As my alarm went off I found myself struggling to get out of bed but I knew I had a few important days ahead of me. Being anything but a morning person as all of my friends would know I new the first task was to make it to the bathroom to take that luke warm shower to get me going. A few hours later I arrived at school and found the six Rwandese students in our grade seven class were packed and ready to go. As they threw their belongings in the back of the pick up I was surprised at how many students had tears running down their face. They said their good byes to teachers, staff, and fellow students and we hurried to catch the bus to Rwanda!
Yes, we were off… my first visit to Rwanda with six very special students and my good Ugandan friend, Abraham. I had a great seat and enjoyed my view as we got further out in the country side. After a few hours we had a “short call” and out everyone poured of the bus for a potty break on the side of the road. I thought we were in the middle of nowhere until the bus was surrounded by a surprising number of people trying to sell a variety of ‘snack foods’ and drinks for the road. Immediately a young boy who was selling deep fried fish (yes, the head too) caught my eye. He was wearing a T-shirt that I immediately recognized because I grew up as a good Canadian kid playing, watching and loving hockey. It was a Vancouver Canucks T-shirt! I had a little chuckle and felt bad for the little guy that he did not have a high quality Calgary Flames T-shirt to wear!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Beautiful Country
The bus roared on and five hours later we reached the Rwanda border. It was not like the 49th parallel in North America with air tight security. I watched people crossing on bikes without being stopped or even noticed it seemed and even a herdsmen with 8 cattle sauntered through. Once we had our Ugandan exit visa stamped and our entry visa for Rwanda in our passport we made our way back to the bus. All the bags were outside on the ground and they were being checked thoroughly. Perhaps drugs I thought, but instead plastic bags of any kind were being confiscated as these are outlawed in the Republic of Rwanda. (To cut down on the litter factor I guess). As our bus switched to driving on the other side of the road like I was accustomed to in Canada, I could not help but notice the beautiful hillsides. The next hour to Kigali, the capital, was spent looking at the steep terraced hills and lush valleys of tea and sugar cane.
Heroes And Transport
As our bus pulled into the taxi park in Kigali I was ready to pour myself into the lives of these six young people for a few days and learn as much as I could about their families, the challenges they would face back home, and the possibilities for their future. We were met by an older African Children’s Choir member from a previous choir who had just finished secondary school. We all piled into a taxi (mini van) and made our way into the city to one of the two orphanages where our 16 Rwandese students at the school come from. It was dark as they all unloaded their belongings and were given rooms. There was no power as the orphanage had been late in paying for the last few months. We then found a special hire (regular taxi car) and made our way to our guesthouse. During these last few events I have left out details about the driver who was high on something and the fight on the street that almost turned into a brawl… No need I guess as we ended up in the guest house safe and sound.As morning came I bounced out of bed a lot quicker than usual and took my regular shower. Soon we were back at the orphanage by boda, boda (motorbike taxi) and greeted by our special six and many others. The man who runs this orphanage is a national hero in Rwanda as he saved the lives of over 300 people during the genocide. Whoever arrived at his gate during that time was hidden in different places within the walled compound and when soldiers came time and time again they could find no one but little children.
Making A Difference
Before we said our goodbyes to two of the children Abraham and I met with the six of them and explained that they would be going to secondary school in Rwanda. We reminded them that their being chosen by the African Children’s Choir was no accident and now that they had a good base spiritually and academically from choir training, touring, and Music For Life Primary School in Uganda, they were ready to make a difference in their home country. This was not an easy conversation as all six of them had lost many family members during the genocide and did not have a lot to return to. We ended our time in a circle with some time of prayer with these six amazing young people.
Unbelievable...
As the afternoon approached we left the students who were in good spirits, and made our way back to Kigali. It took a little longer as our taxi had to stop for repairs, but that provided a good opportunity for some lunch. Once back in the capital Abraham went one way and I went to see the National Genocide Memorial Center.
As I entered this building I was not sure what expect as I had heard so many things before my arrival. I was amazed that it was two different European countries that started to classify the Rwandans into two different groups, the Hootoos and the Tootsies. They were not two different tribes but rather originally classified by how many cows they owned and later the length of the nose and other defining physical features. Early on the Europeans used the minority group to help rule the country. Bitterness grew and was harbored and eventually the genocide began as the president’s plane was intentionally shot down and the act of violence blamed on the minority group. Soon it become a nightmare that I just could not believe. People were slaughtered in the streets and hunted like animals. Neighbors turned on each other and husbands were told to kill their wives depending on their classification. As I toured this memorial it shared all the details and how in a matter of just a few months almost one million people were murdered and half a million women raped. I read about the Canadian general who saw what was happening on the street and wanted more UN troops sent so it could be stopped. Instead the UN turned its back and a few European countries even provided millions of dollars to buy the arms to carry out the process….And then looked the other way as the horrors took place. People fled to churches and some were then surrounded by soldiers who were instructed by the bishop to burn them. The memorial had human bones, individual pictures of those murdered and clothes uncovered in mass graves. A shirt that said “I love Ottawa, Canada” caught my eye and I wondered as a Canadian why we didn’t do more. As I left the main memorial I went upstairs where there was a special memorial for the children that were killed during the genocide. Their large pictures on the wall had a plaque underneath that told about their favourite sport and past time. Then it was told how they died… What I read I couldn’t believe as some were stabbed in the eyes, macheted in her mothers arms, shot and killed in many other unbelievable ways. The one that brought tears to my eyes was a little boy the age of Seth who was bashed to death against a wall.
As I left I was in shock. Yes, there is still some tension, but Rwanda has started a remarkable process of healing and moving forward. Tribes are no longer mentioned, but instead a person will say they are a Rwandese.
As we climbed back on the bus to head back to Uganda, I had a much better understanding of what our Rwandese students had gone through and the challenges that lay ahead. I made up my mind that I would return to visit these students and refuse to forget them. Over the eight hour journey I thought about that little boy I read about at the memorial center and thought about little Seth and my lovely wife, Sarah back in Kampala. I realized more than ever how thankful I was for my immediate family and the heritage I have back in the West and the country I am truly blessed to be part of. Yes, Canada and other countries like the United States are not perfect, but we should be extremely thankful for growing up in countries where individuals are welcome to be different and express themselves in a country where freedom for all is a cornerstone. I also vowed to be all I can for my family and be a husband and dad who places them first.
Please continue to pray for my six P7 Rwandese students (and a seventh one returning later) that they will adjust quickly back to their culture and do well as they start secondary school. As you think about these students and Rwanda remember to be thankful for the country that many of you are reading this from.
God Bless and have a great Christmas season as the birth of Jesus approaches. Mark
As I entered this building I was not sure what expect as I had heard so many things before my arrival. I was amazed that it was two different European countries that started to classify the Rwandans into two different groups, the Hootoos and the Tootsies. They were not two different tribes but rather originally classified by how many cows they owned and later the length of the nose and other defining physical features. Early on the Europeans used the minority group to help rule the country. Bitterness grew and was harbored and eventually the genocide began as the president’s plane was intentionally shot down and the act of violence blamed on the minority group. Soon it become a nightmare that I just could not believe. People were slaughtered in the streets and hunted like animals. Neighbors turned on each other and husbands were told to kill their wives depending on their classification. As I toured this memorial it shared all the details and how in a matter of just a few months almost one million people were murdered and half a million women raped. I read about the Canadian general who saw what was happening on the street and wanted more UN troops sent so it could be stopped. Instead the UN turned its back and a few European countries even provided millions of dollars to buy the arms to carry out the process….And then looked the other way as the horrors took place. People fled to churches and some were then surrounded by soldiers who were instructed by the bishop to burn them. The memorial had human bones, individual pictures of those murdered and clothes uncovered in mass graves. A shirt that said “I love Ottawa, Canada” caught my eye and I wondered as a Canadian why we didn’t do more. As I left the main memorial I went upstairs where there was a special memorial for the children that were killed during the genocide. Their large pictures on the wall had a plaque underneath that told about their favourite sport and past time. Then it was told how they died… What I read I couldn’t believe as some were stabbed in the eyes, macheted in her mothers arms, shot and killed in many other unbelievable ways. The one that brought tears to my eyes was a little boy the age of Seth who was bashed to death against a wall.
As I left I was in shock. Yes, there is still some tension, but Rwanda has started a remarkable process of healing and moving forward. Tribes are no longer mentioned, but instead a person will say they are a Rwandese.
As we climbed back on the bus to head back to Uganda, I had a much better understanding of what our Rwandese students had gone through and the challenges that lay ahead. I made up my mind that I would return to visit these students and refuse to forget them. Over the eight hour journey I thought about that little boy I read about at the memorial center and thought about little Seth and my lovely wife, Sarah back in Kampala. I realized more than ever how thankful I was for my immediate family and the heritage I have back in the West and the country I am truly blessed to be part of. Yes, Canada and other countries like the United States are not perfect, but we should be extremely thankful for growing up in countries where individuals are welcome to be different and express themselves in a country where freedom for all is a cornerstone. I also vowed to be all I can for my family and be a husband and dad who places them first.
Please continue to pray for my six P7 Rwandese students (and a seventh one returning later) that they will adjust quickly back to their culture and do well as they start secondary school. As you think about these students and Rwanda remember to be thankful for the country that many of you are reading this from.
God Bless and have a great Christmas season as the birth of Jesus approaches. Mark
Adventures With Sarah
After reading Mark’s writings, I felt I had nothing to write this month that would seem to fit together with such powerful content. But then I realized we just celebrated American Thanksgiving and I was overwhelmed and humbled by how God has blessed me and my family beyond what we have ever deserved or ever will. Mark and I both growing up in loving, Christian homes with a mother and father who love us and healthy brothers and sisters……both of us coming from countries where we were free from fear and evil that kills, deeply wounds, and paralyzes a people for decades to follow….and now, being able to be together and give our son everything he needs with no doubt that God will provide and shelter us. Yikes. I feel the kind of gratitude that gives me nothing to say. How can I say ‘thank you’ for all of that? And how could one ounce of me not be grateful? I realized I have a very suitable story to tell…. A story of our Thanksgiving celebration, shared with the most sincere, ‘bubbling over’ and at the same time speechless gratitude, that I’ve ever known simply because I have heard and seen the pain of others who don’t have what I have. I won’t try to say I have felt their pain at any level, by knowing them and seeing the evidence of the scars in their lives. I have tried to understand why I am me, having what I have and they are they, having what they have…. But I can’t. I will never like it… I will never be able to think about it and have all the ends neatly tied up in my mind. But I can tell you this. I will never stop being grateful! Never! Now, let me share briefly, our delightful Thanksgiving (celebrated on American Thanksgiving because many of our friends here are American).About 7 couples plus all of our children (about 30 people) summoned our creativity (and the women our best Thanksgiving recipes that can be passed off as authentic here in Uganda) and donned costumes in order to reenact the sailing of the Mayflower and the first Thanksgiving, Squanto and all! The very ‘funnest’ aspect of it all was that half of us were American and the other half British. We are all good friends from the same care group at our church, so the good natured ‘ad-libbing’ that went back and forth throughout the play was more fun than the play itself. Mark and Seth and I were Indians. I had a great time painting black shoe polish on all of us and attempting small headdresses for me and Mark. And, our little Indian boy likes nothing more than being naked… so he was having a jolly old time in his diaper with bandanas tied around his waist and shoe polish all over! He actually giggled out loud when we were having a family picture taken. It seemed like he was getting in the spirit of the dress-up thing and catching on to everyone’s excitement. You know, something I realized,….fun things like that party/play seem silly until you have kids. Then it’s a riot. And I was in there with the best of them, costuming, running across the driveway quickly because it was ‘the ocean’, and listening intently while the narrator (Mark) declared that ‘the Pilgrims spent the first Winter on the Mayflower and many of them got sick and some of them died’. (Having young boys in the group who launch themselves onto the ground in ‘death’ makes the dying part seem funny even though it’s not). And after the play…..the food!!! Wow! It really felt like Thanksgiving! And it was fun watching Seth in his little Indian garb, chomping on a cob of corn for thirty minutes with his squishy little gums, not a tooth in his head. As the evening wore on, I missed my family as I thought of them all together celebrating as we always have. But I was so, so thankful to be with my husband and son, living the good life God has given us and surrounded by dear friends. I hope all of you can relate to my joy and I pray that none of us will forget for one second, where our blessings come from and like the song says ‘Every blessing You pour out, I’ll turn back to praise’ let us exalt Him for His goodness to us! Have a Merry Christmas! Sarah
Adventures With Seth
Hi everybody. I’ve been working really hard on my teeth. That’s what mom says anyway. I just feel kind of grumpy sometimes. I don’t have any yet and I think it’s almost time. And you know what else? I got a really bad cold where I was coughing and my nose was running all the time. I couldn’t sleep very good and I was always calling for mom and dad to come and get me in the night. Sometimes they would let me sleep with them when I was sick. That was much better. I’m still working on my crawling… my arms and legs don’t work together very good and I just crash down. But I really want to go and get my ball when it gets away so pretty soon I will be all over this house! I need to go now…my toys are waiting for me to come play. Good bye!
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