Jun 06 2007
Part IV
Visiting Rwandan Homes
While we were there, we had the privelege of eating at several peoples’ homes. These Rwandan hosts were absolutely wonderful. By their residences, they were fairly well-to-do. They considered it an honour to entertain us for an evening - they bestowed upon us such hospitality as I have rarely seen. Their homes were behind 10 foot tall stone walls, topped with cemented shards of glass to prevent thieves from scaling them. They had cozy living rooms in stone buildings, and put on such feasts for us! The food was wonderful. I had a moment or two to peek into the kitchens that produced all that food - I have no idea how they managed it. It was like a closet with a stove in it and a couple of shelves. No refridgeration whatsoever. I can’t even imagine how long the women had to have been working in the kitchen to produce all this food - the weather was not cool, and the idea of working in that kitchen all day with heat coming off the stove, and the heat outside - it makes me sweat just to think about it even now. We sang with them, danced with them, worshipped with them, prayed with them and for them. It was great.
The Geranium Project
We were taken on a tour of Dr. Nicholas Hitimana’s project for widows and former prostitutes. He is a doctor of agriculture, and has built a system for growing and harvesting organically grown geraniums, then rendering the essential oils for the world market in aromatherapy. It is entirely staffed by women who would otherwise have no means of supporting themselves. We heard the stories of many of these women, and had a chance to share our own stories with them. It was heart rending. We still have a small vial of the oils produced by Dr. Hitimana’s project.
Lake Kivu
The final days of our time in Rwanda were spent in an overnight stay at Lake Kivu. The lake borders Rwanda and the Congo. It is a stunning lake - the only thing I can compare it to is Lake Okanagan, but without the condominiums and overbuilt resorts - the way it should be. The waters are overlaid upon a reserve of methane gas underground, which percolates through the lake, keeping the large African creatures out of it - no Crocodiles or Hippos. The water was pristine and we went for a swim there. By evening as we ate dinner, we watched a traditional African fishing boat skim across the small bay, 6 men at the oars, singing as they fished. It was like something out of a dream or a movie, it seemed so surreal. We exchanged words about our experience and went to bed.
The next morning Richard had some bad news for us. Actually, it was news that broke his heart, and Jeff’s. Their good friend and co-worker in Rwanda, Ben Farrant had been killed in a bicycle accident back in Canada. Our two leaders and organizers were clearly taken out by this event. We all had to pull together to get what was needed done while they grieved and prepared for a sudden trip back to Canada (they had both been planning to remain in Africa for another few weeks after we left). We went back to Kigali and dedicated the park to Ben’s Memory, painting a large sign reading, “Ben’s Boathouse” and affixing it to the top of the tower.
The Return
The trip home was very hard. We had all been profoundly affected by our experience, and with the trauma of Ben’s loss colouring our trip, we found it troubling to gather ourselves and move along. A moment of levity at Heathrow was provided by Paul as he swathed himself in colourful wraps and appeared much as a large white Rwandan woman. However, by the time we disembarked at YVR, we could hardly look at each other from fatigue and heartsickness. Cheryl and I were so glad to see our boys at the airport. We had never been away from them for so long.
After a day or two we began to see each other again. We gathered at our house one day to exchange pictures, and Jeff and Jody joined us at that time. They had been to Ben’s funeral by then and had begun to recover. It seemed that all too quickly we were all going our separate ways again but still, to this day, every once in a while I bump into someone we travelled with, and it only takes a second for us to begin to reminisce about the experience of a lifetime.
There is so much more I have not talked about. I did not get into the invasion of the army ants on our dorm. I did not get into the battles of the snoring men, a vicious bout that would not be conceded by either Paul or Larry. I did not talk about the visit to the Genocide Memorial or the impact that had on me. I did not talk about the soccer match where I went shirtless with my farmer tan to the amusement of the Rwandans, or the bodycheck that Larry delivered in a scramble for the ball that sent his opponent sailing to the cheers of the crowd. I did not talk about the small children at the waterfall serenading us with homemade single string instruments. I did not talk about the fantastic meal we had at the Indian restaurant downtown or the special entertainment experience put on by Elizabeth’s relatives at their hotel with Rwandan dancers and entire Tilapia served to us on platters. I will leave those stories for when you ask me, “What else happened in Rwanda?”
Then I will tell you, “You had to be there.”
