An eventful weekend

So Lake Kivu did not disappoint. The weekend included the following events: the craziest bus ride of my life followed by being rescued by kind and helpful strangers, running into friends of friends from Montreal at our (amazingly beautiful) hotel, a very leaky boat ride, being attacked by thousands of bats, phenomenal scenery, personally meeting my lunch before eating it, and to top it off, our car running into someone's face on the way back. (She is okay, we went to the doctor.)

June 27


The strangest thing just happened: I was on my way home from the office with Megan, we take the same taxi, and we had just gotten off at the taxi park in Remera. We were walking to get taxi motos to go home, and were in the middle of a deep conversation, when she said to be careful about what is going on around us, not get too wrapped up in our conversation. I didn’t really know why she said that, but it’s good advice in general, so I said okay and kept walking. We were talking about the way that we are treated here, and the difficult situation we’re in, being white and being women.

If we are submissive, we submit because we are women, which is the norm here. [Note: I know that my understanding of Rwandan society is not comprehensive, and that gender inequality is a problem all over the world. So when I say that it is patriarchal, I don’t mean that as a condemnation, rather as an observation and a challenge for me to deal with. There definitely is a lot of inequality here, but every society has its own problems and concerns to deal with, and the Rwandese in particular have priorities like preventing another genocide, so it is not unreasonable that women’s rights are on the back-burner for the moment. I can’t be politically correct about everything!] But if we assert ourselves and demand equality or respect, it is because we are white, and it’s normal for white people to demand respect. (But not necessarily for women to do the same.) So, it’s tricky to know what to do sometimes. For example, twice this week I’ve seen convoys of army trucks with hundreds of soldiers drive by. I don’t want to stand by the road with my head down, looking meek so hopefully they won’t notice me. But, if I stand up straight and look at them like everyone else does, they stare and whistle and make lewd gestures and say things that I’m probably glad I don’t understand. So what do you do? I have been going with the head-down approach, but I hate it.

So we were having this conversation in the taxi, and just when we were getting out, the man sitting next to me grabbed my thigh as he was standing up. In these taxis, people touch. There is no way to avoid it when you’re that crammed in, and I’ve never felt that it was sexually-charged before. But this was definitely unnecessary and sustained one second too long. So, when we were off the taxi, I told her what had happened, and that tied into our discussion of the white/woman thing. Did he do that because I was a woman, as he would have done to a Rwandese woman as well? Or did he do it because I was white, because I so obviously don’t belong, because white people have taken power and respect from Africans for so long that (subconsciously of course) this was a way of reclaiming some? I am not suggesting that he had that in mind, but rather that in some way, it’s not as much of a transgression to do it to me, because it’s not demeaning a part of his own culture, but rather a part of a culture that has demeaned his for so long. Like in the movie Crash when Ludacris was more than happy to rob white people, but defended himself by saying that he would never steal from another black person.

Then the conversation morphed into the ambiguity of moments like that, where while it is happening, you’re not even sure of what it is, and then one second after it’s too late to slap his hand away, you realize that it was icky. (This happens on the metro in Montreal as well…) Just at that moment, we had to go through a dense crowd of people between two buses. Megan was behind me, and she was holding on to my backpack, and for a moment I felt someone get between us. I thought I felt my bag unzip, but I that would be impossible with her right there, holding onto it, right? But when we were out of the crowd, she asked if I had my wallet in the small pocket of my bag, which is where I usually keep it. (But no more, now it will get buried under a water bottle and a book.) And sure enough, the zipper was open and my wallet was gone. She said that she saw the guy take it, she saw it in his hand, but by the time she registered what had happened, it was too late to grab it, he was gone. Just like the thigh-grabbing. Really bizarre.

Luckily, things are so cheap here, that I usually don’t have more that the equivalent of $4 on me at any time, and today’s total loss was about 60 cents and one wallet that I didn’t even buy. So, as Megan said, I could have learned that lesson in a much more expensive way. But I still feel weird about it, and I’m not really sure why. I mean, it was definitely not as traumatic (or as much of a financial loss) as the time I got mugged in Brooklyn, but at the same time this was more sneaky and insidious. The guy didn’t have a gun or anything, he didn’t need it, he even took it while Megan was right there watching him.

June 26

And the week has begun. Yesterday we went to Bugasera, a village about an hour away from Kigali. It was very rural, more so than the village we saw on Friday. And on the way back, we took a “shortcut” on a dirt road, which was an experience, for sure. I have whiplash, but it was fun. We all laughed because it was the first time we had been in an SUV when it actually needed to go into 4-wheel drive. We hit our heads on the ceiling a lot, and almost tipped over once, but it was really fun. And cool to take the small road, because we passed animals and some kids who were carrying HUGE bundles of wood. We didn’t really get much of a chance to speak with the women about their loans, which was too bad, but we did get to see a village phone. It was really cool. It’s the only phone for a really long way, and people from surrounding villages come to use it. The rates are about half of what they charge in town, so that it will be more accessible to everyone.

I will write something soon about what exactly I am doing here, but at the moment I am not 100% sure… I know that at some point I’ll be doing field research, and on my own I am going to find women in Kigali to speak with about microfinance. I have also been translating things into French, and I am going to set up some English classes for the bank staff as well. I am really interested in how the loans are changing the social structure here (if they are at all). Because so many men were killed in the genocide, many families are headed by women and girls. And the loans target women, giving them economic power (suddenly) after centuries of disenfranchisement. The weird thing about it is that although this is happening, and everyone is encouraging it, Rwandan society remains extremely patriarchal.

A brief example, and then I have to go: The women basically do everything at home (which is in no way limited to Rwandan society, obviously…) and last week, we had some guests over. It is customary to offer them something to drink, so we served tea. When everyone was done, I took the mugs and spoons into the kitchen, not because it’s my “job” but because I was headed that way anyway, and just wanted to help out. One of the men who was visiting laughed and said “Oh, she knows what women’s work is.” Which might not have been so bad if not for the face that none of the men had even offered to do so much as stir in their own sugar, and the women who served them were me and and extremely pregnant Neema. More about this to come, because (naturally) I have a lot to say. I know that there are still some problems in the U.S. (glass ceiling, Congress, blah blah) and we should be no means stop working toward eradicating those inequalities, but this does make me realize how fortunate I was to grow up somewhere where it is okay not to have kids by the time you’re 25.

At least it's never boring...

Saw hundreds of soldiers coming back from Congo drive by in trucks today. Much whistling. Then saw President Kagame's motorcade pass, complete with armed special police pointing big guns at everyone. Then went to the market and bought bananas and fabric. Where I saw half a cow hanging from the ceiling of the butcher shop and a man get beaten with a stick. And two men told me they loved me. All in all, not a bad Saturday.

Okay!

So life is looking UP. Last night Neema had her baby. They are both healthy and I am going to see them in a few hours. I keep trying to post photos but it's not working, so sorry if there's no baby pic right away. I'll try to get one of the IT guys to help me... Last night I went to dinner with the other interns at an American ex-pat's house. He works with Opportunity and the bank, and he and his wife had 15 American interns over last night. It was great to hear what everyone is doing. There was a girl from the Clinton Foundation and Partners in Health who actually works with Paul Farmer on a daily basis (genius, genius man) and a bunch of teachers who are here on two-year contracts to teach at the school for diplomat and aid workers' kids. A couple other people doing various health care things, and us. It was great, we had fried okra and iced tea (the family is from Arkansas) and it was just what I needed: Some Americans, some southern food, and girl time. And, tomorrow and Monday we are going on field visits to meet some loan groups and see what they are doing, which will be awesome. And, Saturday I'm going swimming at a hotel and to the market to get some passion fruit. In short, things are good and getting better. Must run, I have spreadsheets to translate!

June 19, 2007

It’s Tuesday and already I am ready to be done with work this week. Yesterday was possibly the most tedious day of my life, and today I translated Excel banking documents into French. It will only last until Friday, but that kind of work is fairly unbearable. Especially since I am unfamiliar with banking terms in general, so forget knowing what they are in French. Also, there is one person at work who creeps me out, and I always end up working with him on stuff, so I never get a chance to evaluate if my creeped-out-ness is reasonable or not, because he’s always there being creepy… Next week, though, we won’t be working in the same office, and then after that if the weirdness continues I will say something. Okay, enough venting. But it does feel good…

Before delving into more serious topics, here is a list of lessons learned so far in Rwanda:

1. Do not take motorbike taxis in torrential rain.
2. Always decide on the fare prior to getting on.
3. Insecticide is awesome.
4. Bugs are smarter than mosquito nets.
5. Bananas are the most versatile staple food ever.
6. Patience is really, really, really important. And wears out fast.
7. Cars are like Mary Poppins’ bag: they hold 100x what you would expect.
8. Bucket showers are cool.
9. Refrigeration is highly overrated, and you can definitely eat meat that has been at room temperature for more than an hour.
10. Running water and electricity are not necessities, but cell phones are.

On to more serious things, on Saturday I went to see Pastor Francis and the kids he takes care of. He runs a child sponsorship program, mostly for orphans. The majority are orphans of genocide or AIDS, but some were kids whose families are simply too poor to feed them. He has 350 kids sponsored so far, and more all the time. I went to play with them, and it was really fun but heartbreaking at the same time. Some of the people who work with them told me stories that make you realize how sheltered we are. There was an 8 or 9 year old girl, but she didn’t seem older than 6, who basically is a mother to five younger siblings. Her father is dead and her mother is bedridden, so this girl begs for money, cooks, cleans, does laundry, bathes and clothes her brothers and sisters, and still finds time to make it to school on occasion. Another boy lost his whole family in the genocide, and now stays with distant relatives who are too poor to care for him, and who don’t really want him anyway. For years they didn’t treat his like a person, they called him ‘dog’ or ‘dead body’ and wouldn’t feed him anything. But now that he is sponsored, he brings home food and soap from the program, so they treat his like a human being because he contributes to the household. The woman who told me this said there are many stories like his, because so many kids were forced upon relatives after the genocide.

On the way home, I ran into some kids who were coming home from school (which the have on Saturday…) and they insisted on walking me all the way to my house. They didn’t believe that a white girl lived in their neighborhood. They were really darling, and taught me some songs. I took their picture, and if I can figure out how to post photos, they’re the kids in uniforms.

June 14

So I have officially been here one week. We still have no idea what we’re going to do at work, but yesterday we worked on a brochure and some excel spreadsheets. I am a master at merging cells. We also got to see the new bank hall today, and it’s really nice. I don’t care that much about the banking stuff, but it’s exciting to be here while they will open it. But, I really hope that when we figure out more specifically what we’re doing, that I am with the microfinance people. I mean, the bank is microfinance also, but since it’s in Kigali, it necessarily caters to the working poor, rather than people who do not even have “real” jobs. But at the same time, I want to be useful, so if they really need more people at the bank, I will do that.


I had an intense conversation with Daniel last night about Rwanda’s colonial history and the genocide. It’s the kind of topic that I want to hear about from people here, but you can’t just ask because you never know how affected people were. But earlier he said he moved to Rwanda in 1995 (he grew up in Uganda but is Rwandese) so I knew that at least he was not in the country during genocide. So, we talked about the things that set it in motion, and how the seeds were planted in the 1960s. I thought that it was the Belgians who sent the arms to the Interahamwe, but actually the French were the most involved. They even set up the “turquoise zone” and allowed Interahamwe to flee to Congo. I will go tomorrow to get a book about this, there’s one that came out recently, because I can’t believe that all the things he said are true. I mean, I believe him, but it’s so shocking and really awful that it’s hard to believe it could happen, much less that the French gov’t hasn’t apologized or at least acknowledged their role. We will go to the memorial here, which is supposed to be really good. There are other places you can go, like the church where Tutsis were massacred after they had sought refuge there, and you can still see the bloodstains on the floor and on the wall where they smashed babies’ heads. I don’t know that I want to go see that, or that could ask anyone here to take me, because I’m sure none of them really want to see that.

I feel unprepared to discuss the subject, although it was okay with Daniel, but it’s so hard because in the U.S. (and my life especially) was so shielded from large-scale horror and has been for generations. The Vietnam War was the last huge thing to affect us as a population, and even that was halfway around the world. One ninth of the Rwandese people were killed in three months, and some people that I have met here saw it happen. What am I supposed to say? So far I haven’t talked to anyone who saw things during genocide, but you can kind of tell. Like, if people say they grew up here, you know they were here when it was going on, and many times you can tell who is Tutsi just by looking at them. Also, sometimes if you are talking about peoples’ families, they will say “My mother has died” in this way that is so final, you just know.