As I planned my trip to the DRC and Ethiopia and discovered that I would pass through Rwanda, I made it my goal to visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial museum. I'm glad I did. It is a very well done exhibit, on par with the Smithsonian. The main floor covers the Rwandan Genocide of 1994. It details the historical background of the Hutus and Tutsis and the political situation leading up to that fateful April. It includes video testimonies of people that survived the massacre, plus a sacred room filled with bones and skulls of victims, followed by another room with photographs of victims brought in by family members. There are several places to sit and ponder. Upstairs are exhibits about other recent genocides - the Armenian, Cambodian, Bosnian, the Holocaust, etc. Besides being a memorial, it's purpose is to be a site of learning...to prevent future genocides.
This is what stood out to me. On that night when it started in April, 1994, barricades were set up all over Kigali. Kigali is a very hilly city, urban, approximately 800,000 people. Where can you flee when that kind of madness sweeps through? There was no where to go, no obvious place to escape to. There were stories of Hutus who hid Tutsis to save their lives. One lady who had a reputation of being crazy hid people in her house. When authorities came by to search her house, she pretended to absolutely lose her mind. The authorities left without searching her house and the people hidden inside remained safe. Another man who feared that the Tutsis would attack the Hutus pre-genocide had dug a series of trenches in his field. He ended up hiding Tutsis in the trenches, covering them with boards, then a layer of dirt, and then finally planted sweet potatoes in the dirt. I guess there were secret access points for him to get them food and water. And they were saved. Then there was a story about a boy who was fleeing for his life, and saw another boy, injured, lying on the ground. He debated picking him up and carrying him to safety. He even knew his name. But then a car full of Hutus drove up and men got out of the car and started chasing him. He ran. He hid, and then to his horror saw the Hutu men beat to death the boy he chose not to help.
The decisions these people made to help or not to help had to be made in a split second. Would I have looked to the interest of my neighbor before my own? I am under no delusion to say that I would. But it made me consider that these split-second decisions are character-based...based on personal character that is developed over the years by small and seemingly unimportant decisions that are made everyday. Hmmm...
Monday, September 29, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
Stories from Africa: God Moment #2
It was Sunday night and I'd just spent a relaxing 24h in Kigali, Rwanda with some FH friends, and was now ready to fly onto Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. I went through security and then in line to check-in (they do things in reverse there). Once I was at the ticket counter I was told that the flight could not accommodate me, that I needed to stand off to the side with some other disgruntled fliers, and if I wanted more information I could talk to "the tall man over there" who was the manager. So I waited for a bit with the disgruntled, and when the manager walked over I asked him politely about the situation. He explained that the flight was overbooked and a smaller plane than requested had been sent, which meant that a handful of people would not be able to fly to Addis that night. But, we would be compensated for the inconvenience.
So me and the disgruntled waited for the next 3 hours for the small Ethiopian Airline staff to finish loading the flying passengers and come back to settle matters with those who had to stay behind. While I waited, things to worry about went through my mind - would I get on Monday's flight? How do I get a hold of my contacts in Ethiopia to let them know I would not be arriving tonight? I'd already spent my Rwandan francs, how will I get more for the taxi rides I'll need to take the next day? etc. In the meantime, whenever a Ethiopian Airline staff member appeared, one of the bumped customers would go over and yell and argue, trying to manipulate their way onto the flight. After 3 hours, the manager finally came back and explained to us that the airline would put us up at a hotel that night, and if we came to the airline office downtown the next morning we could receive our compensation (which ended up being $100 cash, SWEET!) And that they guaranteed 110% that we would get on the Monday night flight.
The manager explained this to the crowd in French and Amharic, and then came up to me to explain the situation in English. The first thing he said to me was that I was the only passenger that didn't yell or complain at him, and who accepted his explanation from the start. He wanted to know why. The only answer that came to my mind, which I spoke out loud was..."because of Jesus." The manager's face lit up - maybe he was a believer because then he said that he and I both knew there were more important things than missing a flight, like SALVATION! And, who knows, maybe I wasn't supposed to be on the flight - God is the only one who knows the future for sure. As I walked away to find the taxi that would take me to the hotel, I remembered my one Amharic word, "Amasayganaloo" (meaning Thank You). The manager smiled back.
My good attitude brightened his stressful evening!
So me and the disgruntled waited for the next 3 hours for the small Ethiopian Airline staff to finish loading the flying passengers and come back to settle matters with those who had to stay behind. While I waited, things to worry about went through my mind - would I get on Monday's flight? How do I get a hold of my contacts in Ethiopia to let them know I would not be arriving tonight? I'd already spent my Rwandan francs, how will I get more for the taxi rides I'll need to take the next day? etc. In the meantime, whenever a Ethiopian Airline staff member appeared, one of the bumped customers would go over and yell and argue, trying to manipulate their way onto the flight. After 3 hours, the manager finally came back and explained to us that the airline would put us up at a hotel that night, and if we came to the airline office downtown the next morning we could receive our compensation (which ended up being $100 cash, SWEET!) And that they guaranteed 110% that we would get on the Monday night flight.
The manager explained this to the crowd in French and Amharic, and then came up to me to explain the situation in English. The first thing he said to me was that I was the only passenger that didn't yell or complain at him, and who accepted his explanation from the start. He wanted to know why. The only answer that came to my mind, which I spoke out loud was..."because of Jesus." The manager's face lit up - maybe he was a believer because then he said that he and I both knew there were more important things than missing a flight, like SALVATION! And, who knows, maybe I wasn't supposed to be on the flight - God is the only one who knows the future for sure. As I walked away to find the taxi that would take me to the hotel, I remembered my one Amharic word, "Amasayganaloo" (meaning Thank You). The manager smiled back.
My good attitude brightened his stressful evening!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Stories from Africa: Men, in 3 parts
My first week working in the DRC was different because of a noted absence. For an entire week I had no women to interact with socially. None. It felt very strange...and isolating. Which perhaps made the following incidents all the more poignant.
Men, part 1: On my 3rd day in Kalamie I was visiting a child growth monitoring activity and a protected water spring in the project work zone. My trip coordinator Jean was unable to accompany me, and instead he sent along Tom, who speaks both English and Swahili, to be my translator. In between observing the field activities, Tom asked me questions that I'm typically asked in these situations, such as "Are you married? Do you have a family? etc. And I typically answer honestly..."No,..(as I hold up my hands)..no rings", "Hopefully some day", "I'm looking for a husband from my own culture", etc. We finally got a chance to stop for a lunch snack and as the other members of the party were munching on bread and sipping cokes, Tom comes over to me and proceeds to propose that I marry him. Mind you, I met him 5 HOURS before this moment. He launches into a speech about him being man with international connections, a Christian, and since we're both single and wanting to get married, we should marry each other. I kept saying that I "was flattered, but..." (insert any rational reason here). I tried to not be rude and to remain kind. He kept going on and on, trying to convince me to accept. Finally he asked me to pray about it, and he would get back to me the following day. Needless to say, the 3 hour drive back to Kalamie was rather awkward. The next day Tom asked again, and I was much more frank with him. "I'm flattered but no, I don't want to marry you, I want to marry someone from my own culture." Once again he kept trying to convince me otherwise. But then he let it go. The worst part was when he called me into his office an hour later, and proceeded to show me a photo he had taken of me the previous day and posted on his laptop, and then say "I see this picture of you, and I am admiring it." This started to border on harassment, and the making of a very uncomfortable work environment. Fortunately Tom left for his regular worksite the next day. A week later I found out that he was emailing another white expat staff member and trying to convince her to marry him, while all this was going on with me.
Men, part 2: While in Kalamie I was staying at the UN base. An older (potentially smarmy) gentleman, who I had never had any interaction with, came up to the bar where you pay for meals in the restaurant and paid for my breakfast one morning. It felt creepy, because in Africa there is no free meal - people always want something from you. But I never had any interaction again. Whew!
Men, part 3: Over the course of the week I met the man who had the room next to mine in the UN guesthouse quarters. His name was Oscar, he was Norwegian, and worked for the UN. On Saturday I was in the restaurant watching the Olympic track and field events. Oscar came in just after his countryman had won the javelin throw. I used this fact to strike up a conversation, and in the end Oscar and I watched the rest of the T&F events together, chatting about what we were seeing on the TV. Very non-threatening (finally!) and just plain fun!
Men, part 1: On my 3rd day in Kalamie I was visiting a child growth monitoring activity and a protected water spring in the project work zone. My trip coordinator Jean was unable to accompany me, and instead he sent along Tom, who speaks both English and Swahili, to be my translator. In between observing the field activities, Tom asked me questions that I'm typically asked in these situations, such as "Are you married? Do you have a family? etc. And I typically answer honestly..."No,..(as I hold up my hands)..no rings", "Hopefully some day", "I'm looking for a husband from my own culture", etc. We finally got a chance to stop for a lunch snack and as the other members of the party were munching on bread and sipping cokes, Tom comes over to me and proceeds to propose that I marry him. Mind you, I met him 5 HOURS before this moment. He launches into a speech about him being man with international connections, a Christian, and since we're both single and wanting to get married, we should marry each other. I kept saying that I "was flattered, but..." (insert any rational reason here). I tried to not be rude and to remain kind. He kept going on and on, trying to convince me to accept. Finally he asked me to pray about it, and he would get back to me the following day. Needless to say, the 3 hour drive back to Kalamie was rather awkward. The next day Tom asked again, and I was much more frank with him. "I'm flattered but no, I don't want to marry you, I want to marry someone from my own culture." Once again he kept trying to convince me otherwise. But then he let it go. The worst part was when he called me into his office an hour later, and proceeded to show me a photo he had taken of me the previous day and posted on his laptop, and then say "I see this picture of you, and I am admiring it." This started to border on harassment, and the making of a very uncomfortable work environment. Fortunately Tom left for his regular worksite the next day. A week later I found out that he was emailing another white expat staff member and trying to convince her to marry him, while all this was going on with me.
Men, part 2: While in Kalamie I was staying at the UN base. An older (potentially smarmy) gentleman, who I had never had any interaction with, came up to the bar where you pay for meals in the restaurant and paid for my breakfast one morning. It felt creepy, because in Africa there is no free meal - people always want something from you. But I never had any interaction again. Whew!
Men, part 3: Over the course of the week I met the man who had the room next to mine in the UN guesthouse quarters. His name was Oscar, he was Norwegian, and worked for the UN. On Saturday I was in the restaurant watching the Olympic track and field events. Oscar came in just after his countryman had won the javelin throw. I used this fact to strike up a conversation, and in the end Oscar and I watched the rest of the T&F events together, chatting about what we were seeing on the TV. Very non-threatening (finally!) and just plain fun!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Stories from Africa: God Intervention #1
For the last 3 weeks I've been in the DRC and Ethiopia on a "technical assistance" offering trip for FH. I flew Ethiopian Airlines - 9h from DC to Rome, refuel, and 6h to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Makes for a long day/night. Once I arrived in Addis, my flight to Kigali, Rwanda was delayed 5 hours. So I contacted the gal coordinating the international logistics part of my trip, to let her know we needed a Plan B, since it would be dark once I reached the Rwanda/DRC border and thus likely closed. (The original plan was to take a 5h taxi ride from Kigali to Cyangugu, cross the border to DRC Bukavu, and then catch an AirServ flight from Bukavu to Kalemie the following day). The “God thing” is that Plan B ended up being much better. Once in Kigali, I met up with Dan, a regional FH staff member, who speaks French and we traveled by taxi 3h to Gisenye, found a hotel, and first thing the next morning crossed the border into DRC Goma, and got to the airport just in time to catch the AirServ flight to Kalemie. And once in Kalemie we found out the Bukavu -> Kalemie flight (my original one) had been canceled. Good thing for Plan B! More soon...
A moment of silence
This is the first time I've been in the US in quite sometime on September 11th. And now I'm in DC where one of the attacks actually happened. As I walked/Metro'd to work, the city did seem more solemn, more formal than usual (well, Congress is back from recess, so that probably had something to do with it). As I walked by the Judiciary building across the street from Union Station, park maintenance men were lowering all the State flags to half mast. Squeaky in their rigging from lack of use I suppose. The Express paper highlighted the Pentagon memorial being unveiled today - finally, it's about time!
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