The Words of the Mass in Kinyarwanda

For 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.
 *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.

In the name of the Father...
Kw'Izina ry'Imana Data, na Mwana, na Roho Mutagatifu.  Amina.

And with your spirit.
Nawe kandi muhorane.

I confess to almighty God...
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.

Lord, have mercy.  Christ, have mercy.  Lord, have mercy.
Nyagasani, utubabarire.  Kristu, utubabarire.  Nyagasani, utubabarire.

Thanks be to God.
Dushimiye Imana.

And with your spirit.
Nawe kandi muhorane.
Glory to you, O Lord.
Nahabwe Ikuzo Nyagasani.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
Haragasingizwa Kristu.

Blessed be God forever.
Imana Iragasingizwa Iteka.

May the Lord accept this sacrifice at your hands...
Nyagasani, akira igitambo tuguhereje mubiganza byawe kiguheshe ikuzo n'igisingizo, kandi kitugirire akamaro kandi kikagirire kiliziya yose Ntagatifu.

And with your spirit.
Nawe kandi muhorane.
We lift them up to the Lord.
Tuyerekeje kuli Nyagasani.
It is right and just.
Birakwiye kandi biratunganya.

Holy, holy, holy...
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.

We proclaim your death...
Turamamaza Uruphu rwawe Nyagasani, tukaramya n'Izuka ryawe, kugeza igihe uzagaru kan'Ikuzo.

Our Father, who art in heaven... 

Dawe uri mu ijuru, Izina ryawe ryubahwe, ingoma yawe yogere hose.  Icyo ushaka gikorwe mu nsi nk’uko gikorwa mu ijuru.  Ifunguro ridutunga uriduhe none; utubabarire ibicumuro byacu, nk’uko natwe tubabarira abaducumuyeho; ntudutererane mu bitwoshya, ahubwo udukize icyago.  Amina.

For the kingdom...
Kuko ubwami, ububasha, n'Ikuzo ali ibyawe Nyagasani, iteka ryose.  Amina.

And with your spirit.
Urabihorane nawe.  (It sounds to me in the Mass like the people uses a different first word)
Peace be with you.
Amahoro ya Kristu.
Likewise.
Urayahorane nawe.

Lamb of God...
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, utubabarire (or tugirire imbabazi).
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, utubabarire (or tugirire imbabazi).
Ntama w'Imana, wowe ukiza ibyaha by'abantu, Yezu uduhe amahoro.

Lord, I am not worthy...
Nyagasani, sinkwiye ko winjira mumuti ma wanjye ahubwo uvuge ijambo rimwe gusa, mbone gukira.  Amina.

And with your spirit.
Nawe kandi muhorane.

Thanks be to God.
Dushimiye Imana.

As you might have picked up by deduction, here are some religious vocabulary words.
Data - Father
Imana - God
Mwana - Son
Nyagasani - Lord
Yezu Kristu - Jesus Christ
Roho Mutagatifu - Holy Spirit
Prefix+tagatifu - Holy or Saint
Amahoro - peace
Utubabarire - have mercy on us.

Pisuri

This 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.

Front row: vicar general of the congregation, a new deacon,
the bishop, the new priest, a new deacon.

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.

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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?

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. 

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?"

What Life is Like for Other Fidesco Volunteers and My Easter in Rwanda

Pasika Nziza!  That means "Happy Easter" in Kinyarwanda.

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. 

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.

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.

Left to right: me, Quentin, Timothee, Jeremie, Sabine, Rita

Clowning around

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.

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.

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. 

Blessings on the rest of your Easter season!

Ah, Mexican food...

When people ask me about life in Rwanda, I tell them that there are many great elements of life here.  

• I usually get enough exercise  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.   
• Except for bread, porridge, Quaker oats, pasta, and flour, nothing is processed.  Everything is fresh and made from scratch.  The bread is freshly baked.  I eat lettuce and spinach harvested from our garden and avocados pulled from the school's trees.  I drink herbal teas made from lemongrass and mint, which are also taken from the garden.  I definitely get my daily recommended serving of fruits and vegetables each day.
• The landscape is beautiful.  Green rolling hills, oftentimes terraced with fields.  Blue sky with white, puffy clouds.  Rainstorms that roll in and fill buckets of water in less than 10 minutes.  Tropical flowers, like hibiscus, that grow year-round.  Lake Kivu surrounded by hills.  Wow!  The natural scenery of Rwanda is hard to beat.
• I live 5 minutes from a church that has two Masses a day and there is a chapel just next door to my house.   
• 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.  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.

One thing that is missing, though, is food diversity.  As a native Californian, I love ethnic (even if it's Americanized) food: Mexican, Chinese, Italian, Indian, etc.  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.  After some trial and error, I finally made a Mexican meal yesterday that was delicious!  If you want to try your hand making Mexican soft-shell tacos from scratch with Rwandan-only ingredients, here you go:

FLOUR TORTILLAS

INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups flour
• 2 tsp. baking powder

• 1/2 - 1 tsp. salt

• 1/4 c. oil

• 2 c. warm water

• 4 c. flour

PREPARATION

• Mix together flour, baking powder, and salt.  Make a well and add oil mixed with water.  Add flour.
• Mix and knead, then let sit for 5 minutes.  Make small balls, then roll them out with a rolling pin.
• Put it in a really hot skillet for a couple minutes on each side.

SPANISH RICE

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons oil 2 tablespoons chopped onion 1 1/2 cups uncooked white rice

2 cups chicken broth 1 cup chunky salsa = 1 cup tomato sauce, 2 diced tomatoes, 1 tsp chili powder

Directions:

1.	Heat oil in a large, heavy skillet over medium heat. Stir in onion, and cook until tender, about 5 minutes.
2.	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.

QUACAMOLE

Ingredients:

2 avocados 1 small onion, finely chopped 1 clove garlic, minced

1 ripe tomato, chopped 1 lemon, juiced salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1.

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.

BLACK BEANS
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 for ~ 1 1/2 hours.  Serve without the juice.


Put everything together in the tortillas, along with shredded cheese, and voila, tacos that remind me of home!

An earlier attempt using corn-crepe tortillas and no guacamole.

Kibuye and Gisenyi - Two lake side towns with different feels

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.

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.

 

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 sambaza, 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.  

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.

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.

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.

Our boat is the one in the background painted with the Rwandan colors: green, yellow, and blue

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.

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!

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.

 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. 

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.

Photos from the Prayer Group's Pilgrimage to Kibeho

I never got an official count, but there were ~ 33 of us on the pilgrimage,
mostly from the university Emmanuel Cty prayer group

Gazing at the hills of Rwanda never gets old

Singing, praying, talking.  These things kept us busy during the 7 hour walk to Kibeho.
A video of our entertainment during the walk: http://youtu.be/-sHRBqJPJQY

Our group was quite an attraction for local children during our lunch break

Some of my brothers from the prayer group: Onesphore, d'Amour, and Didace

Roomies!

Another photo of the Rwandan countryside, this time with fields in the valley

Children start working young in this country.  They're carrying water.

Tea fields

The Fidesco volunteers of Rwanda.  Never mind my outfit.  I know it's hideous.

Most of the group on the last afternoon of the pilgrimage

Jesus, I trust in you!

Holy cow, it's been a long time since I last wrote!

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?

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.

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. 

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.

The King Cake

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!

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.

My welcoming team the night I arrived in Butare on the bus

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.

Birthday presents from the des Horts' kids

One final picture before saying goodbye

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.