One Year

This post isn’t about Rwanda. Or genocide. Or global citizenship. I’m not generally one to be open on certain topics and normally that is the case with Kevin. If this blog is the thoughts and feelings I have during my time in Kigali, than this is what I’m thinking and feeling today.

A year ago I lost someone very important to me. Though our relationship changed in the 7-8 years that I knew him, Kevin witnessed many of the defining moments in my life thus far. And if he wasn’t there to experience them with me, he certainly heard all about them and helped me process whatever happened. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss him or worry that I’m not doing enough good to make up for such a great loss of life. Which is most likely a very realistic fear. 

It has been a long year with many ups and downs. Times I missed him and times I hated him, frequently at the same time. I worried for the longest time that losing Kevin meant losing the time we spent together, the lessons I learned and the experiences we shared. He witnessed in a unique way the growth from me as a scared, angry, lost 15 year old into the person I’ve become. I’d hate to lose sight of who I was as I continue to grow. Kevin held so many of the little moments of who I am now. 

I’ve come to accept that losing Kevin doesn’t mean losing myself or the moments we shared. He still convinced me to go to church, taught me to sail, held my hand in India and taught me an astonishing amount about life, death, and everything in between. I suck on ice cubes when I’m overwhelmed and listen to Harry Potter books on CD when I can’t sleep because eight years ago he told me to “just try it.” 

I don’t know why the one year mark hurts so much worse than every other day. Maybe it’s the finality. Or the memories of that morning or the days that followed. I knew coming here that being in Rwanda and away from any support system on this day would be hard. Even the weeks leading up to it have been difficult. I also knew that it would be worth the pain and, more importantly, that I would get through it. I don’t think there is any better way for me to remember Kevin than in what I am doing in Kigali. 

All I know with absolute certainty is that today may hurt like hell, but I’m exactly where I should be and doing exactly what Kevin would have wanted.

Church

My internet has been less than ideal the past few days so I have some catching up to do.

I went to church on Saturday with a friend, JP. I have heard rumors that church here is very different (longer) than church at home. I thought I was prepared. It is impossible to conceptualize sitting on an ill made wooden bench for 4 hours listening to incomprehensible English. To be fair, the man’s English was very good however, the man that was translating into French would start translating as he was still speaking. The French translation over powered the English and I only know that the topic was “Heaven is for real.” Which was fine with me as I had other things to occupy my thoughts that morning.

At the beginning of the service (and by beginning I mean 45 minutes in when we arrived with everyone else like it was not a problem) there was an announcement about the construction of the church. The service I attended was outside in something similar to a pavilion. I did not think anything of this until a man stated that after 18 years the church was almost complete. The congregation has been meeting in various building for almost two decades since the 1994 genocide. I’m not sure how much readers know about the genocide so I will briefly explain…

During the genocide, Tutsis fled to churches in hopes of protection and safety. Religious leaders encouraged Tutsis to come, would fill the church with people, then lock the doors and send for the interahamwe to come and kill all inside. I did not ask JP what happened to his church so I cannot be certain that this is what happened but it is probable. 

I am pretty much constantly amazed at how stable and vibrant Kigali is. Within my lifetime, over 1 million people were killed in this country and somehow, people moved on. My friends, and as I understand it, most people under 25, have no idea whether they are Tutsi or Hutu. Nor do they care. Ethno-nationalism has effectively been extinguished. They identify as Rwandese. It took roughly one generation to turn around decades of colonial oppression, a civil war, and a catastrophic genocide. By no means is the Rwandan government operating entirely on the up and up and things are a bit tenser in the rural areas outside of Kigali. But people returned to church. To a place that was used for murder and mass violence. Women were raped in front of their communities inside buildings where they used to pray. Those who survived and those who returned to Rwanda post genocide found a way to continue living.

 I don’t know that kind of strength and courage and forgiveness. 

Erika vs Cockroach

I've already lost track of the days. But here is a pretty fantastic episode in my life.

I’ve decided to live with the roaches. That is not to say that I will be taking up residence in holes or colonies or burrows or where ever the insects call home but I will peacefully exist in the same room with them. My first encounter with a roach occurred last night. I was completely relaxed as I went to use the bathroom before going to bed. As I go to take care of business I halt. Hanging out on one of the many buckets used as part of the toilet situation is a 4-5 inch long roach.

 Madness ensues. I run from the bathroom yelling EEVVVVOOOOOOODEE!!! HEEEEEELLLLLP!!! Evode runs the residence compound that I’m staying in and I think he generally tolerates me for the entertainment value. He comes into the bathroom as I am running in circles outside the door arms flailing. At this point I have to pee so badly I run to the guest house where I bust through the door waking up Calum who was napping on the couch. Near tears I run to the bathroom. Calum tries to console me but to no avail.

I would like to pause here to question why on earth the human body needs to urinate under stress. It seems to me that in a fight or flight situation where I am about to be eaten alive by a roach, the only thing that could make things worse is if I needed to pee. Obviously I chose flight and made it safely to a bathroom but seriously? Evolution needs to rethink that little detail.

I come back into the house and Evode and his friend (who of course is rather attractive) are sitting in the common area again as if nothing happened. I asked if they found the roach… he laughed at me and said it was fine. The roach wouldn’t hurt me. I beg to differ, my friend. They tried looking again and the thing had disappeared. Not only do I look like a wimp who can’t handle a bug, I also look delusional. Fantastic. 

Needless to say, sleep did not happen last night. I sat vigilantly waiting for the roach to come for me, clawing through my mosquito net and ready to suck my blood. By the time my alarm went off this morning, I resolved to not be afraid of roaches anymore. Just because I was afraid of them coming here does not mean I need to be when I leave. I may not play with them and start keeping them as pets but I will no longer cry and need to urinate every time I see one. Let’s call it a Rwanda Resolution. 

Sorry if there was a bit too much information about urination in this post…

Day 6

I haven’t explained what I’m actually doing in Kigali… besides riding motos and eating ridiculous amounts of pineapple. So here goes…

I am interning with the National Commission for the Fight Against Genocide (CNLG) in the Research, Documentation and Dissemination Center on Genocide (RDCG). RDCG was started about one year ago with the primary function to gather evidence of the 1994 genocide and begin to analyze and provide information to the public (domestic and international). My first task was to draft a proposal for the future of RDCG.  

As part of the proposal I had meetings with specialists in Conservation and Documentation and the Gacaca cases. Conservation and Documentation records testimonials of survivors and perpetrators, gathers evidence such as human remains and artifacts as well as photographic documentation of individual and mass graves. The Gacaca cases are the trials of perpetrators. The trials officially finished in 2012 and now all of the documentation (well over 1 million trials and at least 60 million documents) must be organized, filed and scanned into a database. 

My mindset coming in this morning was mostly annoyed with the “East African Work Ethic” which is basically considered inefficient and an enormous frustration for anyone socialized in any other part of the world. I figured the meetings would consist of me waiting several hours for them to arrive and not being particularly productive. I did indeed wait an hour and a half before my first meeting came but it was well worth the wait. The first meeting was with a Gacaca documentation professional who was incredibly insightful and knowledgeable. He was patient in explaining the Gacaca proceedings, the challenges the unit is facing and what needs to be done to save the documents from deteriorating in damp cardboard boxes and lost forever. His job, along with nine other professionals, entails reading every single Gacaca case file. Which means reading 60 million pages of mass violence. When we finished I asked him how he found the courage to go to work every morning.

His words of advice were:

 “You have to write the story before you cry.” 

“So I go run amok. Maybe that is exactly what that man wants. For me to give up. For it to be too much.”

 [In regards to a survivor who was raped during the genocide] “She survived. She is here and we can help her.”

 “Maybe I quit because it is hard. And then my friend quits because I quit. Who will be left to do this important work?”

We exchanged emails and he has offered to meet again while I’m here to discuss his work and show me the original Gacaca files.

If that wasn’t enough before lunch, I met with a man who specializes in forensic conservation of human remains. He showed me pictures of the mobile lab they set up to preserve and study evidence. I’m not sure I’m ready to write about that experience quite yet. The meeting was very informative. 

A productive day.

Day 5

I neglected to mention a moment of me making a fool of myself...

As Callum and I walked through the market (my goal by the end of my time here is to be able to pronounce and spell it properly) and between the carrots and the tomatoes was this huge… thing. It was bright green and shaped somewhat like a kidney bean covered in protrubent bumps. Except enormous. Probably about the size of my torso. As Callum and I discussed the strange veggie/gourd/produce in front of us, I half-jokingly said I wanted to touch it. Tomato Man understood enough English to grab my right wrist and proceed to stroke my hand against the rounded yet spiny surface of the enormous green kidney bean. I shouted in terror and everyone around me stopped, turned to look at me and laughed. And laughed. I turned bright red and Tomato Man said “You look like a crazy American, sister.” Even my Mazungu companion was laughing at me.

Tomato Man proceeded to grossly over charge me for 6 tomatoes and a handful of green beans. Then he fondled me and we parted as “friends.” 

I cannot recall whose theory this is (Sorry Dr Gatins) but it stated that adolescents operate with an extremely egocentric understanding of the world. I didn’t buy into this same mindset too much as a teenager. However, now I am absolutely certain EVEYRONE is watching EVERY embarrassing thing I do. Like trip into the enormous pits Rwandese consider gutters, or rocks or any other barriers the ground puts in front of me.

Something I’ve been wondering about… the traffic in Kigali in unlike anything I have ever experienced. It isn’t that there are an incredible number of cars on the road but simply that they don’t seem to operate under any formal law. I see structures that I assume are traffic lights but do not seem to actually stop traffic at appropriate times. Passing and non passing zones not only don’t matter but sides of the street are insignificant. The greatest wonder to me is that cars are built with the driver on either side of the vehicle. In some cars the driver is on the left and in others it is on the right. Sidewalks are merely a suggestion. If I am not hit by a mode of transportation in the next three months, it will be a miracle.

Things I love so far:

Becoming more efficient at cutting produce thanks to the lovely Agnes.

How easy it is to adapt here. Such as peeling a carrot with a dull knife. Much easier than one would assume. Or having my blow dryer work (for now).

Riding on the back of motos on a daily basis.

Thunderstorms. Though one kept me at the office for an extra half hour today.

The people. (Except maybe the Tomato Man).

Moments of complete cultural differences. Callum “That man is putting raw meat directly into a paper bag. We need to go somewhere else.”

My supervisor’s English is excellent to the point that he can point out in my writing where I am being vague but he cannot fix it for me so it forces me to develop and articulate my ideas better. Frustrating but a good learning experience.

Things I wish I had packed: Flip flops, brown paper lunch bags, garlic salt and more cough drops.

Most ridiculous notion I’ve had: It would be possible to mail something from Rwanda and have it arrive in the US within a few days. 

Note: We still have no idea what the mystery produce is.

Day 4

This fella has now successfully distracted me from work for approximately 15 minutes. And however long it will take me to write a decent post. You can't tell from the picture but Roy is about as long as my hand. Not that I picked him up.

I'm currently enjoying the honeymoon phase of living in Kigali. Agnes and Dinah took me to the coop/market on Friday and it was wonderful. I bought fresh produce including the most delicious pineapple I've ever eaten. I will not even attempt to spell the name of the market yet but it has fresh fruit and vegetables, rice, beans, cookware, fabrics, handicrafts, clothes. Pretty much everything you could possibly need.

Friday afternoon I started at my internship. Damas and I discussed his vision for the Research Center and now I get to put it into words. I am very excited to be working for him in the coming months. I have a lot to learn.

Friday night we (a couple of the others staying here and I) walked to Sole Luna, a pizza place "near by." The pizza was great and the company was even better. Between four and five other people are staying here on any given day. Everyone is working for different organizations with different specialties and interests which makes conversation a treat.

*INSERT 12 HOURS, RESCUING ROY AND A LONG WANDER AROUND KIGALI*

Saturday I attempted to get onto a moto while wearing a dress. I was relatively successful. That night the power went out so we decided to play pool at a bar down the street. A pretty typical Saturday I would say.

Today has been rather unproductive yet surprisingly exhausting. I ventured into the kitchen to make a real meal rather than existing on pineapple and Frosted Flakes. I didn't catch anything on fire. I think the exhaustion came from agreeing to accompany a friend to the market... which ended up being a four hour trip. I feel more comfortable finding my way around the city but it was storming and a man at the market fondled me while selling me tomatoes and green beans.

Most of this is probably useless and dull so I apologize. My body is resistant to adapting it's sleep schedule so I'm pretty much not sleeping. My brain is not functioning at the optimum level right now. I guess I will call it quits for now.

Day 1

From the balcony/porch type situation outside where I'm staying.

I landed in Kigali at 1:30 this morning. I am already amazed at how much there is to see and do.

The trip was fairly uneventful. No one sitting next to me took detailed notes on everything I did and I did not wake up to anything uncomfortable either so I'd call it a success.

Today I: went to the supermarket, learned how to use the shower, and napped. My internship supervisor is on his way over to meet with me. I'm excited to hear about what I will be doing while I am here.

I think I may finally be hungry for the first time since I left Chicago. Excellent.