tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56450233146676504392024-03-05T20:09:41.545+02:00Answering the Call...“Where your talents and the needs of the world cross, there lies your vocation.” ― AristotleHeather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-20597690681086105222014-07-30T07:56:00.001+02:002014-07-30T08:00:34.604+02:00The End<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSoLdZiBaBO2G_WRWzoVJBe-8EdQtpEIK5upvZdcYP0zSbWEymJe1r3bjKxsHh0g-Fk6BbWVYLfsDoPTQ4DuSMJ1taG_R5eEqKeT6WaSXiXvcndJIZI-DgknJFUrR1WPQGq8zSo1GA6MRe/s1600/P7294406.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSoLdZiBaBO2G_WRWzoVJBe-8EdQtpEIK5upvZdcYP0zSbWEymJe1r3bjKxsHh0g-Fk6BbWVYLfsDoPTQ4DuSMJ1taG_R5eEqKeT6WaSXiXvcndJIZI-DgknJFUrR1WPQGq8zSo1GA6MRe/s1600/P7294406.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The end has come and gone. Last night I arrived in southern California after thirty hours of travel, six movies, two plane meals and lots of snacks, and a brief visit with my cousin, Michelle, and her kids at the Seattle airport. The first thing I did once I arrived after thanking God for safe travel? Get an Orea milkshake from Jack-in-the-Box and a cheeseburger, animal-style, from In-n-Out Burger. Yum!<br />
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So far I don't feel very different. It feels like I'm home for a normal visit, except for the fact that there are lots of details to take care of that aren't normally there, like find a cell phone and health insurance plan, research used cars in Minnesota, and find housing for three weeks from now in Minnesota. Yeah, no big deal.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUehetHo9dMH7jDlyxh6Q1Y1N_mlitqLGH2EwMoE8iWeAAriHtCDQJNu9rdD8x7sRJNj659TtwT4maovfbZJdrj181lfP5XG4jxlpTkipZdzvXVCdgyebnuAo422n7LNzOFb4q1iXSNPB/s1600/IMG_6873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpUehetHo9dMH7jDlyxh6Q1Y1N_mlitqLGH2EwMoE8iWeAAriHtCDQJNu9rdD8x7sRJNj659TtwT4maovfbZJdrj181lfP5XG4jxlpTkipZdzvXVCdgyebnuAo422n7LNzOFb4q1iXSNPB/s1600/IMG_6873.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a>I was able to do all sorts of cool things and had to do one big uncool thing in the weeks before I left. After the camping trip, Rita and I traveled to Kigali for a wedding of a man who volunteers with the Brazilian congregation. That meant we spent a lot of time hanging out with each other and with the Brazilians.<br />
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Once we got back home, I was surprised by the news that I was responsible for giving the final exam to eight of my nine classes because my partner teacher was out after giving birth. This was a shocker to me because I hadn't given final exams in the previous two terms and when I learned of the news, it was already halfway through final exams and only two weeks before I would leave Rwanda. Well, that definitely changed my plans of how I would spend my last two weeks. I had hoped to spend a lot of time hanging out with the students once their exams finished (they have a gap week where they are at school waiting for their grades), but instead my roommate and I spent hours and hours, days and days, grading almost 300 exams. It was insane and my grades were turned in two days late, but we finally finished them and I could have a day or two to hang out with the students.<br />
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Two unexpected opportunities for hanging out came about when one of the Senior 2 students, Lisa, said that the headmistress gave her permission to visit us in our house. This surprised me because our house is normally off-limits, but we were happy to have Lisa over. We played cards and then we went into the kitchen and I taught her how to make the dough for pie crust (we would be having quiche later that night). You should have heard her as she urged me to wait for her return before proceeding with the next steps since she had to leave for a school assembly. I had to continue making the quiche without her, but she later joined us and the family of the local EC coordinator for dinner.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsbqWLXAUYZuNuhBvYAwQDfe5VL40nxKn2Q1AWKVH-ezITe0fR5p_YIMYm3hGbPXhnyAHd_e_e6Xse_FMUtZ7J-6lxoutALxUXfWI49kmV7klmfWQFYkX28M-XCPMibnISsKWriWI7xXd/s1600/P7234315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUsbqWLXAUYZuNuhBvYAwQDfe5VL40nxKn2Q1AWKVH-ezITe0fR5p_YIMYm3hGbPXhnyAHd_e_e6Xse_FMUtZ7J-6lxoutALxUXfWI49kmV7klmfWQFYkX28M-XCPMibnISsKWriWI7xXd/s1600/P7234315.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>The other opportunity was another cooking experience. Now that Rita and I knew the students were allowed to visit us, we invited two of our other favorites, Laurette and Gerardine, to bake peanut butter cookies and a sweet potato pie with us. It was a new experience for them in many ways: American measurements, peanut butter tasting, and cooking in our kitchen. Cooking with the students was something I had hoped to do in Rwanda and once I saw how the school was structured, I didn't think it would be possible. I'm happy it happened right at the end.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObAWfrhmtefc8Yv2m40UPeHY4TOgqkXdAY2TlcmyDbRQDVzsABtNzIN8OoRePdqQtw8XhnvMW1Fh0ZL5Bs9G50HTj2uoHo_fVScldLwLofyQ8MpoO0Hgz44ElxapoLAohzAmBMiXBjH8P/s1600/P7244374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiObAWfrhmtefc8Yv2m40UPeHY4TOgqkXdAY2TlcmyDbRQDVzsABtNzIN8OoRePdqQtw8XhnvMW1Fh0ZL5Bs9G50HTj2uoHo_fVScldLwLofyQ8MpoO0Hgz44ElxapoLAohzAmBMiXBjH8P/s1600/P7244374.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26KQ4DGPglEZwT1fw4ua7LjMnkEhDF07zdDsm20VXyWK9Z1jynVaQf8iTRylbjSOzIw6qRq9nyOUuE9DtQVfWoy2r1A5i56QYFh4kBAHBLq1ibL0_0vgV_-7sqmY8dte1QqiD0u4EZYE_/s1600/P7244356.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26KQ4DGPglEZwT1fw4ua7LjMnkEhDF07zdDsm20VXyWK9Z1jynVaQf8iTRylbjSOzIw6qRq9nyOUuE9DtQVfWoy2r1A5i56QYFh4kBAHBLq1ibL0_0vgV_-7sqmY8dte1QqiD0u4EZYE_/s1600/P7244356.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPzJMamyXNykWPSKOhm_WdOicjUXk536cSPn3Kvbu3wyLnt4mh8a43aXvGDTai_VaIDfdXkI5DnxvRhBJTL94FHO24aln1uSF7WltSYTstRheAIOaMqi9pNqYOSIWVEF6dUOzLnTbEYWE/s1600/IMG_7158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzPzJMamyXNykWPSKOhm_WdOicjUXk536cSPn3Kvbu3wyLnt4mh8a43aXvGDTai_VaIDfdXkI5DnxvRhBJTL94FHO24aln1uSF7WltSYTstRheAIOaMqi9pNqYOSIWVEF6dUOzLnTbEYWE/s1600/IMG_7158.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Last Thursday was Rita's birthday, which provided lots of opportunities for fun. We went to the Brazilian daycare for my last time. The kids sang Happy Birthday to Rita and then swarmed both of us. They were so used to having an umuzungu of their own when the Americans were in town that they seemed to be needier for us than ever. Today I was looking at some pictures of the daycare from when the Americans were in town and just looking at photos of the kids warms my heart. Fr. Dave said someone told him that "Rwanda is the land of a thousand smiles because it is the land of a thousand tears." That person was playing off the motto of the country, which is "Land of a Thousand Hills." I don't know if there are more smiles because of the tears of the past, but there sure are a lot of smiles, especially from the beautiful Rwandan children. After the daycare, we went to the Benedictine monastery with the Brazilians for a picnic, volleyball, and Uno and then went to the student Mass where I could say goodbye afterwards. At night we went over to the novices, who threw a birthday for Rita and going-away for me party. I was so touched when they presented gifts for us, which included personalized baskets with lids for each of us and a large, round banana leaf nature scene that was also personalized.<br />
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Saying goodbye to the novices was the only time I cried while saying goodbye. I had so much fun with the novices every Monday night and they really came to mean a lot to me. They always made me laugh and it was great to see them progress in their English skills.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHveOSoeQKGkpf8JGTIylh6q7UR6kQOPVYf0hlKz5mNKKKFO9z4TwD-fkD5JUqZ5ug45N6rFubNjiNJu7KDkPKGH_2MiNQxKTVGNw-tG5xdUhPcngARfuTX57NpWjykSTH9ejf8ojR_XJ/s1600/P7254392.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfHveOSoeQKGkpf8JGTIylh6q7UR6kQOPVYf0hlKz5mNKKKFO9z4TwD-fkD5JUqZ5ug45N6rFubNjiNJu7KDkPKGH_2MiNQxKTVGNw-tG5xdUhPcngARfuTX57NpWjykSTH9ejf8ojR_XJ/s1600/P7254392.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
My last full day in Butare consisted of saying goodbye to the students as they loaded onto buses to go home for a few weeks of vacation, lunch with Rita and two colleagues, and dinner with a few guys from the Emmanuel Community. I got to teach them how to make pancakes.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvmO1I2PlgaBtMv3hcLLV-To5I6gId7BhtzC7ePwPkaf3NBADoExNDCfq-WhBdpwQCbZQzilrOEx8FlaTrplr1ou50qQhpN6dZ1izgnDZ8WnCmMwPVJ39a_VjaUmC0vOLV7F0AlG_rIqey/s1600/P7274404.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvmO1I2PlgaBtMv3hcLLV-To5I6gId7BhtzC7ePwPkaf3NBADoExNDCfq-WhBdpwQCbZQzilrOEx8FlaTrplr1ou50qQhpN6dZ1izgnDZ8WnCmMwPVJ39a_VjaUmC0vOLV7F0AlG_rIqey/s1600/P7274404.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a>My last weekend in Kigali was spent in Kigali. I spent a few hours at the Missionaries of Charity orphanage, giving some love to Jessica (who you might remember from my visits in December) and another little girl who wanted to climb all over me. At one point I had one on my back and another in front. At night Rita and I celebrated my last night in town by going to Zen, an outdoor Asian fusion restaurant with a very posh atmosphere, something definitely not found in Butare. Sunday, Rita and I joined an EC family for lunch. Francois-Xavior, Yvonne Solange, and their kids are a great family. The parents escaped out of Rwanda during the genocide and their first son was born in Belgium. They proceeded to have four more sons and from what I can tell, they are all very respectful, attentive to each other, and faithful. I asked the family what their secret was and while there wasn't one obvious answer, they make time to be together as a family and they bless each other by drawing a cross on each others forehead when they say goodbye. I like that tradition; maybe I'll introduce it when I have my own family.<br />
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Well, that's all for now.
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAD345OV106XyvC0WQMfW5qqQd2wRZegcnr8N5Nh8ibHKk7JEZio2Hvxi6w7yWGUvVy28kkAaSDv2IT2ENACQ8EybD4WxwQD0opZbx3KBoPXDDyQ-T1xe14QSRe6CY5dgmBx-7cA70HVHt/s1600/P7094029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAD345OV106XyvC0WQMfW5qqQd2wRZegcnr8N5Nh8ibHKk7JEZio2Hvxi6w7yWGUvVy28kkAaSDv2IT2ENACQ8EybD4WxwQD0opZbx3KBoPXDDyQ-T1xe14QSRe6CY5dgmBx-7cA70HVHt/s1600/P7094029.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nyungwe rainforest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If you know me even decently well, you know that I really enjoy hiking and camping. They are some of my favorite hobbies. In fact, when people ask me what I am looking forward to about going back home, one of my answers is having a car to get around more easily and I specifically think about driving to trailheads. Oh yes, even though there is a lot of natural beauty around me in Rwanda, which I appreciate, I miss going on long hikes and camping in the wilderness.<br />
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Well, last week Rita and I satisfied my hunger for exertion and sleeping in the wilderness by visiting the Banda Community in Nyungwe National Park. Last Wednesday we rode a bus for two hours from Butare to the Uwinka Overlook Interpretation Center in the park. There we met our volunteer guide, Ignace, who is studying wildlife management. We put on our backpacks and walked for three hours through the rainforest and the buffer pine forest, down into the valley, and then into the village. Ignace pointed out different plants and told us their Latin names, which Rita and I were pretty terrible at remembering. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGJf4RP2wbwjMpYzKwiH0lgj3I1nUNDi5bVTLFxSd0vBRA5rpvrm0UTf-jUazjTNLpl79D1UwdoQZCpymuughn0D4V0AWHT1BQLoeqDbSjciKg8k7pFRpmYk2u4j2SdVyVfRs_mHMwtfL/s1600/P7094030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgGJf4RP2wbwjMpYzKwiH0lgj3I1nUNDi5bVTLFxSd0vBRA5rpvrm0UTf-jUazjTNLpl79D1UwdoQZCpymuughn0D4V0AWHT1BQLoeqDbSjciKg8k7pFRpmYk2u4j2SdVyVfRs_mHMwtfL/s1600/P7094030.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pine buffer forest</td></tr>
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One thing that was so cool about the hike is that to hike with a guide on a
national park trail costs at least $40/person and lasts 4-5 hours.
Because we were visiting the village, we got to walk through the park to the village and
back (almost 6 hours of hiking), and spend a night camping, for only
$10/person! It was a great deal (those of you who know me really well
know I love a bargain) and it was totally worth more than we paid.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLn-FBlGp90Yva_GV_NAaZzK56bdemTBesng2gXfdoGdLnQRvoEH7CyyfKaBK_cIpbSAfJ0H5cCobXWqiBVx_uujBNYoM6z98uNDc3MCQ16U6LRwB6kUpuqeT49clKWvqLlGjO0KAJbd7A/s1600/P7094036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLn-FBlGp90Yva_GV_NAaZzK56bdemTBesng2gXfdoGdLnQRvoEH7CyyfKaBK_cIpbSAfJ0H5cCobXWqiBVx_uujBNYoM6z98uNDc3MCQ16U6LRwB6kUpuqeT49clKWvqLlGjO0KAJbd7A/s1600/P7094036.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Anyway, after walking through the forests and the Banda village, we arrived at the campground. It was picturesque. We were in a valley surrounded by cultivated and natural hills. Our REI tent (my favorite store!) was set up on a grassy plot surrounded by low bushes to create a little barrier between the other plots, which didn't have tents because we were the only visitors that night. There was a bathroom building that was a step up from a Porta Potty and a little one room cabin that served as the restaurant. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Bi8LQxjnhRbqFhyphenhyphenRyNoRVkJK4pMnCb8g8jDx5bLi-Vwwa-v16e9TGHDetso4Rn0fKmmp4k8moqCS2QhLt84B2_IcsWzxHYWWMUmDzUTqOdjqyV1Xd8tW-6UD2KNOJB3KvjSvzldr7gq3/s1600/P7094037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Bi8LQxjnhRbqFhyphenhyphenRyNoRVkJK4pMnCb8g8jDx5bLi-Vwwa-v16e9TGHDetso4Rn0fKmmp4k8moqCS2QhLt84B2_IcsWzxHYWWMUmDzUTqOdjqyV1Xd8tW-6UD2KNOJB3KvjSvzldr7gq3/s1600/P7094037.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset</td></tr>
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Our guide took care of all the communication with the kitchen staff and all we had to do was make ourselves comfortable playing cards and rehydrating as we waited for dinner to be ready. Eventually all the dishes were on the table and Rita and I helped ourselves to the Rwandan staples: rice, French fries, beans, pasta, and stew meat. We were hungry after the hike so it was great to have a big plate of carbs to fill up our bellies and replenish whatever we used on the hike and would need for the hike out the next day.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFQV1yq3DYXWN2zSN0L4aRsqEjwiZ57ac5fgdYFqWthv0RmP35nN_9n8aeR6g0HbS0MEJ91XvL9zPzMDa6Yad-3oTp8Nb91MX_NMMw6s9eRM30ed_UjxHyhVsgd-QQmMmN7hok5X9Abbf/s1600/P7094042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiFQV1yq3DYXWN2zSN0L4aRsqEjwiZ57ac5fgdYFqWthv0RmP35nN_9n8aeR6g0HbS0MEJ91XvL9zPzMDa6Yad-3oTp8Nb91MX_NMMw6s9eRM30ed_UjxHyhVsgd-QQmMmN7hok5X9Abbf/s1600/P7094042.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Then came the experience that I hadn't had in about a year: sleeping in a tent. I don't find sleeping in a tent to be the most comfortable thing in the world, but there is just something about sleeping close to nature that I love. This time was definitely a first because only one twin-sized foam mattress could fit in the REI Half Dome 2 Plus tent so Rita and I shared it (in our separate sleeping bags). Sleeping in a tent is even less restful when you have two people on a twin mattress, but it was still great.<br />
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The next morning we were treated to warm water for sponge baths, a filling breakfast, and a quick visit to a local stream. Oh, and I can't forget to mention all the little boys who took great interest in Rita and me. It made me laugh to watch them as they peered through the vegetative fence bordering the campground and even climbed a tree to get a better look at us. Eventually they left us and Rita, Ignace, and I headed out of the valley to the main road where we would catch a bus back to Butare. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A visitor to the Umuzungu Zoo!</td></tr>
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It was a great trip and I highly recommend it to any visitors or residents of Rwanda. Here is where you can get more information:<br />
FB: "Banda Community at Nyungwe National Park"<br />
Email: bandacamp@yahoo.fr<br />
Phone: Ignace, +250 785 369 704; Jules Cesar, +250 788 629 410; Illdephense, +250 788 436 763Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-27813457886783876512014-07-08T14:16:00.000+02:002014-07-08T14:16:02.544+02:00And then there were 19 extra Americans in Rwanda<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhMjeaWK8alwWhNoSgQ333MqGj0PNYFTvukRWushxEYEZ5O7cpDMuv1iP8O0a9BDv9BAhaFlRTntvjWka3xSkARrzhw_uypZpN_kB1csRNM5n22hTk6jP3SGdqfQuWdTgMD8L3knzOLsy/s1600/Creche+-+Jenn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPhMjeaWK8alwWhNoSgQ333MqGj0PNYFTvukRWushxEYEZ5O7cpDMuv1iP8O0a9BDv9BAhaFlRTntvjWka3xSkARrzhw_uypZpN_kB1csRNM5n22hTk6jP3SGdqfQuWdTgMD8L3knzOLsy/s1600/Creche+-+Jenn.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiS_ewT6PXnRFX-xVCpJ_hyphenhyphenwMlMGlhW_FlU9XxvyA4lfpcgI-COwFXSvpgkatS3PJXB-k77Z6pP9T27e_H9nRaK_V-SI6zxPXcHmNbmG2Tm9ZIpgdiWjQiJFLnfecsZc5MWqEYyW0Hr6iP/s1600/Creche+-+Jade.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiS_ewT6PXnRFX-xVCpJ_hyphenhyphenwMlMGlhW_FlU9XxvyA4lfpcgI-COwFXSvpgkatS3PJXB-k77Z6pP9T27e_H9nRaK_V-SI6zxPXcHmNbmG2Tm9ZIpgdiWjQiJFLnfecsZc5MWqEYyW0Hr6iP/s1600/Creche+-+Jade.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
My normal rhythm of life was thrown out the window June 26th when 1 priest and students from CO State (16), CU Boulder (1), and Catholic University of America (1) arrived in Butare for a week of service. From then until the group's departure yesterday afternoon, life was a whirlwind of activity, sometimes stressful but full of so many good fruits, as I helped the group get from work site to work site, town to city to national park. Here are some of the many activities they participated in and the people they served. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfwZIq4LUo8P5m1biJ9jKUw_XYQGSe3vNQO_Q8X0MEGTNySQ1D9FIxW6KqPMe6wboY6YQKciewpqWHCeJbMzoSdTF0qiUpqPh6SorOg1UWrMCodY8SGtqc1DObarbLXO_BEv75Hw_EQnc/s1600/Creche+-+Tod.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfwZIq4LUo8P5m1biJ9jKUw_XYQGSe3vNQO_Q8X0MEGTNySQ1D9FIxW6KqPMe6wboY6YQKciewpqWHCeJbMzoSdTF0qiUpqPh6SorOg1UWrMCodY8SGtqc1DObarbLXO_BEv75Hw_EQnc/s1600/Creche+-+Tod.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4onWnTaJEgxwkkcmH9A2BgvJc66GFr-w45D50nllVJKw8Fyni3HwaiPh-dzNi6LN2C_r14lFLA4dPXP_0TQgGldhxyg3uZhsQg5VvIo1IqIkm4SSRW1AQiUK3jr-_xWCbinlzFehtI2zk/s1600/Creche+-+Jordan.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4onWnTaJEgxwkkcmH9A2BgvJc66GFr-w45D50nllVJKw8Fyni3HwaiPh-dzNi6LN2C_r14lFLA4dPXP_0TQgGldhxyg3uZhsQg5VvIo1IqIkm4SSRW1AQiUK3jr-_xWCbinlzFehtI2zk/s1600/Creche+-+Jordan.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>In Butare, there were three main services. During the weekday mornings the whole group went to the Brazilian daycare/nursery school where my roommate and I like to volunteer. I had been worried that the guys in the group would find the caretaking boring or that the whole group would overwhelm the site. Neither were the case. Each student quickly found a favorite child who would cling to him or her all morning so the students were so happy to return to the daycare to see their special child. They were also very affected by the life situations of the children. I knew they are poor, but I didn't realize how bad their home lives are. Some kids live in places that "are not fit for dogs" (the words of one of the sisters) and don't have beds. Some kids are the result of prostitution and one of those children has HIV. These stories were challenging for the group to hear because it made their work seem futile. Yes, they could love the children for 3-4 hours a day for a few days while they were here, but they can't change their life situations. I know from Pisuri that that is a hard pill to swallow.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This little guy took Fr. Dave's glasses</td></tr>
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The second service was spending time at two centers for orphaned and street kids, one for girls and one for boys. I had heard that such centers existed in Butare, but I couldn't find them until I was preparing for the CSU group's arrival. I went hunting in the general direction that was pointed out to me and asked a few questions and all of a sudden I discovered these centers for abandoned kids. One thing I noticed when visiting the girls center is how affectionate
the girls were. They didn't know me and yet these 9-11 year olds were
giving me hugs in the course of my first exploratory visit. I think each center was visited two times by members of the CSU group. The group came with a lot of soccer donations so some of that was given to the boys' center. At the boys center the volunteers played soccer and at the girls center they made bracelets and practiced dances.<br />
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The third main service was manual labor in the fields. The group wanted to get some physical work in while they were in Butare so they cleared and cultivated a field owned by the Brazilian congregation. That field will help the Brazilians to have more food for their community, which frees up more money to spend on feeding the daycare children. Their second project was to clear as much of a plot of land that will be used by an Emmanuel Community family for a future house site as possible. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKof0ZCW5pLHP8MNOpMNkLjw1IxEbaRbaYqLjv59g4S98ukx6kNBSUE90U7Y6_-g_0cnbJf8LKteJAscI3d0UaVJ0P9zkl196m-RKjlaAemANJO5TeCHOUBJT9moZ0RS-LoEUjUY1namU/s1600/Mural+painting.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKof0ZCW5pLHP8MNOpMNkLjw1IxEbaRbaYqLjv59g4S98ukx6kNBSUE90U7Y6_-g_0cnbJf8LKteJAscI3d0UaVJ0P9zkl196m-RKjlaAemANJO5TeCHOUBJT9moZ0RS-LoEUjUY1namU/s1600/Mural+painting.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxPsD5GBnWZsPpWcKm4S5qHBPXt565YcE9-8xs41nY_8jGeyJDZ1P8-sX18XRRZPnN2FLZLHOJ5oBpBTseAwjDYj0kM8sn70vbo4vu-cRVhnynJodKNyQhdN-40CP5WAvn06Kw850ne18/s1600/P7013995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxPsD5GBnWZsPpWcKm4S5qHBPXt565YcE9-8xs41nY_8jGeyJDZ1P8-sX18XRRZPnN2FLZLHOJ5oBpBTseAwjDYj0kM8sn70vbo4vu-cRVhnynJodKNyQhdN-40CP5WAvn06Kw850ne18/s1600/P7013995.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxPsD5GBnWZsPpWcKm4S5qHBPXt565YcE9-8xs41nY_8jGeyJDZ1P8-sX18XRRZPnN2FLZLHOJ5oBpBTseAwjDYj0kM8sn70vbo4vu-cRVhnynJodKNyQhdN-40CP5WAvn06Kw850ne18/s1600/P7013995.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEkMQ3GSkzjNh__IJmV9GcHpZGe7s4S8QXq4h9f5LOY3BKI2r-4wVxMUfQMWeHivuvVciVi0nj1P8zWoc_y2rBNRGIzI0CMq_oAUXbC51yZHizCE38DBZr2wpaqkvo218G2XBq-5vs0gy/s1600/P7013992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifEkMQ3GSkzjNh__IJmV9GcHpZGe7s4S8QXq4h9f5LOY3BKI2r-4wVxMUfQMWeHivuvVciVi0nj1P8zWoc_y2rBNRGIzI0CMq_oAUXbC51yZHizCE38DBZr2wpaqkvo218G2XBq-5vs0gy/s1600/P7013992.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>In addition to the three main projects, there were a lot of one-day projects and varied night events. The night of the arrival they joined my students for the weekly school Mass. The choir sang English songs and I felt like a proud parent watching her kids use what she taught them. The group was invited over to the house of the Brazilian community to watch the Chile vs. Brazil World Cup game and then to celebrate the feast of Saints Peter and Paul with food and dancing. The next morning the group joined the community at their convent for Mass and adoration. Four women from the group spent a morning painting pictures on the trim of a nursery school building. Almost all of the women (one was sick) came to my school to put on a mini-retreat for the students. After an initial song with gestures and a testimony of faith presented to the whole group, the students were divided into groups of 20-30 so they could each have an American girl to lead them in conversation and testimonies for the remainder of the hour. It was so satisfying to see the students eager to continue talking with the volunteers and to hear the American women say how much they loved sharing with the students. They went to the home of the local coordinator of the Emmanuel Community for a dinner and dance party. We showed the Rwandans how to swing dance and the Rwandans taught us how to dance Rwandan-style. Lastly, the group led a night of prayer and evangelization at the Catholic cathedral. If you are in the Emmanuel Community, "Mercy Night" is enough to tell you what it was. For those of you who aren't in the EC, let me paint a picture of that beautiful night. The Eucharistic Lord was displayed in a monstrance (a gold-plated holder on a stand) on the altar. The lights were off in the church. Taper candles held in paper bags by sand formed the shape of a cross in front of the altar on the ground. Enough candles were lit to illuminate the cross, but others were unlit so the people we met on the streets could come in and light one as a sign of their prayer. Half of the group stayed inside the church to pray and the other half went out in pairs with paper lanterns to invite passersby to come into the church to pray, to light a candle, to pick a paper with a scripture passage on it, to pray with someone, or to go to confession. The night lasted for 2 hours and many people came into the church to pray. It helps that Rwanda is such a pedestrian country. A few highlights were: one man who was very stressed about life so he prayed for more than an hour and felt so peaceful and relaxed after his prayer time; and three people who didn't have time to enter the church, but when I let them pick a scripture passage and they read it, their faces broke into big smiles and they thanked us for the words they had received.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A large group of white pilgrims is a passing attraction</td></tr>
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All of those events happened in six days. Whoo! It was a sprint, but my work with the group wasn't finished yet. We went from a sprint to a long walk, 18 miles to Kibeho to be exact. On July 2, I guided the group on their pilgrimage from Butare to Kibeho. I've made the walk two times before, once in November with the visiting American, Paul, and once in March with the university prayer group, but this was the first time I walked in more-or-less in silence and it was great. I had so much time to pray and to reflect on what I lived in Rwanda and to prepare for what I am about to live in Minnesota. We spent 3 1/2 days in Kibeho. There wasn't much of a schedule for the time, which was so nice for the group after two heavily planned weeks (they spent a week in Kigali before they reached me in Butare). The bulk of the retreat fell on Fr. Dave's shoulders because he led people in prayers for spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical healing, which took about an hour per person.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The plains are so brown right now <br />because it's the dry season</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first view of the elephant from across the water</td></tr>
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After Kibeho the group caught two buses, one back to Butare and then one from here to Kigali, on July 5. We went to bed relatively early because we had a 5 am bus pick-up to go to Akagera National Park. The group was so lucky with what we saw. At one point we were watched an elephant about 1/4 around a lake from us. When the elephant disappeared out of sight, we loaded back into the bus to try to see it again near the road. Well, we definitely saw it! As we were driving on the dirt road, we saw the elephant only 30-40 feet away from us, facing the road. His ears were spread wide and our guide told the driver to put some distance between us and the elephant quickly. If we had stayed right in front of the elephant in our big bus, there is a chance he could have charged us to show his dominance. Needless to say, we drove past the elephant and stopped where we could still have a good, but safer, view of him. It was the closest and the longest I've seen an elephant in the wild. We also saw hippos out of the water again and some giraffes, but not as close as my first trip to Akagera. One interesting perspective was seeing how dry the great plain in the north was. Normally there are many, many animals grazing in the green grass, but the animals were as abundant this time because the plain was so dry. As you can see in the pictures, a lot of the grasses are brown and dried up. The dryness made for a lot more dust flying into the bus and coating our skin with dirt.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbY0EFTvkAINg3YyuUVY42kvHmeHgP7fJ0Q20gMlgd1DybC-PZrWBfhM5xTld_bxLbmDQhyphenhyphenkU6QDTEfhzQetO19q9GZUA60PSQCcWdn-zMzirOCBhEenESLT6toize3ry2o_PzMAMuJf3/s1600/P7064005.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbY0EFTvkAINg3YyuUVY42kvHmeHgP7fJ0Q20gMlgd1DybC-PZrWBfhM5xTld_bxLbmDQhyphenhyphenkU6QDTEfhzQetO19q9GZUA60PSQCcWdn-zMzirOCBhEenESLT6toize3ry2o_PzMAMuJf3/s1600/P7064005.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from where we stopped the bus</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMfx6zUND7NdZJ6gsXt0SM1rcBI6aYi7EL3A0mAa-ycLUuq6clvW8l2_jSzBOH8zc6sBPJX7djc1HwgwQDgfR-zLhtZbJV81ek63_AtjTFBW5so62VyfeBNrBAjuKN0kAYTPg8M-qot8B/s1600/P7064014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMfx6zUND7NdZJ6gsXt0SM1rcBI6aYi7EL3A0mAa-ycLUuq6clvW8l2_jSzBOH8zc6sBPJX7djc1HwgwQDgfR-zLhtZbJV81ek63_AtjTFBW5so62VyfeBNrBAjuKN0kAYTPg8M-qot8B/s1600/P7064014.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Kevin, Ryan, Laura, Fr. Dave, Tod, Jenn, Jordan, Alexa, Joe, Ben, Colin, Kaylin, Alana, Alec, Emily, Jade, Andy, Kasey, Angie, me</td></tr>
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Yesterday was the group's last day in Kigali so they took advantage of the free day to go souvenir shopping. They also got to see the boys from the Emmanuel Center in Kigali play soccer decked out in the jerseys, shorts, shin guards, cleats, and goalie gloves that the group had brought them. They looked so cute and proud. They were ready for the World Cup of Kigali.<br />
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I took advantage of the day to go to the dentist to get some sensitivity checked out and to hang out with the Kigali Fidesco guys. Some people made me afraid the dentist would be dangerous to go to here because of poor sanitation, but I thought it was very Western looking with new instruments for my visit. My one complaint is that the cleaning was a bit painful. The dentist was more firm in his use of the instruments than they are in the States. With Jeremie and Timothee we went out for an evening of bowling at the Mamba Club. That is an experience, partially because the lane sloped slightly to the right and because there is a man who sets up and clears the pins by hand. Due to the sloping lane, I probably had my worst score ever, somewhere in the 60s.<br />
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F2.bp.blogspot.com%2F-akkCLIhvQiQ%2FU7vYJFCHW3I%2FAAAAAAAAAzM%2F0QVSrtv8ATI%2Fs1600%2FP7013995.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxPsD5GBnWZsPpWcKm4S5qHBPXt565YcE9-8xs41nY_8jGeyJDZ1P8-sX18XRRZPnN2FLZLHOJ5oBpBTseAwjDYj0kM8sn70vbo4vu-cRVhnynJodKNyQhdN-40CP5WAvn06Kw850ne18/s1600/P7013995.JPG" -->Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-19493570006833117652014-06-24T12:18:00.000+02:002014-06-24T12:18:02.221+02:00Visiting the Crown Jewel of Rwandan Tourism<div style="text-align: left;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Village children at the start of the Bisoke hike</td></tr>
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In February I traveled to the volcanic region of Rwanda to climb Mt. Bisoke, a dormant volcano that has a crater lake at the top. Rita and I were felled during that trip by food poisoning so we resolved to make a second trip to the region, which we did this past weekend.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaTfbkYADX0XzGHrxHH4g3_Q8UO_FMu1BOZfZlfo1tGciqjJuyr703B24URMEOSjp0nheKujZt7j0jKxjGVByUDoAQk57JyQzyvXhz1on5wTd0DxH4UdMpzIkteyV3rl7YwlTRaYtJRM3/s1600/P6203911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaTfbkYADX0XzGHrxHH4g3_Q8UO_FMu1BOZfZlfo1tGciqjJuyr703B24URMEOSjp0nheKujZt7j0jKxjGVByUDoAQk57JyQzyvXhz1on5wTd0DxH4UdMpzIkteyV3rl7YwlTRaYtJRM3/s1600/P6203911.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mt. Bisoke obscured by clouds. Irish potatoes are growing in the foreground.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTQn-gs148kEUhK1equoVo0OCccn0cSufTDOfB7pufGslgttdMu9xkDazN1QEppGAFyypik0G9tAVOWcffyWvGksYNdhaTZ7Atdv_rSxkjP-0d1YywkqxS8KX1A85iiQHGGmDsjMt4Nfn7/s1600/P6203852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTQn-gs148kEUhK1equoVo0OCccn0cSufTDOfB7pufGslgttdMu9xkDazN1QEppGAFyypik0G9tAVOWcffyWvGksYNdhaTZ7Atdv_rSxkjP-0d1YywkqxS8KX1A85iiQHGGmDsjMt4Nfn7/s1600/P6203852.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>We traveled with Doug and Caron, a married American couple who live in Butare. Caron and Rita decided to not attempt Bisoke so Doug and I got up early on Friday morning to be at the park headquarters by 7 am to meet our group and guide. Here are some stats on Mt. Bisoke: only 9 km (5.6 mi) round-trip, 3900 ft of vertical gain, four hours up and three hours down, and in our case, lots and lots of mud. It is supposed to be the dry season, which would make for a strenuous but pleasant hike, but since it rained the day before we arrived, this description from the Bradt guidebook is more accurate: "Far more demanding is the day hike to the 3,711 m peak of Mount Visoke, which is topped by a beautiful crater lake. Departing from a car park at an altitude of around 2,500 m, the footpath up the mountain leads after one hour to a clearing that was used as a resting point by Dian Fossey <i>en route</i> to Karisoke. From here, it takes another 2-3 hours to get to the peak, passing through lobelia and hagenia woodland, and <b>following a path that is steep and muddy at the best of times, and outright treacherous after rain - you'll be sinking to your knees in the bog with almost every step, and do much of the descent sliding along on your butt.</b>" Mud, mud, mud. My shoes camouflaged with the soil after the hike, as you can see in one of the pictures. It was one of those hikes that you are proud you did it in such terrible conditions, but you would never volunteer to do it again in such conditions. We didn't sink in to our knees, but the mud often went right to the top of the shoe and only a quick pull out kept the mud from entering into it. Sometimes a quick pull out almost resulted in the loss of the shoe in the mud. It was crazy! Luckily we were given bamboo hiking poles at the beginning of the hike and there was a porter, Emmanuel, who held onto one or two of the four of us tourists to keep us from falling on our butts every minute. I still managed to fall on my butt two times in the first seven minutes of descent.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Check out the steepness of the trail and the mud</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Welcomes you to Bisoke Crater Lake. Swimming is not allowed"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2_QR_ShFypU8lDtsJH3QiKY7wykiZb-1k-zPwlxyaGsgjpyxAdVn-ogfsuV9KsCGIHg5wuUKE8xFSbSrSJtENTGWZJ_kDnre4Z0T3nvo1WHuub-mXJq6oYlhCUo8ryH03Cz56TTxgPH0/s1600/DSCN4293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL2_QR_ShFypU8lDtsJH3QiKY7wykiZb-1k-zPwlxyaGsgjpyxAdVn-ogfsuV9KsCGIHg5wuUKE8xFSbSrSJtENTGWZJ_kDnre4Z0T3nvo1WHuub-mXJq6oYlhCUo8ryH03Cz56TTxgPH0/s1600/DSCN4293.JPG" height="112" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPFrbXv4RrSRZyIim4-zbHlY-MRb3PbWR45kvi8e6yLeYAq3kcXDj9rywD179YPB_IuxJxzDxpP16dzkqA_t_G5gjlxnuLX664Eoiko59BNcwPfdVbLGzIYU5AO5JM_-jgab6TFQZh6RD/s1600/P6203885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPFrbXv4RrSRZyIim4-zbHlY-MRb3PbWR45kvi8e6yLeYAq3kcXDj9rywD179YPB_IuxJxzDxpP16dzkqA_t_G5gjlxnuLX664Eoiko59BNcwPfdVbLGzIYU5AO5JM_-jgab6TFQZh6RD/s1600/P6203885.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A group two days later had such bad weather that they couldn't see the lake</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtkmUVl789ZaDNQ833XbNZWV9a4L6B8HxB3LffmWzy2My6lp2lASwWyNF8eK4HokCEVqK__N5G0_7luaERuCA51zizfNSxBl9rgAGOAFURln7JkEw2mYG6xp7Py899FdInb47Fk6x5yrv/s1600/P6203900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZtkmUVl789ZaDNQ833XbNZWV9a4L6B8HxB3LffmWzy2My6lp2lASwWyNF8eK4HokCEVqK__N5G0_7luaERuCA51zizfNSxBl9rgAGOAFURln7JkEw2mYG6xp7Py899FdInb47Fk6x5yrv/s1600/P6203900.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where do the shoes end and the mud begin?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTp0N-hmJtpHNd1hx-mURfHgWh7463mWGcxdE4z6wirb9XSwNAuQjzrilONnNl-l6_Ty2qi7PtP0ZY2abAbKAGSYjFfR9BEL_Wh3i7d7XsZcCxmYO1xE9GqqSviwujh1YbjFVUpLjYWEU/s1600/P6203907.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzTp0N-hmJtpHNd1hx-mURfHgWh7463mWGcxdE4z6wirb9XSwNAuQjzrilONnNl-l6_Ty2qi7PtP0ZY2abAbKAGSYjFfR9BEL_Wh3i7d7XsZcCxmYO1xE9GqqSviwujh1YbjFVUpLjYWEU/s1600/P6203907.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The land as the base of the volcanoes is so beautiful. <br />
Here are black volcanic soil mounds ready for planting.</td></tr>
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It's a good thing Doug and I survived the Bisoke hike in one piece because our group had a reservation to track gorillas the next day. The highland mountain gorillas are the crown jewel of Rwandan tourism. As a visitor pointed out, lots of African countries have savannahs for safaris, but only Uganda, the DR of Congo, and Rwanda have wild highland gorillas. It really is something else to see a wild gorilla in its natural habitat without a zoo barrier separating us from it, and let me tell you, many people (1/3 of whom are Americans) are willing to pay a lot of money for the experience. A non-resident foreigner pays $750 for the opportunity to trek through the jungle and spend one hour with a gorilla family and in the dry season, the permits are always sold out. Wow, how the money flows in!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-ZSOY1sU1vYePmNht-oTKL3MTIbCTO8UvMGAhuktsECKTOCSvX2fQC8AVPthx2TW6aJSH9IjDQQZe81xJfujGLOvLCGcIut78GO8mGD0cAdOJCMCtk_BnscOpFkMQVdpILKtY_yExNKx/s1600/DSCN4317.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy-ZSOY1sU1vYePmNht-oTKL3MTIbCTO8UvMGAhuktsECKTOCSvX2fQC8AVPthx2TW6aJSH9IjDQQZe81xJfujGLOvLCGcIut78GO8mGD0cAdOJCMCtk_BnscOpFkMQVdpILKtY_yExNKx/s1600/DSCN4317.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
Since foreign residents don't have to pay nearly as much, Rita, Doug, Caron, and I took advantage of living in Rwanda to experience this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Once again we gathered at the Volcanoes National Park headquarters at 7 am to check in and to enjoy the traditional dance show that is performed every morning for the visitors. Then all the tourists were separated into groups of 8, the maximum number to visit each gorilla family, and my group of four was joined to four other Americans, a dad and son and a mom and son. We loaded into our Land Cruisers and drove for 20 minutes along very rough, rocky, and rutted roads to the trek starting point. Along with our group of 8, we had one guide, three soldiers with guns, and one porter. We later joined up with three trackers who were following the gorillas since the early morning in order to tell our guide where to take us.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-i-VrxKRLTx65VEA5Qk8R_pjiUkf8JJh1cDJOYW6myOgzOPqWGdSV8coXn5LSUIHsM7kHQRMiqGW98nOdXt0CPKVLYnWWCJaz6gY3_8iRyH0CNHtULxKWImGDbxgvPK2ZBmBzoQnF0DRj/s1600/DSCN4408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-i-VrxKRLTx65VEA5Qk8R_pjiUkf8JJh1cDJOYW6myOgzOPqWGdSV8coXn5LSUIHsM7kHQRMiqGW98nOdXt0CPKVLYnWWCJaz6gY3_8iRyH0CNHtULxKWImGDbxgvPK2ZBmBzoQnF0DRj/s1600/DSCN4408.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a>The hike was beautiful and so different than the vegetation on Bisoke. We started by walking through fields and villages. Once we climbed over the stone buffalo wall (built to keep the park's buffaloes from leaving the park and eating farmers' potatoes), we were in a bamboo forest. It was raining by that point and the bamboo didn't do much to stop the rain from reaching us. It promised to be a wet and cold day and that is what we got. Thank goodness for synthetic hiking clothes. Once we left the bamboo forest and ascended into the jungle, we were surrounded by leafy plants and plants that smelled like lantanas when broken. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63tmyhDpnoV2awjMkukA-JFzkorjxVrH9Q6EiUJUX1ET8P9ByEc2-Sci1EzLVGzEcGdEQojJQdAGQk_lUaLSGN7GE_VxjjBQVMHbPV4QdOrvHu1yiGCBqg4_LzCoOMRuE_SCMQ5T7InHg/s1600/P6213914.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63tmyhDpnoV2awjMkukA-JFzkorjxVrH9Q6EiUJUX1ET8P9ByEc2-Sci1EzLVGzEcGdEQojJQdAGQk_lUaLSGN7GE_VxjjBQVMHbPV4QdOrvHu1yiGCBqg4_LzCoOMRuE_SCMQ5T7InHg/s1600/P6213914.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Our guide and one tracker used machetes to cut away plants covering the trail and later they used their machetes a lot to cut a new trail for us to follow. That is how it is on a gorilla hike. We hiked up to a certain point on a more-or-less established trail, but then the trackers told our guide that the silverback (the dominant male) was moving down to the creek bed so we had to backtrack and head down into the ravine to meet him. Down the established trail we went, but then, at some point, we left the established trail and started slipping and sliding along the side of a mountain and then down the mountain to the creek bed. I thought that part was pretty cool; it made the hike more of an adventure. Once in the creek bed, we left our poles and backpacks (no food or drinks near the gorillas) in the care of the soldiers and hiked up the bed to where the silverback was enjoying a mid-morning leafy snack.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRjZs2LPqZfAAXZKqQfcWdqK5NKNcemiwPTB8izP5P9vITLt1-GNRRTJ2SmjGaY9QDuh_NLf4GBRGJUbP68URcXIjjy27C7i2Z4VLTty5M3eKTMadY7xn9z8uetTSloJsf8qTF8IHVFxF/s1600/Foto+197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRjZs2LPqZfAAXZKqQfcWdqK5NKNcemiwPTB8izP5P9vITLt1-GNRRTJ2SmjGaY9QDuh_NLf4GBRGJUbP68URcXIjjy27C7i2Z4VLTty5M3eKTMadY7xn9z8uetTSloJsf8qTF8IHVFxF/s1600/Foto+197.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNA-QjGUgc3DG10LqEa0njWJe_npWxr_hVuO9CIfl1rWgcqR2WQfI2NCpaEucXzSLeRbl8UPUYW9XOhte-e0TIGFB2iSV0pD7FQ7MLNacKpBaC5CtHD4xZi3cLv2IenV_3fRktEeSnxPH/s1600/Foto+209.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqNA-QjGUgc3DG10LqEa0njWJe_npWxr_hVuO9CIfl1rWgcqR2WQfI2NCpaEucXzSLeRbl8UPUYW9XOhte-e0TIGFB2iSV0pD7FQ7MLNacKpBaC5CtHD4xZi3cLv2IenV_3fRktEeSnxPH/s1600/Foto+209.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching Mr. Lucky from the creek bed. <br />He is to the left, out of the shot.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You can't even imagine what it's like to glance over a rock above you and see a 500 lbs silverback gorilla sitting there with his back to you. He was huge, just like King Kong. We walked around to his side and watched him chomping away on leaves. The guide and the main tracker often made rumbling gorilla noises to appease him and keep him calm. More than once, Mr. Lucky, as the silverback is called, hooted and then stood up to beat his chest. Contrary to popular opinion, gorillas beat their chests with their open palms, not their fists. The guide told us that is his way of calling his family (5 females and their babies) to come to his location. He would beat; the females wouldn't come. He'd move to a new place, eat, beat, and the females still wouldn't come. Eventually he made his way back up the hill we had slid down and back up the trail we had come down so we followed him back up the hill and back up the trail. He sat down and made himself comfortable, no longer eating, and seemed to be frustrated with these females of his who wouldn't listen to his call. <br />
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Once he settled down, we were able to get pretty close to Mr. Lucky, only 10-15 feet way from him. It was amazing. I could see his huge potbelly and his face. He would cross his arms and scratch his triceps. He just sat there and waited for the females to come to him and eventually they did come.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdYIsSDqGO7Sma0vcEqQKG5GMbgC6ATWQVkdHLCDGdPpQZXiuXe1s0zMXsgpXPidWwMOZQGz-nk8MPUmhruY4LzckW27BbT2yViYg2Q2mnodw3DX4QjzPwiL0R_H74TKSfBtNAlWXzbMm/s1600/DSCN4338.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOdYIsSDqGO7Sma0vcEqQKG5GMbgC6ATWQVkdHLCDGdPpQZXiuXe1s0zMXsgpXPidWwMOZQGz-nk8MPUmhruY4LzckW27BbT2yViYg2Q2mnodw3DX4QjzPwiL0R_H74TKSfBtNAlWXzbMm/s1600/DSCN4338.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Lucky</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwJBspS-4ONZH8CfiufIdnhCgQnUgUMQ1AKwihqarMzrd9fPFoiSgEFEVFYg67l33Nan0WY76K54s4Hu3wj7zsj4FSny_dWsaZKaJAMYzr0150EUg0DQowyn_m7ZZ53lKBGj0kd6qtbr9/s1600/DSCN4360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwJBspS-4ONZH8CfiufIdnhCgQnUgUMQ1AKwihqarMzrd9fPFoiSgEFEVFYg67l33Nan0WY76K54s4Hu3wj7zsj4FSny_dWsaZKaJAMYzr0150EUg0DQowyn_m7ZZ53lKBGj0kd6qtbr9/s1600/DSCN4360.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Lucky</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfFjzQt3hDTAZ_CE03IZYsLpf1e75P3jTJwM0j-IwD93rNylLnUHKz90wmLjTFngB-MekBqgnWXfxeuya3u-fy0qGK6rQ2eMVFXdd7xURitVGXNiIoFFArA291ValAwcUhqouGbpJiKRL/s1600/Foto+248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfFjzQt3hDTAZ_CE03IZYsLpf1e75P3jTJwM0j-IwD93rNylLnUHKz90wmLjTFngB-MekBqgnWXfxeuya3u-fy0qGK6rQ2eMVFXdd7xURitVGXNiIoFFArA291ValAwcUhqouGbpJiKRL/s1600/Foto+248.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
First there was a juvenile gorilla. He put on quite a show for us, rolling around and thumping a tree with his feet. Soon the twin two year olds showed up and a few big females. A mom carrying the youngest baby in the park, a 1 1/2 month old, appeared very briefly holding her baby to her chest, but she moved on very quickly. Two scary moments occurred when the silverback decided to move from his post by walking right towards the narrow trail our group was standing on. We quickly scattered to move out of his way and he passed right by us. Later one of the females did the same, choosing to walk right through where we were standing. Rita even got bumped out of the way by one of the gorillas. It sure is frightening to see a 300-500 lbs wild gorilla moving with speed and certitude in your direction, but what a cool experience too. One humorous moment was when one of the babies, either one or two years old, walked right in front of some of us and started playing around on a rock. It was like he was showing off for us. Doug and I were only a few feet away from him (the park rule is to keep back 21 feet) because there wasn't any place for us to move back to. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6SP5Megu-Ke5vDYqD5kJjDjZEhrMr9dtzNJYFIvsFuIWyTxVOThqYi5S1cxlMoqw-GwlSx4pehNe4wpwVnC6ncxmiTaCDZAXY18ILKcsBx5G3JycjX7B1mml4aYHkkeK8b_En-fKGaEg/s1600/DSCN4394.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6SP5Megu-Ke5vDYqD5kJjDjZEhrMr9dtzNJYFIvsFuIWyTxVOThqYi5S1cxlMoqw-GwlSx4pehNe4wpwVnC6ncxmiTaCDZAXY18ILKcsBx5G3JycjX7B1mml4aYHkkeK8b_En-fKGaEg/s1600/DSCN4394.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the females</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyBktJTamowD2HpZ3N-W-oQXEhXltgK-tFkkTJ7eWDlq4AviR11ZcLLFiJ9DZqJbBlI0TqQZfc58NOBjxL7VdB1xOXof9eWOevMk6OSyo-nE2zTzd3uENwhrYpDdN_xFCphtNeQXq3uRk/s1600/P6213937.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpyBktJTamowD2HpZ3N-W-oQXEhXltgK-tFkkTJ7eWDlq4AviR11ZcLLFiJ9DZqJbBlI0TqQZfc58NOBjxL7VdB1xOXof9eWOevMk6OSyo-nE2zTzd3uENwhrYpDdN_xFCphtNeQXq3uRk/s1600/P6213937.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
After at least 45 minutes tracking Mr. Lucky and at least 30 minutes with the family, we had to leave the gorillas to their normal life. We walked back down the established trail and through the bamboo forest to the park boundaries. We climbed back over the buffalo wall and walked through the fields and the villages. Village children called out "Hello" to us and waved. That is one thing I noticed going to the gorillas and to Bisoke. So many more children waved at us and called out greetings than in any other part of Rwanda. I guess the tourists are part of their daily entertainment, but seeing them was part of my daily enjoyment too. Rwandan kids are so beautiful, affectionate, loving, etc, so it made my days to wave at them from the car or from the trail. Man, how I will miss Rwandan children! To show my appreciation for them, when we reached the cars, I pulled some candies out of my pack and gave them to the kids who were following us, including these three. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHX8JKiiOou6HN7FYQSYUUg1w44g-AXQe1crIBwTMybpy0SLAzQ4Bc0FbGksBqjpHlSsZzdct8aDVy-SfTqrieYj7WIDX0zE1Iugyqkfdi-eWmWPbAqO7HkTYF_piS7w56esma07bkeY3/s1600/P6213957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHX8JKiiOou6HN7FYQSYUUg1w44g-AXQe1crIBwTMybpy0SLAzQ4Bc0FbGksBqjpHlSsZzdct8aDVy-SfTqrieYj7WIDX0zE1Iugyqkfdi-eWmWPbAqO7HkTYF_piS7w56esma07bkeY3/s1600/P6213957.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-YMcaL6_rPeg%2FU6hBDX0MCWI%2FAAAAAAAAAuc%2FyeuDUYpAd6w%2Fs1600%2FP6203852.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTQn-gs148kEUhK1equoVo0OCccn0cSufTDOfB7pufGslgttdMu9xkDazN1QEppGAFyypik0G9tAVOWcffyWvGksYNdhaTZ7Atdv_rSxkjP-0d1YywkqxS8KX1A85iiQHGGmDsjMt4Nfn7/s1600/P6203852.JPG" -->Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-37459861368856278122014-06-16T10:39:00.000+02:002014-06-16T10:39:13.145+02:00My new job is now official!As the follow-up post to my job announcement post, I am now free to announce which parish I will be working at. I will be the youth director at St. Timothy's in Maple Lake, MN, and the middle school religion teacher at the parish's school. Here is the website if you care to look it up: <a href="http://churchofsttimothy.org/index.php?q=node/1">http://churchofsttimothy.org/index.php?q=node/1</a><br />
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Maple Lake is a rural community of about 2000 people approximately one hour northwest of Minneapolis. As my brother pointed out, it has all the staples of a MN small town: bowling alley, pizza place, pub, coffee house, and church. The closest grocery stores, Walmart, and Target are 8 miles away in Buffalo. I once lived in a rural community in Texas so I'm not new to the experience. I think this time it will be more sustainable to life because the closest Catholic church is in town, not 20 minutes away like it was in Texas.<br />
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I have heard from other priests in the Archdiocese of St. Paul-Minneapolis that St. Timothy's is a great parish and I believe it from what I have read on the website and from speaking with Fr. Meyer, the pastor, and the school's principal. One thing that I am very excited about is that the parish has an adoration chapel that is open 24/7. Any parish that can guarantee adorers 24/7 must be solid in the faith. Plus, all that time praying in the church helps the parish to stay on the path of truth and life. <br />
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Here is the official announcement from Fr. Meyer.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Hello all,</i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>I hope you’re having a great Father’s Day weekend. I wanted to write
to tell you that we have hired a new youth director and middle school
religion teacher. Before making that announcement, though, I want to
thank Jacob Nelson once again for all of his great work with the youth
these past few years and his work with RCIA. I know he will be deeply
missed as he leaves us at the end of June. He has done a great job,
has grown the youth group, developed the Core Team, instilled a strong
sense of the faith in our children, and done many things for our parish.</i><br />
<br />
<i>
</i><i>At the same time, I’m excited to announce that we have hired someone
to pick up where he left off and continue leading our youth in their
faith and expanding the youth group in new ways. Please join me in
welcoming Heather Quinlan to our staff at Saint Timothy’s. Heather is
currently serving in Rwanda as a teacher and campus minister with
Fidesco. She has a Master’s Degree in Evangelization and Catechesis
with the Augustine Institute, has experience in youth ministry at Saint
Stephen’s in Minneapolis, has designed and facilitated retreats at a
Catholic Camp and in the parish, has delivered many talks on a variety
of topics related to the faith, and much more. Heather is also a part
of the Emmanuel Community, a community of the faithful whose three
pillars are adoration, compassion, and evangelization. It is a growing
movement here in the Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, which
began in Paris, France in 1972. Due to her teaching commitment in
Rwanda and her travel, Heather won’t be able to join us at Saint
Timothy’s until August, but we look forward to welcoming her soon, and
she looks forward to meeting everyone as well. I know she will be a
great addition to our staff and our parish and school. Please join me
in welcoming Heather, and let me know if you have any questions. Again,
Happy Father’s Day to all of you. God bless.</i><br />
<br />
Posted June 15, 2014 at <a href="http://sainttimothys.wordpress.com/2014/06/15/staff-announcement/">http://sainttimothys.wordpress.com/2014/06/15/staff-announcement/ </a><i><br /></i>Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-74016978967277936012014-06-14T22:38:00.000+02:002014-06-14T22:38:51.444+02:00How to Carry a Baby Like a Rwandan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After months of seeing babies carried on the backs of their mothers or other women, I finally got my chance to carry a baby Rwandan-style for more than 2 minutes. All you need is a big enough blanket or towel and voila, you have a baby carrier! It might help prevent or cure hip dysplasia too, based on what the treatment brace looks like and the experience of a young baby out here who potentially had it and then didn't after months of being carried like this.</div>
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<b>STEP 1</b> - Get the baby to ride piggy-back with his or her arms down. The arms can be free, but trapping them in the blanket avoids hair pulling.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ZiEIwTZQZdj8ydMJf1lg8nT9634iaOtG2qpDArhWXmT9PTSu4ePWa7X_p_w5wzMWa5N5qu7KnirShPCBxnBo0qE9mDOj3uYbaGkrmNsqutZh181Q6Htk1X0_l_MxqM2plogiRo-ki96a/s1600/Pentecost+(4).JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ZiEIwTZQZdj8ydMJf1lg8nT9634iaOtG2qpDArhWXmT9PTSu4ePWa7X_p_w5wzMWa5N5qu7KnirShPCBxnBo0qE9mDOj3uYbaGkrmNsqutZh181Q6Htk1X0_l_MxqM2plogiRo-ki96a/s1600/Pentecost+(4).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>STEP 2 </b>-Wrap the blanket or towel around the baby, making sure to
roll the top of the blanket first to create extra support for the
baby's head and neck. Get someone to turn the baby's head to the side
before pinning it with the blanket.<br />
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Proceed to tuck in the top corners of the blanket across the woman's
chest to hold the upper part of the baby in place. It needs to be
tight. Otherwise the baby will feel like he or she is falling away from
you, which is distressing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWXUHOW8oOhHNzvnbxDRRCBzQjTTEQ4Dd72jpxP2O2HjxsDufEcuOTkg5INQDvI1jrwRLrpF-8bW-hsL6LGtkR68dT8IXIndcWGHzwJ-tjGpSnv3sTOkf-I4IuK1MSNFZKTy15j4IQtzQ/s1600/Pentecost+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMWXUHOW8oOhHNzvnbxDRRCBzQjTTEQ4Dd72jpxP2O2HjxsDufEcuOTkg5INQDvI1jrwRLrpF-8bW-hsL6LGtkR68dT8IXIndcWGHzwJ-tjGpSnv3sTOkf-I4IuK1MSNFZKTy15j4IQtzQ/s1600/Pentecost+(5).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>STEP 3</b> - Hike the lower portion of the blanket under the
baby's butt and legs and pull him or her upwards. This motion is like
hiking up one's heavy backpacking pack before attaching the hip belt. <br />
You can choose to keep the baby's feet outside of the blanket or you can keep them inside. Most women have the baby's feet outside of the blanket.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrhlF1yYum0QtYL0CeY4hr-uC-CLRlv9aM8GwZORb5JSGGdrglAEK7msv7x0VGRnK2Tq5UhTPV1O91efpQ87iiG5RTXGv_h8cvbQQThEbObeIS_k2IIaeJmTW4LH1VxKvYDMjVaSJWpGR/s1600/Pentecost+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidrhlF1yYum0QtYL0CeY4hr-uC-CLRlv9aM8GwZORb5JSGGdrglAEK7msv7x0VGRnK2Tq5UhTPV1O91efpQ87iiG5RTXGv_h8cvbQQThEbObeIS_k2IIaeJmTW4LH1VxKvYDMjVaSJWpGR/s1600/Pentecost+(6).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b>STEP 4</b> - Proceed to twist the lower corners of the blanket
around each other once or twice before tucking the ends under the
blanket. This also needs to be tight. <br />
I found
that I couldn't breathe in deeply with this method of carrying a baby
because of how tight the blanket has to be to keep the baby from sliding
down. I also happened to put my lower knot right at the point of my
solar plexus, which was uncomfortable. With more experimentation, I hope I can find a more comfortable place to put the knot and the edges of the blanket.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyKiIDd7OJ3sN88rDfKBpPgnmhMWHM_nlKNqrNX7mW4GudgzXS-Hw0gtCW3R2aBoLyAcn_GSqg4ngBeeOFvspUjAoK4s-I-kgU6n99mRuYTEtnAvyMgl-3JqYSzrpYEBb5EhT0dE23xMT/s1600/Pentecost+(13).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisyKiIDd7OJ3sN88rDfKBpPgnmhMWHM_nlKNqrNX7mW4GudgzXS-Hw0gtCW3R2aBoLyAcn_GSqg4ngBeeOFvspUjAoK4s-I-kgU6n99mRuYTEtnAvyMgl-3JqYSzrpYEBb5EhT0dE23xMT/s1600/Pentecost+(13).JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<b> </b><b>STEP 5</b> - Enjoy hands-free baby carrying that
allows you to do things in front of you without worrying about the baby
getting hurt or being in the way. I could have played a guitar, cooked,
or carried something without squishing the baby. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Jd1d150Vya1LHCqJWFL7MRZWT8hnX9tN5_oVeZ3ecI35QKJFxYaEDE3nuA7oFbLUCTFaS1I-m1P8jfb2PIL-5GxCaMujkVy8xs6daTGoi2L_it3tmuJdfda4ud6tOlGg1vI_WRFXr4Dr/s1600/Pentecost+(7).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Jd1d150Vya1LHCqJWFL7MRZWT8hnX9tN5_oVeZ3ecI35QKJFxYaEDE3nuA7oFbLUCTFaS1I-m1P8jfb2PIL-5GxCaMujkVy8xs6daTGoi2L_it3tmuJdfda4ud6tOlGg1vI_WRFXr4Dr/s1600/Pentecost+(7).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-I4dKSmpBVy4%2FU5yrEUELZYI%2FAAAAAAAAAtg%2FDM8m8mjocBc%2Fs1600%2FPentecost%2B" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1ZiEIwTZQZdj8ydMJf1lg8nT9634iaOtG2qpDArhWXmT9PTSu4ePWa7X_p_w5wzMWa5N5qu7KnirShPCBxnBo0qE9mDOj3uYbaGkrmNsqutZh181Q6Htk1X0_l_MxqM2plogiRo-ki96a/s1600/Pentecost+" -->Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-33107232126548107872014-06-10T12:02:00.000+02:002014-06-16T10:03:05.287+02:00I have a job when I return to the States!<div class="MsoNormal">
I have two pieces of great news to share with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, Fidesco has bought me my plane ticket home so I will arrive in California the evening of July 28th. Second, last week I was offered the youth minister
and middle school religion teacher positions at a parish in MN (I've edited this post to keep some of the work details hidden because my new assignment hasn't been announced to the parish yet.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One of your questions might be, "Why Minnesota?", especially when I am a California girl. Well, that's an easy question to answer. I like the sense of community and the down-home country values of the Midwest. It's also where my spiritual family, the Emmanuel Community, and a lot of good friends are. To be close to the brothers and sisters of the EC, especially the Minnesota ones who are so close to my heart, is important enough to me that I will gladly live in the frozen tundra of MN. Will I complain when I walk outside and it's 20 below? Oh yes, but I will be so happy to have a weekly faithsharing group and a monthly community weekend as part of my faith life.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Another question might be, "What will you do as the youth minister?" A lot of hanging out! That sounds like I'm joking, but I'm not. One thing I really appreciate about the youth minister position is that it is very people-oriented. There is a weekly hang out time, retreats, a summer faith camp, a high school core team, and other things to direct.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another question might be, "How many hours do I have to teach?" I will teach 5 hours a week. I have a friend in MN who teaches middle school religion (you know who you are) and she loves it. Every day she gets to pass the truth onto young people and help them grow in their faith. I remember listening to her stories and thinking, "Wow, maybe I should reconsider being a teacher." Well, now I have the opportunity to try my hand at teaching religion in the States. I must confess that I am nervous about the responsibility of teaching ~40-45 students four days a week and all that entails, but I'm sure I will love it once I get over the nervousness.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
One thing that really strikes me about the opportunities awaiting me in MN is how God used this year to prepare me for them. Before Rwanda, the only classroom teaching experience I had was at The Pines Catholic Camp in Texas and that was not the same as teaching in a school. 5th graders would arrive for four days, our team would teach environmental classes, and then the students would leave. We didn't have to deal with bad behavior for long or give assignments and grades. But now, by the time I return home, I will have a year of classroom teaching under my belt. I've had some experience trying to motivate disinterested or sleepy students to pay attention, to manage student behavior, and to discover which activities engage the students in the process of learning. I think I still have a lot to learn because a Rwandan classroom is not the same as an American one, but I am not as much of a neophyte as I would have been in the same position last year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My time at the ENDPK has also given me one more year's experience working with teenagers and answering their difficult questions. A cool story of hanging out with the students comes from last Friday. I finished teaching the last period of the day, but the students and I were rained in; if we left the classroom, we'd get drenched. One of the students said, "Don't go outside. Stay with us," so I did. I walked over to one of the students who was practicing traditional dance moves and started to copy her. She delighted in showing me different moves to practice and the whole class watched with enjoyment and often laughter. She then asked me to show the students some American moves. Hmm, what to teach? I ended up showing them some disco moves while singing "Staying Alive," the basic salsa step (I know it's not American, but they asked for it), and the waltz (also asked for). It was hilarious to watch the students pair up with each other and practice a basic waltz box step. An example of the type of questions I get asked sometimes is this one from a class about marriage and religious life, "If a priest stands in the person of Christ and marries the Church, and a sister stands in the person of the Church and marries Christ, why don't a priest and sister marry each other since one represents Christ and the other represents the Church?" Good question! These are just two examples of my work in Rwanda and how it has better prepared me for my work next year.</div>
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Lastly, I wanted to leave you with one of my favorite passages from Scripture. It is one that I have turned to hundreds of times in my life when the future is uncertain. I turned to it when I was submitting my resume and cover letters to job openings the past two months. I turned to it when I worried that I would be too far from my friends in the Twin Cities. I turned to it when I was intimidated and stressed by the number of teaching hours (originally there were more) and the anticipated workload of a new teacher. And I'm sure I'll turn to it again many more hundreds of times before I end this life. I hope it brings you the same comfort it brings me.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i>He said to [his] disciples, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about
your life and what you will eat, or about your body and what you will
wear. <span class="bcv"></span>For life is more than food and the body more than clothing.
Notice the ravens:
they do not sow or reap; they have neither storehouse nor barn, yet God
feeds them. How much more important are you than birds! Can any of you by worrying add a moment to your lifespan? <span class="bcv"></span>If even the smallest things are beyond your control, why are you anxious about the rest? Notice how the flowers
grow. They do not toil or spin. But I tell you, not even Solomon in all
his splendor was dressed like one of them. <span class="bcv"></span>If God so clothes the
grass in the field that grows today and is thrown into the oven
tomorrow, will he not much more provide for you, O you of little faith?
As for you, do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not worry anymore.<span class="bcv"> </span>All the nations of the world seek for these things, and your Father knows that you need them. <span class="bcv"></span>Instead, seek his kingdom, and these other things will be given you besides. <span class="bcv"></span>Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom. - Lk 12:22-32</i><sup></sup></div>
Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-8298219969656610632014-06-02T23:11:00.001+02:002014-06-10T12:14:52.032+02:00Back to the Orphanage and the Beginning of the Going-Away Parties<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This past weekend I
stole away from Butare after classes on Saturday morning and headed to Kigali
for a short, 30 hour visit. I had a few
objectives: visit the Missionaries of Charity
orphanage that I hadn't been to since New Year's Day, go shopping at a market
that has great prices on Rwandan handcrafts, and see the French Fidesco
volunteers and a Coloradan woman, Megan. I succeeded in accomplishing all three
objectives and still managed to fit in a free jazz/blues concert at the Goethe
Institute (a German organization) and a late-night dinner of Mexican food at
Meze Fresh. Yum!</span></span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The highlight, for sure, was visiting the orphanage after five months. When I arrived on Sunday afternoon, there happened to be a going-away party for three of the sisters who will move to other convents so all of the babies, children, handicapped adults, and sisters were gathered outside in the lower level for the party. It was really nice to see all the children together because the older girls (6+) entertained and looked after the younger kids so the children weren't bored. I saw little Jessica, the girl I wrote about in my first mission report and on the blog, and said hi to her, but she was so busy dancing and looking at a history textbook with an older girl that she didn't need attention from me. So instead, I got to hold a baby for most of the party and when she was taken from me, I sat down on the curb and played with a few other children. One touching encounter was with Katy, a seven year old, who was sitting a few seats away from me. I noticed she was sucking her thumb and not interacting with anyone so I touched her to get her attention and smiled at her. She smiled back and then moved from her perch to sit next to me on the curb. I put my arm around her and she grabbed it and held my hand. Eventually she rested her head on my knee and I stroked her hair. When it was time for me to leave, she held my hand the whole way to the gate. Katy is a good example of how not only young children, like Pisuri and Jessica, need affection but also older ones. </span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLcbf1fYeSnMqlzD3dV37SG30l0t1cyzs-IouoNuynoKaqn5vcyH2ncXDIokuaY1NbDQY1dIvV_0-evYQOuSXzqLGSNdClqZW1eThlbBT1jDMhKI-NudduLKtxRGC1NrgpPP84IPa9r-9/s1600/P5203718.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLcbf1fYeSnMqlzD3dV37SG30l0t1cyzs-IouoNuynoKaqn5vcyH2ncXDIokuaY1NbDQY1dIvV_0-evYQOuSXzqLGSNdClqZW1eThlbBT1jDMhKI-NudduLKtxRGC1NrgpPP84IPa9r-9/s1600/P5203718.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">A few weeks back the young adult members of the Emmanuel Community and a few members </span></span>o<span style="font-size: small;">f the university prayer group asked if they could throw a
going-away party at Rita's and my house. Even though I still had more
than two months left in my contract and Rita, three, they wanted to have
the party now </span><span style="font-size: small;">because a lot of the young adults are students who would
go home for the summer (one interesting cultural note is that the party
was at our house, but it was thrown by others. Culturally it is
acceptable to ask others if on</span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihb_LtHQGxwG2xrLfWln1Z8I57_DSUjW8Yj-KPoHCRlGyggRXY8ZXcNubKGlpIln2yr1IYicuv6I1l_2pqRZ-z3CbjN5oGmpO2bsmma2FQV6ye-DTnTLrOUfP7EQI4YICJ93yoZ8v0l_dv/s1600/P5203738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihb_LtHQGxwG2xrLfWln1Z8I57_DSUjW8Yj-KPoHCRlGyggRXY8ZXcNubKGlpIln2yr1IYicuv6I1l_2pqRZ-z3CbjN5oGmpO2bsmma2FQV6ye-DTnTLrOUfP7EQI4YICJ93yoZ8v0l_dv/s1600/P5203738.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>e
can come to your house for dinner, a party, etc. It puts the asked
person on the spot, but it's nice to be the one asking). We said yes so
25-30 people showed up at our house on a Tuesday night. They brought
crates of Fanta and </span><span style="font-size: small;">beer, peanuts, and a huge speaker. I put out the
guacamole and brownies we had made and, voila, we had a party! We sang
and danced to Rwandan praise songs, then transitioned to Emmanuel praise
songs, which was followed by eating and more dancing. It was a holy
house party! And like most house parties, it kept our neighbors, the
sisters and the family on the grounds, from sleeping. Oops.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb0u9Js4CojeXUysKmcs0W8OmbiaWYUTGSM87tczeYbsD1ia6oqFKGqB60SALVvnM1Y_8p9tycrJkA1h-s_pclLgVOyHQaEn_tmnj_AkZxZrcrm6adfq1ldumJy6aF10FbO4FaZzWWFD0/s1600/IMG_6260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkb0u9Js4CojeXUysKmcs0W8OmbiaWYUTGSM87tczeYbsD1ia6oqFKGqB60SALVvnM1Y_8p9tycrJkA1h-s_pclLgVOyHQaEn_tmnj_AkZxZrcrm6adfq1ldumJy6aF10FbO4FaZzWWFD0/s1600/IMG_6260.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing Rwandan-style to praise songs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_hs8OM0UslJpVrIz3TuGoNzQXhN9mdgiLkAvi0sBei1duO-cC6vD9NyGPU9mb7XtoNtkJmVeguGzJLXcGgpkDGdUPPFfIb0I-FLT2hGDUapNcrCuwKmpuSDNTFOTktnncPzJcG1zPiV6/s1600/P5203744.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig_hs8OM0UslJpVrIz3TuGoNzQXhN9mdgiLkAvi0sBei1duO-cC6vD9NyGPU9mb7XtoNtkJmVeguGzJLXcGgpkDGdUPPFfIb0I-FLT2hGDUapNcrCuwKmpuSDNTFOTktnncPzJcG1zPiV6/s1600/P5203744.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: me, Onesphore, Jean d'Amour, Rita, Didace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F1.bp.blogspot.com%2F-FCS5fBBuKMs%2FU4zhwZOpWlI%2FAAAAAAAAAq0%2FCI0U_IJNJ0Y%2Fs1600%2FP5203718.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQLcbf1fYeSnMqlzD3dV37SG30l0t1cyzs-IouoNuynoKaqn5vcyH2ncXDIokuaY1NbDQY1dIvV_0-evYQOuSXzqLGSNdClqZW1eThlbBT1jDMhKI-NudduLKtxRGC1NrgpPP84IPa9r-9/s1600/P5203718.JPG" -->Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-6275598856116549592014-05-20T10:27:00.001+02:002014-05-20T10:32:06.949+02:00The Words of the Mass in KinyarwandaFor most, or all, of you, this post will be boring and not worth reading. That's okay. I include it in my blog for the sake of all the English-speaking Catholics who will travel to Rwanda and want to be able to respond in Kinyarwanda at the Mass. When I was looking for the words of the Mass in Kinyarwanda before I arrived, I didn't find them so I'm providing them for future travelers.<br />
*<i>Disclaimer: I have a suspicion that not all of the words are right, but almost all of them are. My guide was written for me by a local and it's the only resource I have.</i><br />
<br />
<b>In the name of the Father...</b><br />
Kw'Izina ry'Imana Data, na Mwana, na Roho Mutagatifu. Amina.<br />
<br />
<b>And with your spirit.</b><br />
Nawe kandi muhorane.<br />
<br />
<b>I confess to almighty God...</b><br />
Nemereye imbere y'Imana Ishobora byose n'imbere yanyu bavandimwe ko nacumu ye rwose, mubyo natekereje, mubyo navuze no mubyo nirengagije gutunganya koko na racumuye rwose. Nicyo gituma ninginga Mariya Mutagatifu, umubikira iteka, abamabayika n'Abataga tifu bose, namwe bavandimwe ngo munsabire Kuli Nyagasani Imana yacu. Amina.<br />
<br />
<b>Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.</b><br />
Nyagasani, utubabarire. Kristu, utubabarire. Nyagasani, utubabarire.<br />
<br />
<b>Thanks be to God.</b><br />
Dushimiye Imana.<br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>And with your spirit.</b><br />
Nawe kandi muhorane.<br />
<b>Glory to you, O Lord.</b><br />
Nahabwe Ikuzo Nyagasani.<br />
<b>Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.</b><br />
Haragasingizwa Kristu.<br />
<br />
<b>Blessed be God forever.</b><br />
Imana Iragasingizwa Iteka.<br />
<br />
<b>May the Lord accept this sacrifice at your hands...</b><br />
Nyagasani, akira igitambo tuguhereje mubiganza byawe kiguheshe ikuzo n'igisingizo, kandi kitugirire akamaro kandi kikagirire kiliziya yose Ntagatifu.<br />
<br />
<b>And with your spirit.</b><br />
Nawe kandi muhorane.<br />
<b>We lift them up to the Lord.</b><br />
Tuyerekeje kuli Nyagasani.<br />
<b>It is right and just. </b><br />
Birakwiye kandi biratunganya.<br />
<br />
<b>Holy, holy, holy...</b><br />
Nyirubutagatifu, Nyirubutagatifu, Nyirubutagatifu, ni Nyagasani Imana umutegetsi wingabo. Ijuru n'isi byuzuye Ikuzo ryawe. Nahabwe impundu mw'ijuru. Hasingizwe uje mw'Izina rya Nyagasani. (Yezu Kristu, umwana wawe n'umwami wacu.) Nahabwe impundu mw'ijuru.<br />
<br />
<b>We proclaim your death..</b>.<br />
Turamamaza Uruphu rwawe Nyagasani, tukaramya n'Izuka ryawe, kugeza igihe uzagaru kan'Ikuzo.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.0pt;">
<b>Our Father, who art in heaven...</b><span lang="smn-FI" style="mso-ansi-language: #243B;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 4.0pt;">
<span lang="smn-FI" style="mso-ansi-language: #243B;">Dawe uri mu ijuru, Izina ryawe ryubahwe,
ingoma yawe yogere hose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Icyo ushaka
gikorwe mu nsi nk’uko gikorwa mu ijuru. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>Ifunguro ridutunga uriduhe none; utubabarire ibicumuro byacu, nk’uko natwe
tubabarira abaducumuyeho; ntudutererane mu bitwoshya, ahubwo udukize icyago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amina.</span></div>
<b>For the kingdom...</b><br />
Kuko ubwami, ububasha, n'Ikuzo ali ibyawe Nyagasani, iteka ryose. Amina.<br />
<br />
<b>And with your spirit.</b><br />
Urabihorane nawe. (It sounds to me in the Mass like the people uses a different first word)<br />
<b>Peace be with you.</b><br />
Amahoro ya Kristu.<br />
<b>Likewise.</b><br />
Urayahorane nawe.<br />
<br />
<b>Lamb of God...</b><br />
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, utubabarire (or tugirire imbabazi).<br />
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, utubabarire (or tugirire imbabazi).<br />
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, Yezu uduhe amahoro.<br />
<br />
<b>Lord, I am not worthy...</b><br />
Nyagasani, sinkwiye ko winjira mumuti ma wanjye ahubwo uvuge ijambo rimwe gusa, mbone gukira. Amina.<br />
<br />
<b>And with your spirit.</b><br />
Nawe kandi muhorane.<br />
<br />
<b>Thanks be to God.</b><br />
Dushimiye Imana.<br />
<br />
As you might have picked up by deduction, here are some religious vocabulary words.<br />
<b>Data </b>- Father<br />
<b>Imana </b>- God<br />
<b>Mwana </b>- Son<br />
<b>Nyagasani </b>- Lord<br />
<b>Yezu Kristu</b> - Jesus Christ<br />
<b>Roho Mutagatifu</b> - Holy Spirit<br />
<b>Prefix+tagatifu</b> - Holy or Saint<br />
<b>Amahoro </b>- peace <br />
<b>Utubabarire </b>- have mercy on us.Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-52577634469472723682014-05-06T23:35:00.000+02:002014-05-06T23:35:55.272+02:00PisuriThis past weekend I went to an ordination in Kizuguro, a town in the Eastern province. I didn't know the man who would be ordained a priest or the two men who would be ordained deacons, but they are in the same religious community as the novices I teach so my roommate and I were invited to attend. It also happened to be the hometown of Fr. Andre, one of the priests from across the street, so he was happy to be able to show us his old stomping grounds.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5FCOUyiuqznk9WOaH53ItgJRO5F2WiDv7tUxw3_w_RwHpaEpctnuoghyWGeWghGTi7nx78ED9Cj9IjUgTLxJuUNjvxA8KEwRCyaU0VQU_6rRYj8raKr49uAufyRHonRbvJS7sBI7Eq9/s1600/Sacred+Hearts+ordination.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidW5FCOUyiuqznk9WOaH53ItgJRO5F2WiDv7tUxw3_w_RwHpaEpctnuoghyWGeWghGTi7nx78ED9Cj9IjUgTLxJuUNjvxA8KEwRCyaU0VQU_6rRYj8raKr49uAufyRHonRbvJS7sBI7Eq9/s1600/Sacred+Hearts+ordination.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front row: vicar general of the congregation, a new deacon, <br />the bishop, the new priest, a new deacon.</td></tr>
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It was fun to be in Kizuguro with the novices and other members of the congregation (the Missionaries of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary) that I had met during the year. It felt like a family vacation because the Butare men of the MSHJM have become my spiritual brothers. Rita and I were also blessed to be hosted by the sister congregation in Kayonza (if you wonder why I'm bothering to include town names when you don't know Rwanda, it's so I have a record for myself). At the sisters' home, there were three little puppies and a fierce momma who kept me away from them most of the time. There were also monkeys and one morning I even held out an open banana and one of the monkeys ran up and grabbed it from my hand. That was cool! There were three Spaniards staying with the sisters and the two congregations originated in Spain so I got to practice my now very-poor Spanish all weekend.<br />
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But the focus of this post isn't on the ordination or the surroundings. It's on Pisuri (pronounced Pee-sur-ee), a little kid that came right up to Rita and I and gave us hugs as we walked onto the parish grounds the first afternoon. I remember being surprised by how direct he was. Sometimes children will grab my hand after I have interacted with them a bit, but he came right up, gave me a hug, and then grabbed Rita and my hands. I was amused when he made a game out of playing with Rita's roller suitcase as we stood outside talking with others. Then, when Rita, Fr. Andre, and I sat down inside the refectory for a pre-dinner snack, Pisuri enjoyed eating bread and drinking an orange Fanta as he shared a chair with Rita. Based on the reaction of the workers in the building, I could tell it was not normal for him to join us for our snack and eventually the parish priest kindly chased him out of the room.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-Clg6ZkoV6Qy6wFI9Otzxh1j5wbnmMJFoCjvqEmE4snjCV74UyuqJ0ur9r0a0xLKTyHGFpsXnJDsiU6cNjLl-QK8HvNi7NcotJ0lsmcrrpPwnFSfiBbQnt48k3Sllz6MyRDXYd8hgzxH/s1600/Pisuri+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW-Clg6ZkoV6Qy6wFI9Otzxh1j5wbnmMJFoCjvqEmE4snjCV74UyuqJ0ur9r0a0xLKTyHGFpsXnJDsiU6cNjLl-QK8HvNi7NcotJ0lsmcrrpPwnFSfiBbQnt48k3Sllz6MyRDXYd8hgzxH/s1600/Pisuri+(2).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>I could tell by the dirt on his clothes and skin, as well as the absence of an adult keeping tabs on him, that Pisuri didn't have an ordinary, secure childhood. I later discovered that his mom lives somewhere in or near the village, but she is crazy. I never heard a dad mentioned. Since the mother is both crazy and poor, her children (I'm sure if there are more besides Pisuri) fend for themselves. The priests and seminarians at the parish keep an eye on him and offer him a bed in the welcome center, but they said he never spends the entire night in the bed. He slips out before the morning. The village people also know him, which I saw when Fr. Andre, Rita, Pisuri, and I went for an evening walk the first night. The people called out to him, "Ay, Pisuri!", as we walked by. Essentially he is a street boy who is well known around the village. Since he isn't super thin, I assume some people must give him food to eat.<br />
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Pisuri and his situation captured and broke my heart. It also made me reflect on what could be an American desire to "save the world." I'm not sure on that last one, but I wanted to write about my thoughts to get people's feedback. But I'll come back to that. First, the capturing of my heart. As the four of us went walking on Friday night, Pisuri held my hand and often tried to pull my arm off in an attempt to move me somewhere or just be a pill. I'm not sure. Since he kept yanking on my arm, I eventually scooped him up (he's about 5 years old) into my arms. He definitely enjoyed being held and again surprised me by putting his cheek right up against mine. The Rwandan children are touchy, but he was so much more so. I held him as we walked back to the church and stood in the courtyard talking with the men who would be ordained the next day. <br />
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That's when the parish priest explained Pisuri's home situation and how he is starved of affection. That's why he came right up to us to hold our hands. That's why he wanted to be held or to sit in my lap whenever I sat down. So, since he is starved for affection, I decided to do what I could to satiate his hunger and I kept holding him, even after one of the priests said that I should put him down because it would only be harder to put him down later. It didn't make sense to me to put a child down who doesn't get held at home and is desperate for it when my arms are capable of holding him. So I held him, probably for close to an hour, and he snuggled his face into my neck and started the slow breathing of someone who is asleep or close to it. When the parish priest told Pisuri that I would see him the next day, he said, "No. I'm going to sleep with her." Man, talk about a difficult situation. I was willing. Let me take that child home and bathe him and lay him in bed next to me so he can feel love and security for one night. I was willing. But no one thought it was a good idea and I too wasn't sure if Pisuri would stay in my room all night or if he would try to sneak out. Since I was staying with the sisters 30 minutes away, I didn't want him sneaking out into an unfamiliar place. So I didn't take him and when the time came for someone to pull him away from him (he wouldn't let go), he screamed bloody murder. It was terrible to hear.<br />
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What made it harder was a comment that I was responsible for his reaction because I hadn't put him down earlier. When I responded that I was only trying to make up for his lack of affection, the response was that I wasn't going to adopt him so why make it hard on him to be taken away. I was shocked and confused by the comments. Why was it seen as a bad thing to hold a kid who has a crazy mother and is left on his own as a five-year-old? Was I incorrect in thinking that I could make a difference in his life, even if it was only for a weekend? Also, why did no one else seem to care as much for him or to be heartbroken over his situation? I wanted to do something, to find him a home, to challenge the priests to find a woman who could adopt him. Heck, if I lived in Kizuguro, I would take him into my home and see how it goes. If I were married and international adoptions were allowed, I would investigate that route too. Why did no one seem to care as much?<br />
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That's when I started to wonder if Americans have a Messiah complex, the need or desire to save the world. Saying it like makes it sound like I think that is a bad thing, but it's not. Think about these facts. Catherine, an Australian woman in Butare, once asked me and an American couple if Americans are generous people. I didn't know how to answer the question because I've never noticed the generosity level of other cultures and compared it to my own, but Catherine went on to say that all the Americans she has met in Rwanda are really generous, more so than she is used to seeing I guess. My roommate, on hearing Catherine's statement, said she could see some truth to it because she knows or has heard of many Americans who go on service trips to other countries or take service years. Then I think about adoptions. I know plenty of American families who have adopted, either because they weren't able to conceive or even after they had biological children, but I haven't heard any stories of adoption from my foreign friends in the Emmanuel Community, for example. The United States also gives tons of foreign aid to developing countries. Tons of projects in Rwanda were and are funded by USAID, the United States Agency for International Development. And then there is our history of going to war when our own country wasn't under attack. I'm not saying it's right or it's wrong that we go to war, and I know some people will say we only go to war when we have a selfish reason to do so (oil), but I choose to believe that sometimes we have risked our own soldiers' lives and used our own resources to improve the situation of people in other countries. <br />
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So, the questions I leave with you are, "Do Americans have a greater desire than other countries to rescue people from their difficult lives in other countries? Do we feel this need to make things better for the less fortunate? Do we think we can make the world a better place and put our efforts into doing so? Lastly, if we have these ideas, is it a bad thing?"Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-57082759462520491632014-04-22T19:49:00.000+02:002014-04-22T19:49:38.378+02:00What Life is Like for Other Fidesco Volunteers and My Easter in Rwanda<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pasika Nziza!
That means "Happy Easter" in Kinyarwanda.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibOlL_s0pZ6ABaCbgFI4Tqki0oavOkajUIFnFohJNDzL0CQMXbnHBPlz8tdhfVu5NHpYUokA2G1ecSjjBqpafCRWovztJmJFqiDVp6VMJq7f9m98fSJBha1_Nhm_4Y5HAV6-5C38cIawC/s1600/IMG_6062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibOlL_s0pZ6ABaCbgFI4Tqki0oavOkajUIFnFohJNDzL0CQMXbnHBPlz8tdhfVu5NHpYUokA2G1ecSjjBqpafCRWovztJmJFqiDVp6VMJq7f9m98fSJBha1_Nhm_4Y5HAV6-5C38cIawC/s1600/IMG_6062.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotx_D6RBkE4qOXlpzYb34aOMflbZBaUFFE-ZoQ5AJJd8OveBfoDCMeXIPxyMBwXxUhsERXZvDXwxUaSlyN3E2lszIC0HJ36QpUUogMPcfW0wQYsJpNgRypUEYZMrWQlwVNKvyBk4zZ8Pi/s1600/P1040073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotx_D6RBkE4qOXlpzYb34aOMflbZBaUFFE-ZoQ5AJJd8OveBfoDCMeXIPxyMBwXxUhsERXZvDXwxUaSlyN3E2lszIC0HJ36QpUUogMPcfW0wQYsJpNgRypUEYZMrWQlwVNKvyBk4zZ8Pi/s1600/P1040073.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Before I get to how
I celebrated Easter, I want to write about the beginning of Holy Week so this
post flows chronologically. Rita and I received a call from the Kigali
Fidesco volunteers letting us know that a young married Fidesco couple, Quentin
and Sabine, was in Rwanda and wanted to visit us. It turns out that they
are volunteers in Lodja, right in the middle of the Democratic Republic of
Congo, our neighbor to the west, but they had been temporarily evacuated to a
DRC-Rwanda border town because of tribal conflict in their mission area.
Interesting. We were also invited to join them and the two Kigali
volunteers on a day trip to Akagera NP in the east. You might remember
that Rita, Timothee, and I went to Akagera after Christmas, but we were game
for a second trip so Rita and I caught a bus to Kigali the day before Palm
Sunday so we would be ready for our Rwandan safari on Sunday. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaOaS6nT2H7im1gmkuJqxYFyEpmMh6FpJKxsQKXLlJCOqLtmQX1imbeZ_OrXWdvcgMkqT9FzygMGvSPcny-L1sMPcTxEE4Vi9k9wx1Mg9uO1fuYXqBpa_tSdLWTq7ssUO_s0kPIy-EQrH/s1600/IMG_6044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIaOaS6nT2H7im1gmkuJqxYFyEpmMh6FpJKxsQKXLlJCOqLtmQX1imbeZ_OrXWdvcgMkqT9FzygMGvSPcny-L1sMPcTxEE4Vi9k9wx1Mg9uO1fuYXqBpa_tSdLWTq7ssUO_s0kPIy-EQrH/s1600/IMG_6044.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrjr9RYLENM1_8IlRUEQ-1LVqsUWNyhcqih7weFx-hW-Ebrc4iTPlb8Y1lv3U4POSpF7WDL0jBzStnhtAQX8am7T_cn4YTps2jgx10FUWBsIdOEkzhnTZMVZZwzh8-fORkJL9bw33-7F4/s1600/P1040120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMrjr9RYLENM1_8IlRUEQ-1LVqsUWNyhcqih7weFx-hW-Ebrc4iTPlb8Y1lv3U4POSpF7WDL0jBzStnhtAQX8am7T_cn4YTps2jgx10FUWBsIdOEkzhnTZMVZZwzh8-fORkJL9bw33-7F4/s1600/P1040120.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>It was really fun to
meet Quentin and Sabine more in depth (they were at the Fidesco training
session in August). It was also enlightening to learn about their way of
life in the DR of Congo. What I'm about to describe is not indicative of
all of the DRC, but since it is a huge country and that makes it hard to
develop, I'm sure it's true for a lot of the interior. Wow, Quentin and
Sabine painted quite a picture. They have solar panels on their house,
which gives them light in the evening, but there are no wall outlets.
That means no refrigerator, TV, or electronics charging. The office where
they work has a generator so they charge their laptops and cell phones
there. There is no running water. They have tanks that collect rain
water and one of the tanks has a faucet and a connected shower head in the
house so they don't have to go outside to bring in the water or shower, but the
other two Fidesco volunteers in the city don't have those things. They
have to bring in their water from the outdoor tanks and take sponge
baths. If there's no rain, there's no water. They don't have a
kitchen. They have to cook with charcoal over miniature clay BBQ's for
every hot meal they want. Just imagine that. No microwave, stove,
or oven. Only charcoal. I get so frustrated trying to light
charcoal so I can imagine that making a meal is quite an ordeal. Once
they get the charcoal going, there isn't much variety to cook. At their
disposal are rice, beans, tomatoes, onions, garlic, manioc and corn flours,
fruit, and bread. They can buy chicken and pork, but they have to eat it
while it's fresh because there isn't a fridge. Can you imagine? In
Rwanda, we eat like kings and queens compared to the Lodja volunteers.
There aren't asphalt or cobblestone roads and even if there were, there are
only villages around Lodja so there is nothing to see outside of the
city. The only way to get far from the city is by plane and those don't
come around very often. They were evacuated by a UN-chartered plane and
had to follow the updates once they were in Rwanda to learn when there would be
a plane back to Lodja. Wow! They are certainly getting an African
experience, one that is very different than the one I am having.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9i5ZHeWpMmXhuMjENXtItoPvoHbQ2Dp7Q6XZs-Ayvb0Bg8bpuZYIGKM96145xQ3ppwPe6czU7JRGy4czoiwYz7bhScoX6qcVZeqwiimw_i_iHR2KBlB-cyIDW2oP0oPwFDnpB6sKZSPNG/s1600/P4123506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9i5ZHeWpMmXhuMjENXtItoPvoHbQ2Dp7Q6XZs-Ayvb0Bg8bpuZYIGKM96145xQ3ppwPe6czU7JRGy4czoiwYz7bhScoX6qcVZeqwiimw_i_iHR2KBlB-cyIDW2oP0oPwFDnpB6sKZSPNG/s1600/P4123506.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>We had a great time
together. Saturday and Sunday night, the six Fidesco volunteers enjoyed
dinner on the Kigali house's patio. On Sunday we crammed into an SUV for
our trip to Akagera and saw animals we didn't see the first time: an elephant,
a buffalo close up, and hippos out of the water. On Monday the couple,
Rita, and I said goodbye to the Kigali guys and headed to Butare. Rita
was working so I played the tour guide on Tuesday and Wednesday. They
left on Thursday morning. I took them to the usual places: the school
tour, the market, the cathedral, the coffee shop, and the handicrafts
store. Other than those places, there isn't much to see in Butare.
The main activity when they were here was eating. Sabine had lost 6 kgs
in Congo and Quentin, 10. That's 13 and 22 pounds! So I put them on
what I called the "get fat plan." We cooked pizza, a quiche,
pancakes, cheeseburgers, etc. The goal was to help them put on weight but
also to treat them to the foods they miss while in Lodja. There are no
cows in Lodja so no hamburgers. No ovens in Lodja so no quiches or
pizzas. It was great to spoil them while they were here.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroxz4Guq6lWKHiMBgByRSd-xePIyW91jyWx8hI8xxyXO7o4CCYCRqp-bbC8LfVVp009P3b2rOJxNqlfpUGDf0BRkIGI4NU0TJX-Ca9cEWPFDeHqVhO2w9bjkIE0pa8fSw1BwA-WyH7KkH/s1600/IMG_6055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhroxz4Guq6lWKHiMBgByRSd-xePIyW91jyWx8hI8xxyXO7o4CCYCRqp-bbC8LfVVp009P3b2rOJxNqlfpUGDf0BRkIGI4NU0TJX-Ca9cEWPFDeHqVhO2w9bjkIE0pa8fSw1BwA-WyH7KkH/s1600/IMG_6055.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: me, Quentin, Timothee, Jeremie, Sabine, Rita</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eM7mHFxjTliIlMCEdVqFFavjxyPJ8a3zkG3l9e23kqBkHSpBk2UiiKEgyIHOjOT7rQsfvxjlISeVdwFCUKrnyw9dm8uAfYPNgxVRcqvHZBYLr-Vlkb0jmMwwWIprbLrgeVbl4wscMyuP/s1600/P1040148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eM7mHFxjTliIlMCEdVqFFavjxyPJ8a3zkG3l9e23kqBkHSpBk2UiiKEgyIHOjOT7rQsfvxjlISeVdwFCUKrnyw9dm8uAfYPNgxVRcqvHZBYLr-Vlkb0jmMwwWIprbLrgeVbl4wscMyuP/s1600/P1040148.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clowning around</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Once they left on
Thursday morning, I headed off to a local Benedictine monastery for an Easter
retreat. Comically, the moto-taxi I was riding ran out of gas twice on
the 10 minute ride. The first time the driver was able to get the motor
started again by moving the motorcycle all around so the remaining gas could
hit the right spot to burn, but then he ran out of gas again only 300 feet or
so from the monastery. I walked the rest of the way.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My time at the
monastery was great. I read, slept, prayed, ran, and ate. I turned
off my phone. My room had glass doors facing outside and a covered
balcony so I could pray, read, and look out over the grassy garden without
getting wet (it rained a lot). I started reading a book about Dietrich
Bonhoeffer, a Protestant pastor who was executed by the Nazis just months
before the war ended for being involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler, and
the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila. I attended solemn Masses and
different times of prayers with the monks and the other retreatants and even
though everything was in French, I could follow along with the help of my Bible
and Kindle. Something unique that I had never experienced before
was an Easter Vigil Mass at 4 am on Sunday. The monks started drumming at
3:30 to wake us up and they kept at it until 4 am when the candle blessing and
procession began. I was pleasantly surprised to see children from the surrounding
villages around the bonfire and in the Mass. I am impressed how the
children will go to Mass without the prodding of their parents, especially at 4
am. It probably helps their motivation that there isn't much
entertainment in the villages so drums at 3:30 am signal that something new and
exciting is happening. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, the vigil
Mass was beautiful and I realized for the nth time during the retreat how much
I will miss the simplicity and pace of a Rwandan life and the beauty of the
Rwandan people. There aren't a lot of things to make people busy so they
are more available for others. They are humble and devout.
Connections to others are still important. Even if they don't have a lot
of things (many of the kids showed up without shoes and with dirty clothes),
they have each other and God and that makes them very rich. </span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Blessings on the rest of your Easter season!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When people ask me about life in Rwanda, I tell them that there are many great elements of life here. </span></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">I usually get
enough exercise<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>because I walk
everywhere and the work days are short enough that I have time to go for a run or
do a workout video.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">Except for bread,
porridge, Quaker oats, pasta, and flour, nothing is processed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything is fresh and made from scratch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bread is freshly baked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I eat lettuce and spinach harvested from our
garden and avocados pulled from the school's trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I drink herbal teas made from lemongrass and
mint, which are also taken from the garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I definitely get my daily recommended serving of fruits and vegetables
each day.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The landscape is
beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Green rolling hills,
oftentimes terraced with fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blue
sky with white, puffy clouds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rainstorms
that roll in and fill buckets of water in less than 10 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tropical flowers, like hibiscus, that grow
year-round.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lake Kivu surrounded by
hills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The natural scenery of Rwanda is hard to
beat.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>I live
5 minutes from a church that has two Masses a day and there is a chapel just
next door to my house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;">The neighborly, community spirit is alive and well. People encourage me to stop by for a visit anytime and they really mean it. When I see people I know at Mass, in the city center, or in the street, we pretty much always great each other. I am sure to get at least a verbal greeting but, more
likely, a handshake or two-handed embrace with a three-touch head bump.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That last one is difficult to describe, but imagine the
French cheek-kissing and replace it with touching the brows of the forehead
three times while grasping the person's upper arms. Some expats think it's awkward, but I like knowing that physical contact is expected. When I greet someone in the States, I never know if a wave and "hello" suffices or if I should extend my hand or offer a hug. I don't mind physical touch; I just don't want it to be awkward when it happens.</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">One thing that is
missing, though, is food diversity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a native Californian, I love ethnic (even if it's Americanized) food:
Mexican, Chinese, Italian, Indian, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I miss Mexican food the most, which is why I keep trying to prepare
dishes that will get close to the Mexican food I miss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After some trial and error, I finally made a
Mexican meal yesterday that was delicious!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you
want to try your hand making Mexican soft-shell tacos from scratch with Rwandan-only
ingredients, here you go:</span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">FLOUR TORTILLAS</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">INGREDIENTS</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">2 cups flour </span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">2 tsp. baking powder</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">1/2 - 1 tsp. salt</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">1/4 c. oil</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">2 c. warm water</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">4 c. flour</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">PREPARATION</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><ul style="direction: ltr; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .375in; margin-top: 0in; unicode-bidi: embed;" type="disc">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mix together flour, baking
powder, and salt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make a well and
add oil mixed with water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Add
flour. </span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mix and knead, then let sit
for 5 minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Make small balls,
then roll them out with a rolling pin.</span></span></li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 0; vertical-align: middle;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Put it in a really hot
skillet for a couple minutes on each side.</span></span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="font-size: 9.75pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size: large;">SPANISH RICE </span></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ingredients:</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="direction: ltr;">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-color: #A3A3A3; border-style: solid; border-width: 0pt; direction: ltr;" valign="top">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 2.1736in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2 tablespoons oil</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2 tablespoons
chopped onion</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 1/2 cups
uncooked white rice</span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 5.0819in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2 cups chicken
broth</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 cup chunky salsa
= 1 cup tomato sauce, 2 diced tomatoes, 1 tsp chili powder</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directions:</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="direction: ltr;">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-color: #A3A3A3; border-style: solid; border-width: 0pt; direction: ltr;" valign="top">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: .6673in;">
<div style="font-size: 8.25pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">1.</span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 6.8243in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Heat oil in a
large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Stir in onion, and cook until tender,
about 5 minutes.</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: .6673in;">
<div style="font-size: 8.25pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">2.</span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 6.8243in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mix rice into
skillet, stirring often. When rice begins to brown, stir in chicken broth and
salsa. Reduce heat, cover and simmer 20 minutes, until liquid has been
absorbed.</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></b></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">QUACAMOLE</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span></b></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Ingredients:</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="direction: ltr;">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-color: #A3A3A3; border-style: solid; border-width: 0pt; direction: ltr;" valign="top">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 2.052in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">2 avocados</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 small onion,
finely chopped</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 clove garlic,
minced</span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 1.7222in;">
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 ripe tomato,
chopped</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">1 lemon, juiced</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 11pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">salt and pepper to
taste</span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Directions:</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><div style="direction: ltr;">
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-color: #A3A3A3; border-style: solid; border-width: 0pt; direction: ltr;" valign="top">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: .6673in;">
<div style="font-size: 8.25pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">1.</span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-width: 0pt; padding: 4pt 4pt 4pt 4pt; vertical-align: top; width: 6.8243in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Peel and mash
avocados in a medium serving bowl. Stir in onion, garlic, tomato, lime juice,
salt and pepper. Season with remaining lime juice and salt and pepper to
taste. Since I finally have cilantro plants in the garden, I added a few chopped leaves to the guac yesterday. Chill for half an hour to blend flavors. <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>BLACK BEANS</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Grow black beans in your garden since they can't be purchased in Rwanda. After soaking them overnight, cook them and sliced onions in water</span><b> </b></span>for ~ 1 1/2 hours. Serve without the juice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Put everything together in the tortillas, along with shredded cheese, and voila, tacos that remind me of home!</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytXvr6j7GhsW0reZErXrRFWCKuvvyPD9vJIdlCmV35BOCsS1iYPBcQYvMkldHRo5GtyaPJo6tKi3fQYNR1l7g7RKJMxVVcjEHirApXqDpCAl-BlT0xDa7KhGKDJ5wMJbf8-gfcL9J7lBY/s1600/Mexican+meal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytXvr6j7GhsW0reZErXrRFWCKuvvyPD9vJIdlCmV35BOCsS1iYPBcQYvMkldHRo5GtyaPJo6tKi3fQYNR1l7g7RKJMxVVcjEHirApXqDpCAl-BlT0xDa7KhGKDJ5wMJbf8-gfcL9J7lBY/s1600/Mexican+meal.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An earlier attempt using corn-crepe tortillas and no guacamole.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-30626303219262698262014-03-31T15:00:00.003+02:002014-03-31T15:00:53.682+02:00Kibuye and Gisenyi - Two lake side towns with different feels<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Rita and I had the opportunity to take a five-day vacation last week and it was amazing!!! We went with Sr. Adeline, who is our neighbor, and Jeremie, one of the Fidesco volunteers in Kigali. We went to two Lake Kivu towns: Kibuye, which I had never been to before, and Gisenyi, which I traveled to when I went with the school's dance troupe to a competition, but I saw spent most of this trip in parts of the city that I didn't visit before. Both places were memorable for different reasons, which I hope you will discover in the rest of this post.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil02KCx7DQ19bYa5Zx9EPYfFei9fV6Y1OZuQB2ZXf_8JMHZUtdFp3wokDc_3Q_b1Qiv3dtYp96qNHvQpsThHtD4uY2MZ0HG3N4iFaKaYWNJ4JjduSvMkKPBJWY2ph2-fyymksFNnap5e_f/s1600/Kibuye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil02KCx7DQ19bYa5Zx9EPYfFei9fV6Y1OZuQB2ZXf_8JMHZUtdFp3wokDc_3Q_b1Qiv3dtYp96qNHvQpsThHtD4uY2MZ0HG3N4iFaKaYWNJ4JjduSvMkKPBJWY2ph2-fyymksFNnap5e_f/s1600/Kibuye.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>On March 26 Rita, Sr. Adeline, and I rode two buses (4 1/2 hours) to Kibuye, a lakeside town on the western border of Rwanda and about halfway between Cyangugu in the south and Gisenyi in the north. I had been told before going that our Fidesco predecessors liked to travel to Kibuye whenever they had a free moment and now I understand why. The Home St. Jean where we stayed is located on a hill above Lake Kivu. The first night we splurged ($9/person) for a room with a view and were placed in a room that had lake views from 2 of the 4 walls. We pretty much spent all of the first day and the second morning sitting in lounge chairs outside our room (the photo at right) or sitting next to the water at the base of the hill. We talked, read, wrote in our journals, prayed, and ate our meals from those chairs.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_EGx1PfbsH3KuF0mQRQ2pUU1MmbTysVzEZo0SAJrjhJh4dW2x9G3cqpsw5-FkBvK6BOL-9qPqaY4MNYdZBk5B1P1xXWa-4EGVZRpBOGDBI5v5K7Ge8p5vXUeCpMAv3P0sSO24oc5Cgjn/s1600/Kibuye+(16).JPG" height="227" width="640" /> </div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGe-U0wjxEWOkOHXuWbBT-OB8zLetX7MphiWCXa6VF0IsSIbS6Kbz2W8iwkL3AQGdq8Sk3J6VoG9PBBIxxfvO9hg9zbjpJQeG5huiwtgK1KOvBDJotm4S-2zKVEcvRJ74cApkOrzVF8nu/s1600/Kibuye+(24).JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYGe-U0wjxEWOkOHXuWbBT-OB8zLetX7MphiWCXa6VF0IsSIbS6Kbz2W8iwkL3AQGdq8Sk3J6VoG9PBBIxxfvO9hg9zbjpJQeG5huiwtgK1KOvBDJotm4S-2zKVEcvRJ74cApkOrzVF8nu/s1600/Kibuye+(24).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Jeremie arrived the second day so we met him in the city and started our
grand tour through the city and hills and along the lake shore. Along
the lake we saw elements from the three-step process of fishing in Lake
Kivu for <i>sambaza</i>, small fish that look like sardines but aren't
salty. First there were the fishing boats, one of which is pictured
here. The picture only shows one boat, but there really were two boats
connected together with the wood that is going into the water in the
left of the picture. The sticks that bend over the front and back of
the boats are used to suspend the nets in the water. Even after seeing
more than one set of boats, I'm still not sure exactly how it works, but
it must because then we arrived at the fish processing co-op. The
second step is the drying. The co-op was along the shore and included
many screens suspended horizontally above the ground with the little
sambaza drying on them in the sun. As we were admiring the process of
frying up some sambaza in huge woks heated over wood fires (the third
step), Sr. Adeline convinced the lady to let us try some. Before we
knew it, she salted the cooked fish and handed us a take-out container
full of them. They are only 1 - 1 1/2 inches long so we ate the entire
fish, eyes and fins and all. <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwnNDYe8UVIN9MJhlVCUVOQj5N2EmkbWz_wry_cJNWn9B5lhwGS9q4JakkE0Hmd6_ZV_vI-qQZQDHcCH2vzyOMzkIl7CroShb8PA0qwgM-CfxMezqXEO7gbmkqAeJ85O1Kpella_Ryb2DB/s1600/Kibuye+(34).JPG" height="150" width="200" /> </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeRLp2jWzAyMmPVnKaEMJ0y09NjvBEc-u5xmngTadtAzmFouJY5lXqBGmOe7VUxNdUCDUNZA3hKjnPxzs9idX_hMPzyZOsNYQ_VxWw6ShI1wiVJUM4eFiVMATLdYranENtg2MuYC3qBp4/s1600/Kibuye+(36).JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxeRLp2jWzAyMmPVnKaEMJ0y09NjvBEc-u5xmngTadtAzmFouJY5lXqBGmOe7VUxNdUCDUNZA3hKjnPxzs9idX_hMPzyZOsNYQ_VxWw6ShI1wiVJUM4eFiVMATLdYranENtg2MuYC3qBp4/s1600/Kibuye+(36).JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a>After enjoying the oily, salty sambaza, we walked under a crossing guard gate that no one was manning and ended up in the private gardens of a colonel. No one was there so we kept walking until we discovered a sandy beach. Wow, if only I had my swimsuit with me at that time! Most of the lake shore along Lake Kivu in Kibuye is rocky or covered with grass, but here was a sandy beach with two benches in the water and a jumping platform. Jeremie had his boardshorts so he enjoyed the jumping platform and we ladies sat on one of the benches with our feet in the water. Wow! We only left because we could hear thunder in the distance and then the gardener told us it was a private garden.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivI6rjYpWkwHYoLNxU4Zzif0vQR1-ky96Ppubdxnj8xVoeUavUroY9U3S3jf1W6VF58_T7wO_QATyC6nqyBBexPMda5wy7VUY0IW2LBansLF6O6gI7Q9ANqLHJ_3Sqc8JJxHRNsBSEv-s/s1600/Kibuye+(38).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgivI6rjYpWkwHYoLNxU4Zzif0vQR1-ky96Ppubdxnj8xVoeUavUroY9U3S3jf1W6VF58_T7wO_QATyC6nqyBBexPMda5wy7VUY0IW2LBansLF6O6gI7Q9ANqLHJ_3Sqc8JJxHRNsBSEv-s/s1600/Kibuye+(38).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3nrAdYsqxwrHtcf710T5PpwplP0bHn7IFEskNUnlJBbYuCSB404XkD1osT93XJ09gyGbYOlJ8fpjWVC72GkN_80PS3iPTiuupOkQ4szpZsneC_wea1fhFYZem6tBCQG5iVPMSravJPil/s1600/Kibuye+(46).JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3nrAdYsqxwrHtcf710T5PpwplP0bHn7IFEskNUnlJBbYuCSB404XkD1osT93XJ09gyGbYOlJ8fpjWVC72GkN_80PS3iPTiuupOkQ4szpZsneC_wea1fhFYZem6tBCQG5iVPMSravJPil/s1600/Kibuye+(46).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Later that day, in the late afternoon, the four of us walked down to the lake below our guesthouse and sat there until it was dark. We sang Emmanuel praise songs. We took pictures. We shared about our hopes for the future. I wove a crown out of pine needles, which we ladies took turns wearing. We ate dinner at an outside table until a rainstorm pushed us inside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-pV7dXYU_GOPUCtMhFGHLwnlGa0U7SRt54BjpBxy-GWqQ39Iui5ApKb5KUryUGZlZIcdS56Kxr4baLv0wX6iB0HRvMuKyTKaqwVSC1pfM05U6cwvFx7V-azFsQb7eOLfw_X_JZX8TEC0/s1600/Kibuye+(60).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-pV7dXYU_GOPUCtMhFGHLwnlGa0U7SRt54BjpBxy-GWqQ39Iui5ApKb5KUryUGZlZIcdS56Kxr4baLv0wX6iB0HRvMuKyTKaqwVSC1pfM05U6cwvFx7V-azFsQb7eOLfw_X_JZX8TEC0/s1600/Kibuye+(60).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2mcHFXaCZQJdSD9XGyzCjlw3PTwlZfJRsBI6xhJ72OWe7RgVOIVwcy6QoGpZdmnHPp8u-AEzvXyp1Mc9g5WFfZE7XUzxkllSfVKfFvszru4BUC5Iq_8yZSqGouahmMljpnd-Qw3EL6r-/s1600/Kibuye+%252859%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2mcHFXaCZQJdSD9XGyzCjlw3PTwlZfJRsBI6xhJ72OWe7RgVOIVwcy6QoGpZdmnHPp8u-AEzvXyp1Mc9g5WFfZE7XUzxkllSfVKfFvszru4BUC5Iq_8yZSqGouahmMljpnd-Qw3EL6r-/s1600/Kibuye+%252859%2529.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The third day, Friday, we rode a boat from Kibuye to Gisenyi, the northern lake town. The trip was three hours and the inside cabin was definitely a vision of the developing world. More people were on the boat than there were seats so people made seats out of sacks of rice, beans, and sugar. A woman unrolled her woven mat and sat down comfortably. The cabin was too crowded for our tastes so we went to the front of the boat where there were fresh air and great views but no open seats. My feet hurt after three hours of standing, but the ride was worth it. We were surrounded by water and the green hills of Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. We saw local fishing canoes up close. We got another taste of Rwandan life. And we even met an American named Kyle who was spending the year traveling
through Europe and Africa and spent most of the ride talking with him.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GUi0bfH4D2v6gq2BXPpD7Z2Xc_IofwAAI9W4e8KUvzpyS0hdaAFuXagc-iPyuIUuIp8JStxUtOeWbJpcEgflkpGsX2_lSC2Af2gkIlpSqM3iUq9zc7-93wZ33LWI9EmfF9-8i0YaOWwq/s1600/Gisenyi+%252835%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_GUi0bfH4D2v6gq2BXPpD7Z2Xc_IofwAAI9W4e8KUvzpyS0hdaAFuXagc-iPyuIUuIp8JStxUtOeWbJpcEgflkpGsX2_lSC2Af2gkIlpSqM3iUq9zc7-93wZ33LWI9EmfF9-8i0YaOWwq/s1600/Gisenyi+%252835%2529.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our boat is the one in the background painted with the Rwandan colors: green, yellow, and blue</td></tr>
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In Gisenyi we stayed at the home of Sr. Adeline's nephew and niece-in-law, Michel and Claudine. They have two kids: Shema who is five and Sara who is 1 year and 2 months. Staying with a local family makes for a different type of vacation because they had things they wanted to show us and do with us so we didn't lounge at the beach all day. The time in Gisenyi was different than that in Kibuye, but it was also nice.</div>
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First, the family fed us like kings. Friday night there was both fish and beef, along with the usual assortment of rice, beans, potatoes, green cooked leaves, cassava dough, green bananas, fruit, and Rwandan tea (milk and sugar). Saturday morning we ate outside under the avocado leaves and enjoyed bread, avocado, honey, and tea. Saturday night we ate at the home of Sr. Adeline's sister-in-law (her deceased brother's wife) and again we were offered fish and meat and the usual assortment. Sunday morning we ate beignets (basically plain donuts with a different shape) and omelets and returned home after Mass for another meal of the Rwandan staples along with fresh pineapple. Yum, yum, yum!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWO_QpEZWQxl490m7rXxWdmc9h2bW_awPbTA7AEQ0Ij7ESnSkxMgQvkN-ClzO8GRGbQXUFM8a-4wfb4XEg_NiOKontcj_JVgvIve48j7plou2irqU28QjaG2XyYbq_mpPGZzivO78oqe8/s1600/Gisenyi+%252812%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWO_QpEZWQxl490m7rXxWdmc9h2bW_awPbTA7AEQ0Ij7ESnSkxMgQvkN-ClzO8GRGbQXUFM8a-4wfb4XEg_NiOKontcj_JVgvIve48j7plou2irqU28QjaG2XyYbq_mpPGZzivO78oqe8/s1600/Gisenyi+%252812%2529.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHjfeCm6cgXZh4SA5W3NLFTPI3iM-BHnbh-6D-MXDnIXtAx4JpuO71Ln6g0MA2-m_YvhZ2CKR2tqwOQ9oF2a4vYYZLeP0UxCb_srL7WG7SQij1SEwZXhErRDsqnVVake8gOB1tEiXbSAA/s1600/Gisenyi+%25288%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwHjfeCm6cgXZh4SA5W3NLFTPI3iM-BHnbh-6D-MXDnIXtAx4JpuO71Ln6g0MA2-m_YvhZ2CKR2tqwOQ9oF2a4vYYZLeP0UxCb_srL7WG7SQij1SEwZXhErRDsqnVVake8gOB1tEiXbSAA/s1600/Gisenyi+%25288%2529.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>Secondly, Michel showed us a part of the city that tourists normally wouldn't see. From his house we walked about an hour to his new plot of land that he plans to build a house on someday. I noticed a few things that are different than I have seen in Butare or Kigali, such as: uneven dirt roads that are rutted or bumpy because of the volcanic rock underneath, and houses without walls around them so I could see the women grinding floor or washing their clothes. As I walked through the streets, I thought to myself, "This is closer to what I pictured when I thought of Africa," and I loved it. I could envision a ministry of presence where someone's ministry is to walk through the neighborhood, get to know the people, be present to listen to their stories or problems, offer what little medical skills or food one has, etc. I'm not saying it will be my ministry for the next year, but if God wanted to call me back to Rwanda to walk the streets of Gisenyi, I wouldn't mind. The desire is helped by the fact that wherever we walked, children ran from their houses to get a closer look at us, yelled "Abazungu!" (white people), and waved at us. The African children bring me so much joy, but it is easy to bring them joy too. All it takes is a wave and a smile. Once we arrived at the plot of land, I made friends with the children who were in the street flying a handmade kite. I taught them how to have thumb wars and let them ham it up for pictures. We had quite a group following us and walking with us and holding our hands as we walked home.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYpd31cN2AWQbySad3JM0S7y2UoOB0RjXxoQ_kCuFY_juJLbsJihGryLzkCqRgTUFXVqieC0e0A_ZmZ3WgTUxvAVt61KkfwR5LRL_66EUoNbFPaVs5uwUasktXljt1KNX127PtiJCamni/s1600/Gisenyi+%252823%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVYpd31cN2AWQbySad3JM0S7y2UoOB0RjXxoQ_kCuFY_juJLbsJihGryLzkCqRgTUFXVqieC0e0A_ZmZ3WgTUxvAVt61KkfwR5LRL_66EUoNbFPaVs5uwUasktXljt1KNX127PtiJCamni/s1600/Gisenyi+%252823%2529.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyzO_sCcwR88rfwiO5zk441JpUwWs3BMHAwFOAV0kR1VmK571wjh_ieCWAKo7taNMXY9qOAHQBA70tuZdBJzana8JqKSW-PqSVEF4RGuoz9rP11S5Li6UXUCEU6b83NjSL3-kvAn0GBbr/s1600/Gisenyi+%252833%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyzO_sCcwR88rfwiO5zk441JpUwWs3BMHAwFOAV0kR1VmK571wjh_ieCWAKo7taNMXY9qOAHQBA70tuZdBJzana8JqKSW-PqSVEF4RGuoz9rP11S5Li6UXUCEU6b83NjSL3-kvAn0GBbr/s1600/Gisenyi+%252833%2529.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> After the morning trip to the plot of land, we had another opportunity to encounter local people through an afternoon trip to some hot springs. When Rita spoke about hot springs, I pictured a nice natural pool that we could soak in, just like a jacuzzi. Boy, was I wrong! We arrived at the hot springs to see some pools just bigger than puddles and very, very hot! A man told me they were 75 degrees Celsius, which is hotter than I could stand to be in for longer than a few seconds. Yet I was amazed to see Rwandans sitting in them and washing themselves with the "healing" water. I was treated to a hand massage by some children who escorted us to the springs. The spring water fed into the lake and while Rita and I didn't feel comfortable stripping down to our swimsuits in the midst of so many curious people (we amuzungus were already making quite a stir and attracting onlookers at the hot springs), Jeremie went into the water and interacted with the boys by throwing them into the water and spinning them around. Soon we left those springs for an escorted trip to the other hot spring in the area, this one only for men. Adults and children guided us from one spring to the other. Since the other spring was for men and was just as hot, we quickly left and started the walk back to where we started, this time with more of an entourage than we started with (see the photo above). Eventually the children left us and we caught a bus to the last stop of the day, the beach near the Lake Kivu Serena Hotel. <br />
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From this part of the beach, the lake reminds me of the ocean. Sometimes there are small waves and the land across the lake is far enough away that it could be Catalina Island off the shore of California. The sun sets over the water so it is like the view of the sunset from Cali. There is sand and a small pier that is fun to jump off of (it's less than 10 feet above the water). We arrived in the late afternoon so we didn't have a lot of time to swim, but Jeremie, Rita, and I took advantage of the time that we had. Jeremie and I went over to the pier and showed off our jumping skills to a group of local boys and young men. We raced against four of the men in freestyle and backstroke, during which Jeremie had a fish enter his mouth. He didn't eat it though! Soon it was time to walk back to Michel's house in the dark so we walked along the lake sidewalk for as long as we could and saw all the fancy houses.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8u55bQyS5SFUG22T6yA7dwdoDMgO6abaFwpEvmxcdKqgyLsMI2WE07NG9JwEUCvugq-5Gde4dpVuyLwGMxdxjavLxQQIF7LTfw9lLPuHOdRMOZDt7EYjboFfPVxO4fnw7gY-tRT-Lxgr/s1600/Gisenyi+%252837%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8u55bQyS5SFUG22T6yA7dwdoDMgO6abaFwpEvmxcdKqgyLsMI2WE07NG9JwEUCvugq-5Gde4dpVuyLwGMxdxjavLxQQIF7LTfw9lLPuHOdRMOZDt7EYjboFfPVxO4fnw7gY-tRT-Lxgr/s1600/Gisenyi+%252837%2529.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeXANS9WnUBhWQmtAFJADPrgfKzVYCYonkbkNoTeHY8cG07qNNAf7orBTVthwDC3jobWlAcbrQWevGmkN5yJo7rqTkdeLKz9qlFjQwMvXZGhyphenhyphenI-JpuNNJBwx4SyX4PPYMkUJfeCL7iOE0k/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+%25283%2529.JPG" height="300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never got an official count, but there were ~ 33 of us on the pilgrimage, <br />mostly from the university Emmanuel Cty prayer group</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4oP-aK3zXRQ5oiT8f5zfQcr0bGfcZoiwLEDzU4dEy8BMMkWc4BBOndN39-n7E79BDCAwyqyhjeFvBvh9hkLfu6uAXyhliVO3sdGDC9TYlKyo66H5QmZZXYIsfhg0HE5gNCWJnby0b6Ol/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(8).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq4oP-aK3zXRQ5oiT8f5zfQcr0bGfcZoiwLEDzU4dEy8BMMkWc4BBOndN39-n7E79BDCAwyqyhjeFvBvh9hkLfu6uAXyhliVO3sdGDC9TYlKyo66H5QmZZXYIsfhg0HE5gNCWJnby0b6Ol/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(8).JPG" height="249" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gazing at the hills of Rwanda never gets old</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rsJ5YQaxMfBGtxXKzntqnHmSEFXIp2udtpNLi24CiiXg5_zisjdGWUGWxqYTzV_VHWJ67OIO35yopOZ0xS4iM3KYf8CjvNSGWSc13wHXnzodQAIAYeoV9q9SZxbPYljO13BU5zK8o8Ph/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(20).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-rsJ5YQaxMfBGtxXKzntqnHmSEFXIp2udtpNLi24CiiXg5_zisjdGWUGWxqYTzV_VHWJ67OIO35yopOZ0xS4iM3KYf8CjvNSGWSc13wHXnzodQAIAYeoV9q9SZxbPYljO13BU5zK8o8Ph/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(20).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Singing, praying, talking. These things kept us busy during the 7 hour walk to Kibeho.<br />A video of our entertainment during the walk: <a href="http://youtu.be/-sHRBqJPJQY" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/-sHRBqJPJQY</a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCSFfVZiWKTC05AMx-vJaNJv15EJlng9nD_ccizDYe0NgOiX9UGJ243FaG_zfzaF_P1JFfgD7ecYUZ-cbSeiIcKz2vgnGAfXjCGpBbrsyZb7fCM747w2vY5OhGUKH6NLRGaFIyaHLB8tS/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(37).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCSFfVZiWKTC05AMx-vJaNJv15EJlng9nD_ccizDYe0NgOiX9UGJ243FaG_zfzaF_P1JFfgD7ecYUZ-cbSeiIcKz2vgnGAfXjCGpBbrsyZb7fCM747w2vY5OhGUKH6NLRGaFIyaHLB8tS/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(37).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our group was quite an attraction for local children during our lunch break</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrHPG7wH0B8nbpU75kTMCKuDvUoUR0f6B9QjNso88JogkkUyvFskYYl2rZDFTNiferj9BX__Z-IeBxxV1uebZutnLhvhqHV27JqX66HT42-lmRVc_zuIN3pGioltLUcByRMPOVdWv1RTh/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+%2847%29.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIrHPG7wH0B8nbpU75kTMCKuDvUoUR0f6B9QjNso88JogkkUyvFskYYl2rZDFTNiferj9BX__Z-IeBxxV1uebZutnLhvhqHV27JqX66HT42-lmRVc_zuIN3pGioltLUcByRMPOVdWv1RTh/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(47).JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxL0BNnWhY_ygA1mcQ0RM597p2P0EsqvYYKeswbVdV44dxxflvAiQBp7dTHRYO3iHcl4TZkyxNEVabm6-KLwVo1HnFgCMDYpOuzwYHjIt5oyICk1jQXKPxU63KOi-VizMXv4Mdjqf0uKG/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(45).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxL0BNnWhY_ygA1mcQ0RM597p2P0EsqvYYKeswbVdV44dxxflvAiQBp7dTHRYO3iHcl4TZkyxNEVabm6-KLwVo1HnFgCMDYpOuzwYHjIt5oyICk1jQXKPxU63KOi-VizMXv4Mdjqf0uKG/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(45).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of my brothers from the prayer group: Onesphore, d'Amour, and Didace</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0-nItYU3QeXd1pZTq_X2oKY7QH02PIIlhKksS28w3TirS1Yxqv5YnP42nE0HkUeb1CFN41bjWLvDEKwYfAV-_nh27QcIHqVh1O3B2hw3yR9KfaPG25fNJ44vVwaNAsva5Vwv_9IpGzrT/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(50).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb0-nItYU3QeXd1pZTq_X2oKY7QH02PIIlhKksS28w3TirS1Yxqv5YnP42nE0HkUeb1CFN41bjWLvDEKwYfAV-_nh27QcIHqVh1O3B2hw3yR9KfaPG25fNJ44vVwaNAsva5Vwv_9IpGzrT/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(50).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roomies!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKx_T39188NLpje1kKjJXxd990oKq6XP2F9JcY0RCtf5lYmdHaIWZZIIwkChyMutxyAWI8Yns5gPpekgSTrasEs9nYLsZX-8y15FEzDSoU0G3Ib2NiuQF0IWse-Zhbrl7yZK3d0UQ4Ol_/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(63).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVKx_T39188NLpje1kKjJXxd990oKq6XP2F9JcY0RCtf5lYmdHaIWZZIIwkChyMutxyAWI8Yns5gPpekgSTrasEs9nYLsZX-8y15FEzDSoU0G3Ib2NiuQF0IWse-Zhbrl7yZK3d0UQ4Ol_/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(63).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Another photo of the Rwandan countryside, this time with fields in the valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfGmH6guFI-VYYMynjw0xr3DOuv0xlbQZJgbnsQziqZgShtj6ZB7S2eW7rSfI5clEsf0Q5BIuT9zPMzpivTQM43R4ze5ht7zou71-SwOsm6d2gUBwJIOPfoNXDcUmIUWzHc2QzemNWpxq0/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(66).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Children start working young in this country. They're carrying water.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9Vl_lcxoO9AJXKSEBq-Z2u8rC7cbcf230MBr69NRAi71NJFwYbfrY0ggiJB-sB2-JlyaDQGFK2C1Hzi4iItZtXAuWTJg4YVn5OiviFLXe2KDjYcdrLu_x9S-Gi0zmJayR6W6Hyww4FxU/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(71).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9Vl_lcxoO9AJXKSEBq-Z2u8rC7cbcf230MBr69NRAi71NJFwYbfrY0ggiJB-sB2-JlyaDQGFK2C1Hzi4iItZtXAuWTJg4YVn5OiviFLXe2KDjYcdrLu_x9S-Gi0zmJayR6W6Hyww4FxU/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(71).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea fields</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgoS983GJYKR5uVWDOtFq-f_cOmgO09CiVDgzAfrPamMc0iUhlKqh3yAGiTZ5Gmqle7OUbH9YKzv2a0wU12piLihzK73YCQDStwX6KpX-gXAaOB6o5LJuH1z5D9cbW6-NAZjol-OP40Md/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(77).JPG" height="300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fidesco volunteers of Rwanda. Never mind my outfit. I know it's hideous.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9Vl_lcxoO9AJXKSEBq-Z2u8rC7cbcf230MBr69NRAi71NJFwYbfrY0ggiJB-sB2-JlyaDQGFK2C1Hzi4iItZtXAuWTJg4YVn5OiviFLXe2KDjYcdrLu_x9S-Gi0zmJayR6W6Hyww4FxU/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(71).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQpY8Sntj9A0FqlYkpDkymVYD7sEUrXTFOaeu4RSRZ9L5tDkUx3dJJw0zrRH-gAjtDmEbSicVAQh7dbuP8qeBf-HVuJwbS-J7NiOvHvkFoQ23-9vdjOBbJdz_ImPhlmr4NBLxCva1rFICW/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(113).JPG" height="300" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Most of the group on the last afternoon of the pilgrimage</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-Fzlmudu_iahnOZ9jCmGdcjxmpVDpzOLGQRbzBTmijXKWrioQaEP0-8FZj6v3cBY096u32_kJcapIFEcPIM-8-Qhg7ySGfJLhmv7NqdsKU5ppuPkz4kISu0hyphenhyphenfIgGu7G7IN7aweNSQcc/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(80).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG-Fzlmudu_iahnOZ9jCmGdcjxmpVDpzOLGQRbzBTmijXKWrioQaEP0-8FZj6v3cBY096u32_kJcapIFEcPIM-8-Qhg7ySGfJLhmv7NqdsKU5ppuPkz4kISu0hyphenhyphenfIgGu7G7IN7aweNSQcc/s1600/Prayer+group+Kibeho+pilgrimage+(80).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jesus, I trust in you!</td></tr>
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Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-14146614221234772112014-03-21T15:51:00.000+02:002014-03-21T15:51:39.414+02:00Holy cow, it's been a long time since I last wrote!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7vpgwGJLk84YH8CrOS4DsJ9iQPgCKPeJr0C1Ys583iEMVUchtMuCW-48DDkhOP5lLiGbaF86psGdXyZEm2PaSdk37vs3lcAM6q5OGxrFaaES-h61-xTpgJmkVLh0dwJNl-GA8bvC6-geh/s1600/Brazilian+mission+%252837%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7vpgwGJLk84YH8CrOS4DsJ9iQPgCKPeJr0C1Ys583iEMVUchtMuCW-48DDkhOP5lLiGbaF86psGdXyZEm2PaSdk37vs3lcAM6q5OGxrFaaES-h61-xTpgJmkVLh0dwJNl-GA8bvC6-geh/s1600/Brazilian+mission+%252837%2529.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>HELLO! Sorry for my silence. I knew some time had passed since I last had the time to write, but I had no idea it was almost a month. What has been going on?<br />
<br />
Well, the constant activities have been teaching and volunteering at the daycare run by the Brazilian religious congregation. This week I haven't taught because the students are taking final exams, but before that I was happily teaching nine periods a week. My mission report will mention some of the topics I've taught recently. On Tuesday mornings I head over to the Brazilians' place to spend a few hours with children 2-6 years old. This past week it made me so happy to hold a girl who wanted to snuggle during the play time. It is so nice to have a child in my arms.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzb59NiH92KUhb2voRkd7_Ahyphenhyphenr8sYCNJCBVamhtfes4B_7xbHKZm1HZ9hsVoD38kOFQuaL7x-LksZggImz0MAU__6xvkBDKynMjKfiddC2AIhCqN6CAWsR5qPbQZUB5oXKAKtz6umfsD0x/s1600/Brazilian+mission+(42).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzb59NiH92KUhb2voRkd7_Ahyphenhyphenr8sYCNJCBVamhtfes4B_7xbHKZm1HZ9hsVoD38kOFQuaL7x-LksZggImz0MAU__6xvkBDKynMjKfiddC2AIhCqN6CAWsR5qPbQZUB5oXKAKtz6umfsD0x/s1600/Brazilian+mission+(42).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
There were some one-time events for the year, such as saying goodbye to the French Fidesco family, hosting a Mardi Gras party, and attending a special retreat in Kigali. <br />
<br />
First, the Fraternity of Jesus retreat on Feb 28-March 2. The Fraternity of Jesus is a sub-group of members in the Emmanuel Community who feel called to be more radically available for mission in the Church and in the context of the Emmanuel Community. I made the trial step in the Fraternity in December 2010 and remain in that stage. Anyway, the retreat was nice. I had good translators, which makes a world of difference when listening to hour-long teachings. I still fell asleep sometimes, but I heard enough that I went away challenged to be more faithful to my prayer time.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qDA7gz3WVR0ET8G04lBaDwbaDU-Ze96UiTAbvCK9UCINqolz0DpeyJAxlYq4x4w3gSaBfbGnqtWTA3c_3x7ZRUnel3_VobY8ylZERpYAZxW3Ts7dOZ399l2tk25f2Cf1CYelIPrQrEu7/s1600/IMG_5719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qDA7gz3WVR0ET8G04lBaDwbaDU-Ze96UiTAbvCK9UCINqolz0DpeyJAxlYq4x4w3gSaBfbGnqtWTA3c_3x7ZRUnel3_VobY8ylZERpYAZxW3Ts7dOZ399l2tk25f2Cf1CYelIPrQrEu7/s1600/IMG_5719.JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The King Cake</td></tr>
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Second, Mardi Gras! Rita and I had a dessert and soda party the night before Ash Wednesday. In attendance were six Belgian medical students we had just met, two novices from across the street, and four young adults from the Emmanuel Community. I looked around the room with joy as I saw the different groups and nationalities (Cameroonian, Rwandan, Portuguese, Belgian, and American) speaking with each other. I made an American version of the king cake (minus the colored sugar) and hid a button in it. Later I cut the cake into 14 pieces and made Jean d'Amour (the youngest) say who would receive each slice. It turns out I received the button, which means I have to make the king cake next year. Since most of us won't be here next year, we joked about having the cake the following week, but I told them it would have to wait until Easter, the season of celebrating!<br />
<br />
Third, Rita and I said goodbye to our fellow Fidesco volunteers in
Butare, Ronan and Segolene des Horts and their four kids, on March 15.
Sad. They had finished their two years of service so it was time for
them to head back to France and resume life there. Rita and I had them
over for brunch on the day they drove to Kigali, two days before they
would fly to France, and it was really sad to watch them drive away for
the last time. We know other expatriate families in town, but I think
it's fair to say we shared a special bond with the des Horts family
because we were part of the same organization and they were the ones to
welcome us when we arrived. Here are some pictures from our time
together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01C7e_B9FN2D20-TKLavmMvNR2T44ZtNKBnJTpURqvYAAghPYnk4IxM3vaZS5u0VXGndQzLUxL4rqNFzWBYeDNip1bHl7Ip4Gj1tEstkSA0UkewvcZ4EU2kF5PjQ2hdu8NB4QTFim5QJN/s1600/DSC_8639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01C7e_B9FN2D20-TKLavmMvNR2T44ZtNKBnJTpURqvYAAghPYnk4IxM3vaZS5u0VXGndQzLUxL4rqNFzWBYeDNip1bHl7Ip4Gj1tEstkSA0UkewvcZ4EU2kF5PjQ2hdu8NB4QTFim5QJN/s1600/DSC_8639.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My welcoming team the night I arrived in Butare on the bus</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLzrp-Zwl06QHYSVXOGaM3L523xs2oJmpldzGafJZIEMSMgxyyaKBLKwO2nCJ7KQIAUa3ReRs6pEgonmrPGqwX6IsB0DGoDfqgGo7ilXso5kgaeBRrR9BxuKixEUN9R_zt1imnCBrq3N7/s1600/IMG_4221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRLzrp-Zwl06QHYSVXOGaM3L523xs2oJmpldzGafJZIEMSMgxyyaKBLKwO2nCJ7KQIAUa3ReRs6pEgonmrPGqwX6IsB0DGoDfqgGo7ilXso5kgaeBRrR9BxuKixEUN9R_zt1imnCBrq3N7/s1600/IMG_4221.jpg" height="320" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">November 2013. My roommate and I are on the left side and the guy on the right is Timothee, one of the two French volunteers in Kigali at the center for street boys. Jeremie arrived a little over a month ago so no photos of him yet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG3m8LLEvRTdK2UQeTosGGdytBNP2d6AbdL9Kegh-vVBIyugeg2oo2LakSV3QlAIye3DQ48bxox3QVMbp0yyMnqGSZogty-3o1TsW0zsPuF2BzRTD6pUaSnxvgFanvhtQDIl437e7w01C/s1600/Thanksgiving+%2812%29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidG3m8LLEvRTdK2UQeTosGGdytBNP2d6AbdL9Kegh-vVBIyugeg2oo2LakSV3QlAIye3DQ48bxox3QVMbp0yyMnqGSZogty-3o1TsW0zsPuF2BzRTD6pUaSnxvgFanvhtQDIl437e7w01C/s1600/Thanksgiving+(12).JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Birthday presents from the des Horts' kids</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhN5O_i9JsgnTXSTvOaF0ETZHrxrHqPrl6z-_J-EXe79GpeBUhYnhxC_shLPNnOT-Y487VT4qBJdS3X9dkd6nZC8Y8zW9j7Vcn8XXsuDsjgYcfvQJoyUFLdXoCeNcHKB1rjAGRdMqZW9t/s1600/IMG_5768.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLhN5O_i9JsgnTXSTvOaF0ETZHrxrHqPrl6z-_J-EXe79GpeBUhYnhxC_shLPNnOT-Y487VT4qBJdS3X9dkd6nZC8Y8zW9j7Vcn8XXsuDsjgYcfvQJoyUFLdXoCeNcHKB1rjAGRdMqZW9t/s1600/IMG_5768.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One final picture before saying goodbye</td></tr>
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One new thing is that I am working with the local music team from the Emmanuel Community to teach the members the EC songs in English and to translate songs. Clearly I am not translating into Kinyarwanda, but I have the desire to take a few of the KR songs that I know the best and to translate them into English, which I plan to work on when Rita and I talk a little vacation next week to Lake Kivu. As far as teaching the English songs, there is a small group from the university prayer group that I teach every Monday for an hour and then, at the prayer group during Lent, I have taught 1-2 songs each week. It's nice to be able to contribute to the group. One of the main frustrations for me in Rwanda is feeling like I have gifts that I can use to serve others but not being free to use them because of the language barrier. When I get to teach the prayer group a song in English or take a local song and translate it into English, I feel like I am able to contribute to the group.Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-36078967340555938312014-02-27T21:25:00.003+02:002014-02-27T21:25:36.355+02:00Educating the YouthI recently had my six-month anniversary of arriving in Rwanda and sometimes during the past six months, I have been frustrated because I don't feel like I have enough responsibilities at the school or that my work really matters to the administration. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not, but that is the impression I have sometimes. A few times this has really gotten to me, but overall I strive to remain positive and not let other people's ingratitude affect me. This may sound like a weird introduction to a post about educating the students at my school, but I include it because in the past few weeks, I feel that I am making a difference in the lives of my students. Even if it is rarely acknowledged by the administration, even if I don't have a super crucial role to play, I am still able to contribute to the lives of the students I teach.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXW7PvFOIHOOnliFrZ6ZzyzBeFBFbWmYmPY3jeaLXA55vkh9E63zVRyAiXxyAkQkZiwBjOEcFhZVK6C1-BxONIzPUFtBaOSWA9DpM1vNn6DYQAiywDg2i_-4bM7RxsaWpFjqOEB-59sXP/s1600/Public+speaking+comp+with+Marlene.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXW7PvFOIHOOnliFrZ6ZzyzBeFBFbWmYmPY3jeaLXA55vkh9E63zVRyAiXxyAkQkZiwBjOEcFhZVK6C1-BxONIzPUFtBaOSWA9DpM1vNn6DYQAiywDg2i_-4bM7RxsaWpFjqOEB-59sXP/s1600/Public+speaking+comp+with+Marlene.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>First major opportunity: coaching one of our students, Marlene, for a public-speaking competition. The competition was organized by Never Again Rwanda, an NGO that promotes peace-building and tolerance mostly among young people, and the theme was, "How can we, as young generation [<i>sic</i>], deal with the past to build peace in the Great Lakes region?" The GLR is composed of Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, and the Democratic Republic of Congo. My school sent four students, two who would present in French and two who would present in English, and they each had to speak for 5 minutes and then answer 3 minutes of questions. Last week the teacher who was in charge of organizing the speakers asked me if I could work with one of the English speakers. I wasn't thrilled by the idea because that meant more work for me (the inclination to laziness is amazing in a bad way), but I accepted the job. I mean, Valery was already coaching three students so I could handle one. So, from Tuesday until Sunday, I worked with Marlene. We worked through a few drafts of her speech until it was solid. I coached her on the appropriate amount of movement good gestures, the importance of making eye contact, and smiling. I challenged her with possible questions that could be asked by the audience. I recorded her practice speeches with my digital camera so she could watch herself and become her own critic. Then the morning of the competition arrived and I sat with her as we waited for her turn to present, showered her with praise when she was finished, and consoled her when she did not take first place. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGExCaHTMdDmKbBlWr3wAebTjpd-mtgs9jygUqq8Xdm4Clpdxgbh6C-Pauw4tC8EurawiYBAMlkf5c-h7lxJeYEZtsjFNE87DfKGu2HCtP-dn99VsEgwLd9ESGfdK4_QgWsCllASoPyUSO/s1600/Public+speaking+comp+with+Marlene+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGExCaHTMdDmKbBlWr3wAebTjpd-mtgs9jygUqq8Xdm4Clpdxgbh6C-Pauw4tC8EurawiYBAMlkf5c-h7lxJeYEZtsjFNE87DfKGu2HCtP-dn99VsEgwLd9ESGfdK4_QgWsCllASoPyUSO/s1600/Public+speaking+comp+with+Marlene+(2).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The experience was really fulfilling for me and I think for Marlene also. Pretty much all of the activities at the school are group-oriented and the students are scheduled practically 24/7 so very rarely do I get to interact with a student one-on-one. I try to mentor them through little discussions as we walk together from class to lunch or after the clubs end but before the study period starts, but in general I don't get enough one-on-one time with the students. Working with Marlene gave me that opportunity. During the study period we would squirrel away in the staff room or the library to correct the drafts and then perfect her presentation technique. I would continually encourage her and shower her with affirmation to counteract Valery's statements that not winning equals a failure. Since each English speaker only had a 7-8% chance of winning, I thought it was possible to be successful without winning and I told that to Marlene. I told her that, no matter what the final result was at the competition, I was proud of her and she should be proud of herself because she gave a speech in a language that is not her own and her final presentation was 100% better than what she started with and it was true! When she delivered her speech, she was confident, used good hand gestures, smiled, and made eye contact the entire time. She was great!!! This afternoon I showed her the video of her presentation and she said something that made me so proud of her. She said something to the effect of, "I may not have won, but I feel I did the best job I could do so I have no regrets." Amen! That is the attitude I wanted to impart to her and whether it was my doing or not, she has the right attitude.<br />
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Second major opportunity: my class periods. After some schedule changes, I finally ended up with nine class periods a week, one in each of the classes for Senior 4-6. I try to mingle my lessons so sometimes I am dealing strictly with English and other times I'm imparting tools that will be helpful for life. Some of my recent favorites have been:<br />
<ul>
<li><i>Your Worth Comes from God: Self-Esteem</i> - The first half of this talk is focused on how much we mean to God (he loves us, he created us, he wants us to exist) so that we can have that as the foundation of our self-love. I show a video clip called "The Father's Love Letter" to drive the point home and the students love it. The second half gives some tips from psychology to challenge self-critical thoughts by identifying the underlying lie in them and then answering back with the truth. I show a great video from a YouTube guy called Blimey Cow about the "seven lies you believe about yourself." Anyone with a teenager, or rather everyone, should watch it: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3SpwBmhR1go%E2%80%8E"><cite class="_Fe">www.<b>you</b>tube.com/watch?v=3SpwBmhR1go</cite></a></li>
<li><i>The Five Love Languages</i> - Once the students learn to love themselves, I help them understand how to love each other by recognizing how they give and receive love and how others give and receive love. The students really enjoy taking the 30-question profile quiz that is in the back of <u>The Five Love Languages for Singles</u> and they laugh so much once they discover what love language they have. If you've never read or heard about the five love languages, I recommend you read the book by Dr. Gary Chapman or check out the website: <a href="http://www.5lovelanguages.com/">http://www.5lovelanguages.com/</a></li>
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Soon I will give classes on how to be happy and how to discern the will of God and make life decisions. After the April break, I will give a long series on human sexuality, love, relationships, dating, and vocations. Even in Rwanda, the teenagers are fascinated with relationships and love.<br />
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What's great about these topics is that they go beyond the classroom, beyond the school setting. If they can remember what I teach, they can have the tools to battle discouragement and depression, to successfully love and be loved, to strive after the things that will bring them happiness, and to figure out what God wants from them. These are all tools that I have learned as an adult and sometimes I wish I knew about them a lot earlier than I did.<br />
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So, these are just a few ways I have been able to contribute to the well-being and education of the youth at my school. Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-27582656603001481332014-02-18T16:55:00.000+02:002014-02-18T16:55:30.251+02:00What I've been up to during my blogging absence<div style="text-align: left;">
I apologize for my multi-week absence. As you will discover, my weekends have been full so I haven't had the time it takes to write a long blog entry.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQQUEohQbIANF3t1NTkNaC0GHPlSO1QEuMLmmx-yuG1wqpdayZ2HGfMYw2pGbUWjJJt3hNiV8BSYtNB8khN2BgYVutaYyONlBLWAnvH1egyq9sMlj41fNO38zOu9cJ98feM5ZNIhtQytG/s1600/Onesphore+and+Valens.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQQUEohQbIANF3t1NTkNaC0GHPlSO1QEuMLmmx-yuG1wqpdayZ2HGfMYw2pGbUWjJJt3hNiV8BSYtNB8khN2BgYVutaYyONlBLWAnvH1egyq9sMlj41fNO38zOu9cJ98feM5ZNIhtQytG/s1600/Onesphore+and+Valens.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UyA30e9GOyHNJUe5ejouYvAfv1EljZrHchpTmqDq5JRGk_Q3Mojaj72fgWljK74Psx72xvukNQhs-XgfoDvSRddKdyf8dH_7tv-ubU9896Kdj0Zv3CimMHnRXjr_YzwnsU60uHKFSTuG/s1600/Household+dinner.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_UyA30e9GOyHNJUe5ejouYvAfv1EljZrHchpTmqDq5JRGk_Q3Mojaj72fgWljK74Psx72xvukNQhs-XgfoDvSRddKdyf8dH_7tv-ubU9896Kdj0Zv3CimMHnRXjr_YzwnsU60uHKFSTuG/s1600/Household+dinner.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>I can begin with February 1-2. Even though now is technically called a dry season, it is the shorter, wetter dry season so I was informed that seeds have to go in the ground now, as opposed to 1- 1 1/2 months from now when the long rainy season begins. A few brothers from my Emmanuel Cty prayer group had offered to help me in the garden and even though I am content to spend hours in the garden by myself, I took them up on the offer. Feb. 1, Saturday, Valens and Onesphore came over in the morning to till and fertilize the soil with me in preparation for future planting. After we finished, I invited the guys to stay for a late pumpkin pancake breakfast and they did. The three of us and Rita sat around the table eating and talking for a few hours. It was great. Later that same day, I met with the other members of my EC faithsharing group for a festive dinner and time of conversation at a restaurant. We ordered "Rwandan plates," which consist of beans, rice, green bananas, French fries, and veggies (either cabbage and carrots or green beans and carrots) and can be bought for 800 RF ($1.25). There should be a few small pieces of meat, but they didn't bring any that day.</div>
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February 2 was another day to be with the Emmanuel Cty. Once a year, each sector of the EC in the country has the responsibility of assisting at a monthly healing Mass and Eucharistic procession in Ruhango. Ruhango is a town about an hour from Butare and is known as a center to experience the divine mercy of Jesus. There is a big Divine Mercy Jesus statue there and once a month the people of Ruhango and around the country gather there for a big Mass to pray for healing. On the day I went, the Butare EC group helped manage the crowds before, during, and after the Mass and procession, and man, were there crowds! I heard an estimate of 10,000 people and I believe it. The picture can help you picture the number of people that were there and it shows only part of the crowd. Since I don't speak Kinyarwanda, I paired up with a guy I know named Olivier (who was really good about translating everything) and we were place as ushers in front of the choir, off to the left of the stage area. We didn't have to do much, but we did have a good view of the altar area. When it was time for the collection, we and many other ushers went through the crowd with plastic trash cans with holes cut in the lids for people to drop their money into. As the only white person in a crowd of 10,000, I definitely caught people's attention. Later, when the Eucharistic procession began, Olivier and I cleared a path in the crowd near us for the priest and his entourage to walk and we followed after him to keep the crowd back. It was a long day (7:30-4:30), but it was rewarding.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgb5SBZM2UGEhhRsCH7SE6xW7MBOtIEQHUPcYNjBGopeQJbLHrg2iORbajP80iWGsmN80B_T3UO7yxMmnErHauOfsMAqcbE88qMvauVuxmEGLuU2JfSZjNPTJ8FVQS61Fu25XKGUYd5x_/s1600/IMG_5635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgb5SBZM2UGEhhRsCH7SE6xW7MBOtIEQHUPcYNjBGopeQJbLHrg2iORbajP80iWGsmN80B_T3UO7yxMmnErHauOfsMAqcbE88qMvauVuxmEGLuU2JfSZjNPTJ8FVQS61Fu25XKGUYd5x_/s1600/IMG_5635.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGtwNkVTugxy_8QM0UeiBMP0NHfCSyJjB2uM7gCUgldsCN7eezVPLR3aPRWDCu3oU4E0TLdiAnH38L5tqbWP0_PwsnDegGdL1Qm64ar2MYupnWx_HaOasx8eA2Iz6KsHrtyMveL_762Xd/s1600/IMG_5627.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGtwNkVTugxy_8QM0UeiBMP0NHfCSyJjB2uM7gCUgldsCN7eezVPLR3aPRWDCu3oU4E0TLdiAnH38L5tqbWP0_PwsnDegGdL1Qm64ar2MYupnWx_HaOasx8eA2Iz6KsHrtyMveL_762Xd/s1600/IMG_5627.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The following weekend, February 8-9, brought a trip to the northwest part of Rwanda and to the border of Volcanoes National Park. Rita and I went with three French men: Ronan, the father of the Fidesco family in town, and Jeremie and Timothee, Fidesco volunteers in Kigali. We planned to climb Mt. Visoke, one of the volcanoes in the park that rises from 8,000 ft to 12,000 ft. On the best of days, the trail will be dry and not slippery. On the worst of days, the trail will be a mud pit and super slippery. Our group had the best of days, which was so great, but unfortunately, Rita and I weren't on the mountain with the men. We must have eaten something bad at our house before we left (perhaps the carrots from the garden still had traces of manure on them or it was the fried eggplant that didn't taste as good as it normally does) because I was hit with the symptoms of food poisoning on the drive up to Kinigi, the village where we stayed, and they remained severe throughout the night and the next morning. Rita started to feel iffy on Saturday morning so she stayed behind with me and proceeded to get worse throughout the day. A test at a local clinic confirmed I was infected with e.coli. After a restful morning, we felt good enough to walk in the surrounding countryside, which was beautiful. Volcanic ranges were around us. We walked in grassy fields that reminded me of Ireland and passed herds of cows and their shepherds. We came across young children filling containers with water so I helped the smallest ones carry their containers towards their homes. As Rita and I turned back to leave them, they called out, "Good morning, goodbye!" until we were out of sight. We walked through a wheat field and a deaf man, who appeared to be in charge of the field, took some heads of wheat and gave them to us to eat. So, all in all, even though we didn't get to climb the volcano, we made the best of it and took in the natural beauty of the region.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymuN3dOMDfFqfrG15XsUm_iU-TShpRqNra8OXPCBcPmY0DUv6IXmXs_8fvLTtVvH5sstmze7OvD5e2VVePJqJi6T-GiU-B5NK9NR_tOSvFH2EIHpkyZvBXvMa0rH2Zxf-j-hwgReHJ1z5/s1600/Valentine's+Day+(5).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymuN3dOMDfFqfrG15XsUm_iU-TShpRqNra8OXPCBcPmY0DUv6IXmXs_8fvLTtVvH5sstmze7OvD5e2VVePJqJi6T-GiU-B5NK9NR_tOSvFH2EIHpkyZvBXvMa0rH2Zxf-j-hwgReHJ1z5/s1600/Valentine's+Day+(5).JPG" height="150" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEish2YbFvnXlU1jEtpSRfFDn-NKaQviDiCeiCboKRUkl-BCuqCvJbbpeumZQ5_odO0VqAUujO1EAKX0lqz-M_cIcJx9BM1_tmqlbzp-ZFTEJN-vJK4uU2qlUK6w6j4vb44s4doWEn6g8l8K/s1600/Valentine's+Day+(6).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEish2YbFvnXlU1jEtpSRfFDn-NKaQviDiCeiCboKRUkl-BCuqCvJbbpeumZQ5_odO0VqAUujO1EAKX0lqz-M_cIcJx9BM1_tmqlbzp-ZFTEJN-vJK4uU2qlUK6w6j4vb44s4doWEn6g8l8K/s1600/Valentine's+Day+(6).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Moving to this past weekend, there was a big EC celebration for Valentine's Day and the visit of our two Fidesco brothers from Kigali, Jeremie and Timothee. Valentine's Day doesn't seem to be a big deal in the country, but the Emmanuel Community likes to make it a day to celebrate love. It began with a 6 pm Mass at the Butare cathedral. During the Mass, there was a time when all the single people went forward and promised to remain faithful to the Lord while they waited for the revelation of their vocation, then the widows and widowers made a similar promise, and then the married couples went forward and renewed their wedding vows. After the Mass, there was a dance party across the street at the diocesan welcome center. Rita and I and everyone else sang praise songs and then danced to secular music after dinner until 11:30 pm. We walked to the French family's home (don't worry, we were with two EC guys) to pick up Jeremie, who would be sleeping at our house. Once we got home with him, we were hungry because one meat shish kabob for dinner doesn't cut it. We stayed up until 1:30 am cooking and eating crepes.</div>
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Saturday was very full with celebrations of Timothee's 24th birthday and the monthly EC weekend. After teaching two class periods in the morning, all of the Frenchies came over to our house for a late brunch. Rita and I made pumpkin pancakes again (we had ~8 pumpkins in our garden) and enjoyed the company of the others. Then I went to the EC weekend for the afternoon and after that ended at 6:30, I walked to a local restaurant to join the others who were having drinks to celebrate Timothee's birthday. Afterwards we went to the French family's home for dinner, but before we ate dinner, a spontaneous dance party erupted. Timothee played music on his laptop and soon all the furniture was pushed out of the way and Segolene and Ronan, Rita, Timothee, Jeremie, the four kids, and I started dancing in the living room. It was great. As we danced, I made a point to remember that moment because Segolene and Ronan and their kids will finish their Fidesco contract in one month and return to France. Then it will just be Rita and me in Butare, Jeremie and Timothee in Kigali. After the dance and after the kids were put to bed, we enjoyed eating cheeseburgers (yum!!!!) and talking until late at night for the second night in a row. </div>
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Sunday morning I was up early to head off to a full day with the Emmanuel Community and then work began again on Monday. Now you can see why I haven't been able to write any updates. Soon I would like to write about the topics of my lessons since, as a teacher, I have the great opportunity to impart wisdom to the students and that is what I try to do.</div>
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<!-- Blogger automated replacement: "https://images-blogger-opensocial.googleusercontent.com/gadgets/proxy?url=http%3A%2F%2F4.bp.blogspot.com%2F-ei80fV7j7co%2FUwM3D6qdJkI%2FAAAAAAAAAfs%2FHuDnrgEOf5Y%2Fs1600%2FRuhango%2BMission%2B%2525282%252529.JPG&container=blogger&gadget=a&rewriteMime=image%2F*" with "https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4hNwr2Qwttrvy3IncqD2r4xASuq4vo1k2YLC4edaGeIvCGgE9h6VpVbymcS_oJ-2T32ziMASvNELSCsIxdT7serLJRSLtCpg1ayivCfk9Lq37jx96uZHwcTEy6nG4iRH3dcY_y2Kdt7r/s1600/Ruhango+Mission+%25282%2529.JPG" -->Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-80190372955973245632014-01-28T18:34:00.002+02:002014-01-28T18:34:28.728+02:00Eternal rest grant unto him, O LordI learned this afternoon that the director of Fidesco USA, Denis Leblond, died in his sleep on Monday morning. He wasn't sick so his passing from this life to the next is shocking. I can only imagine the sorrow his wife, six children, four children-in-law, and five grandchildren feel with him being taken from them without warning. <br />
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Even I, who knew of Denis as an Emmanuel Community brother for years but only got to know him during my Fidesco journey, am so saddened by his death. I can hear his words of encouragement during my decision-making process and his continued encouragement once I was in the mission field. I heard from him only three days ago when he said he would look over the draft of my second mission report and get back to me after the weekend, but that email will never arrive.<br />
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Once again, I am reminded that we do not know how much time we have in this life so we need to make the most of each day: tell our family members and friends that we love them; give ourselves in the service of others; dare to radically live for Jesus; live in such a way that in our last minutes we are satisfied with the life we lived. <br />
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Please pray for the eternal rest of Denis' soul and for the consolation of his family.Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-367523905761787302014-01-16T14:58:00.004+02:002014-01-16T14:58:55.658+02:00How Can Four Hours Stimulate So Much Joy?<!--[if !mso]>
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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqa2oJJed8hVWjSLlGqQaYlWaS0Hm9VAB9IzmfL5N9W6lnlzD-sucMbyRCpDgL0GFrjZBiIeTBYAKz8TVXBAMmrbdYZFa0XIGW52CDEUPHFyYKm1D5OJPcldE63vGbweM3MoYDdarcrmbR/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(19).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqa2oJJed8hVWjSLlGqQaYlWaS0Hm9VAB9IzmfL5N9W6lnlzD-sucMbyRCpDgL0GFrjZBiIeTBYAKz8TVXBAMmrbdYZFa0XIGW52CDEUPHFyYKm1D5OJPcldE63vGbweM3MoYDdarcrmbR/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(19).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt;">One local project I've helped at twice since arriving and have arranged my teaching schedule this term to be free every Wednesday so I can participate in it, is a morning daycare/school for ~ </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">eighty 2-6 year olds</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> who are the children of women who sell at the market or are prostitutes. This </span>beautiful mission is run by the Servants of Mary of the Heart of Jesus,
a religious congregation from Brazil that has both brothers and sisters in it, and Monday through Friday, 7:30 am – 12:30 pm,
the brothers and sisters welcome the children to their property for meals, classes, games, and prayers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejymulvH3oamnO5QYQOAPraVcDeMw22PTgib3ld0bcw45RI7h-4ZXyRi79_nPjQhfTHdpgO9VHTlwht7MQyQABJtO6ZPDQVQc8KDMed8zhrglYxM-OWgXxVLnhbUGpFQeKyUukODl-2sR/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(26).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiejymulvH3oamnO5QYQOAPraVcDeMw22PTgib3ld0bcw45RI7h-4ZXyRi79_nPjQhfTHdpgO9VHTlwht7MQyQABJtO6ZPDQVQc8KDMed8zhrglYxM-OWgXxVLnhbUGpFQeKyUukODl-2sR/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(26).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Classroom time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Words cannot describe the beauty of this mission or the effect it has on me. When I am there, I am full of joy and love. When I return home, I still feel full, if that makes sense; full of contentment, satisfaction, joy, peace, and other things that make one feel great. Even looking at photos from my visits makes me happy.</span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span><br /><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_YtDR02lmLWeDdO2dP6Thxm4pLEnM-mbz-TpOsMyxz6HyaNQ4WTmSj4m6_dCinzT1r3OQLmckSDrTPYxK0gH7hCcax0BbuXmE1GTMrf963oTdE3WKoYihaWgefmzrz_7sa6wqlWzcX1Y/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(31).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_YtDR02lmLWeDdO2dP6Thxm4pLEnM-mbz-TpOsMyxz6HyaNQ4WTmSj4m6_dCinzT1r3OQLmckSDrTPYxK0gH7hCcax0BbuXmE1GTMrf963oTdE3WKoYihaWgefmzrz_7sa6wqlWzcX1Y/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(31).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Concretely, here is what the mission looks like and what I have done to help while there. </span>The children start to arrive at 7:30 am and once they all get there, they are fed breakfast (a roll and a banana). I passed out the food once and the children would reach out to touch my hand
or hold my arm and wouldn't want to let go. I would caress their faces to show I was attentive to them, but then I would have to pull away to continue passing out the food. After breakfast, there is some play time as the dining room is cleaned and then the kids take turns going into the bathroom to brush their teeth and wash their faces and then change into their school uniforms. Once they are dressed, they divide into four classes based on age and are taught Kinyarwanda, English, and French. My first time there, I grabbed
a small white board that had the English alphabet on it and began to teach in
the different classrooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I taught them,
“A for apple, B for bird, C for cat, etc,” and the English names of the safari
animals that are painted on the dining room walls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made animal sounds and actions when
appropriate (such as “L for lion and M for monkey”) and the kids enjoyed acting
like monkeys along with me. After the classes finish, lunch
is served (one time it was rice with peas, green beans, and meat mixed together) and then we
all go outside to play and to wait for their parents or older siblings to pick them up.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zNzLswhhf3kZL-H95E7n4wEKWMZGrdnDtuG8r-XZH1qLJKvsHL8KXj7hibeh_b57LqQyHC2cmRP6H0jPLaKFUypewDplpqLLR94afPIUX_Sk8vzWEQD5gbsm5sdm_L1hb59D3V18qGUi/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(16).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zNzLswhhf3kZL-H95E7n4wEKWMZGrdnDtuG8r-XZH1qLJKvsHL8KXj7hibeh_b57LqQyHC2cmRP6H0jPLaKFUypewDplpqLLR94afPIUX_Sk8vzWEQD5gbsm5sdm_L1hb59D3V18qGUi/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(16).JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>What is so touching about the mission is the love and care I am able to give to the children. I don't know if it is because I am white, but the kids love to be with, and on, me. When I stand, they <span style="font-size: 12pt;">hug me and fight over who can hold onto my hands and arms. When I sit, they rush to sit on my lap and gather around me. </span>They stroke my hair, touch
my arms and my face, <span style="font-size: 12pt;">compare my religious medals on my
necklace to theirs, pull my arms around their shoulders, and hold my hands. </span>I don't mind this invasion of personal space at all. I usually laugh and offer them the
affection they want by rubbing my hands through their hair (or stubble),
caressing their faces, tickling their necks and sides, and letting them use me as
their chair/pillow/backrest. I look forward to having Wednesdays mostly free so I can serve weekly at this mission of joy.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vcoBIWvTf69aa4grUtZ_UlAGsqXJYUY06dMBX2Dl-5kr8R5E7rwydoExPWC5_cUc52MN1e3WG50znpAX-KKJcGG0F1ixjIkOsIpRkTp24qFt2R7akwZ6IT3c7TF0IkY6iKYeUXMmaUxs/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(20).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vcoBIWvTf69aa4grUtZ_UlAGsqXJYUY06dMBX2Dl-5kr8R5E7rwydoExPWC5_cUc52MN1e3WG50znpAX-KKJcGG0F1ixjIkOsIpRkTp24qFt2R7akwZ6IT3c7TF0IkY6iKYeUXMmaUxs/s1600/Brazilian+Mission+(20).JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></span></div>
Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-4916337277569279402014-01-10T16:16:00.002+02:002014-01-10T19:30:54.963+02:00The Joy of Receiving Mail!<div style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEMfLQbdxo8z2x5erXO8pYUr1F6yAucvy7TT6P7nyE2HIu2heiX5-plBEiFRh4nOAirfTGc04VE3DNSpUMSddgifb_rmIBL7UciJPo2xRGfQHcUE2WZS0mKCrmkCIKFo7IIj8wZMpy89b/s1600/P1102494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFEMfLQbdxo8z2x5erXO8pYUr1F6yAucvy7TT6P7nyE2HIu2heiX5-plBEiFRh4nOAirfTGc04VE3DNSpUMSddgifb_rmIBL7UciJPo2xRGfQHcUE2WZS0mKCrmkCIKFo7IIj8wZMpy89b/s1600/P1102494.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There's nothing like being far from home to experience joy from small things, especially when they
arrive in the mail! </span></span><br />
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thanks to an email
sent out by my mom before Christmas, I was blessed to receive 19 Christmas
cards and at least one is still on the way. Sometimes there would be 3
cards waiting for me in the post office box and I would be so excited to see
what was inside. Even in the States I like receiving snail mail, but it
is while I am in Rwanda that my family and friends are really stepping up to
the plate. I started taping the cards to the wall and now we have quite a festive, colorful wall in our living room. Thank you very much!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuz-IkGiMP-GJq8qU1nUV_1O9VdjLlg8osRxADr9AwcsISiK5XaXk3kaETv5elPxuNizG5eXsi5gxnxr5Oe59U54aXl1Ws3iRBBMfzfJnltB0bJFqiOYR7ObWey6KVE6RPPDVFUQg5GiZo/s1600/P1062482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuz-IkGiMP-GJq8qU1nUV_1O9VdjLlg8osRxADr9AwcsISiK5XaXk3kaETv5elPxuNizG5eXsi5gxnxr5Oe59U54aXl1Ws3iRBBMfzfJnltB0bJFqiOYR7ObWey6KVE6RPPDVFUQg5GiZo/s1600/P1062482.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Gifts from the Magi in my life</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH676gm0UbuLIYqfEqzENM40t00JhpKaKpQ8iX8z-m0NRXuWg4Iu2J4r7NdEtVAeZn1gDlmmKUsm-WlnlHZiUJD14pQw5MhUWSFmSFIKTfg5U8QsCP6KzhFYpRTl3yITs4bv0Ow-_rjrjh/s1600/P1062488.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH676gm0UbuLIYqfEqzENM40t00JhpKaKpQ8iX8z-m0NRXuWg4Iu2J4r7NdEtVAeZn1gDlmmKUsm-WlnlHZiUJD14pQw5MhUWSFmSFIKTfg5U8QsCP6KzhFYpRTl3yITs4bv0Ow-_rjrjh/s1600/P1062488.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>The other thing that
is funny to me is how gifts that would be really lame to receive in the States
reign supreme in their ability to bring me great joy over here. Most of
the time they are practical gifts for the house, things that could easily be
found at Target or Walmart but aren't easily available here. The packages
I received on Monday from my cousin, Nicole, and a Denver friend, Tanya, are
great examples of this principle. These
were mystery packages, meaning I didn't know what would be in them, but I
squealed with delight as I read the customs lists on the front of the
boxes. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuA3L_6DCSS55W4a-Pj7-dXLuh1C04uNtP1wAFMOnCq5Lkh6cqrqbGU9QK6TbntQJ3F2eNpomWH180waTEUSKYAgmfJ0UgCNQ3w7X3Q8pFT1KLifITv_tVhGn7y9Tjs4piFMayrbqmZxQ/s1600/P1062489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuA3L_6DCSS55W4a-Pj7-dXLuh1C04uNtP1wAFMOnCq5Lkh6cqrqbGU9QK6TbntQJ3F2eNpomWH180waTEUSKYAgmfJ0UgCNQ3w7X3Q8pFT1KLifITv_tVhGn7y9Tjs4piFMayrbqmZxQ/s1600/P1062489.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>What type of things
made me so happy? First of all, two red
cloth and silicon pot holders, to which you say, "Really? Pot holders were the best part?" YES!
We use the stove three times a day and most of our pots need pot holders
to handle because they don't have handles or have metal ones. Imagine using thin hand towels to handle
these hot pots and you can appreciate pot holders that are reliable. I was so happy to get them. Another example: two calendars, one from the
Archdiocese of Denver and the other from Holy Protection Byzantine Catholic
Church also in Denver. Not only can I
know what the date is easily, but I am reminded of the friends and churches in
Denver and the saints that are celebrated each day. These calendars connect me to life back
home. I was also thrilled to receive
other products for the kitchen (like chicken bouillon, chocolate, and resealable
plastic bags) and things to share with the students (like movies and snow in a
can). The students have probably never
touched snow in their lives; they might have seen it from afar if they live
near the mountains in Volcano National Park in the northwest. I also laughed out loud at the
Christmas-themed gifts: a stocking, three pairs of Christmas socks, two
ornaments (seen on our sad tree which we will keep up until Feb. 2), and of
course, the snow in a can. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCM2RfwV2V7OqosZE2s5EwP4tDUyEb5T9qNDnNvB2NsFQZIoGiwjBs526BwdkRBDGdAcn7awbjWKmQ6zr2f3CcDFqTeCAlnQcvCMG6Ba9kE5vPM7tFXj0kHHYz7SD_hfManHXo81fWaZ9/s1600/P1102493.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpCM2RfwV2V7OqosZE2s5EwP4tDUyEb5T9qNDnNvB2NsFQZIoGiwjBs526BwdkRBDGdAcn7awbjWKmQ6zr2f3CcDFqTeCAlnQcvCMG6Ba9kE5vPM7tFXj0kHHYz7SD_hfManHXo81fWaZ9/s1600/P1102493.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-11979136473137966462014-01-02T21:08:00.000+02:002014-01-02T21:08:50.061+02:00Christmas, the New Year, and Everything In Between<br />
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</div>
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<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I pray that your Christmas and New Year were blessed. I was able to do and experience many things since I last wrote, including my first Christmas and New Year's Eve in Rwanda, another trip to Kigali, and traveling to one of the three national parks in the country.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aDpezMSRrgFZVo0qMY0k-Cqb1ZZeOF8b9tcjXh8Sre0bUbRaXDEfdaiAJQ3fe-JzK33MPbwoZzOlhUJ9_MrYnBWLJ-4UQyIAmy3RAxaDmF6L0ZSzRy2SWUPbl_U4FZy2pqDuSXfL4yj6/s1600/IMG_4815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aDpezMSRrgFZVo0qMY0k-Cqb1ZZeOF8b9tcjXh8Sre0bUbRaXDEfdaiAJQ3fe-JzK33MPbwoZzOlhUJ9_MrYnBWLJ-4UQyIAmy3RAxaDmF6L0ZSzRy2SWUPbl_U4FZy2pqDuSXfL4yj6/s320/IMG_4815.JPG" width="320" /></a>First, Christmas in Rwanda. I was worried that this would be the hardest Christmas I ever lived because of the language barrier, but that was not the case. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were very joyful. Rita and my Christmas Eve celebration didn't begin until 10 pm. We waited for the sisters next door to get home from Mass and then we went over to their house for a late dinner. Earlier in the week, the head sister had asked what is traditionally made for Christmas in the US and I told her that for my family, the tradition is to make pizza (my mom's side is Italian). So she told me to make pizza and the sisters would take care of the rest. Little did I expect that they would adopt my tradition themselves, but they did. When Rita and I arrived at their place, there was our American pizza and their Rwandan version of pizza to eat. I was very touched that they took on my family's tradition. Before eating, though, we gathered in front of the Nativity scene, prayed, and sang the refrain to "Angels we have heard on high." After thanking God for the birth of Jesus, we stuffed ourselves with pizza, salad, and desserts Rita had made from our garden's pumpkin. Sr. Marie Rose, the head sister, surprised the rest of us by disappearing before dessert and returning with gift bags for all of us. Each bag contained an apple, an orange, and a chocolate bar (it might not sound like much, but all three are pricey so we rarely, if ever, buy them). </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqV9P0Ba15g55zfl32LofegFgK9I4rX737N0h3n42wplOmc4qSKXAAimCvU_V2waTSKdv_7COOVCVUx598AoyA3H2yQ_ANb6VrwXcq2tedWUKreqk9IXVPJeW5Xf9TNxZ_2-cogFZPo-2U/s1600/Christmas+Day+%25289%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqV9P0Ba15g55zfl32LofegFgK9I4rX737N0h3n42wplOmc4qSKXAAimCvU_V2waTSKdv_7COOVCVUx598AoyA3H2yQ_ANb6VrwXcq2tedWUKreqk9IXVPJeW5Xf9TNxZ_2-cogFZPo-2U/s200/Christmas+Day+%25289%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLvZ-vPd6IDIGPWKyfXBmX9yc9gpOEiXvPKeivgVSzZgvF_xc92_jhS17IaIfrakCM2RUFV3i-nIv8SyEh42Z-aFl6t1WqThFHDuzEm_KegRnGscMkZ6sen0jt5e59SEYD__UnNTJMHCc4/s1600/Christmas+Day+%252824%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLvZ-vPd6IDIGPWKyfXBmX9yc9gpOEiXvPKeivgVSzZgvF_xc92_jhS17IaIfrakCM2RUFV3i-nIv8SyEh42Z-aFl6t1WqThFHDuzEm_KegRnGscMkZ6sen0jt5e59SEYD__UnNTJMHCc4/s320/Christmas+Day+%252824%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>I spent Christmas Day with the local members of the Emmanuel Community, the international Catholic community to which I belong. 120 of us went to a nearby Benedictine monastery and spent the whole day there. We sang praise songs, had Mass, watched the children perform a Christmas play<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9aaD3WPoTq8K7tzFMDN7i9iBmp8KowjFSD_0sguHx8OqFaLY6esRuyxy6yAXo6o7lGNORLO0o6BJCKFlX_63Z_902Gg44o7ygA_hgHnppUXc8reQQGYNSFPMhJj678Bp2Ehoe1fL0iVQ/s1600/Christmas+Day+%25283%2529.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim9aaD3WPoTq8K7tzFMDN7i9iBmp8KowjFSD_0sguHx8OqFaLY6esRuyxy6yAXo6o7lGNORLO0o6BJCKFlX_63Z_902Gg44o7ygA_hgHnppUXc8reQQGYNSFPMhJj678Bp2Ehoe1fL0iVQ/s320/Christmas+Day+%25283%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>, ate lunch, played games outside, and danced. During an interlude between activities, I was even convinced to sing and play guitar for a few songs (how happy I was to play a guitar for the first time in 5 months). One thing I noticed during the dance is that with the Emmanuel Community members, and in Africa in general, I am willing to risk looking dumb or uncool or whatever. Normally I don't like dances that are free form, people dancing in a circle, etc. I always felt insecure and like I wasn't a good dancer, but here, I soon got over it and enjoyed myself. I think it's because the Rwandans are impressed whenever I participate in their cultural activities so that gives me some street cred no matter how I look or sound.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only part of our circle as we played games</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnG-79FK3SftIZEpND6sOTw3-iVfisxFUVXR2klhDV30guJTIUEE8EZcVLaOj9K5hAF2wCRxeebHUZhobgTLjcV6UGUrzAlUEFQCnWWTrVeuVuvtu7MlEXG6PBPgpEgGXzVV8jbCsMAiPK/s1600/Dinner+with+Yvonne+and+Canisius+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnG-79FK3SftIZEpND6sOTw3-iVfisxFUVXR2klhDV30guJTIUEE8EZcVLaOj9K5hAF2wCRxeebHUZhobgTLjcV6UGUrzAlUEFQCnWWTrVeuVuvtu7MlEXG6PBPgpEgGXzVV8jbCsMAiPK/s320/Dinner+with+Yvonne+and+Canisius+%25283%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>Dec. 26 and 27 were days to spend around the house. I spent lots of hours in the garden, including harvesting and shelling black beans. I tried again to make a Mexican meal and again, it wasn't the greatest. Chickpea and corn flour crepes are a great improvement on the corn tortillas I tried to make in my first weeks here, but still, they aren't to the level of ordinary tortillas. Rita and I did venture out to have dinner at the house of an Emmanuel Cty family that is in my small faithsharing group. They really laid out a spread, as you can see in the picture. There were French fries, rice, green bananas, meat, sauce, and salad. We brought a pumpkin cake, again, the fruit of our garden.</div>
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On the morning of the 28th, we headed back to Kigali for the second half of our vacation. This time around, there was a lot of lounging around Megan's house as we talked, read, or slept. We were graced with the presence of Fr. Mike Rapp from the Denver archdiocese. He is currently studying in Rome and was in Uganda with a priest friend from there. He took a short trip down to see Megan and visit the shrine of Our Lady of Kibeho. One benefit of having a priest around is that we three ladies and Timothee, the French Fidesco volunteer working in Kigali, were able to have a private Mass in English on Saturday night. This was super helpful to Rita, Timothee, and I because we had an early morning departure the next day to go to Akagera National Park. Without the Saturday night Mass, which is rare in Rwanda, we would have had to make sure we were back in time to go to a Sunday night Mass, which is also not easy to find. But since we had our intimate Mass, we were carefree as we were picked up at 5:30 am on Dec. 30 for the 2 hour drive to Akagera NP.</div>
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Akagera preserves Rwanda's savannah so we were able to go on a safari drive. I could call it a poor man's safari because it costs significantly less to go there than a normal safari would, but I guess the animals aren't as plentiful. I didn't mind though. I was impressed by what we did see, which were zebras, giraffes, impalas, water bucks, monkeys, baboons, buffalo, warthogs (Pumba, anyone?), hippos, and birds. The drive took most of the day. We started with our guide at 8:30 am and finished around 2 pm. Then there was the long drive back to Kigali. Here are some of the best pictures of the animals.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sadly, the hippos didn't get much higher out of the water for us</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two males</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Impalas: one male and the rest are female</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Z8YH9ulj_XEd91VxdUzqgqOjOWp6njTa-OPaT2MeU4T13MOAhU8-dX-pNWcToACqhL-hletlkq5NZYbGcIRh9t2eWZuIBgOJJb9IA-mdRzXpbGC3pRcCE4z8p-Id1EJnHWxYoNJDv9ZH/s400/Akagera+NP+%252874%2529.JPG" width="400" /> </td><td style="text-align: left;"> </td><td style="text-align: left;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buffalo in the background</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynlSYOOPVfhUdsYohcyKSSJdQVMEw_ZFcILaPfzY9I-EZ0EZMTQ-XkG7x9-d4nyfA-rhLFF-bvywEZA3Lifgq4euKqy53aiWPA66WkGnfCO-SIpo1kqKUWlUnt7VomEZdc2g72SrtYpLJ/s1600/Lisa%2527s+family+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhynlSYOOPVfhUdsYohcyKSSJdQVMEw_ZFcILaPfzY9I-EZ0EZMTQ-XkG7x9-d4nyfA-rhLFF-bvywEZA3Lifgq4euKqy53aiWPA66WkGnfCO-SIpo1kqKUWlUnt7VomEZdc2g72SrtYpLJ/s320/Lisa%2527s+family+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>After the trip to Akagera, the rest of the time in Kigali was quite relaxed. I read a book about the process of forgiveness and
reconciliation after the genocide. We visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial, where there is a museum about the Rwandan genocide and other genocides around the world and the mass graves of over 250,000 people. The stories really are horrific, but almost as unbelievable as the atrocities people can commit against each other is the forgiveness people have been able to offer their family members' killers afterwards. Other than heavy stuff, Rita and I visited the home of one
of our students, Lisa, who will be in Senior 2 this upcoming year. She's the one on the right in the family picture. The
family fed us lunch and sent us home with a small bag of peanuts. The
visit with them was very warm and I truly felt the hospitality of the
Rwandans and perhaps the pride they had at welcoming people from Lisa's
school, especially foreigners. It was a treat for us and we would have visited other students, but we either didn't have their phone numbers or we had incorrect ones. I went out to eat with Megan at a posh outdoor Asian restaurant
and enjoyed some curry (expensive by Butare standards, but normal for
Kigali). I had lunch with an Emmanuel couple, Edith and Silvere, who are currently serving with Fidesco in Zambia. I went bowling with Christine and Michael and their kids (that's the Butare American family who is in Kigali after the birth of their son). The alley has 6 lanes with real gutters and balls, but what is so funny about the setup is the man who hides behind a curtain and removes the downed pins by hand. I spent the night of New Year's Eve at another EC family's home. I had met the married daughter and son-in-law and a brother at the Christmas gathering. They had me over for refreshments on the porch, dinner, and then unexpectedly, a sleepover. Midnight wasn't a celebratory event like it is in the States, at least not in their house, so that was a bit of a disappointment. We did drink hot milk from their cows, though, which is a sign of being given a blessing. The next morning, I volunteered at the Missionaries of Charity orphanage and then made my way back to Butare. Now I'm preparing for the return of the students this weekend. I'm sure it will be great to have them back, but since they've been gone for two months, I've gotten used to having a more flexible schedule and more free time. Surely there will be an adjustment period, especially as I begin my full schedule of teaching!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Judith, Charlotte, and I at the bowling alley. The seats are way better here than in the US.</td></tr>
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<br />Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-66693560145513745022013-12-24T17:52:00.002+02:002013-12-24T17:52:20.814+02:00The Missionaries of Charity Orphanage and Christmas Plans<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufJnusk9adXaNb4jEO6T5fw3HK-6auYa06FeHfci7k4ul6ssZ8hsOHDQU5k3lGXiAdXv_4GwCBDeVNrvMppUMWGEV3HkpGqA46Cox8aMPu83ozfDDDmAngBm2Qw1KR9-zgJ3RQr_-4AMg/s1600/Kigali+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufJnusk9adXaNb4jEO6T5fw3HK-6auYa06FeHfci7k4ul6ssZ8hsOHDQU5k3lGXiAdXv_4GwCBDeVNrvMppUMWGEV3HkpGqA46Cox8aMPu83ozfDDDmAngBm2Qw1KR9-zgJ3RQr_-4AMg/s320/Kigali+(2).JPG" width="320" /></a>Rita and I have started our Christmas vacation. We are using vacation days to have off from December 18-January 1 so here is the news on how we spent the first half of the break and what I will do for Christmas (everyone asks).<br />
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On Wednesday, December 18, Rita and I took the bus to Kigali, the capital. Kigali sure is a different world from Butare. There are skyscrapers,
ethnic and expensive restaurants, cars everywhere (which cause rush hour traffic
jams), grocery stores with products from the U.S., Europe, and India,
and white and Asian people. On one hand I could get
used to such a life in Rwanda, but on the other hand, it didn't feel
African enough. I stayed until Sunday night, but Rita returned home on Saturday morning. We stayed with Megan Lyons, an American girl that I was in email contact with through a mutual priest friend from CO. Her roommates went home for Christmas so she had room for us. She was super hospitable and showed us around. The best part about staying at her house was the huge screened in front porch (Minnesotans would be jealous). We ate our meals out there and read in the morning on the outdoor couch. I would like a porch like that.<br />
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What did we do? The highlight was volunteering at the orphanage run by the Missionaries of Charity (Mother Teresa's sisters). Unfortunately taking photos isn't allowed so I don't have great pictures to accompany this post. We arrived on Wednesday in time for the afternoon visiting session from 3-6 pm. We returned on Friday for both sessions, staying from 9:30 am-12 pm and then 3-6 pm. It was a joy to be with the children, but it was also eye-opening, shocking, and saddening. Let me explain the disheartening part first. The orphanage has two main day rooms and a playground where the children spend their waking time. One room is for the babies and I counted 21 babies. There are metal cribs lined up all around the room, one right next to the other. There is a mat in the middle of the room for the babies to sit and lie on. I don't remember seeing any toys. In the other room, there are 12 special needs kids (maybe 2-8 years old and mostly suffering from what looks like severe cerebral palsy) and 12 able-bodied kids (~2.5-5 years old). One part of the room has tables for meal time and the rest has two cribs, plastic chairs, and a mat. Again, I saw very few toys, just a stuffed sheep and a Matchbox car. The outdoor play area did have a swing set, a slide, and a merry-go-round. Each room had 2-3 staff workers to attend to the children and sometimes the sisters would come down to hold the babies or visit the older children. You can imagine 24 kids, experiencing the terrible twos or needing to be fed or acting up out of boredom or the desire for attention, being managed by 3 workers and whatever volunteers are there that day. If I had to pick an orphanage to live at, one run by the Missionaries of Charity would guarantee I would be treated as a person with dignity and worth so that is where I would choose to be, but still, it's an orphanage. There aren't enough workers/volunteers to give each child the affection and attention they need and desire, which they would have a better chance of having in a family <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rough road the orphanage is on</td></tr>
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A sad fact that I learned while there is that the odds of the kids being adopted into families aren't great because foreign adoptions from Rwanda aren't allowed currently, which means only Rwandan nationals can adopt. That breaks my heart because there are so many kids in orphanages and I know so many of you and given the chance, I would try to win your hearts over to one of these kids so they could become a member of your family. If I was married and there wasn't a foreign ban, I know which kid I would want to bring into my home. Her name is Jessica and I would guess she's around 5 years old. The first day she came across as a trouble maker, crying a ton when she wasn't allowed to do what she wanted to do, taking the few toys from other kids, not listening to the workers, etc. On the second day I decided to not react to the bad behaviors she displayed (thereby not giving her attention when she was acting up), but then to call her to me and give her attention when she was being good. It worked! She quickly got bored with taking the brush I was using to comb a toddler's hair (my first time combing and braiding African hair!) and put it down. Then at the end of the day, I pulled her into my lap and we had 10 minutes of one-on-one time. I tickled her, gave her hugs, showed her how to make different sounds with my mouth that she tried to imitate, and protected her from a handicapped adult (also present on the compound) who would reach out to bop her on the head or shoulder. One time she stuck out her tongue and blew raspberries at me and I told her, "Oya. If you do that again, I'll put you on the ground." She smiled and a minute later, this time did it away from me. I said it again and then she stopped. That showed me that she can and will be good if she gets positive attention. And as my mom pointed out, since she's probably the oldest able-bodied kid in the group, she is probably bored and acts out to have something happen, even if it's negative attention.<br />
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The best part about being at the orphanage was getting to give love to all those kids. I tried to spend some time interacting with each of the special needs kids by holding them (such as one boy who is five years old but has a very small body and can't move or talk because he has fluid in his brain) or picking them up by the arms and hands and helping them walk awkwardly around the room. Even though none of those kids can communicate, I could tell that some of them understand what is going on and what is said to them because they would smile when I called out their name or beckoned them, get agitated when I put them down on the floor to move onto another child, and get excited when it was their turn to walk. At one point I had three of the boys lying on my legs and one would laugh so much when I tickled him, another wanted me to hold his hand, and the other wanted me lie on me also. For the able-bodied kids, I didn't spend as much one-on-one time with them, but I took turns pushing a few of them on the swing or inviting a group to sit on the merry-go-round so I could push them in it. I helped a few of the younger ones finish their food when they were tired of feeding themselves. As I wrote earlier, I was given a comb, brush, and a bottle of oil and asked by one of the sisters if I could comb a toddler's hair. It was my own initiative to braid it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meze Fresh and a burrito with goat meat</td></tr>
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So that's it for the experience at the orphanage with the children. After the evening sessions both days, Rita and I joined the sisters for an hour of prayer, which was in English. Woohoo! We took advantage of the many grocery stores in the area to expand our food selection at our house, which benefited mostly from a visit to the Indian store where we bought dried lentils and chickpeas, chickpea flour (to try to make a corn tortilla/crepe), and popcorn kernels. We also learned there is an American-style movie theater that plays current movies so we watched The Hobbit 2. I never would have guessed I'd get to watch a new release in Rwanda. What a treat! Another treat and a first for my time in Rwanda was having good-tasting Mexican-ish food. The Butare American family is in Kigali right now because they had their baby boy up there and they took us to Meze Fresh, a Chipotle-like restaurant. My first good tasting Mexican food in 5
months! It cost the equivalent of 7 days worth of unlimited internet, but it was sooooo worth it.<br />
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After Rita went home, I attended the national Emmanuel Community weekend retreat in Kigali. Each day there was praise, Mass, adoration, and a talk. Everything was in Kinyarwanda and while people translated for me, I often lost focus and then fell asleep during the long talks. The highlight of the retreat was getting to meet community members from other parts of Rwanda and staying at the home of a newly married couple. Agnes and Placide speak English well enough so we stayed up late socializing and eating. The differences between American and Rwandan traditions and culture is always a source of hours of conversation. I took the bus home with members of the EC, once again with one more person per row than the number of seats, and arrived home with lots of joy. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Charlie Brown Christmas tree,<br />made of spruce branches tied together</td></tr>
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As to what Christmas will look like out here, tonight Rita and I are having a festive dinner with the sisters who live next to us, followed by midnight Mass. If the timing works out properly, in between the two events I'll join an EC family as they and a large group of other families walk to the edge of town to a cowshed where they will sing praise songs. Since Jesus was born in a stable, I think it's a beautiful plan and hope to be able to join them. On Christmas day, I'll spend the day at a local Benedictine monastery with the Butare members of the EC. We will eat, sing, play games, and I don't know what else. Rita will hang out with a Brazilian religious congregation. After Christmas we'll spend a few days in Butare and then head back up to Kigali for a day trip to Akagera National Park (<a href="http://www.african-parks.org/Park_2_Akagera+National+Park,+Rwanda.html">http://www.african-parks.org/Park_2_Akagera+National+Park,+Rwanda.html</a>) and more time hanging out in Kigali.
We'll be there until the 1st and then school starts up on Jan 6. Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-44992455078641562962013-12-15T22:09:00.001+02:002013-12-15T22:09:39.388+02:00One of my Side Missions and a Garden UpdateEarly on in my Rwandan time (2 days from now marks 4 months already), I was asked by the priest across the street if I would be willing to teach English one hour a week to the eight novices who live with him (one Rwandan, one from the Central African Republic, one Congolese, and five Cameroonians). <i>[Novices are men in their first year of studies to be priests for a religious order/congregation, such as this group of men who are with the Missionaries of the Sacred Hearts.]</i> Since I didn't have any regular commitments yet, I agreed and for probably 3 months now, every Monday I walk across the street to teach from 8:30-9:30 pm.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front: Shadrach, Archange, me, Fidele, Wilfred, Gustin, Albert<br />In back: Gideon, Ivan</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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It is such a joy for me. Sometimes I feel lazy and hope that when I ring the bell at the gate, no one will answer so I can go home and have a free evening. That doesn't happen, though; the door in the gate opens and I am greeted by Gustin, Albert, Ivan, Fidele, Gideon, Archange, Shadrach, or Wilfred and I instantly feel happy to be there. I walk into the classroom and some of the men are waiting at their desks for me; we greet each other, ask about the week, and soon the last man arrives.<br />
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Since I'm not an English teacher by profession, I'm making up the lessons as I go. I use grammar books I borrowed from the school library to get an idea of what I should teach first and how to teach it. I'm grateful for the books and the grammar section in my English-French dictionary because they clue me in to the rules of the English language, things I might have learned in school 20-25 years ago but have long since forgotten. Now I don't remember many of the rules; I just know what sounds right when speaking or writing, which doesn't help a ESL learner learn (such as why some simple present verbs end in an "s" and some don't, as in the example, "I like" and "he likes").<br />
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Anyway, the topics aren't the reason why I'm writing this entry. It's to share what a joy it is to have the opportunity to teach them and to become a part of their community and them a part of mine. What I love about being them is watching them razz each other about all sorts of things, listening to them laugh (often), seeing their kindness towards me and their brotherhood with each other. I always come home from teaching them filled with joy and contentment. I also occasionally attend Mass in English on Tuesday mornings at their house and I smile to hear them say the words of the Mass in English (the fruits of our first lessons together) and to watch them play their instruments and sing songs of praise. They get so into it. I already know that when I look back on my time in Rwanda, I will fondly remember my one hour a week with the novices and then I'll laugh. They always make me laugh. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZ1cOqwYmhvPZ5eEe3fITvo_haFPl0KsBOqpuohbjJeZZ8Zc6Z5JI3NnslaHf7Pp0rj4Pbv9vj_gvvinuTj1G0cfceYX7d0EXU0Khipi1FoHwTxejd9J0XHQHVsRGuqorEfHDpwIRXOYD/s1600/Fidele%2527s+birthday+%252819%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJZ1cOqwYmhvPZ5eEe3fITvo_haFPl0KsBOqpuohbjJeZZ8Zc6Z5JI3NnslaHf7Pp0rj4Pbv9vj_gvvinuTj1G0cfceYX7d0EXU0Khipi1FoHwTxejd9J0XHQHVsRGuqorEfHDpwIRXOYD/s320/Fidele%2527s+birthday+%252819%2529.JPG" width="240" /></a>Here is an example of how they have become a part of my community and me a part of theirs. Last Monday we were talking about the months of the year and I had them tell me when their birthdays are so they could practice saying dates in English. Fidele said his was Dec. 10, which was the very next day. I asked the other men if they were going to do anything special for Fidele, like have a birthday cake or a party. They started joking about having nothing special and in fact, they were only going to drink water (see what I mean about razzing each other?!). I decided that I would make the day special for him so the following day, Fidele's birthday, I made a cake and arranged with another one of the novices for my roommate and I to come over at the end of dinner to surprise Fidele with it. It turns out he was the one to open the door for us so we shooed him away, put the candle in the cake, and walked into the dining room singing Happy Birthday. Soon the dispersed novices were all gathered in the room, joining us as we sang Happy Birthday in many languages, and Fidele blew out his first ever birthday cake candle. He's had birthday cakes before but never with a candle. Needless to say, he was really touched (and soon covered with flour, courtesy of the other novices) and Rita and I spent 2.5 hours laughing and eating with him and the rest of the novices. I plan to continue the tradition of honoring each of their birthdays with a cake.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The garden on November 18</td></tr>
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Before I end this post, I wanted to include a quick garden update because I was looking at last month's pictures and I can't believe how much the garden has grown. Here is one of the pictures taken November 18 that made it into an earlier post. The corn is so small. There's a lot of soil showing. Then the picture from five days ago shows a radical transformation. The corn stalks are huge (some are taller than me) and growing extra support/stabilizing fingers near the base. The lettuce grows faster than we can eat it. The carrot tops are full. The onion tops stand a foot high. The cucumbers have climbed high up the sticks I imbedded next to them and tomorrow I'll pick off the first cucumber. A few days ago we cut the first mystery gourd but have yet to cut it open. I think it will be time to harvest the red beans soon. It truly is amazing to see how fast and big everything can grow with just sunlight, water, and soil nutrients.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The garden on December 10</td></tr>
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Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-44728970155239061262013-11-30T10:03:00.001+02:002013-11-30T10:53:37.435+02:00Pilgrimage, Birthday, and Thanksgiving All Wrapped into One<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's always interesting to be in a foreign land on such a big American holiday as Thanksgiving and one's birthday, but since that is often the case with me, I try to make the best of it by gathering whatever friends I can for a Thanksgiving feast and doing something special for my birthday. This year, definitely the most "foreign land" I've ever been in for the two occasions, did not disappoint.</div>
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This year my birthday fell on Thanksgiving. It was also the 32nd anniversary of the first appearance of Mary to a high school girl in Kibeho, Rwanda. November 28 was also when the director of Fidesco (who lives in France) was going to visit the volunteers in Butare with his wife. It was a quadrifecta of events to celebrate, all on one day. This was definitely going to be a birthday/Thanksgiving to remember and it began with a pilgrimage to Kibeho.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My pilgrimage partner, Paul</td></tr>
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I first heard of Our Lady of Kibeho (whose appearance over many months to three girls has been recognized by experts and which predicted the horrors of the genocide if people did not soften their hearts) through Fr. Dave Nix when he called to wish me happy birthday three years ago. He encouraged me to look up the history of the apparitions since I share a birthday with the feast day of Our Lady of Kibeho. I eventually bought and read a book about the apparitions when I heard a genocide survivor speak in MN. That was years before I knew I would be sent to Rwanda with Fidesco. Coincidence? I think not. I believe Our Lady of Kibeho, who called herself the "Mother of the Word" when she appeared, had a hand in bringing me to Rwanda, especially since I live only 18 miles (30 km) from Kibeho. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7U61aE2eFalXsLnFvY3RTYxF4Ruxf3t7xKS_Q7ErJKBJjDJ5l1Ym7eXs03WcOp_5xqyt7paDXxs0kZuNiiMZ4DTe5Fa8sBZHwbitPLhSr5KptO3STgezDIAosLx_BJQjCm4gxvwXRssA6/s1600/Kibeho+Eve+%288%29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7U61aE2eFalXsLnFvY3RTYxF4Ruxf3t7xKS_Q7ErJKBJjDJ5l1Ym7eXs03WcOp_5xqyt7paDXxs0kZuNiiMZ4DTe5Fa8sBZHwbitPLhSr5KptO3STgezDIAosLx_BJQjCm4gxvwXRssA6/s320/Kibeho+Eve+%288%29.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Vigil Mass with the Chapel of the Seven Sorrows<br />
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In thanksgiving for my mission in Rwanda and my life, I decided to go on pilgrimage to Kibeho for the feast day. I really wanted to walk the 18 miles to Kibeho (the average long day on the Camino de Santiago de Compostella which I walked three years ago) on the 27th and then spend the night there to be there on the 28th. As Nov. 27 approached, I had two problems: no one to walk with and no rooms at the hospitality houses. Hmmm, what to do? I decided to catch a ride with a priest if I didn't have anyone to walk with (pay attention, my relatives, who think I'm reckless) and spend my night in the church along with other pilgrims who didn't have a place to stay. It wouldn't be comfortable, but at least I would have a roof over my head.<br />
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Well, thanks to God's providential timing, I was able to walk to Kibeho and have a bed to sleep in. What great birthday gifts! A Colorado girl, who works with Mother Teresa's sisters in Kigali, happened to meet an American Air Force engineer who was traveling to Kibeho for the feast day too. She told him about me and said I was looking for someone to walk with, so Paul, even though he arrived in Kibeho on the 26th, took a bus back to Butare on the morning of the 27th so I could have someone to walk with. He also offered me his room at the pilgrims' house and volunteered to sleep outside, which he didn't end up having to do because he roomed with two Emmanuel Community/Fidesco men from Kigali who were staying at the same place. What a gentleman! </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8JB5MPGGxyJqJcu0cOoVQH0NjjuKW-0cADswoAGDo5Mui_DI581aLpGJ63vetmnhOV-DhkTixt9We8jDIv3yMsMFfSDY6CBEPlgLJ3dWJ_7MNqQphyL7d_FQmFwUC4bC6foVDGP8md1K/s1600/Kibeho+Feast+Day.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi8JB5MPGGxyJqJcu0cOoVQH0NjjuKW-0cADswoAGDo5Mui_DI581aLpGJ63vetmnhOV-DhkTixt9We8jDIv3yMsMFfSDY6CBEPlgLJ3dWJ_7MNqQphyL7d_FQmFwUC4bC6foVDGP8md1K/s320/Kibeho+Feast+Day.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Fidesco/Emmanuel group with Anathalie, the visionary</td></tr>
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The pilgrimage was great. My legs were super sore after walking 18 miles without much physical preparation, but the walk was worth it. Sometimes children walked along with us. There were green hills and valleys at which to look. There were a few other pilgrim groups to share the journey with, even if we didn't speak the same language. Once in Kibeho, there was the vigil Mass the night before the 28th and the 11 am on the day of the feast. Many people were at the shrine and as the Fidesco director's wife pointed out, there were so many colors in the crowd, meaning the colorful skirts that the women wear in Africa. There was good food at the Cana Center where all of us stayed. There was a meeting with one of the three visionaries who saw Mary so many years ago. She wasn't able to say much because she spoke so much the day before and is often sick (Mary told her that if she accepted, she would have many sufferings to offer up for the salvation of souls), but we prayed together. The Kenyans, who shared the breakfast table with Paul and I on the 28th, sang me Happy Birthday in the Kenyan English way, which is different than the American song.<br />
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The Mass for the feast day of Mary, Mother of the Word, or Our Lady of Kibeho, was full of interesting sights and things to ponder. First, the gospel reading was from John 1, which is all about Jesus being "the Word" which came down from heaven. I thought that choice for the Gospel for the feast of Our Lady of Kibeho was very telling. I know some of you who read this blog are Protestant and probably wonder why we Catholics spend so much time loving Mary, but this feast shows that when Mary appears in the world, it's to help people love and know her Son better. People were drawn to Kibeho on the 28th because Mary appeared there, but once she gets us there, the Mass calls us to mediate on Jesus who is the Word. The Word that created the universe. The Word that gives us life. The Word that heals us (I think of the line in Mass which says, "Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say <i>the word</i> and my soul say be healed." After the feast day, the meaning is different for me: "Only say <i>Jesus, who is the Word, </i>and my soul shall be healed"). Another interesting thing was when the bread and wine are presented to the bishop in the middle of the Mass. This part of the Mass is called the "presentation of the gifts" and it's a time when all of us in the congregation are supposed to place our spiritual, physical, mental, etc. sacrifices before the Lord along with the bread and wine. At this Mass, though, people brought literal gifts to the altar, just like in the Old Testament. People brought sacks of potatoes, buckets of laundry detergent, mops; you name it, they brought it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the gifts brought before the altar</td></tr>
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Lastly, at the end of Mass there was the blessing of religious articles and water. When Mary would appear, she would bless buckets of water that were in front of the visionaries and then the visionaries would walk through the crowd sprinkling the people. Sometimes the visionaries would even tell Mary that the people were thirsty and needed water and then it would begin to rain. Luckily we didn't get rained on the entire pilgrimage, but the priests did walk through the crowd sprinkling holy water on everyone and the jugs of water they held up. Here is a link to a video I posted on YouTube of the crowd praising during the song of thanksgiving after communion: <span class="watch-page-link"><a href="http://youtu.be/pmBqWkFbpAs" target="_blank">http://youtu.be/pmBqWkFbpAs</a></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner</td></tr>
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After the religious celebrations, I caught a ride back to Butare with the Fidesco Kigali team and started preparing Thanksgiving dinner. Because this post is getting long winded, I'll make this part short. Rita and I had the French volunteers in town, the international director and his wife, the French volunteer in Kigali, and the Rwandan Fidesco employee to our house for Thanksgiving dinner. We made stuffing with dried sausage, mashed potatoes without gravy, green bean casserole, corn fritters, and sweet potato pie. You'll note the absence of turkey. No day-after turkey sandwiches for me. Dried cream of mushroom soup and homemade fried onions went into the casserole. One can of corn went into the fritters, which cost less than having enough canned corn for creamed corn. Sweet potato pie is dense, but it turned out perfectly. Segolene, the French mom, made a carrot orange cake, which became my birthday day loaded with candles. Her children drew pictures for me as birthday gifts and Segolene and Rita gave me a skirt that is just my style. It was definitely a birthday and Thanksgiving I'll never forget.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">31 years old!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweet potato pie</td></tr>
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<br />Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645023314667650439.post-30826225816847859482013-11-24T15:34:00.000+02:002013-11-24T15:34:15.296+02:00Happy early Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since I don't know if I will access the internet before Thursday, I wanted to take the opportunity to wish all of you a happy and blessed Thanksgiving. <br />
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I am thankful for your support of my Rwandan mission, either through the prayers many of you offer for me and the people I work with, your financial contributions to Fidesco, the packages and letters you send me, or all of the above. I remarked to my roommate recently that I receive more cards, packages, and emails from my family and friends while I am in Rwanda than I ever have and I am grateful to you for the love and care you show me (and the students with your books and craft items). As I said in my fundraising letter, I really do want you to share in the mission with me and many of you are doing that by supporting me.<br />
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I want you to know that your lives, needs, and concerns aren't forgotten by me either. I might not know what they are, but many times a week I am praying for your intentions. I've taken up the habit of praying the rosary while I walk around town and one of my five regular intentions (one intention for each mystery of Jesus' life) is for "the family and friends I left back home and the intentions of my benefactors." Since I walk into town often, that means I'm praying for your intentions regularly, just as you pray for me.<br />
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As for what my Thanksgiving will look like, it definitely won't be like home. I plan to spend the morning in Kibeho, which is 30 km (18 miles) away and is the place where Mary appeared to some high school girls in the 1980s. Thursday is the 32nd anniversary of her first appearance, exactly one year before I was born, so I will join thousands of other pilgrims at the Shrine of Our Lady of Kibeho to celebrate her feast day, my birthday, and Thanksgiving. In the afternoon I'll return to Butare and will have dinner with the Fidesco volunteers in town, as well as the Fidesco director and his wife who are visiting the country. If we go out to eat, I'll make a sweet potato dessert of some sort to have the Thanksgiving-themed dish. If we eat at the French family's house, I will prepare some traditional dishes, such as mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and perhaps stuffing. No turkey, though. I haven't seen any in the country.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating with the MN Emmanuel Community in 2011</td></tr>
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<br />Heather Q.http://www.blogger.com/profile/17058178090483015151noreply@blogger.com0