Two Months and Counting

Well, today marks the anniversary of my second month in Rwanda. Rwanda now just feels like home and the days go by just like they do when I am in America, so I didn’t realize it was my second month until I saw the date as I went to post this. In some ways I feel like I have been here much longer and in others I feel like I just arrived. 

Our kids had exams this week and I’m grading for both my classes and Lionel’s since he left Monday. It was really hard for me to see him leave but it was also exciting to see him wrap up his ministry and prepare to go home. It made me think a lot about how much I will grow and change during this year and what I will be like as I pack up to leave. That being said, I am really coming into my own here in Rwanda and I’m not looking forward to leaving any time soon. I feel very settled into my new life. It’s only been two months but I already feel like a different person.

Grading has been monotonous and long (I’ve already spent at least 15 hours grading and I’m still not finished) but sometimes the kids’ answers make me laugh. In my computer class, I talked to the kids about computer viruses and how those can be brought into the computer through flask disks, CDs, DVDs, etc. For my exam, one of the questions was: “Name 3 or more things that can cause viruses.” Here was a student’s response: “HIV, AIDS, syphilis, gonorrhea.” I gave him half credit. 

As much as I laughed at first, the response made me grimly aware of just how different life is here. This student can’t even spell his own name (many of the children cannot spell their names correctly) but he can spell syphilis. And HIV and AIDS are constant fears. Rwanda actually has a pretty low HIV rate for Africa (although it is double, almost triple that of the United States) but during the genocide, HIV was used as a weapon against women so many of my boys lost their mothers or sisters to AIDS. 

On a happier note, my relationship with my boys has grown so much and I truly love each and every one of them and now I believe they truly love me. They are always coming to visit me and if something difficult is going on in their lives, they confide in me. They all call me Mary Elise or “Sista.” The marriage proposals from the boys have died down and now they treat me more like a big sister or sometimes even a mother, which is a really strange. I’m only 22 years old, but at times I feel like the mother of 150 teenagers! I spend a lot of time with them and they always have questions for me about faith or hard situations and sometimes even girls! It’s always funny when a boy tells me about the woman he loves more than life itself, because she’s usually one of my female students. I never know which of my girls are the heartbreakers, and I’m often surprised. 

Some of my older boys are getting close in age to marriage for Rwandans, so they ask me a lot of questions about marriage and picking a good wife. Although I always tell them they absolutely have to finish their education before even considering marriage, I also encourage them to spend time in prayer before the Blessed Sacrament for guidance in picking their wives. I tell them that they have to prepare themselves to be holy husbands before they can find good wives. 

There is a big problem with domestic violence in Rwanda and with men leaving their wives and children, so it’s interesting to be with so many young men at the time in their lives when they are beginning to consider marriage. I hope that I catch them at the perfect time to guide them to be faithful and respectful husbands and fathers. Because I’m a woman they respect and even love, they take my advice very seriously and are always asking more and more questions. 

They also have many questions about God and faith. Some of the boys have some really bizarre or very sad ideas about God, so I always try to take the opportunity to set them straight. One boy confided in me that he knows that Jesus was a Mzungu American who had a lot of money! I almost passed out. When I told him that Jesus was from the Middle East therefor not white and by choice was certainly not rich, the child’s mouth dropped open. 

Just yesterday, another boy told me he wanted to get married or find a girlfriend. We had the standard “finish your education and prepare to be a loving husband first” discussion when he confided that he actually didn’t want to get married right now, but he just wanted someone that would love him. Then he told me that nobody loves him like I do and he asked what he will do in a year when I leave. Ugh. It was so hard to hear. I was glad to hear that he knew I loved him but it was heartbreaking to realize he believes I am the only person who does. It was even harder to realize that the few moments of time I give him a day are the only moments he feels loved that day, especially because I scold him pretty frequently. We talked for a long time about how God always has and always will love him, but the concept was difficult for him to comprehend. 

These ideas are a very common problem. The boys come to us after so much damage has already been done. Much of our time is spent trying to repair that damage these precious boys have experienced throughout their lives. What they have seen can definitely effect their faith. Some of the boys cling to Christ and bring him all of their sorrows. Actually, we have a lot of boys who end up becoming priests. However, others have a hard time picturing a loving God (or even loving people) and fall into depression. As Salesians, we have to be so patient and understanding with them. 

Some of the older boys having a good time in the classroom

Wednesday night I gave my first “Goodnight.” This is a Salesian tradition where every night one of us talks to the children about a spiritual or moral thought before they go to sleep. It stems back to when Don Bosco first started giving street children a place to stay. They would go to sleep and in the mornings, everything would be stolen and the children would be gone. Finally, Don’s mother decided to leave the boys with a holy thought before they drifted off to sleep. Her method worked and Salesians have been doing this ever since. 

I was so nervous to give my first Goodnight in front of all my boys, but it turned out really well. One of my good friends (also a Salesian Lay Missioner) sent me an e-mail and I used the contents from that. I pulled 5,000 francs (about $8) out of my pocket and asked the boys who wanted it. They all started screaming and going crazy. Then I wrinkled up the money and threw it on the floor. I again asked who wanted it and, of course, the boys still wanted the money. Then I stepped on it and the boys still wanted it. I asked them why they still wanted the money and one answered because he could buy a lot of things with it. Then I told them that this was true. Just because the bill had been crinkled and stepped on did not take away it’s value. All of their faces dropped and they got really quiet. 

As I looked into the faces of my boys who have been so wrinkled and so stepped on by the world, I started to cry. I just told them how much they are worth and how much God loves them. Rwandans are very uncomfortable around emotions, so I thought the boys would react badly when I cried, but they were not ashamed. Some were getting teary-eyed themselves and not one boy turned away. 

One of the Foyer boys lost his left eye at some point in his life and I noticed that he in particular was very emotional and so attentive. I could see the story clicking in his head. We then just talked a little more about God’s plan for our lives and about how to become saints. It was a really beautiful moment and I know I will always treasure this memory with my kids. They are becoming so much a part of me. 

Life with them is moving quickly and my days are very busy. I’ll use Thursday as an example. 

Thursday morning I had to give my last exam of the week and after the exam I was walking to lunch. On my walk, I saw a little boy who looked sad, so I sat down next to him and asked what was wrong. He said his stomach hurt and so I was trying to figure out if his stomach hurt from malnutrition or because he was sick. As I asked him to stand up (so that I could see if his belly was extended, meaning he was malnourished) he began vomiting. His vomit got on me and one other boy and I was just praying he wasn’t HIV positive. He continued to vomit for the next 15 minutes. Just then, school got out and so a group of kids gathered around to watch the spectacle. It was a total disaster. 

This child isn’t one of our students but had come to pick up his little brother who is one of the students. I had to go find his 5 year old brother and then found two of the older boys to help me. The sick one could not possibly walk home on his own and so me and the two older ones had to carry both of the little boys to their home up in the mountains. It was unreal. We were walking up hill in mud while we were covered in vomit, holding either an 8 year old or a 5 year old. At that moment, I felt like a missionary. I was also so proud of my older boys for volunteering to help. They had just finished their last exam of the week and were exhausted, but still carried and were so sweet to the little ones. 

After we got back home, I ate a late lunch and started heading back to my house. One of the pigs had just given birth and so some of my students who work with the animals made me come and see the sweet little piglets. After this, I was exhausted and smelled like sweat, vomit, and pigs and was really anxious to take a shower. 

I had plans with the Italian N.G.O. workers and so I had to shower quickly and then we went to the market. I had bought some material and needed to get measured for a dress. 

Many people have asked about the African dress I was wearing in recent pictures, so I should say that I bought the material at the market. The market is actually really cool. Before I lived here, when I pictured Africa, I was picturing this market. It’s really noisy and crowded and people are yelling and it smells terrible and you have to haggle for everything you buy. I love it. There are tons of fresh vegetables and beautiful fabrics and lots of little handcrafts that locals have made. It’s where all the Rwandans shop so I’m often the only Mzunugu there. 

Whenever I want to buy an African dress, I go to the market and look through tons of fabric until I see one I like. I haggle for the price in French and then sketch what I want the dress to look like and have a seamstress make it. I actually really love wearing African dresses. The material is beautiful and bright and my kids really appreciate when I wear them. They always yell, “Ohhh! Teacha! You look smart!” and give me a thumbs up. How can I not prefer African clothing with that kind of response? 

After getting measured for the dress, the Italians dropped me off at a hotel that will cut Mzungu hair and I had about 6 or 7 inches chopped off. My hair was just too long and was attracting a lot of attention. It was also difficult to take care of and was very hot and heavy. The new hair cut is fine, but I really miss my long hair. It goes to just above my shoulders so it’s the shortest I think I’ve ever had it.

The evidence

After I got back from the haircut, I became painfully aware that I only live with men. Not one of the priests noticed and after I told them, they insisted I must have only gotten a little bit off. Then they jokingly suggested I shave my head. Ugh. I told them it was a good thing they were priests and didn’t have wives or daughters, which made them laugh but I think they agreed. 

After that, I went to see all my boys at the Foyer before they went to sleep. Not one out of the 150 boys that I spend all my time with said anything about the haircut. I was attempting to fix the center’s broken digital camera and they had millions of questions about the camera but I don’t think they even noticed my hair… Men. 

At least I always have someone to chase away the lizards for me. The boys find it hysterical that I’m terrified of the lizards so they enjoy shooing them away to protect me. They also think it’s funny that I think all the “little meats” are cute (aka: the calfs, the piglets, the chicks, the bunnies). Whenever one of our farm animals gives birth, the boys get really excited to show me the baby animals because they know I find the babies so adorable, which is hysterically funny to them. What I see as a baby animal, they see as a meal one day in the not too distant future. So when I’m cooing over a little piglet, they are picturing me cooing over bacon…. I’m learning so much about the male psyche thanks to Rwanda. 

I think I’m learning a lot of things thanks to Rwanda. Truly, I love it here.  Hopefully I’ll be writing soon about my trip to Kibeho. You are in my prayers, please keep me in yours.