Days Off: July 1st and 2nd

This weekend we had a few days off—which was fun! We have been here long enough now that we all had ideas of what we wanted to do. Kigali no longer intimidated us. Motos no longer intimidated us — most of the time. Despite that fact that these were days with no prior obligations, we still managed to fill them up with things to do.

On Friday, myself, Jessica, Stina, Rachel, and our program assistant coordinator, Gina, checked out the Marche de Kimironko, which is in the eastern part of Kigali, and a bigger market than our little East African market that is found at the city center, close to St. Paul’s. We were bartering like pros! After that successful shopping trip, we took motos to O Sole Luna — an Italian restaurant. There, we splurged on pizzas, calzones, salads, and ice cream! Oh, it was a great meal. We then took motos back to St. Paul’s, where we rested up before going out for the evening.

At this point in my trip, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve gained valuable experience as a moto rider — I have taken them quite a bit in the last week.

Wearing a helmet--safety first!

That evening all the International delegates, and a few of the Rwandan delegates, headed over to Ishyo for a dance and theatre performance. For those of you who don’t know, GYC pairs up with grassroots human rights organizations in Rwanda for every delegation. For this delegation we have paired up with seven organizations, and Ishyo is the organization that I chose to work with. Its motto is “culture for everyone;” it focuses on cultural promotion in Rwanda through the arts, especially through theatre, dance, and music. I’ve already worked at Ishyo a couple days during my stay here, and my last day is today. (But I’ll tell you more about my work with them later.) The dance performance focused on the representation of mental health, specifically relating to African’s struggles with mental health. The theatre performance that followed was called Sky Like Sky, which discussed the relationship between woman and nation. The dance performance was very powerful; it consisted of three Rwandese men performing both traditional and contemporary dance. They wore loose-fitting pants, and various parts of their bodies were wrapped in bright orange cloth, which gave the feeling of restriction or imprisonment. At one point, a slideshow of pictures lit up an otherwise dark performance space. One of the dancers walked between the rows of the audience with a lantern. He spoke of how Africa is viewed by parts of the world as “The Dark Continent;” he spoke in both English and French. At one point he raised his voice as he shouted “Why, why, why? Por quoi, por quoi, por quoi?”

Sky Like Sky provided a mix of light and heavy subject matter. It was performed by both Rwandese and American women. It referenced both contemporary and traditional culture; both American and Rwandese culture. One of the questions it seemed to ask was how women come into a sense of their nationality, and how this helps to form their identity. A scene that was depicted multiple times — that stood out to me in particular — was a woman coming through US Customs as an agent shouts questions to her: Are you a terrorist? Do you have a boyfriend? What is his name? Is he a terrorist? Do you have AIDS? Do you have religion? Do you…Do you…Do you…

After these two performances, I didn’t stay out long because a few of us woke up at 3 am (!!!) in order to go on a safari on Saturday. I went with Rachel, Angie, and Cece, as well as with Rachel’s homestay brother, Phillipe, and Phillipe’s friend, who drove us in his hardcore jeep. We went to Akagera National Park, which is along the eastern border of Rwanda. This area is much flatter than the rest of the country, but even so we found ourselves scaling a few massive hill-mountains.

A sign at Akagera National Park. Good to know...

So we woke up at 3, left at 4:30 am (in Rwanda, leaving at 4 actually means leaving a half hour later), and slept for most of the 2 hour ride. We had a breakfast of biscuits and water, and arrived in Akagera around 7 — apparently an almost-perfect time to see animals! At the entrance to the park we picked up our guide, Samuel. We saw giraffes, zebras, a warthog, the top of a hippo’s head, a baboon, monkeys, antelope, water buffalo, and all sorts of birds. We drove around for a little over four hours, and at the end of the safari Angie and I whipped up some PB & Js for everyone from the back seat of the car. It was a great day. I’m glad I decided to wake up and go!

The safari group: our guide, Samuel, Angie, Rachel, Cece, myself, and our driver!

Our beautiful view of Akagera from early morning.

Angie and I fighting off--or hiding from--the massive safari flies. We weren't so successful!

June 27th: Kiziba Refugee Camp

On Monday last week, we went to Kiziba Refugee Camp, which is about an hour outside of Karongi. It was one of three site visits people in our program could choose between. The other two options were going to a nearby village (The indigenous population that lives there was previously referred to as the Twa, and are still referred to as the Potter’s Community, although many in the community desire to simply be called Rwandans.), or to the police station in Karongi, to examine conditions for prisoners detained there.

I chose to visit the refugee camp because I was curious to see what living conditions were like for such a substantial population that apparently lives in very impermanent conditions. Because I’m studying global health at school, I was also interested to see what health conditions were like at Kiziba.

Kizaba Refugee Camp has existed since 1996, and many residents have lived there for the entire 15 years of the camp’s existence. Almost 19,000 people live on the camp’s 27 acres, and the people who live here have been displaced from the Democratic Republic of Congo. At least 60% of the population is youth (ages 14-35), though some estimates we heard are higher. 4,000 children are primary-age students. Kiziba has one general practitioner, one surgeon, and one hospital to service the entire population. Many surgeries can’t be done at the camp however, so patients have to go outside the camp to receive adequate medical care in many instances. Families receive rations of food every month. 205 young women are supported by ADRA/the Buffet Foundation to go outside the camp in order to pursue higher education.

The view of and from Kiziba Refugee Camp.

                The road to get to Kiziba wasn’t paved, and it wasn’t in very good condition; in general, the camp seems pretty isolated from other communities in the area. Our mini-bus was stopped at the entrance to the camp, and security seemed pretty tight. We later found out that security is self-implemented by the camp—not by the Rwandan government. This seems problematic to me, with such a large population in such tight quarters.

                Once we got through security and into the camp, we waited while Jesse set-up a meeting with some of the local leaders. We met with a representative of the Rwandan Ministry who is involved with Kiziba, the president of the camp, and the youth program facilitator. During this meeting, we were given some of the basic facts about Kiziba, as well as the most common problems that the camp faces. One of the major issues surrounding Kiziba is its very existence. As a refugee camp, Kiziba is meant to be a transitional, safe place for people who have been forced to flee the DRC. However, Kiziba has existed for 15 years — lives have begun, ended, and been established there. Despite the purpose of what a refugee camp is supposed to be, people’s lives have taken on a disturbing permanence there — their lives are constantly, indefinitely in limbo. We also received conflicting opinions from both camp leaders and people who live in the camp; some said that the refugees’ ultimate goal was to be able to return to the DRC one day, while others said that they wanted to become fully integrated into Rwandan society. Both these options are currently impossible for the residents there.

                After this meeting, we left to walk around the camp a little bit. First, we stopped by the hospital. There were a lot of people waiting outside, and many more who were waiting in an open, roofed structure. Conditions didn’t seem great; however people seemed like they were receiving medical care.  The two medical care providers are supported by the UN.

                We left the hospital and were on our way to the market, when the primary school either let out for the day, or went on break. Oh my! The stampede started with a handful of children running up to us. They stood around us and yelled, “Muzungo! Muzungo!” Many of them practiced their English on us, saying “Good morning!” and “How are you?” I’ve never been asked my name or where I’m from so many times in my life! As we stood there longer, the crowd of young students got bigger and bigger. It was literally a sea of blue uniforms. There were so many kids that we had trouble walking, and our group couldn’t stick together. It became an overwhelming situation very quickly! Luckily a few of the guys we came with helped pull us through the crowd.

Children everywhere!

                After the stampede fiasco, we went to the house of the youth program facilitator, where we met with some young men in the camp. During this visit, we were offered brochette and Fanta (the generic name for soda pop here). This gesture was very kind and humbling, considering the amount of need that is present at Kiziba.

He liked having his picture taken!

                The young man I met with was 21, and he had lived in the camp since its creation in 1996. He finished senior 3 (the third out of six years of high school) in 2009, but has no way to finish his education because the Rwandan government stops funding the education of refugee children after senior 3. Because refugees can’t own land outside the camp — or even leave Kiziba without permission — it is difficult for families to generate income to pay for education or basic needs. This man I met with said that he feels like his life has stopped; he can’t return to his old home, he can’t establish a new home in Rwanda, and he can’t continue his education. We were told that because people’s lives feel stunted, drug abuse is a problem in the camp. The organization ADRA (Adventist Development and Relief Agency) supports some young women from the camp to continue their education, but in a place where need is across the board (as opposed to being isolated to certain demographic groups), does this really help the residents of Kiziba camp? The young men we met with expressed their frustration and sorrow at being discriminated against, at having no hope or motivation to continue schooling simply because of their gender.

                This made me think about aid, or what we often consider to be “humanitarian work”—and what is one of the biggest critiques of organizations and people who try to help communities by offering aid. Often, the western world has a view of what help is needed in developing communities. We go into a community and drop money, drop scholarships, and drop projects — but do we provide communities with what they really need, or what we think they need? At Kiziba, young women have the opportunity to continue their education, but are they really any more disadvantaged than the young men in the camp? I can’t answer that question because I was at Kiziba for a day. But I hope ADRA did enough research on this community to be able to answer that question.

                Basic needs, such as food, are also a problem there. The young man I met with said that each person is allotted 11 kg of beans and maize each month, and that oftentimes this small amount of food is expired when it is distributed. Additional food is sold in the market, and is brought in by people who live outside of the camp. In order to supply other basic needs, such as clothes and hygiene products, these rations must be sold to others within the camp.

                After listening to this young man for a while, it was his turn to ask me a question. He asked if I had any advice to give him to help with his schooling. At first I was confused by the question, but then I realized that he was looking for me to give him a solution. I marched into this camp, walked around for a while, listened to him tell me how hard his life is, how hopeless it seems. And now, what? He wanted me to change something for him, to give him some piece of advice or help in exchange for his story — and I couldn’t do that. What can I say or do that will make a difference for him? Instead, I talk with him for a while — let him pour out his story to me — and then I go back to Centre Bethanie, where I feel safe and have a meal waiting. Two weeks later I will be home in America, where my needs have always been met in excess. And his story saddens me, but my life will move forward and he will still be…waiting.

***

This article has been on my mind a lot since I've been here. How do you write about anywhere, in the context of a country, a history, a continent?

http://www.granta.com/Magazine/92/How-to-Write-about-Africa/Page-1


For those who don't know a lot about the conflict in DRC (like myself), here are some key events in the country's history:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/1072684.stm

He didn't want to tell me his name--but he did want to hold my hand!