Too Long

It has been far too long since we posted. I just noticed that the last posting was in August 2009. At least I can now confirm that my sense of living in a flurry of action the past 9 months was not a mental aberration. It was reality.

I don't know how many folks still check in here. Obviously the author(s) took a leave of absence, so why shouldn't the reader? In any case here are a few brief updates from the past 9 months. And then, I'll get back into regular posting. Promise.
August/September was our re-entry into American living and the highlight was probably having an abundance of water at our immediate disposal. That, and the ability to cook with our own pots and pans with specialty spices which were hard to get (at a decent price) while in Rwanda.

The downside was that work was ramping up for me (Liz) and school was in full swing for Ryan. And of course, we really missed our friends in Rwanda. We also were missing our neighbors/friends B & S who moved to New Hampshire with their 4 adorable children while we trotted about Central Africa. Fortunately, old friends from college moved nearby (hooray for S, L, and son T!) which helped us to adjust. They still help us to adjust weekly, and we are truly thankful for their friendship.
October was a challenging month - Ryan had interviews for summer 2010 internships and completed, I think, about 29 interviews in just a few weeks. Intensity was up! I was also occupied by two different major fund raising events at work. If I were Emeril, I would insert a "bam!" right about here. Oh why not?


November is only a sliver of a memory in my mind. It was a month of great transitions. My only coworker resigned and I was promoted from the director of one of our 4 programs to becoming the Executive Director of our small non-profit. Small meaning that I was, at the time, the only paid employee. I executively direct myself to do a lot of things now. =)

And suddenly it was December! That means year end tax receipts for me and finals for Ryan. Both of which were ghastly. We did get to travel to Missouri for the holidays to spend time with Ryan's family, and we even squeezed in a few days on either side to spend with my parents who live about 90 miles from us.

And then we continue into the January/February blurr when we decided it would be a good idea to move to a new apartment. Live in "the village" was dragging along and not too exciting for us since our friends ran off to New Hampshire, so we thought it best to look for a place closer to campus that we'd really love. And Voila! After a few days of searching craigslist, examining 3 apartments in total, we settled on a place that we absolutely LOVE! We have less storage and no laundry facilities, but the view and location make up for it tremendously. Now we walk to school/work and just about everywhere else. It reminds us of our days living in Cambridge, and we couldn't be happier. We have a stunning view of the Sather Tower on the Berkeley campus and easy access to beautiful walks in the Berkeley Hills. Charming to say the least.

Most recently we went on vacation to Santa Fe, NM for a week. We realized recently that we travel a lot but it isn't always "vacation" because the agenda is packed or we are in a place that requires bed nets to prevent malarial infection. Santa Fe was a week of shifting landscape due to the the sun's position in the sky, art galleries, good food at the Coyote Cafe Cantina (rooftop gourmet!) and hikes to ancient pueblos. Amazing. We actually went back 2 nights in a row and ordered the same dish (al pastor tacos - "Our Special Citrus Marinated, Spit-Roasted Pork with Pineapple. Served with Tomatillo Avocado Salsa.") which I will now try to make at home. The tomatillo avacado salsa may be the greatest challenge.

These days we're gearing up for the LOST finale this weekend (short-term fun) and in the longer term, Ryan's position at a legal firm in San Francisco. We are hoping that some of that old fashioned "wooing" that law firms conducted when the economy was strong, is still in place to a certain degree. I keep hinting that I like spa days and cooking lessons.

In a few weeks we'll head to Missouri again for a family visit and time at Lake of the Ozarks. A perfect way to kick off the summer. It is human nature to let the mind wander further (possibly a trip to Liberia for me in October) but for now I just keep trying to stay in the present moment.

New apartment photos and trip photos to come soon! Oh, and if I'm allowed, some photos of the items I am taking to the viewing party for the LOST finale. For anyone who hasn't seen the sneak peek of tonight's episode, check it out.....

How can it be?

How can it be that we are in week #10 of 10? It is true - we are near to our departure from Rwanda. There have been many times when I have thought, over these past 10 weeks how we needed to post a blog about our adventures, friends, questions, and new perspectives. But, I think we have been so caught up in the moment, we have not paused to share all of these things with the rest of you. We are sorry. And we know we have a lot of "back-blogging" we need to do.

We knew heading into the summer that 10 weeks would be just enough time for us to start feeling settled, as if we lived here. And we also knew that as soon as that happened, it would be time to leave. While we were accurate in our anticipation, it doesn't make it easier to say goodbye or to return home, feeling like we are starting over again.

When we return home there is much that will feel familiar, much that will be the same. But there are many things which will have changed. We have very dear friends who have moved to the east coast and one to Southern California (practically a different country!) whom we will miss greatly. There are new courses to be taken, a relatively new job to dive into. Our senior pastor has taken a new position elsewhere, so even our church will be different when we get back.

Goodbyes are never easy. But, there is something which we have learned from friends here this summer. This hello and goodbye (mwiwiwye and mwiwirwye) is the journey of life - people come and go. And as one of Ryan's dearest friends here said to him on Sunday as we traversed to his house for an afternoon visit, "I feel you in my heart." It was this same friend who said later that day, that life is not flat - it is some of the flat but also a series of hills and valleys. He is correct indeed.

So as we wind down our last week here, there are many things and people that we "feel in our hearts." We feel in our hearts the friends at the IJM office, the staff who have kept our home safe and clean. We feel in our hearts the joy of great iced mochas, the many children who pass us on the street in the afternoon but say "good morning," eager for this attempt to practice their English. We feel in our hearts the enchantment of mountain gorillas, the surprising joy of meeting friends in unlikely places, the reminder at a vibrant charismatic church service that "worship never ends."

We feel in our hearts the stories of loss, pain, and suffering which will never be shared, the scars of 15 years ago. We feel in our hearts the now-familiar call of the many birds which, along with our evening guard, rejoice in song at the rising sun. We feel in our hearts, the place we have only begun to learn - Rwanda.

News from Rwanda: Gorilla Tracking

Last week we went to Volcanoes National Park (formerly Ruhengeri) to see the famed mountain gorillas.  Many of you will recall that Dian Fossey spent years of her life studying and protecting the gorillas in their mountain territory, and working hard to dispel myths that gorillas were a danger like the fictional King Kong.

I am discovering that there are certain pivotal moments in my life where I am in the midst of a powerful experience and suddenly understand the professional life of someone notable in a way that I never had before.  Spending an hour with the Kwitonda Family of gorillas was one of those moments.  Dian Fossey made complete sense to me.

There is little one can say to describe the power of being so close to an animal so rare, powerful, and so human-like.  It was awe-inspiring, amazingly peaceful, and incredibly moving.  I truly believe that I could go there day after day and never get bored.  Like I said, Dian Fossey suddenly made perfect sense.

I am not alone in my wonder-struck phase.  Ryan too has been charmed by the gorillas.  Now, don't worry!  We are not packing up and moving to Volcanoes National Park.  But truly, if we were wealthier I can safely say that we would have spent several days tracking just to see the other gorilla  families.  As it is, gorilla tracking is a huge splurge for us, but looking back, it was well worth the price.  If you ever travel to Rwanda, you should not miss this same opportunity!

The last bit of information before I post the photos.  Please note that we were NOT in a car.  We hiked for roughly 60-90 minutes into the mountains where the Kwitonda Family was having a bit of breakfast.  (Omnivores!  No King Kong fangs to be seen.)  By national law, you may only stay for 60 minutes with the assigned family and then you must leave.  There are many families in the mountains and they move each day and night to varying degrees in order to find new food.  Thus, you never know exactly how long your hike will be when you sign up!  

How do you sign up?  You must buy a permit through the Rwandan government and they don't come cheaply.  Nor is there ample supply.  Only 50 permits are issued for each day of the year, so when you come to Rwanda in a "high season" like we have, you must plan ahead!  We wound up sharing a vehicle (which took us only to the trailhead) with 3 British medical students who had bought their permits on June 10, just 2 days later than us.  They were not given a choice of days on which to trek.  They could go on July 1 or they would not go at all.  

So, I will now post some photos which I admit don't capture the experience all that well.  But so it is with most photos.  If you have not received an invitation to view our videos (broadcasting from Rwanda!) on Gabble, please send me an email or make a comment on the post below.  We are currently posting video from our gorilla tracking expedition on Gabble.

Above is the Kinigi Guest House where we stayed the night before our trek.  To get here we spent 2 hours on a big bus, 20 minutes on a little bus, and 4 minutes on a "moto" or motorcycle taxi.  Total cost per person for all three legs of the journey was $5.00 - we are budget travelers.  Had we hired a private driver we would be paying $250-275 per day.  (Not in the budget.)

Gorilla tracking requires you to meet at the park office by 7:00 AM and they will leave without you.  So staying nearby the night before is quite useful.  We got a small clean room and breakfast for $50 US.  Profits from the guest house go to ASOFERWA which helps support women and children left "vulnerable and struggling" as a result of the genocide.  There are other places to stay which are much nicer, but they range from $100-$500 per night.  Maybe next time!

Presenting:  The Kwitonda Family

This first image is one of the two Silverbacks in the family.  He was the first gorilla we saw in the family upon arrival at their feeding spot.  Our guide Oliver was in front, a tourist from the Seychelles behind him, and I was next.  As we approached the feeding area a massive arm reached up out of the bushes and my jaw dropped open.  The woman from Seychelles turned here head slowly to me and whispered with the most shocked expression on her face "Did you SEE THAT?"  I think we were both a little scared but that emotion quickly passed.  As you can see, he is majestic, beautiful, and quite serene.

This next image may invoke fear, but I must tell you...he is yawning!  He had been eating and every so often you'd see him look really sleepy as though he might nod off.  Then he gave several great yawns and laid down to have a nap.  (See?  No fangs.)

The Here is one of the youngest family members - this little one is roughly 3 months old and thankfully came out of its tree a bit later to play with a furry sibling.  Cute no?

Seeing these two play and roll around a bit was definitely a highlight of the morning.  One of our British companions (from Yorkshire) referred to these small gorillas as being "so cooduhlay" and she was right.  They were VERY cuddly.

The greasy thumbprint.

Since arriving here in Rwanda, both Ryan and I have sensed an undercurrent in daily life. Sometimes the undercurrent comes rushing to the surface in a way that has continually proven to be uncomfortable for us. The undercurrent is of course the genocide which occurred 15 years ago and as I described to one friend over email, it left a greasy thumbprint on everything.

Now, I need to clarify up front that these are just my impressions and thoughts. In no way am I an expert or even all that well-informed about Rwandan culture, the genocide, or their politics. What I'm going to share here are some of my observations and questions that have come to mind since we arrived just two weeks ago. It isn't necessarily easy to read this, I'm sure, but it isn't easy for me to write it either. But, in truth, I think a great disservice is done if we're not honest and open about our time here.

During our first week here we went to the genocide memorial. Photos are only allowed in the outdoor sections which consist of several very symbolic gardens and the mass graves (which are not ornamental in any way) where more than 250,000 victims of genocide have been buried.

As you would expect, the memorial is very somber, and the designers of the memorial have laid out the facts and events leading up to the genocide in bare terms, beginning with colonization, and the church's part in developing a resentful divide between the native people who had lived harmoniously prior to their arrival. It lays out the political underpinnings of all the events leading up to 1994. And, in quite an extraordinary honor to the rest of the world, they also have displays about other genocides throughout the world. It is in many ways a museum as much as a memorial.

We took our time passing through each exhibit and realized, before we had even completed all the exhibits, that we'd been there well over 2 hours. The memorial had, unbeknownst to us, in fact closed. When we rushed upstairs to the lobby to see how late it was open (we saw on our phone that it was already nearly 5:20 PM) the security guard came behind us switching off lights and closing doors. So, I must also admit that while we have seen at least 65% of the memorial we have not yet finished our visit there and must return.

I hate to admit this, but being a the memorial I realized, even in the moment, that I could not fathom the 250,000 people who were buried there, let alone the entire toll of the genocide. Such a diabolical scheme is incomprehensible to me in the first place. To try and understand such evil in the world and to then also comprehend the number of lives taken was, quite simply, too much. The realities were too big to grasp after just a visit to the memorial. That was Tuesday.

On Wednesday, our house cleaner came for the first time. She is a very sweet woman and I will call her Carol here, although this is not her name. She is in her mid- to late- twenties and has a rather quiet disposition. She is very fun to talk with, and she has been so gracious to help me with speaking Kinyarwanda. She is quick to correct me when I pronounce something wrong, but not in an offensive way. She works so hard, and she makes this house shine.

On Wednesday, I noticed that at the secondary school across the street there was a loud assembly or event going on all day long. There was a lot of music, someone on a microphone, and it was kind of nice to have in the background. I couldn't understand anything being said, so for me, it was just music.

On Thursday, Ryan left the house for work with a driver from the office who picked him up. Shortly after he left, I heard someone outside making quite a ruckus. I could not tell if it was screaming, or wailing, but whatever was going on, the person was quite upset. I decided that it was likely a child walking to school who'd gotten in trouble for something and was still carrying on a bit as they dragged their feet to school.

Carol came again to clean and as the morning hours progressed, I worked from my "office" which is the section of the house closest to the school. I was deep in my work when I realized that the wailing and screaming would come and go. Maybe this wasn't a single child who was crying on their way somewhere. Sometimes, the wailing would sound like several people.

It was nearly 11 AM when I finally realized (coming out of my concentrated work stupor) that something must be happening. I knew I was safe in the house (we're bolted down pretty tight here) but I was also extremely disconcerted about what I was hearing. The unknown creates such fear in us.

I asked Carol what was going on and she told me that the music I'd heard yesterday was for the school's day to remember the genocide. Now, this is somewhat unusual I learned because usually the national commemoration and memorials happen in April. But, the school had apparently decided to hold something in June as well.

She told me that there were many students who had been so deeply affected by the memorial at school that they had gone to the hospital on Wednesday evening. The wailing, crying and occasional screaming sobs I heard were students still overcome by events held the day before. They were not actually IN school, but likely leaving school.

And suddenly, I started to leave behind the abstract understanding I'd developed reading books about the genocide and visiting the memorial only two days earlier.

I like to simplify, label, and neatly package "things" in life. I do it all the time without thinking. People, ideas, concepts, beliefs, feelings. I'd venture that we all do it on a subconscious level. Wasn't it Peter Berger among others, who suggest that we use language (and labels) to make sense of the world? To create order in our lives?

I simplify in order to get to the bottom line.

I label in order to call something by name and to have a common name that everyone understands. And package?

Well I like to package things so that I can put them away in their proper place. I package things, wrapping them up as neatly as possible so that perhaps they will look better and help me to access them when I want them for some reason. It makes for a tidy "life."

So that is what I began to do in my first 3 days in Rwanda, but this public mourning was preventing me from my task. And when I am confronted by things I cannot simplify, label, or package, I have questions. So I began an internal dialogue which later turned into a conversation with Ryan. A conversation which continues throughout each day that we spend here.

How could it be that after 15 years, mourning could still have such power? How, as a secondary student, (high school) could you even remember anything from the genocide? I don't know much about early childhood development nor the psychology behind violence, but even the oldest student at the school would have been only 3 years old when the genocide ended. At the age of 3 would you remember the events? I guess so - but you see, it was in this bevy of questions that I realized that the undercurrent of genocide is still very strong. That greasy thumbprint was suddenly everywhere, dirtying up the packages I was trying to sort and store away.

As the week progressed and we met new people from Ryan's office, we realized that even the simplest and most well-intentioned question is imprinted with the genocide. A simple conversation with questions like "Where do you live? How long have you lived in Kigali? Do you have siblings?" requires the person to draw upon the past. In the past, is the genocide.

And yet, as I have been learning, it is very much a part of the present as well. I don't know that it is part of Rwanda's present in a violent way which would cause a repetition of events. But it is very present in collective society. Cultures mourn in different ways, and I suspect that the only thing I might possibly draw upon from a recent American experience are the attacks of September 11. And yet, even in an attempt to draw any type of comparison which might help develop understanding of cultural mourning, I am confronted with the truth that the only common thread is tragedy itself.

The events cannot be compared even for the sake of trying to understand how a culture mourns. To compare the events is to minimize one tragedy or the other, it does not allow them to stand in their full sorrow, depth, or loss.

And so, I am left without a simplification. I have no labels and this package will refuse to be wrapped up in a tidy fashion. I don't mean to sound depressing, but it seems that all I have at the moment is the knowledge that the greasy thumbprint is there.

At our church back home we are helping to plan an annual conference which brings church leaders from resource-poor countries to share their experience with us. So often the churches of resource-rich counties (NGOs and governments too for that matter) think it is necessary that we do the talking and the telling. We've got the resources, the access to education, the money, the power. But in truth, it doesn't mean that we have everything figured out. Nor does it mean we should be talking or telling. This conference is intended to help us listen. And to learn.

The theme is about joy and generosity in the midst of suffering. I have been reflecting on that quite a bit, but again feel as if I am lost in a similar bevy of questions. The first element of this theme that I tackled was suffering. Much like my attempts to understand cultural collective mourning, I realized that I must accept that the suffering of people cannot be compared. We all suffer. However, there is perhaps, a comparison we can draw out, a question we can ask ourselves to open up our minds and our hearts. What comes in our suffering? What comes out of our suffering? Is there a joy that can be found even in the midst of suffering? A generosity?

As I shared at the start of this blog post, I don't have answers. If you have made it this far in the post you will see that I have mostly questions. But I am beginning to relax a bit in the midst of the questions. Letting loose the paper wrappings, the labels, pushing those stored packages around a bit and allowing the dust to float sparkling in the sun-filled air. Maybe that is part of what this summer holds. We have 8 weeks remaining, and I can sit with that quite contentedly.