Murabeho (Goodbye)

In a few days I leave Rwanda to head back to the U.S. How do I sum up what has been the most intense 6 months of my life? How do I tell you about the personal transformation that has taken place as a result of living in an extremely complex society with its many sets of contradictions? How do I explain to you that my outlook on everything – from how much water I use to the power of reconciliation – will never be the same?

Several people will probably ask me what I valued most about this experience, and without hesitation, I’ll tell them it’s the many people whose lives has touched mine, and in little ways I’ve tried to touch theirs. It’s the lessons that individuals have taught me about how important and necessary it is to build (and in some cases rebuild) communities that were disrupted and/or destroyed by conflict. It’s the hours that I’ve spent listening and communicating in a language I don’t understand, as well as participating in community activities such as meetings, communal work, and the weekly court sessions in my neighborhood.

But most of all it’s the stories of the 50 plus families who have given me access to their lives, their hopes, their deepest fears. It’s the stories that will continue to play over and over in my mind.

Like the story of Immaculate the 30 year old woman who was only a teenager during the genocide. She lost her entire family during the war, and was raped by her guardian who infected her with AIDS. Immaculate recently took a turn for the worst. She’s now in a comma with only days to live….

It’s the story of Clementine who owned a bar during the genocide where many of the killers came to “unwind” after a “hard day’s work” (that’s how they referred to their “jobs” of massacring thousands of Tutsis and moderate Hutus during the war). She was recently released from 10 years in prison for being privy to several conversations that could have prevented the deaths of thundreds of her friends and neighbors – she has now committed her life to building peace.

Innocent – the man who used his own resources to spare the lives of many children during the genocide. He was recently on trial for allegedly killing one of his neighbors – the accuser was the lover of his ex-wife. In the end it was the moving testimony of 3 of the young men whose lives he saved that saved his life.

(Note: the stories are real but the names of the individuals mentioned in this blog entry have been changed).

It’s the powerful men and women that I’ve met who are leaders, parents, teachers and tailors, housekeepers and home-makers that I will never forget. These are the people (of all ethnic groups) that I spent hours talking with – whose homes I visited – whose community I became a part of.

Some US travelers would come to the end of an experience like this and thank God for how blessed they are to live in a country where there is hot running water, indoor plumbing, and where the electricity hardly ever goes out. But for me the reflections go deeper than that – the love, joy, peace, and strong sense of community that I experienced here far outweighs any luxuries that I had to forgo…. and on a larger scale this experience makes me even more committed to question the injustices that continue to exist in our world today. Such as why is it that 20% of the world’s population (mostly residents of Europe and North America) live on 80% of the world’s resources; “250 million people have died of hunger-related causes in the past quarter-century — roughly 10 million each year”; or why is it that as an international community we said “NEVER AGAIN” would we fail to intervene to prevent genocide, and yet in Darfur (the Western region of Sudan) “more than 450,000 people have lost their lives and millions have been displaced“. These are the questions that I continue to struggle with – the questions that I hope will begin to dominate your thoughts, prayers, and actions (if they haven’t already).

So dear friends and family, I thank you once again for your continued support and encouragement through what has been an amazing journey! Kwaheri ya kuonana (With blessing till we meet again)!

“How was Africa?” (by Leigh Anderson – Guest Blogger)

 

It has been about three months since I returned back to the states after a two month stay on the continent. Although it was my first time in the Motherland, it proved to be one of the most rewarding experiences. The experience was one in which I was able to progress considerably and break through the confines of a normal undergraduate experience. Critical to my long term ambitions the experience served as a catalyst in my personal life equipping me with a higher level of motivation towards newly established goals. My experience was one that inspired me to grow personally and academically as a scholar.

The transference of familiarity between me and those that I would encounter during my stay was phenomenal. Helping me to dispel many myths my trip to Africa was one filled with great revelations. The trip served as an opportunity for me to achieve many goals that I never knew I would ever get a chance to fulfill as well as achieve some goals that I did not even know existed. These goals were academic, emotional and spiritual. The continent is amazing!

While there I traveled from Rwanda, to Uganda, Kenya and also Ethiopia. Each country had a different flavor. However, there are just some things that are constant and that continued to surface throughout my experience. For many years I believed that there was a huge distance between the continental African and the African-American. Not just physical, but mental, emotional. I refuse to believe that continental Africans do not identify with African-Americans. The levels of hospitality and sense of community was something I had never experienced before in my life and honestly believe that I will never again experience until my next visit to the continent. I had been away from home for almost 400 years and to go back was an indescribable feeling. Rwanda was a country full of inspiration, hope and healing. The women that I met there sent me back to the states with new found self respect; a new attitude to encourage standing up for what I believe is right, a strong sense of family and the ability to be as strong as they are. To get an opportunity to observe with my own eyes the cultures and customs that I could only dream about was a privilege that remains unparalleled.

While in Kenya, I had the opportunity to witness history. Being in Kenya during election time, I was able to observe a country entering into what I would call a political and cultural revolution. I went to Kenya knowing nothing about their political state or even much of their history. I left with a greater understanding of not only Kenyan politics but also the role of the international media on issues on the continent and how it contributes to the negative stereotypes surrounding issues on the continent. It felt good to see that the people of Kenya decided that their voices would be heard. The violence that took place was unfortunate, and the lives that were lost did not go in vain. The government asked that Kenyans come out in large numbers and vote, peacefully. And that is exactly what they did. So to see the elections stolen away from them was painful.

I hope that this idea of no longer accepting complacency will spread across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States during our election time. The people of Kenya are to be commended. I look up to them and it was that experience that inspired me to exercise my vote to the fullest, a privilege that sadly I had not been excited about taking part in. I learned that the voice of the people must be heard and even if those in power attempt to ignore it, they can not ignore solidarity and that it what has taken place in Kenya. This was an experience that will never be forgotten. To go with one mother and father and come back with many mothers and fathers was amazing. I never felt uncomfortable or out of place. I never felt like I could not survive or that I did not belong.

When I returned to the states and people would ask me, “How was Africa?” I would smile and say “she’s fine.” That question is so loaded, and I could not speak about the many experiences that I had or the many people that I had encountered. But if you ask me, Africa is fine. She is the one place where you can go and be accepted any and everywhere. Africa welcomed me with open arms and to come back to the States and speak on her behalf is an honor. Having been out of the country before, nothing else can compare. I am so proud of my African heritage. I finally know that I have a place to belong, a place to call home.

Mwaka Musha Muhire (Happy NewYear)!…Twese Hamwe (All of US)!

 

Happy New Year friends and family! Another year gives us the opportunity to reflect on the joys and sorrows of the previous year as well as the hopes and opportunities for an upcoming year. At the end of 2007, I visited my homeland, Kenya, for two weeks. It was an extremely exciting time in a country that was viewed by many as one of the most peaceful and prosperous nations on the African continent. I was there before and during what was a historic election that was hoped to bring to the country the change that many are hungry for.

On Election Day, December 27th, I accompanied some of my friends to the polls and had the privilege to hang out in the national and international press stand to capture the images of what was seen as a model election. Folks (especially young people as well as some of the most poor and disenfranchised members of the society) came to the polls in record numbers…some came as early as 4am to wait in line…. 3, 4, 5 hours, talking, laughing, reading newspapers… all the while confident that after many years of disappointments, this time would be different… this time their votes would be counted fairly. Then we went home and waited…. and waited… and waited. While we waited we watched on the TV for the tallying of the votes that were slowly trickling in, and listened to the extremely informative debates and discussions about the need for change in a country with its share of gender and class disparities. The votes were counted polling station by polling station… region by region, and although there were disputes in some areas over the process, overall all seemed to be going well.

We went to bed and in the morning our worst fears were realized…the 2007 elections were stolen!!! That next day within a span of 33 minutes the press were kicked out the conference center (except the one government owned media outlet), the presidential results were announced, and Mwai Kibaki was sworn in for yet another term as president. Tensions were high…. there was so much confusion…..…live media coverage was banned (in a country with one of the freest presses in the world)…clashes broke out…and overnight our country became a police state with riot police stationed at every intersection of all the major roads. That was a sad day for Kenya….

I am not a citizen of Kenya and therefore do not have the right to vote, so how I would have voted is somewhat irrelevant, however, I am Kenyan, as well as an activist- scholar who has dedicated her scholarship to trying to understanding the complexities of a continent that has suffered under unjust systems of slavery, colonization, the Cold War, bad governance, corruption, and the continued injustices that Africa experiences through the current global economic and political system.

Also, I was there during the outbreak of the politically related violence that followed which has resulted in the deaths of over 6oo people, the displacement of thousands, and a form of police brutality that I have never thought possible in my beloved country. Some of the international media and even some Kenyan intellectuals that I respect have portrayed this as a “tribal war” between two of Kenya’s largest ethnic groups, the Luos and the Kikuyus. And while it’s true that ethnicity is a factor, this war cannot be analyzed solely on the basis of ethnicity. It is my opinion, and the opinion of others who have attempted to provide clear thinking in this time of hurt and confusion, that this war is about a political and economic arrangement that has been in place since colonial times that until now has gone unchallenged; it’s a “war of hunger” and a “war of medicines” – with a handful of powerful old men getting richer while the majority of Kenyans sink further and further into poverty with little or no access to healthcare, education, food, and shelter…it’s about speaking up for what is fair, what is just… it’s about fighting for the Kenya we want and not just settling with the Kenya we have.

Unfortunately it has also been an opportunity for gangs of mainly poor and disempowered youth to steal, rape, and kill, while politicians on both sides, clouded by their arrogance and pride, refuse to compromise and although they have denounced the violence taking place within the country, their voices have not been loud enough. What we are witnessing is folks from various political and ethnic groups turning against each other instead of fighting together to oppose the real forces that oppress them.

Furthermore, the constant comparisons between the crisis in Kenya and the civil war in Rwanda and the many references to “genocide” is frankly inflammatory and irresponsible. This is not to deny that there are similarities between the conflict in Rwanda and the current political crisis in Kenya for example the way in which neighbors and friends quickly turned against those from the other side of the political or ethnic divide; or the way in which the most vulnerable members of the community are easy targets to vent the frustrations of angry mobs; or the ways in which politicians play on our fears and insecurities about the “other”; or the pace at which a seemingly peaceful society can quickly deteriorate into utter chaos.

However, as someone who has had the opportunity to live in- and study Rwanda for almost 4 years now, I have come to understand that terms like “genocide” and “ethnic cleansing” have both legal and political implications and that the choice of wording does in fact matter.

In Rwanda, a group of extremists using the power and resources of the nation, systematically attempted to eliminate an entire group of people… and they almost succeeded…. in about 100 days, approximately one million people, 1 of every 15 Rwandans, were brutally murdered. Additionally, close to 2 million Rwandans fled to other countries in the region as well as to various parts of the world. To say what is taking place in Kenya is a genocide implies that there is a systematic and deliberate attempt by the Luo leadership to eliminate Kikuyus or by Kikuyu leadership to eliminate Luos, yet the reality is that the situation on the ground is chaotic…the masses (of various ethnic groups) are angry and are venting their frustrations at each other…..there are Kikuyus who are killing Luos because they would rather kill than be ruled by “one of them”; there are Luos who are killing Kikuyus because “those people” continue to steal “our” share of the national resources; there are Kalenjins who are killing because they feel that over the years they have been betrayed and their ancestral lands have been stolen; there are gangs of Luhya youth who are terrorizing members of their community – they are taking advantage of the fact that police presence in their community is limited…. and on and on… in the end whether its 100 or a million lives, that’s too many lives lost in our great nation.

So today I’m mourning for Kenya, the country where I spent 16 wonderful years of my life! I’m mourning for the many families that have lost their loved ones in so many acts of senseless violence…I’m mourning for the many who have been made homeless in the land that our ancients fought hard for with their blood, sweat, and tears…I’m mourning for the many women whose “bodies have been used as battlefields” to vent the anger and frustrations of disempowered and misguided men…I’m mourning because too many Africans have stopped believing in Africa (I stopped counting the number of people who have said to me “this is a sign that us Africans can’t govern ourselves”). …and yet, the Afro-optimist that I am refuses to give up hope….

I’m hopeful because for the first time in the history of my country I see people of various ethnic groups…mainly young people (both in Kenya and abroad… including Rwanda where there is a large community of Kenyans) coming together to dialogue and discuss some of the root causes of the unresolved issues that led to the crisis that we’re in today – I believe that Kenya and Africa will never be the same! I also see Kenyans praying… praying like they have never prayed before because many are holding on to the biblical promise that the Creator can indeed “heal our land”. Also, there are many folks locally and internationally speaking out against the violence because a failure to do so would be a betrayal to the people of Kenya. Furthermore, as the late great Dr. Martin Lurther King Jr. reminded us that “injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Aluta Continua! (The Struggle Continues!) Viva Africa! (Long live Africa!)

Welcome to the Neighborhood…Murisanga (Feel at Home)!!!

Nyakabanda is a large section of Kigali (the capital city). I live in a subdivision of Nyakabanda that is very vibrant and diverse. Here you will find Christians and Muslims, Hutus and Tutsis, Anglophones (English speakers) and Francophones (French speakers). However, most people speak Swahili and Kinyarwanda. You’ll also find a mix of low and middle income families all living side by side. I love the feeling of once again begin integrated into a community (it reminds me a lot of the neighborhood where I grew up in Kenya). Here everybody knows your name (they call me “aunty” or “rasta”).

Every morning I look forward to getting up early (I rise between 5:30 and 6am – in the U.S. you can’t catch me awake before 8am!) to sit outside staring at the amazing view (we live close to the top of one of those a thousand hills). Water is scarce here so very early the children go to fetch it from the community tap (residents pay a fee to access this water) while we clean, bathe (all of houses in this neighborhood have outdoor plumbing), and prepare for the day’s activities.

The neighborhood, probably no different than any other densely populated area in the world, has its share of problems which are exacerbated by poverty and the post traumatic stress that I sense that many residents are experiencing. The family I live with is actively involved in community affairs, so on a regular basis we visit people’s homes, or folks come over to tell us their stories. There are many stories….like the couple with 9 month old twins and triplets on the way…. both husband and wife are HIV positive! Or the Tutsi man that found out (after 2 years of marriage and two kids) that his wife lied to him about her ethnicity – she’s Hutu; he beat her really badly then sent her and “her children” packing. There’s also the story of the family who was looking after the infant of a relative while she was traveling out of town. They threw that poor innocent child down a hole and didn’t feed him for days as punishment for “crying too much”.

Additionally, you hear countless stories of employers verbally and/or physically abusing their housekeepers (everyone from the street cleaner to the garage owner has house help) and refusing to pay them for as many as 10 months! Problems … problems .. problems… there are so many HIV positive people here and although AIDS medications are offered for free, the drugs don’t work so well on empty stomachs… problems upon problems … alcoholism … single headed households … ethnic tensions …the list goes on and on…

There are also funny stories like the rumor that I came from the U.S. (some know I’m Kenyan others insist I’m a Rwandan who doesn’t speak Kinyarwanda) to reduce poverty rates in the community. There are a couple of people in the neighborhood who are begging my hosts to put them on the list that they say I’m developing to identify the neediest members of the community. Other stories are very disturbing such as the one about the most humble and generous member of the community who was recently on trial for his allegedly involvement in the killings of several people in a neighborhood across town during the 1994 genocide.

When I first arrived the problems here seemed overwhelming. It’s very easy to dismiss this as a “bad” neighborhood (as some wealthy Rwandans have done including those who have relatives here but are too afraid to visit). My experiences in Rwanda, however, are teaching me that there’s often more than meets the eye. With all its problems, I have experienced so much joy and warmth here. People take time out of their busy schedules to check up on one another– you never have to call before coming over; you can buy items on credit from any store in the neighborhood; the children are seen as the responsibility of everyone – folks haven’t forgotten that it takes a village to raise a child; residents take tons of pride in their community: every Sunday from 8am to 6pm all the stores shut down so that residents can participate in their local gacaca (community court used to try genocide killers; the killers are brought from prison and tried in the communities where they committed the crimes), and once a month they take part in their Umuganda (community service – they pick up trash, plant trees, and catch up on neighborhood gossip). Also, a volunteer committee is in place to attend to the health, education, security, and social well-being of all residents. This includes making sure that deliquent fathers pay their child support and disputes between community members are setteled.

I spend most of my days conducting interviews, reading and writing, and spending time with my family and my neighbors. By the end of the day I’m physically and emotionally drained! I end my day the same way I begin it, sitting outside….enjoying the evening breeze… reflecting on the complexities and contradictions of this place… and taking in the beauty of this land of a thousand hills….

Mwiriwe (Good Afternoon)!

 

 

 

Rwanda is a complex society with several sets of contradictions. It’s hard to know where to begin so let me start by sharing a few of my observations: this is one of the poorest countries in the world with some of the wealthiest people I’ve seen. There are more elected female officials in Rwanda than any place on earth and yet with all your educational and personal accomplishments you are still considered a girl unless you are married with children. People are brutally honest; they’ll tell it like it is “your hair looks bad”, “you are too fat”, “you should stop having children – you have too many” but are extremely reluctant to share their personal feelings “hamna shida (no problem)”.  Kigali residents are obsessed with how they look – image is everything here;  beauty shops open 7 days a week until very late; clothes and shoes are on sale everywhere you go in the city; brown skin(tubes – skin lighteners are big here), long hair, small waists and perfect figures (if you’re too thin they say you are HIV infected, if you’re too fat you are on AIDS medications) are how beauty is defined. And yet with all of its challenges, Rwanda is one of the most exciting places to be! It’s one of the safest countries on earth; people are more than willing to not only give you directions but to take you to where you need to go; and most of all there is such a strong sense of community here. There’s so much to see…so much to learn.

 

Hamna Shida (No Problem)

 

Rwanda is an extremely complex society! At first glance it appears as though the country has moved past what is described as the most intense conflict of the twentieth century. In about 100 days, approximately one million people were brutally murdered….that’s 1 out of every 15 Rwandese!!!

I have to admit, even though this is my third visit to Rwanda, I had a somewhat romanticized view of this place: a country where victims and perpetrators; widows and prisoners wives; rich and poor were able to do the unthinkable… to live side-by-side, and to try and rebuild the strong social and cultural ties that existed before the coming of the German and Belgian colonialists. Rwandese today (both rich and poor) seem genuinely happy: they work and play together; they go to school and worship together. In fact public debate or discussion of the “H” and “T” words (Hutu and Tutsi) is taboo. “We are all Rwandans and no longer think of ourselves in terms of our ethnic identities…we are one people…. Hamna Shida.”

It doesn’t take long, however, to discover that the work of healing and reconciliation is far from over. “Hamna Shida but I can never marry one of them”….”Hamna Shida but I know they hate us”…. “Hamna Shida but my greatest fear is if they are given the opportunity they’ll do it again”…”Hamna Shida but my kids know the difference between us and them”…”Hamna Shida but they are not good people”….The pain is deep….The emotions are raw….The memories are fresh. On a regular basis you hear stories of people who lost every single member of their family in those 100 days. Or of men in prison who killed their own wives and children because they resembled the enemy (they referred to them as inyenzi meaning cockroaches).

You also hear the fear and shame of those who are despised because they happen to belong to the group that are all lumped together as killers (the reality is that there were several Hutus who were killed either because they did not agree with the genocidal ideology or they risked their lives to save the lives of Tutsis).

Icyizere… there’s hope! On a daily basis I reflect on all of the things that I see and hear but always with a feeling of hope. For all the stories of anger and resentment, you hear just as many stories of ordinary people who are working hard to rebuild their nation….who want to create a different society for their children…who might not be able to forget but are at least willing to try and forgive……….

Another Rwanda is possible!

 

From the land of a thousand hills

 Greetings from Kigali! I am not exaggerating when I say Rwanda is one of the most beautiful places on this earth! They call it the land of a thousand hills probably because you can hardly find any flat surfaces here; the entire country sits on hills and believe me when I tell you that climbing those hills is not an easy task.

I live in a section of the city called Nyakabanda with a family with 4 children ages 11, 10, 2 years and 7 months (3 boys and the most adorable little girl who sits in her little corner and just smiles). The official languages here are Kinyarwanda, French, English, and Kiswahili; many people in my neighborhood speak some Kiswahili so I’ve had very few problems communicating with the neighbors.

The last time I was in Rwanda was in 2004. Things have changed a lot since then. One of the biggest changes is the increased number of office buildings and restaurants that have been constructed all over the city – tall buildings, blue glass buildings, not to mention the most gigantic homes that I have ever seen (this is somewhat troubling in a city that is already overcrowded). I tell everyone that there are three Rwandas: one for the extremely rich, the severely poor, and those that are caught somewhere in between. There are tons of wealthy people (a new population of university educated elite has emerged) but most people fall in the last two categories. I have friends who live and work in all three categories so I find myself mingling with Rwandans from all walks of life. The rich live on one side and travel in their four wheel drives, while the poor walk up those hills or take the minibuses or the boda-bodas (motorcycles for hire). In the U.S. we speak of what side of the railroad tracks you are from. It breaks my heart to see that here the rich and the poor are separated by the hills.

I don’t mean to sound overly pessimistic. There are many amazing things going on over here (you might even call them revolutionary). Like the way in which families of victims and the families of perpetrators of the 1994 genocide (close to one million people were killed in about 3 months) are making a conscious effort to live and work together (not everyone is committed to reconciliation, but a good number of the people I’ve met are at least willing to make an effort to making things better for themselves and for the future generations), or the record number of women that are at the forefront of the country’s efforts to reconstruct this society (Rwanda has the highest number of elected female officials in the world i.e. about 49% ). So as I settle into my new environment, I feel really blessed to have this unique opportunity to spend 6 months listening and learning and maybe even being able to come up with some solutions that will be helpful not only in the rebuilding of Rwanda but also in the healing of a continent that has suffered the abuses of slavery, colonization, the Cold War and so many other injustices. So please stay tuned as I share with you pictures and stories from the land of a thousand hills. Aluta Continua (the struggle continues )!

Ethiopia

Ethiopia was unforgetable! I had the opportunity to visit during the millenium (according to the Ethiopian calender September marks the beginning of a new year and this year was the year 2000). I spent all my time in the capital city Addis Ababa with my step-father’s family. My most memorable experiences were my visit to Sululuta (a 45 minute drive from Addis) – the scenary was out of this world; the visit to one of the largest markets in East Africa; and the worship service at the orthodox Ethiopian church  with our heads covered, barefooted in the temple with incense burning.

Ethiopia for me represented the hopes and dreams of Africa, as well as the complexities and contradictions that we find in much of the world. For example while we ate 5 to 6 meals everyday (yes 5 to 6 meals – those who know me know I eat 2 meals a day on a good day) there were so many hunger and destitute people everywhere we turned. Also, while many people celebrated the diversity of the people (I saw every skin tone from dark chocolate to charmel and every shade in between) there was a strange obsession among some with long flowing hair, including several images of Jesus with blond hair and blue eyes.

So after 5 wonderful days, I left Ethiopia feeling so much love and African pride. I also left with many answered questions. This is definitely a land I want to visit again, and hopefully next time I’ll be able to spend some time in the rural areas of the country as well. Now it’s on the the next part of my journey…Rwanda.. Rwanda!!

Muraho (Greetings)!

Welcome to my travel blog! I am a third year Howard University student pursuing a doctorate degree in African Stuides. Please join me as I embark on my 6 month journey to Rwanda to carry out my field research on grassroots peacebuilding initiatives led by women in Rwanda.