A different country

We were talking with friends about school fees. It seems that some of the private English-speaking primary schools in Kigali are now charging 70,000 Frw per term. Around Cyangugu, many people are earning the national minimum wage of 15,000 Frw per month. Kigali is the only city in Rwanda and it looks and feels increasingly prosperous. The gulf between rich and poor is a problem in many countries, the UK included, but with figures like this, Kigali is becoming a different country.

Shaking

Every time I take the car for servicing, there is some shaking damage to repair – loose screws, a light misaligned, a wing mirror off or occasionally something more serious. The Rwandan roads provide a stiff test for vehicles and around here even the ones with a tarmac surface have an increasing number and depth of potholes. No part of the car escapes this shaking and constant care is needed.
Sometimes living in Rwanda feels a bit like this. There is a shaking which tests every part of us – physically, mentally, spiritually, psychologically and socially. I don’t mean that it is terrible, any more than driving through the beautiful countryside of Rwanda is terrible. I don’t even mean the word to have negative connotations, simply that living here is indeed testing. It is one year since we arrived in Cyangugu and I think this word sums up my experience better than any other single word would.
I am grateful to God for the opportunity to live and work in Rwanda, usually I am even grateful for the shaking, but especially I am grateful that He provides the constant care that I need to keep functioning here.
I hope to return without anything too serious having been shaken loose!

A non-meeting of cultures

On a recent trip we had a misunderstanding about numbers and ended up taking 6 people in the pickup, 3 on the bench seat in front and 3 behind. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the man sharing the front seat with us is very slight in build. Later the bishop’s wife took me to task for squeezing someone in beside Sheena. She was worried that Sheena would be uncomfortable in her work and therefore be unhappy.
I realised that there was a complete non-meeting of cultures here. Our priorities are completely different. I could never make her understand that the main hardship for us working in Rwanda comes from poor organisation and management – any physical discomfort pales by comparison. In turn she could never explain to me what is wrong with putting 3 people in the front of a pickup, especially when we were driving over some of the worst roads in the diocese.

Grenade at the garage

It’s always hard to get news out of Rwandans. Although their standard greeting (“Amakuru?”) literally means “how is the news?”, the answer is ALWAYS “It is good”. We did, however, find out that while we are away a grenade had gone off at the local garage, the one I normally use, killing 2 people. The man carrying the grenade and a woman who worked at the garage both died in the explosion. One of the petrol pumps is still peppered with holes, made through quite thick sheet steel, a sombre memorial.
It seems that there were family problems and that the man had somehow obtained the grenade with some deadly purpose against his relations, but that it had gone off accidentally while he was at the garage. The woman was an innocent victim. I knew her a little, we had had several debates during the diesel shortage earlier this year, during which I had tried to persuade her (usually unsuccessfully) to sell me some of her small stock.

Kumbya 3 - is too much choice bad?

One thing that was noticeable at Kumbya was how well the young people and children got on and across gender, age and cultural gaps which would probably have proved a step too far in a western context. We discussed this with an American friend who has been in Rwanda and among missionaries for many years. Her observation was that “missionary kids” were usually very able and willing to relate to a much wider range of people than young people at home.
We speculated if this was due to necessity arising from a lack of choice of friends. (Social isolation is still one of the major problems we and other westerners face in Rwanda). The question then arose as to whether too much choice is actually bad for you. Does it encourage self-indulgence, spending too much time considering what you want? I think I would answer a tentative “yes” to that question. Spending too much time on choice focuses our energies on our personal needs and put simply that just goes against the advice of Jesus about the best way to live.
Being in Rwanda certainly reduces choice in a whole range of areas, from food to friendships to travel. Like all spiritual disciplines, it is difficult at times, but I am coming to realise that as a discipline it can produce spiritual health. Western society is of course full of a myriad of choices and the freedom to choose is fundamental to politics and the economy. I would never recommend actively reducing choice for others, but I wonder how the benefits of “reduced choice” can be realised in at least some areas of life.
As an aside, the “luxury” foods we brought back with us – muesli, dark chocolate and assorted cheeses – are now nearly finished. `I like my freedom of choice as much as anyone!

Kumbya 2 - the swim

One of the Kumbya traditions is a morning swim to a nearby island. It is 2.5km! After a couple of afternoon practices, we decided that we would give it a go, despite the 0600 start : one thing in its favour is that Lake Kivu is an ideal temperature for swimming. On the day, we were both awake in our tent from about 0330, only dozing intermittently after that. Whether this was from anticipation or dread we could not tell.
In glorious dawn light, about 20 of us aged 10-50+ plunged in (the cold air made this easier than in the afternoon) and swam, accompanied by several safety canoes. It took us about 100 minutes, and involved 3 sunrises as the sun appeared and disappeared behind the hills. There were also some enthusiastic but surprised greetings from some local people setting out early in their boats. I’m sure it confirmed any notions they had that they would never understand “bazungu”!
Although the water was not cold, we were glad of the warm clothes sent ahead in the canoes and even more glad of the pancakes waiting for us when we got back to the camp. Like a half-marathon, it was hugely satisfying to have completed it and everyone was a winner, particularly the 10-year-old girl who became the youngest ever to finish and a heroine to her friends.

Kumbya 1 - missionaries

Our first week back in Rwanda was spent at Kumbya, a retreat camp on the shore of Lake Kivu, about 1 hour away from Cyangugu. This is the 60th anniversary of Kumbya Week, which was started on the back of the revival which took place in Rwanda and Uganda in the middle of last century and resulted in a huge expansion of the church. It is for missionaries and Christian ex-pat workers in Rwanda and the surrounding countries. One of the interesting things about it is that there are a large number of denominations, mission groups and nationalities represented although there are only about 70 adults in total. Americans and Brits predominate, but there is a fascinating mix of people of different backgrounds, ages and outlooks.
I have to admit we approached the week with some trepidation, but it has been refreshing, restful and challenging. The small group discussions were particularly interesting, because it gave us a chance to understand some different perspectives on mission in Rwanda.
The people were interesting, too. Our experience of short-term visitors to Cyangugu has not always been positive, but the people we met at Kumbya were sensitive to local culture, almost all learning the language, committed to the good of the country, positive and often making huge sacrifices to be in Rwanda.

Cafouiller

I came across this word by accident in the Collins French Dictionary in the middle of a very difficult first day back in the office. With uncharacteristic French conciseness it sums up my experience of working in Rwanda : “to get into a shambles”. As a Scot I would change “shambles” to “bourrach”. Finding it helped make the transition back to Rwandan pace and style of working a little easier, as if someone understood.

Back in Rwanda

When I started to write a blog, I resolved that I would never make a post on the theme of “I’m back”. I have noticed on other sites that these seem to precede as often as to follow a long period of non-posting.
We are indeed back in Rwanda after a month in the UK with 2 graduations, a wedding and too many social events to recount behind us. We had a wonderful time, even if it was not very relaxing. It has been strange but reassuring to come to Rwanda and to see familiar things and sights. It is so totally different from last year when everything was new.
Our first evening was also a reminder of one of the most appealing aspects of life in Rwanda. We had left our car at the garage in Kigali (not the original plan, but that is a long story). One of the managers from the garage came to meet us from the plane at 930pm on Saturday night. He was in his own car with a relative who was visiting. We were offered dinner, but since we had already eaten we were taken to where our car was parked and helped with the luggage. Nothing was too much trouble. Now, the car was at the garage so long due to someone’s incompetence, but the warmth of the welcome and the personal service were such a lovely way to come back to Rwanda.