question about whether I had brothers and sisters. I almost went into my parents being divorced, my dad having another wife, my step sister, and my mom’s boyfriend, but it just suddenly felt irrelevant to qualify my family members with any definitions other than mom, dad, and two sisters; Not only do I have a mom, dad, and sister, I have two of each.

Next, I asked Eddy whether he minded all the rain in the wet season here. His response: “rain brings life.” He then asked me to show him pictures of snow because he’s never seen it – he told me that all he knows is that it’s white.

P.S. They did end up serving fresh fried balls of dough with the tea – kind of like over-sized doughnut holes – but denser and way better. Pretty fantastic stuff. They make EVERYTHING from scratch here, it’s so great—the other day we even had chips that they sliced and fried fresh from the potatoes.

P.P.S. Some views from my bedroom windows...

Ice Breakers

During today’s ice breakers, we split into small groups and answered questions ranging from “what’s your favorite food” to “what’s your biggest fear about ASYV.” It’s amazing how much you can learn from answers to the simplest questions (and how we could have the same answers with completely different justifications):

1. What’s your favorite place? Why?
• Me: Here! And Australia because I lived there and love the ocean.
• Innocent: Australia and Israel because they are safe and protected.
• Desire: Israel. Protection.

2. If you could be any animal, what would you be? Why?
• Me: A dog. No... I would want to be a loon. I don’t like birds, but loons can both fly and stay under water for a long time.
• Innocent: A Dog. They stick together and are loyal. Dogs are never traitors – they always look out for and protect each other like a family.

3. What’s your favorite food?
• Tatiana: Potatoes
• Innocent: Potatoes
• Desire: Potatoes
• Me: Ice cream

I'm here...

AND THEY HAVE A DOG!!!! I am the happiest person alive.


The founder, Anne Heyman, is here right now. She asked me if the Village was what I had imagined—I could barely begin to express how far it was from what I had imagined, but only because it would be impossible to imagine something quite like this.

Not only is it (by far) the most beautiful place I have ever been, but the staff are so amazingly full of love—we greet each other with hugs every time we see each other. The kids arrive Monday, so it's just the staff for now, which is great because it's giving us all time to get to know each other. Last night, a few of the Rwandans were struggling with my name, so they decided it will be "Banana" from now on. They also taught me some Kinyarwanda... the first thing I learned was "ndashaka ibiryo: "I want food" (how appropriate).

Speaking of food, as promised, dinner on the first night consisted of rice, beans, and bananas. There was no dessert, but it was BETTER than Chipotle. Also as promised, there was no running water this morning.

I wrote this on the plane (I had some free time on my hands):

My last day at home ruled: mimosas, eggs, sausages, and blintzes at Sarabeth's for brunch, followed by movie popcorn and chocolate pizza from Max Brenner – I can't believe I seriously discovered that place my night before leaving the continent.

I'm on the plane now, and everything is great so far. There was, however, one minor incident when we first took off: gross-looking water started streaming out of the air blowers and people were definitely freaking out a little. Luckily, I was already loopy on Ambien and drooling over Twilight, which I impulsively bought (I bought books 1 and 2) during my 2 ½ hour delay in DC. I also impulsively ate two-fifths of the Tootsi Pop supply Rachel gave me, which I had planned on saving for special occasions. Now someone needs to visit me, if for no other reason than to bring me the rest of the Twilight series and to replenish my Tootsi Pop supply…

The guy sitting next to me asked to switch his window for my aisle seat, which was awesome. He lived in Kigali until his late teens, and was going back to visit friends. He wrote his number on a barf bag for me.

We're really close now… I can see the hills … They're unreal.

P.S. Here's a victory photo my mom took of me at on her bberry in the airport at 4 AM, after a long battle over the necessity of wearing my passport around my neck.

Got all my shots and can't lift my arms

I'm shamelessly starting a blog...

On December 8th, I'll be abandoning Barbi's sweet brownstone for a cabin in the hills of Rwanda in Agahozo Shalom Youth Village (ASYV). On December 15th, 125 of the 1,200,000 children (15% of Rwanda's entire population) who lost their families during the 100-day genocide of 1994 will meet me there.

Despite its title, ASYV is a non-sectarian initiative. ASYV connected Rwanda's challenge to the challenge Israel faced after the Second World War, when there was a large influx of orphans from the Holocaust. Israel's comprehensive and innovative response to the trauma of the orphan and genocide experience serves as a model for the successful integration of orphans into civil society, wherever they may be. ASYV aims to create a community where traumatized youth can "dry their tears" (Agahozo in Kinyarwanda) and "live in peace" (Shalom in Hebrew).

I'm going to miss you all. I'm also seriously going to miss Red Mango and running hot water.

See you in a year...