Visit from a Rwandan Refugee and Friend

Hello everyone,

When I was in Kenya in the spring, I was able to meet Venant, the refugee that my church, St. Ignatius, is trying to sponsor. Venant escaped to Kenya from Rwanda. His story is a fascinating one, one that reveals that God's hand was on him as he journeyed. God's hand is still upon him, blessing him with miracles. He let us know that he would be in Canada and that he would be able to spend the weekend with those he had met or been corresponding with. We were blessed with his presence and after a whirlwind visit he has returned to Kenya. Keep him in prayers as he has been called for his interview by the Canadian embassy. In the photo below, his new friends pray over him before he leaves. May God who is gracious do the best thing for Venant.

amani,

Suzanne

Hello Friends,

It has been awhile since I posted anything on the blog and I decided to take a moment to update you.

This summer I took a course by Piet Miering, a man who served on the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) during Apartheid. It was a fascinating class, linking the Indian Residential Schools TRC here in Canada to what happened in South Africa. I learned a lot and appreciated studying more about Africa. I handed in my paper for my practicum and so am officially closing the door on that credit. I had a chance to visit with Bridget, Zachee and Tim in Ontario this summer and it was lovely to see them again. It was the first time that Zachee and Tim were in Canada and, unfortunately, summer heat was scarce here at the time. Bridget, Tim and I sat outside having ice cream and I looked across at Tim only to see the poor boy’s teeth were chattering as he munched away on his cone. Yeesh!!

I also had the opportunity to be interviewed on Canadian Mennonite University’s radio station about my practicum. You can hear the interview by going to http://www.cmu.ca/. On the left hand side there is a tab News&Events. Click on it and go to Sunday at CMU. You want to listen to the September 13 program. I am near the end so you can fast forward it to the last 5 minutes of the program if you don’t want to sit through the preaching and songs.

I presented on my visits within the African Deaf Community a few weeks back at the Winnipeg Church of the Deaf and have been asked to present at a Tri-Church gathering in January which will hopefully raise some funds for the Deaf people I met in Burundi and Kenya.

In the next couple of weeks, a Rwandan refugee I met is arriving in Winnipeg if all goes well with his visa. His boss is allowing him to visit his friends here after he does some work in Montreal.

Check back occasionally, as I will update you from time to time on all things African in my life.

Be well.

Suzanne

Shining, Rising, Leaping

Pentecost 2009

Shine through me, Jesus, and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel your presence in my soul. Let them look up and see no longer me but only Jesus! ~ Cardinal Newman

We are called to be leaven—that which brings something to life. ~ Fr. Brian Massie, sj

Dear Friends,

I find it hard to believe that I have been back in Canada eight weeks or so. I arrived home for Easter celebrations and, as I write this, it is now Pentecost. The Easter season is complete. Some days Africa seems only a distant memory; other days if I close my eyes, I can feel the warmth of the sun bearing down on me as if I am still there.

My adjustment back to life in Winnipeg has been mixed. I have so much to process still and much to grow into understanding in the years to come. Fr. Brian Massie, my former pastor, posted a comment on my blog early on, “Follow that star…and who knows what road will take you back.” He was right, as he so often was. I don’t know what road has taken me back or where exactly it is leading me. My re-entry was interrupted a few weeks later by Fr. Brian’s death. He and I worked closely together on a number of projects and though we were an unlikely pair to become friends, we did. He was a diamond in the rough—a man who had fought alcoholism and won, a priest who had ministered to death row inmates in Jamaica, a pastor who came cussing and sharing ideas about Catholicism that drew much fire. Lots of people left the parish and others arrived in droves. For those who did not attempt to understand his style or beliefs, they missed a wonderful opportunity. He and I did not always agree but he was my mentor, my teacher, my healer, and my cheerleader. Everyone should have someone in their life that shakes them up just slightly so that ideals and convictions become clearly known. Everyone should also have someone who believes in you on a level that is hard to describe. He led numerous people to a place of healing of wounds inflicted by the Catholic church and helped us find a comfortable home again in the pews. He encouraged me to step out and find my voice…and find it I did, in new and remarkable ways, in a Church where women’s voices have long been silenced. For that I will be ever grateful. In this unlikely servant, I did recognize the face of Christ, and he called all of us to be that face as well.

As I reflect upon these two major life events in 2009, I see that both the life of Fr. Brian and my African Adventure have me longing to be more of a healing presence in this world. In my final debrief with staff in Kenya, I was told that I had managed to heal them as well as the people with whom we worked. This revelation startled me but I realized that I had prayed that I would be the Light of Christ to the people I would meet. I just was so unaware of what I was doing and how powerfully this prayer came true. In fact, my supervisor said that I had been the star intern. Little did she know the impact of those words. That having left on the Feast of Epiphany, I had tried to follow the star. I had never expected to become the star—the star that would lead others to Christ’s gentle healing. I am humbled by this concept and struggle to embrace its full meaning for me.

I count many African memories as cherished. The most difficult event has turned out to be the most life changing for me. I was caught in a riot in DR Congo and had to remain in my hotel room for almost 20 hours. There will always be people who will tell you that one person cannot make a difference. I beg to differ. I will never forget how my colleague courageously stepped out onto our hotel balcony the morning after the rampage and called quietly down to the soldier who was yelling he was going to kill the teenager he held and that other soldiers should do the same to show the townspeople that they could not riot like they had. She spoke words of truth and sensibility to him and then slipped back into our room. The military soon exited. Elizabeth was definitely leaven that day. What could have turned into a bloodbath became relatively calm. It was not the end of the kafuffle but it did change the course of the day and saved many lives.

I met incredible people of faith whose lives have been far from ideal yet they maintain a deep sense of joy and hope. A lesson waits there for me to live fully into. I saw magnificent landscapes and animals that lead me back to trusting my strongly held conviction that God exists. The sunrises on the Indian Ocean, the giraffes galloping in the Maasai Mara, and the colourful floral sprinkled in the least likely places took my breath away. How could there not be a God? Yes, one could counter that the horrors of the genocides in Rwanda and Burundi, the atrocities currently occurring in DR Congo, and the violence in Kenya after the elections last year lead people to question the authority of a benevolent God. I don’t. In fact, having seen the works of those combating evil in our world and knowing they are firm in their beliefs as well, I cannot doubt and I will not stop trying to shine so that others will see Christ in action. A Light does shine in the darkness. Fr. Brian once said that if Jesus had known only the Light, he would have had trouble finding us in the dark. I am learning to live with both the Light and the dark parts of life: the pain and sorrow and joy and hope. I have excellent role models now in Africa whose life stories are beyond imagining, both in the brightest of Light and darkest of dark moments.

I am not sure where this turn in the road will lead me. I cannot see that far ahead. Faith is not something that gives you a road map, just the tools for walking with the pinpricks of Light for the journey. The partners in Central Africa would like me to come back and do a month-long training session for them. The Deaf Community in Burundi would certainly welcome me again. God willing, I will follow the star that has led me thus far. I pray for the grace to be open to all that will be. I also wish to be leaven—to bring to life the joys and hope that so many people here in the West struggle to find. We have so little to complain about and yet I know how easy it is to fall into that trap and whine about banal, trivial issues. Fr. Brian asked once during a homily, “What have you settled for?” I keep picking up those words now as I wonder where this road is leading. I don’t wish to settle. I long to take a quantum leap of faith and shout, “Your will be done! Make me shine. Make me leaven. Lead me on. May I be more fully Yours. May the world see You at Your brightest through me.” It is a scary leap that requires great courage…so maybe I will just try baby steps for now and know that God is still with me on the journey. God’s love and grace are sufficient while I continue moving in the direction of that guiding star that beckons me to follow, until at last, I can leap.

peace/amani/amahoro,

Suzanne

Most Holy of Nights

Tonight is the most holy of nights in the Catholic Church. It is with great joy that I have returned to my community for this celebration. The transition home has had a few bumps. I freaked out the first night trying to brush my teeth. I turned the tap on and then pulled my hand away, sure that I could not brush with the water that was coming out of the faucet. I also could not find my rear defroster on my car the first morning. I had to look for several minutes while trying to negotiate the morning rush hour roads at the same time. I could not remember the password to my blackberry so had to have it wiped clean and start again. I am not quite sure where I have put a number of things, including the keys to my desk at work and my cheque book. I am LOVING my hot showers in the morning and feel no guilt at the moment as I linger there. My body is sleeping well and suddenly I feel starved. I devoured most of the food at the family gathering yesterday, and this on a day of fasting. Sigh. I offer it all to God who certainly understands better than I do.

I went to Taize prayer last night at St. Benedict's Retreat Centre and sat before the cross in the dimly lit chapel. Adorned with purple pansies and candles, the cross stood simply and silently before me, a reminder of what I must embrace and how life is for so many people throughout our suffering world. I could hardly keep my eyes open at one point and was certain I might fall asleep. It was 4:00 am in Nairobi. I could not help but think of the apostles as they struggled to keep watch. During the intercessions, I prayed for war torn countries. The photo is taken in Kiyaya, near Uvira, at the partner's site, the day of the riot I lived through. I had sat that afternoon, unaware of what was to come, looking at this cross too, not understanding the cross I would take up that night and would carry in my memory for the rest of my life. Some people suffer tremendously in our world. I hope each of them will know the joy of the Resurrection as well. Tonight is a Holy Night. May I embrace it with wonder and awe as the Light of the World returns to set us free.

May each of you know the tremendous joy of this Holy Night and the freedom it brings to each one who is ready to receive it. Happy Easter!

peace,

Suzanne

Foot washing

I am now home over 48 hours and the Holy Triduum has begun. Upon my arrival home, I was asked to be one of the parishioners whose feet were washed in our Holy Thursday service . I was honoured. I have never had this done at this parish and as I watched the young deacon go through the first eleven representatives, I could see him sweating and I realized, once again, how difficult service is. To serve and to be served is not easy. I thought I might cry all the way through it but I did not. Instead I watched the washer as he gently washed each set of feet. I could not help but think how three weeks ago I wondered if my feet would ever be clean again. I understand the necessity for footwashing now on all kinds of levels. We need to let someone wash our feet once in awhile when we are in service mode as a gentle reminder that we are simply the vessel that allows God to move within our world. The footwashing was a wonderful completion of the circle that began with my missioning service.

The path to Calvary has begun and I walk it thoughtfully these days. I have so much more left to process but I have returned to work and so the rhthym of routine begins.

Amani,

Suzanne

Safe in Winnipeg

I have arrived safely in Winnipeg, where it is cool, but not cold, and patches of snow still sprinkle the ground. In some places, more than a patch of snow still stands, defying spring its welcome. Flights back were good and I had no trouble at the airport or immigration. I shuffled the contents of my bags at the airport and managed to avoid a weight charge. The man at the airport looked at my carry on baggage and let me through anyway with both pieces. Arriving in Winnipeg, I figured I was over the limit for expenditures and was honest about it. That immigration officer thought about it for a moment and then waved me on, without charging me.

My family greeted me at the airport and off we went for supper. I have a day to resettle and then I will be back at work on Thursday. I will do some postings in the coming while just to let you know where I am at as I transition to life here. I will also add some photos and videos so check the old postings if I won't be seeing you if you want.

amani,

Suz

Final Day in Nairobi

Love entails a breaking. This was the last line of this morning's Lenten meditation. I could feel the tears well up. I am not quite ready to leave here yet and the goodbyes are still hard. Already several people are saying how much they will miss me. I was certain the hard goodbyes were done but I realize it is the finality that accompanies today that makes every adieu difficult. I feel like I am leaving parts of my heart scattered across this region. I also know that several people are saddened at my departure and somehow I feel responsible for that pain. Love entails a breaking. I had prayed for people to see the face of Christ in me and for those whose hearts I have touched I know it is so. Christ must have broken many hearts this Holy Week as He said His goodbyes. I have much to consider as I walk towards Good Friday and Easter morning this year. May I embrace the breaking with which Love has abundantly lavished me.

amani,

Zanna

The Big Five and More!

Presider: God is good.
Congregation: All the time.
Presider: All the time.
Congregation: God is good!

Most Catholic Churches here in Kenya begin the mass this way and then conclude in a similar fashion with the announcements, read by a lay minister. God is good....all the time. I know that more than before. God has been faithful to your prayers and mine in ways we could never have expected or imagined.
The week has been a wee bit hectic. My quick trip to the coast was followed by a busy day in the office and then a jet away to the Masai Mara. The Mara was spectacular. Each game drive ended with an adventure. The first night we ended up visiting a pride of lions. The next morning it was a rhino. That evening, we chased down a cheetah. The next morning just when we thought we were done, our excellent driver William from Sarova Tent Camp, sped up. I held my breath. Did this mean we were about to check off the Big Five? The other passengers who were now my friends (two people from Turkey and two from England) were oblivious. Soon enough though, William confessed that we were on our way to see a leopard that was on the move so we had better hang on as he gunned it down the winding trails. We caught up to the cat which was stretched out sunning himself. Annoyed at the number of vehicles that had joined him, he sauntered off and hid in a thicket. We were beside ourselves though at having seen all that we wanted to. Elephants with babies, several prides of lions, giraffes, rhinos, hyenas, jackals, and various kinds of antelopes took our breath away. The stunning setting of the Mara is a perfect backdrop for the adventure, providing guests with awesome sunrises and sunsets, wide open spaces, and rolling hills. Jake, everyone in our jeep wants my photos so I cannot thank you enough for your recommendation of the camera.
I have been packing which is discouraging. I need to buy another suitcase which I was hoping to avoid but I have a few gifts that I have been given for some people in Canada. I was pretty proud of myself for buying small but thoughtful gifts for my family and friends. Oh well, I am giving some of my clothes away to the camp in DRC. There is always a trade off, I am learning.
I leave here Monday night and arrive in Winnipeg Tuesday afternoon. I am back at work on Thursday for a day-long meeting. I am not quite ready to leave here but do look forward to coming home again. Thanks for all your prayers. God really is good. I have been abundantly blessed.

Amani,

Suzanne

Beach Boys and Pastors

I was in the Mombasa area early this week. I stayed right on the Indian Ocean--if I threw a coconut I would hit the sea. Normally I love walking along the shore or out at low tide but these beach boys are really annoying. They do not give you much quiet time, even at 6:30 in the morning. What is the use of being at the ocean if you cannot hear yourself think???? I did not process my departure at all but I did soak in the sunrises and as much alone time as I could sneak in when someone was not offering to make a chocolate baby with me or attempting to sell me some sea shells.

The Hope For Kenya Forum was good. Pastors shared their stories of the church pre and post election. There is a great need to repent at actions that church members and pastors took. One story that stays with me is how an elderly Muslim man watched as a mob decided to burn down one of the churches. The pastor related that he was told by someone who was there that the Muslim intervened and said, "I am a Muslim and I cannot let you burn down this church." The crowd respected his wishes and left. If only Christians had spoke out against the violence in such a manner.

I will say more but I am now at the Maasai Mara and leave for a game ride in about 30 minutes so I better get back to my tent and prepare to leave. On the drive here we saw lions, giraffes, elephants, and many more of God's amazing critters. I cannot believe I did not want to come. I am staying in the lap of luxury here and will definitely gain every pound back that I lost here in Nairobi walking to work. Sigh...

peace,

Suz

Refugees

I went to Daystar University this week to sit in on a class in their peace studies department. The topic was refugees. I found listening to the information on the Kenyan Refugee Act interesting, given the work I have done half a world away with receiving refugees into Canada. I was also blessed to encounter zebras and giraffes on the ride out. The campus is on the outskirts of Nairobi. I was checking out the potential for Menno Simmons students to participate in a couple of classes while we are here on practicum to build bonds and see from an African perspective, conflict transformation.

I also had an opportunity to meet with a refugee my sponsor has sponsored who is here in Kenya. He is a delightful young man who survived the Rwandan genocide. I was so impressed with his story. He tells me that God intervened so many times on his journey. He was separated from his uncle and siblings but made his way to Burundi and then on to Tanzania. At one point, because he was young and healthy, he was asked to get off a lorry which was later blown up as it approached a border. I was so impressed with his faith and his personality. I look forward to seeing him again on Palm Sunday at mass.
I leave bright and early tomorrow morning to go to the Mombassa area. I will be staying at a Christian conference centre right on the Indian Ocean. I hope to read and debrief by myself before the Hope for Kenya Forum, Coastal region Conference begins on Monday.

Today was my farewell luncheon at work. We went to the Carnivore Restaurant where I ate crocodile, ostrich, beef, chicken, and pork in various forms such as ribs, sausages, roast, wings, liver, and gizzards. I skipped the later. My colleagues were very affirming about the work that I have done here, though we will have the official debrief momentarily. I have been blessed and a blessing and that has made all the difference. I was open to so much but also wanted to be a vehicle for God’s grace to work through. I am grateful for everything.

Suzanne

Humble Hearts School

Yesterday I spent the morning at Humble Hearts School in Nairobi. A colleague of mine from Winnipeg sponsors a deaf boy there. His face broke into a wide grin when he saw the mini cars she had included in her care package. He gratefully examined all the items and then tightly gripped the pencil, toothbrush and face cloth that he was allowed to bring back to class. The school has about 300 students from the slums of Nairobi. Forty students in the primary classes are Deaf. The director says that she noticed a problem with the students returning home and not being able to communicate so she allowed siblings to attend the school. They are in separate classes except for Kenyan Sign Language classes.

The school is humble and is in a poor part of Nairobi. The smell as you walk towards it is quite unpleasant. Once you enter the compound, you forget the smell as happy faces greet you. The classes are in tin trailers, painted purple, and the uniforms are also purple!!! The school looks much poorer than the school I visited in Bujumbura. The residence is in the home of the parents of the director. The girls and boys sleep in separate tin shacks, three to a bed. My heart went out to them but I tried to accept that a shared bed was better than no bed in the slums.

In the pre-unit, a boy around 14 sat learning amongst the little 4-year-olds. A social worker had found him wandering the streets of the slums, unable to communicate. She contacted Humble Hearts who took him in, gave him a name, and hope to provide an education for him. He will remain in the pre-unit for the first year and then be placed more appropriately, depending on his a new achievements.

A new residence is being built on the outskirts of town, in a lovely residential area. There looks to be ample room for boys and girls to sleep in secure, healthy surroundings. As well, there are kitchen, dining, and laundry facilities. The little shamba or garden has food in it now that is used for the current residence. There is also a place for cows and chickens. However building materials are expensive and the work was begun two years ago. Beaty, the director, was not sure when the project would be finished. She says the neighbours are accepting of the concept of having Deaf children move in.

Not all children have sponsors and if anyone is so moved, information about Humble Hearts sponsorship can be found at http://www.angelcovers.org/humblehearts.html -- I know you will be blessed if you do and it will certainly help a Deaf child in desperate need.

Amani,

Suzanne

Two weeks left

Hard to believe that time is almost out. The next week is going to be busy--we have been in the office late and this weekend I am working too on the audit prep. The following week I will be in Mombassa on the coast for a few days for a Hope for Kenya Forum Conference. The sessions are for clergy who are still dealing with what happened in parishes after the post-election violence and CAPI is sending me to represent them.

With any luck I will also get to the Maasai Mara Game Reserve--pray it all works out. I leave April 6 for home and get in on the evening of April 7 in time for family celebrations--brithdays and anniversaries--and Holy Week celebrations at my community.

Happy Birthday!!

Several of you are experiencing birthdays in the coming week and internet is crazy slow here right now and getting online is a hassle. So Mary T, Fr. B, Joanne, Aunt J, and Penny, I wish each of you a fabulous year ahead. Each of you is in my heart and prayers.

Happy spring!! I have a feeling I may not be online in the next few days.

love,

Suzanne

ps: Hannah Taylor from Ladybug Foundation sent me a lovely email recently to thank and encourage me for what I am doing here. Isn't she just the sweetest thing??? I printed it off and took it home to show the children who were thrilled!! The daughter drew a picture and one of the sons wrote a fabulous letter to her which I will get to her upon my return.

Do not forget the things

The Old Testament reading for Wednesday was from Deuteronomy 4:9: “Only be careful and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live.” I stopped and pondered these words in my African context—in the experience of this adventure that I have been living—in the understanding that these months have been a blessing that is not yet finished. When I return home, I will not forget all that I have seen or let the memories slip from my heart as long as I live.

I awoke early thinking about the colleague in Burundi, wondering how he will manage. First he mourns the loss of his child—his wife was 7 months pregnant when she miscarried. Then the death of his wife, who in another country might well still be alive. Four young children remain that will need his care as he grieves. My prayers are with him and his family.

This story is one of several that will be engrained within my soul as I prepare to leave and return home. I have so many stories to tell that have not yet made it to these pages. I know that there will be a time of discerning and integration of this experience over the months and years to come. I hope that I am careful enough to honour the gift that has been given to me—all of it. The fears, pain, sadness, beauty, courage, and the whole of it are to be appreciated. I am living my chance of a lifetime and hoping that it will influence the rest of my life.

Peace,

Suzanne

African Reality

Today in the office we received sad news. Last week, we heard the news that the wife of a colleague from Burundi had miscarried the baby she was carrying. Today was the infant's burial...and today the wife also died. She had been in a coma since last week after the miscarriage. The horrible reality for African women is that giving birth--or attempting to in this case--is risky business. I am so sad to know that Adrian and his young children have to suffer such a loss. He is an incredible man who interpreted for me during my time in Bujumbura. He works with people who have been traumatized. Now he faces his own mountain of grief. Please pray for him and the children and those who will mourn Odette's death. Odette's sister is also known to me as a fabulous African woman who is doing excellent healing work in the region as well.

peace,

Suz

Hear these praises

"Hear these praises from a grateful heart" the song lyrics wafted through the congregation at Lifespring Community Chapel where Pastor Bob is the senior pastor. I had been singing a number of the worship songs and somehow I had already been thanking God for my incredible experience here in Africa and gotten a wee bit teary about my imminent departure and this song pushed me into those emotions even more. Fast forward three weeks and I will be somewhere in the air over Europe. It is hard to believe really. I don't know what to think yet. I am anxious to return home and to my life in Canada but at the same time I have really been so grateful for the time I have had in Africa. I have been blessed in ways I cannot even articulate. Today for example, I rounded a corner with Fr. Lwanga (who sends a heartfelt hug to you, Winn) and stopped at the sight of these two magnificent flowering trees. "Look!" I exclaimed, 'we don't grow these at home."

I have had trouble getting on to the internet lately. Mostly because I have been so busy but also the connections are slow and the flash drive we use to connect is in high demand in the office. I will try to post a few updates in this sitting.

I have had news that I will head to the coast for a conference and staff has encouraged me to take a few days of vacation and enjoy Mombassa or Lamu so I will explore those options. I have also decided to try to get to Masai Mara Game Park this weekend but better get organized or it will come and go before I blink.

What else do I need to let you know about? Work has been a little hectic and I do wonder if I will complete everything on my plate or not. I have a brochure, newsletter and website to prepare which are all major tasks but somewhat related. I have a few other things to do as well, and this week it is to assist with the audit preparation. Today though I was booked to see Fr Lwanga who is a Benedictine priest and so what I thought would be a few hours took most of the day in typical African style but I thoroughly enjoyed the company of these men and the work that they are doing. I saw a little more of Nairobi too as we headed in a direction I have not been.

This weekend Bob had to pick up one of his son's in Karen so I went along for the ride and the house we arrived at is part of Karen Blixen's coffee plantation (as is everything in Karen) and I gaped at the luxury of it all. Bob's youngest son pulled me over to the window and pointed in the direction of the swimming pool. While I have not been living in austere surroundings, I had not been in a posh setting since arriving. I must confess I just wanted to sit down and soak it all in but it is probably a very good thing we had to head off to church.

Bob was preaching on abortion that morning and we had discussed the topic earlier that week and so I went along to hear what he had to say. He was preaching against the bill that is on the table here that will allow 12 year old girls to have access to contraceptives and abortion without parental consent or knowledge. Twelve!! Yikes!! His oldest son is 12--he is just a baby in many ways. The sermon was very good and compassionate. He shared also from a Kenyan perspective and said that the reason Kenyan women have abortions are shame and security. He also told the story of Luke, my friends Al and Darlene's baby who they chose to keep, despite doctors encouraging them to abort the child who was destined to not survive. He told the story with such grace and beauty that it brought tears to my eyes and so proud once again of the choice that my friends had made. He ended with a prayer time for those who had had abortions and prayed that they would know that the decision did not define them--that they were still children of God, well-loved by the Giver of Life. He also called for prayer for those who had forced abortions on women (parents and partners) and for men who were not consulted in the decision. It was refreshingly different than anything I had experienced in Canada. Afterwards, I joined an American couple for lunch at an Indian restaurant and then went shopping for souvenirs at a market.

I think I better head home now. I have a 20 minute walk downhill and want to get home before it gets too dark.

with praise and thanksgiving for all that I am gifted with here,

Suzanne

Giving my head a shake today

Whilst reading a Kenyan newspaper yesterday, I both growled and howled. First, I was mad and then I simply laughed at how dense some corporations are. The article that caught my eye was on tea workers in Kenya. Tea is a big commodity here but pickers are paid a pittance. Female pickers end up selling their bodies to earn enough money to pay rent and feed their families. One of Kenya’s largest tea companies educates their employees on the dangers of AIDS and hands out free condoms because their staff turnover is huge due to people dying. Really!!! I mean hello!!! Why not just pay your employees a decent wage????!!! Sigh.

Then I met a man after work because he wanted to talk to me about something. Three guesses—yours will be as good as mine and we are probably on the same page. So, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt anyway...but should have trusted my instincts. On top of it, today I found out he is married with children. Anyway, I am learning to hone my spiel. I am poor, I am not looking for a romantic encounter (especially if you’re married—and I don’t really care how many wives you think you can take), and I don’t know any wealthy people who will give you money. I must have ticked him off a bit though because he did not even offer to walk me to the matatu stop or even the door at the place we were at. Not even polite by African standards. He had promised to be discreet but I certainly did not. I would name him here if I were as much of a scoundrel as he is.

Are you wondering what happened to me thriving happily? I never get this much attention from men in Canada so I am just getting a little tired of the game. Since part of this blog is for future MSC interns I thought I would put my rant in about some men here in Africa. Let me stress the word some. I have met some incredibly honourable men here.

I am sure I will have a better day tomorrow.

Still smiling in spite of it all,

Suz

An Elephant Will Only Thrive If It is Happy

This weekend I played tourist. On Saturday I went to town and visited City Market and The National Museum. The city was fairly empty for a Saturday, perhaps due to the proximity of the killings last week but I got the sense from the crafters at City Market that they were hungry for business. I however was only looking. The prices were much higher than those selling similar items at Prestige Mall by the office so I decided not to buy much of anything.
The National Museum was spectacular in some ways, disappointing in others. The building itself is gorgeous and some of the displays are definitely worth a look. I also went to mass at the Basilica. I had to chuckle with delight—the timing of the mass was such that the stunning stained glass windows whirled colourful spots, primarily purple, all over the inner walls, that constantly changed as the sun set. For the first while I was distracted by them, marvelling at how gorgeous they were. Even though they were the colour of the season, I had to wonder whether I should be this jubilant during Lent.
On Sunday, I went to see Principal Melnyk’s (aka Kathy) elephants at the David Sheldrick Wildlife Centre. David, along with his now widow, Dame Daphne, have spent years hand-rearing orphaned elephants and are strong activists against poaching. Tourists can see the elephants playing during their noon mud baths and listen to the spiel on how they came to the Centre. It is really an interesting time and even with the new compulsory entry fee, I would recommend it as it is still cheaper than most other activities in Nairobi and the cause is dear to my heart from my own involvement with the Manitoba Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre. Humans inflict all sorts of agony on wildlife as we encroach on their space, and it is no different than elephants who can walk up to 100 miles in a day. You can check out the work at the centre at http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/ and you can even, like Kathy, sponsor an elephant. It makes a great alternative gift. Two 60 Minutes TV programs have showcased the Centre and a third one will begin filming shortly.
I am going to try and download my first video but I am a wee bit nervous it won’t work with the connection speed here. This elephant is one of Kathy’s, Kamana and is orphaned. There were 11 elephants this noon hour, playing and bathing, and were amazing to watch. One little one rubbed its eye with its trunk, reminding me of little Tim at supper just before he would announce that he was “tres fatigue.” The family of Carers are the replacement family for these little orphans and are with them 24 hours a day.
The presenter told us that they had just lost a baby elephant because it did not have the will to live. An elephant will only thrive if it is happy—which does not sound too different from humans—however it is possible for elephants to pine themselves to death. The term “an elephant never forgets” is true and they will grief deeply for the loss of their mother, to the point of their own death. It has made me reflect a little on how we all must choose to thrive in order to be happy. As I look at the severe poverty that afflicts most Africans, I see that they definitely make a choice to keep joy in their lives despite the many hurdles they face.
From the Centre, I decided to go to the Nairobi National Park for a safari. I had met some angels at the Centre who had given me a lift from the matatu drop off and since I had seen some warthogs roaming around, decided I would ask for a lift down. These people insisted on dropping me off at the main gate of the park which was lovely of them. The safari was the wrong time of day but I still saw quite a few animals. A lioness had just killed lunch (a wildebeest) and so that alone made those on the bus think they had gotten their money worth. Jake, I cannot thank you enough for your help in picking out my camera. I got some pretty decent shots compared to others on the bus so asante sana to you!! I met two lovely women who are from Paris and working with two different NGO’s here who spoke English well and so I may connect with them again at some point. Thriving means choosing to be happy and to sometimes “get out of the boat” and move beyond fears/shyness/your comfort zone to make new friends or to try new adventures. Happy thriving to each of you!
Peace,
Suzanne

Kenya Mafia

I had been at a Hope for Kenya Forum meeting, ironically enough, representing CAPI since no one else was available to go. Of course, at the time I did not know why Elizabeth agreed so adamantly when I called her that yes, I should go directly home since the meeting had run late. Turns out there had been an assassination of two activists around the time I was leaving. Oscar Kingara is the founder of Oscar Foundation Free Legal Aid Clinic here in Nairobi. He and his passenger were stuck in traffic as I would soon be when a hail of bullets killed them both. I do not really know all the details yet--of that or the riot that followed on the university grounds--but I am sure I will learn more tonight when I get home. Oscar apparently was NOT linked to the Mungiki Gang (aka Kenyan Mafia) as some reports are saying but I don't know that for sure yet either. As one friend has already pointed out, trouble seems to have followed me here but I am very SAFE if anyone happens to be wondering.

I hope to go to see Principal Melnyk's elephant tomorrow if I can find the matatu that will take me there. Stay tuned for photos next week of that if it works out.

Enjoy the weekend.

Suz

Empowerment for women

The C.A.P.I. office is cool in the morning. By the end of the day, it feels like a sauna. I cannot really complain about the cubicle I work at in Winnipeg any longer. There are four of us most days in this trailer you see pictured; next week Bridget will join us to make five. As typical in African culture, we have a good many visitors throughout the course of the day. Our desks are about an arm’s span apart. This morning I was working alone in the office while others were out on business.
Today is World Book Day so the three children and Yolande dressed up as characters from their favourite books. I gave them Hannah Taylor’s book Ruby’s Hope as a gift this morning. Hannah is a young girl who was moved by a homeless man she saw on the streets of Winnipeg when she was five. She has gone on to become a champion for homeless people and her Lady Bug Foundation has raised great sums of money. She wrote the book when she was 10 years old. I am sure if you google Lady Bug Foundation you would find out more information—Celeste, if you are reading this and want to add something, please do. I think Hannah is well on her way to become an amazing human being. We all need heroes and Hannah is an inspiration to kids and adults alike.
Empowerment and inspiration go hand in hand. Last night, we had a visitor for supper—a lovely woman from Uganda who made me laugh and think—a great combination. Yolande, Esther and I had a fascinating conversation about the empowerment of women. Someone like young Hannah has been empowered already. We were talking about how Esther felt that Ugandan women were more empowered than Kenyan women. They tended to be more self-sufficient. We discussed the changing role of African women in general. Yolande had said that Kenyan women picked the coffee or tea and sold it in the marketplace but the cheque always came in the man’s name. Times are changing as women say enough. They just need more education and chances to be independent.
The second photo is of the tabernacle at Tumaini House. I thought it showed an African woman in an amazing role of carrying Christ to the world. Maybe that is how women in Africa will be seen.
This morning Bob and I had a conversation around AIDS. He said that because death and sex are taboo subjects in Kenya, AIDS really was able to spread rapidly. He also mentioned that AIDS in Africa is not a moral disease—it is a disease of poverty, striking mostly women who allow men to use them sexually so that they can merely survive on a day to day basis. I am enjoying the conversations with this family and feel I get glimpses into Kenyan life that will be very educational.
Peace,

Suz

The chance of a lifetime

“The chance of a lifetime is not something to be taken lightly.” These words caught my eye as I flipped through “If you want to walk on water, you’ve got to get out of the boat” by John Ortberg. He has a few good quotes from himself and others. For example, he says, “Walking on water means facing your fears and choosing not to let fear have the last word”, “walking on water means discovering and embracing the unique calling of God on your life” and waiting is by its nature something only the humble can do with grace.” He also quotes Henri Nouwen, “Community is the place where the person you least want to live with always lives”” and Lewis Smedes, “Waiting is the hardest work of hope.”

There seems to be a recurring theme in facing fears in some of the literature I am reading. Waiting to move beyond fears can also be a work of grace but I agree with Smedes in that waiting to achieve one’s dreams and goals can be the hardest work of hope. All these quotes have relevance to my life these days, even the community one, when I meet so many people and live in close quarters with them even for just a few days as I travel.

I hope I am not taking this chance of a lifetime lightly. It is a privilege to be here and this leg of the journey will probably be less active work-wise as CAPI prepares to do the audit. I have been in the office yesterday and today, working on the preparation of the books—just making sure papers are in order basically. Tomorrow I may get out to a Hope for Kenya meeting (dealing I think with the post-election violence training sessions—I will be briefed later today) since no one else is able to go. I will also sit in on a conflict transformation class at Daystar University so I won’t be totally bound to the office.

Nairobi is a huge city. I walk to work each morning—about 25 minutes—on a fairly flat plain, amidst the backfiring, smoggy matatus (buses) and the many others who chose to walk instead of drive to work. I use my leg brace as a precautionary measure on the uneven ground so that I don't fall. I get a lot of looks of curiosity at the "disabled"muzungu. I am living with Pastor Bob, Yolande, and their three delightful children. The first night I arrived, Yolande’s parents were there. Her father is a Masaii and I am not sure how we got on the topic of dowry but we had a fascinating discussion on how dowry is NOT buying a woman (not that I brought that point up) but shows care and respect for the family. Cows mean life and the payment of cows to the family means that they will be taken care of well. He invited me to come out and visit him and his wife (an equally fascinating woman) before I depart Kenya. They live about 1.5 hours from Nairobi, I think. “Come and see the big sky,” he invited me, making me a little homesick for the open spaces of the prairies.

I have enjoyed being here. The office is close to the Nakumatt, which is like a London Drugs, or a step up from a Wal-Mart. I am going to head over there for lunch today, as there are a few other shops that will give me some good options for lunch. On Saturday and Sundays, craftspeople sell their wares so I have decided I will walk over on Saturday to do a bit of souvenir shopping.
Lastly, I have to tell ya that on my way to work, I chuckled because God loves the colour purple here in Africa. As I walk I am greeted by many purple flowers of all shades here. It is a great reminder that God is good to me. Not taking the chance of a lifetime lightly means being aware, even in the smallest of creation, that God is in all things, and that all is Gift.

Ryan, welcome aboard! Please greet your family for me.

Amani,

Suzanne

Nairobi arrival

Jambo from Nairobi where I arrived somewhat safely after another little fender bender yesterday. Driving in Africa is a bit of an adventure but I have been lucky to have been in no serious car accidents. I managed to do everything I needed to do on Friday night. The lights went out but only miraculously for 15 minutes before coming back on. The taxi driver arrived 10 minutes early the next morning and we were not harrassed at all en route. His daughter had died the day before so I really could not be mad that he was 45 minutes late picking me up. In fact, I wondered what the heck he was doing picking me up at all! The accident happened in Nairobi, close to Tumaini House where I am staying.

I walked to English mass today and as the service began I spotted the KSL interpreter so I went over after mass and introduced myself and got invited to the Deaf Christian Community prayer service afterwards. About 15 or so Deaf people met after mass to discuss the readings and to pray. Three interpreters join them. Apparently three other Catholic parishes have interpreted services so I may get to meet more deaf people here. I find KSL harder to understand than Burundi sign language.

Tomorrow I start work in the little trailer CAPI has. I also move to Pastor Bob's home where I will spend these last five weeks with his family. Stay tuned for the continuing adventures, Kenyan style.

I have added a photo of me in the traditional outfit Fabien bought me.

peace,

Suz

Last sleep in Bujumbura

So it is 8:15 pm here and that gives me about an hour and a half if I am lucky before the lights go out to pack, eat supper, and do a few last minute things before departing in the morning. It has been a bit of an adventure arranging for a ride to the airport. I said goodbye to the family I have been staying with—got a bit “misty” thinking about not seeing little Tim again but managed to keep my emotions somewhat in check for now. They went up country for a peace and reconciliation festival. Tomorrow is Saturday which is a national “work day”—that means no one can travel between 7 – 10 am without being hassled by the police unless you have a special permit. The president is usually out planting trees or some such thing and others are expected to do the same. I have been trying to arrange for a taxi ride but it is complicated. I will spare you the details of the arrangements but he did come by today and I have not paid him so I am assured that he will pick me up—hopefully on time as this afternoon he was 45 minutes late which would mean I would probably miss the plane. Ah, African time.
Anyway, having written on my blog that I had not seen any drumming or dancing must have meant I was supposed to see some. Today, visiting a Deaf friend, there were drummers by his place so we watched them dance and drum. They were walking around with the drums on their heads as in the photo when we arrived which I thought was an interesting way to play the drums. Anyone from the Manitoba School for the Deaf drumming group want to try that????
After awhile, my Deaf friend asked if I had bought any dresses yet and when I replied no, he said that I could not leave without one so off we went shopping—his treat. He bought me two outfits—one a very traditional one, complete with a head wrap that I will need my colleagues in Nairobi to show me how to wear, and the second a more casual one piece dress made out of traditional cloth. They are both beautiful and he was incredibly generous. I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to spend some time here in the Deaf Community.
On the way back to my place, he wanted to know if I could quickly stop and meet his mother which we did. Well, you can imagine how this poor woman was excited to have a muzungu visit her at night at her home. She almost cooked me a meal but oh, my, the very thought of her doing so, was overwhelming. After that, we got into a gridlock and were stopped for a brief time in traffic in the pouring rain. We were rear-ended but not too badly since traffic was not really moving at the time. Hopefully, I will have no ill effects from it. At the moment I feel ok but you know I never turn down prayers.
So it is my last sleep here in Bujumbura…..let the next leg of the adventure begin!!
Peace,

Suz

Ephphitha! Be Open!

I had probably one of my best experiences facilitating here today. I had been invited to speak to the interpreters and then the Deaf Community about the code of ethics and role of interpreters. Sadly, with only three interpreters in town, one was working upcountry and the other two had been called to a meeting. That left me without interpreters to train or to interpret for me. I proceeded anyway and did a lot of role playing with the Deaf participants. We had a hoot!! Lots of laughter sprinkled in with the “Aha!” moments. We talked about positioning and I watched as they understood why interpreters need to stand or sit in a particular place. We talked about neutrality and confidentiality. I can be quite an actress at times and today was not quite worth an Oscar but still there were shining moments.
Afterwards I was able to visit a sewing workshop (Atelier de Couture) where Deaf women create and sell clothes (see above photo).

From there we went to the Ecole Ephphatha Pour Les Sourdes (the Deaf School whose name is based on the bible reading where Jesus says “Be opened!” and the Deaf man can hear) which is a primary school in Bujumbura. There is no secondary school in the country. As I toured the facility, I saw that in Grades 1-3 there were large numbers of students but by Grade 6, the numbers decreased. In this residential school, of the 130 students, 107 of them stay at the school full-time, as they live too far to travel every day. Most families cannot afford to pay the school fees for six years. The teachers are all hearing, except for the woman in the Home Ec class (for older students who come back for the one class. The teachers receive no salaries by the state—only through an NGO that donates funds. The director, a hearing woman who has worked there for 18 years, shared with me how difficult it is to feed all the children and how much food is required while there is little aid to purchase food. The children look very happy though as you can see in the photo. They only wear uniforms in the first few grades.
The children greeted me warmly and all tried to use my name sign very quickly, competing with each other to see who could do it best. They were incredibly polite and wanted me to return soon—an impossible task, of course, since I leave on Saturday. The school was started by an African American who set up several schools for the Deaf in Africa before he died in a plane crash.
The school itself is located in what was a stronghold for the rebels during the war. Fabien explained that the whole area was surrounded and great violence had in the location. Hard to believe when you see the school which is like a sanctuary in the city, with lots of green space and flowers. The school does have lots of needs, including mosquito nets that are old and torn, so that the children do not get malaria. Anyone interested in helping out?

Create in me a clean heart.....

Ash Wednesday, a day of fasting and penance, has arrived. The commentary in the missalette today says that today is “an acceptable time to ask ‘Where is my heart?’” After yesterday’s interactions and in preparation of saying good bye to people here in Burundi, I found myself delaying answering that question. I have obviously begun to steel myself rather than integrate the experiences. Today at breakfast, young Tim, started one of his stories with the traditional, “Tu sais….” and I thought about how much I am going to miss him. He has, most certainly, a piece of my heart.
Where is my heart indeed? The commentary also talked about how in Lent we are called to “strengthen our purpose and clarify our vision—to live a new covenant of right relationship with God, the earth and its people.” I remember my missioning service on the Feast of St. Lucy and the prayers for vision and Light, for being able to see Christ here in the people and all Creation. What do I see with the eyes of my heart? How am I changing from the experiences that I am gifted with here? I echo with the psalmist: Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me.
This Lent is not so much about giving up something as living out something. One of the prayers of the faithful today is “For victims of war rebuilding out of ashes.” If I were sitting in a pew at St. Ignatius, would I have reacted so strongly to those words? I sometimes think that I am not exactly sure what I am living out here—but that maybe in the next 40 days that something will become clearer to me. Whatever it is I am living out this Lent, it has much more power than giving up chocolate or computer games. If it is my heart and spirit that must be transformed, then this Lent may be one of the most powerful I have ever lived out. My prayers are with you as you enter this Holy Season. May you know God’s grace and mercy in new and profound ways. May your heart and soul be transformed.

Return to the Riot Site

The Immigration officer was glad to see me at the Congolese border again yesterday. I call him Papa Yves because he is the one who made the joke about my name being incorrect—that I should be St. Yvette. I also recall him telling me he was Papa Yves—parents here are named after their first born. He recalled the exact date when I had entered and then departed DRC, accompanied by the Pastor Mkoko to ensure my safe passage back to Burundi. He was none too happy to see me leaving that day, embarrassed, I suspect, by this visitor having a bad image of his country. He could hardly look at me that day. Yesterday though, I peeked into his office and flashed him a smile which he returned. I was willing to give his country another try (keeping in mind that I had as a personal goal, no bullets, no rocket launchers). As I left today, he asked if things had gone well and when I responded affirmatively, he grinned. He hoped that I would return one day, as I explained I was returning to Kenya soon and then on to Canada. Everyone from my first visit remembered me and was so happy to have me return and enjoy my stay. We stayed at the same hotel and I slept well—no rioting. I wondered if it was like a communal “saving face” experience for all of us, myself included.
I gave a grief presentation and received the best feedback from the participants thus far. One elderly widow who had also lost some children and other relatives thanked me profusely for helping her to realize that her experience was normal and told me how she appreciated me even discussing widows. Another man expressed his gratitude for helping me see how the death of each of his parents had affected him differently.
In the midst of it all, I also had to say goodbye to people who I would not see again. One woman who I liked immediately upon meeting, teaches in a literacy and peace program. She gave me a big hug at the end and said clearly in English, (we have been communicating in French), “I love you.” She told me that she believes that women have the power to change poverty by beginning to contribute to society. Literacy helps them to do this. She and her partners have a vision of making 1,500 people in the area, targeting women especially, literate enough to vote in the 2011 election in DRC. I found out tonight that she has been raped at least 3 times in her life unrelated to the war, the first as a young girl. She has such joy and confidence that I have an ever greater respect for her, having now heard that story. She is inspiring.
Another YOUNG man (I am old enough to be his mother) insisted that I marry him—that the age difference did not matter. I really had to try hard to get out of that one gently, but I figured when he asked if I had any younger sisters, that I had not hurt him too badly. Ramona??????????
The Deaf woman and I had several encounters this visit. I had brought her a care package of food as a gift and she told me today that her mother sent her appreciation as well. I wished I had met her mother as I understand that she speaks Swahili, French and English so I could have verified what I had understood since the signs are different. The Deaf woman related the story of how she and her mother fled from Bujumbura during the war in 1993 and settled in DRC. At one point, heavy arms exploded all around them and they needed to flee up in the hills to hide. She prayed to God for safety and for food as she was hungry. God provided. As she came down the hill later, she indicated by gazing with her eyes to either side of her, the numerous bodies strewn around her of the people who had not escaped unscathed. For those of you who understand signed languages, you will fully comprehend when I say that her facial expression almost made me cry, and then she turned to me and simply signed, “Sorry.” She did not have to use many words to express how sorrowful she was to see the aftermath of the attack.
I do feel I have made a difference in the lives of these people somehow, and they certainly have impacted me deeply. As I prepare to leave, I am grateful that I did return to the scene of my trauma and that I had a chance to complete my work in the area. This has been one of the life-changing moments that I will need to integrate into my graced history, as we Ignatian people say. It has been gift, rocket launchers and all.

With Gratitude,

Suzanne

Sunday Activities

I went to a worship service in English on Sunday at Partners Trust International. Upon arrival they were singing “You Never Let Go” a contemporary Christian song that is on the radio in Canada. The refrain begins, “Oh no, You never let go, through the calm and through the storm” but there are also these great lines from the first verse “Your perfect love is casting out fear and even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life I won’t turn back, I know You are near” cushioned by Scripture verses from the psalms before and after. I found great comfort in the words and then we immediately went into “Our God Reigns” which seemed so appropriate. I know that even in the toughest of days here, I do believe in these concepts.
The teaching, on the first few chapters of Mark, was challenging. The preacher asked who would we have been if we had been part of the scene (almost Ignatian in theory) when the family of Jesus came to rescue him? The religious leaders, his family, a member of the crowd, or his disciples? In which group would we have stood, not knowing what we know 2000 years later? I don’t think there was an easy answer for me, although I do continue to turn the question around in my mind. The preacher also gave a beautiful explanation of several points that I had not considered. He asked why Jesus touched the leper if he could heal him. There was no need for him to touch the leper which was considered unclean, and so it was an unexpected act. He wanted to show he was one with the leper and he almost changes places with him—the leper going into the village and Jesus retreating into the desert which was where most outcasts were. I wonder how often we can willingly change places with the poor and marginalized?
After lunch, a group of us went to the Musee Vivant, a tourist attraction here that is a mix of a zoo (primarily crocodiles, snakes, and 2 antelopes) and a reconstruction of a typical Burundian village. The storm clouds looked threatening but we were fortunate to see all the exhibits without a deluge. I am not sure I would place this in the category of fortunate, but our guide decided to feed one of the crocodiles a live guinea pig while we were there. The crocodile was not as fast so it took several attempts before he devoured the little critter, with squeals resounding from his closed mouth for a few minutes before silence and a smug look of satisfaction ensued. One of the men in our group captured it on videotape so for those not brave enough to watch it live, reruns were available.
We stopped briefly for drinks at the lake before one of the group and I went for supper at a lakefront restaurant. Ordering food has been a challenge here but this time, Ian who does speak French and I had a good laugh because the conversation was hilarious. I ordered spinach lasagna and the waiter came back to say there was none but there was meat lasagna which still sounded fine by me so I adjusted my order. However, another waiter came back with a second man and said unfortunately there was no meat lasagna only spinach. Hmmmm…..You can’t always get what you want but sometimes you can??? Towards the end of supper, Ian noticed other guests looking towards the lake. Two hippos were in the water. Before we left, they had actually come ashore and were munching contently on their own evening meal. It was a fabulous day all around (well, maybe not so much for the guinea pig) as my time here in Burundi begins to draw to an end.
Peace,
Suz

A little bit about a little country

I have not written much in detail about Burundi and thought that I should do so a wee bit, if for nothing else, to do a bit of a geography lesson. Bujumbura is the capital city of Burundi and it is situated amongst the hills and on the shores of Lake Tanganyika. There are no traffic lights here, just a few roundabouts and stop signs. The neighbourhood I am in is called Kigobe Nord and it is close to the Parliament building. I have not actually asked but I am guessing that one does not stop in to visit the Parliament the way you would the Golden Boy at home. One of the main streets downtown has a fancy hotel called Hotel Amahoro where I sometimes check email since it is free. Outside the hotel there are many beggars. There is a huge Catholic Cathedral downtown as well that I have been to once. I am not sure I have mentioned that the congregation claps here during the changing of the bread and wine and after the gospel reading. Apparently that is an African tradition—it happens in other countries here as well.
When you leave Bujumbura and head to Gitega (photo), Kimbiba or Burasira where I have been, you say that you are going upcountry. Literally you travel up the hills, along winding roads to get there. It can be a little cooler up there. The first night in Gitega, I slept with a fleece on.
The city is mixed ethnically and religiously. Catholics were the majority of the population at one time, but a variety of evangelical churches exist. Faithfully at 4:30 each morning, prayers waft from the mosque. I am used to it now so sleep through them but the other morning I was awake and heard them again. Muslims did not distinguish themselves as an ethnic group during the 1993 crisis, and remained neutral by not participating in the killings. Perhaps because of this, there has been an increase in people exploring this faith and a rise in numbers of Muslims. The population is made up of Hutus, Tutsis, and Twa, primarily. The Twa are a marginalized group in smaller numbers than the other two. Bujumbura has many Congolese people living here as well. Kirundi and French are the main languages. Before colonization, the Hutus and Tutsis lived harmoniously in the collines, spoke the same language and had the same culture. In more recent years, there have been a number of conflicts that have divided the communities.
Drumming is famous here and I often hear it during the late afternoon though I have not seen it live. Drums are from the days when there were kings in Burundi. I have not seen any live traditional dancing either but have seen both drumming and dancing on television.
Burundi is one of the most densely populated (and I may have read somewhere that it is the most densely populated) country in Africa. It is one of the least urbanized countries in the world. Primarily an agricultural country, coffee, tea, sugar, sorghum, corn, pineapple, and other typical southern crops are grown. Livestock, especially cattle, are a sign of wealth. More than half the population lives below poverty. Half the population walks at least a kilometer to fetch water. Literacy rates are low, especially for girls, in the rural areas. Because of the war and the use of rape as a weapon, AIDS is prevalent, with lots of orphans as an outcome. I read one stat that said that 20% of children die before their 5th birthday. With few animals remaining in Burundi, there is little to entice tourists to come here instead of East Africa.
This landlocked country is beautiful, its people welcoming, and peace is slowly taking hold due in part to efforts like CAPI and its partners. I hope that gives you a bit of a glimpse into this country that has hosted me these past few weeks in a little more “academic” way than I have been sharing.

Am I in Venice???

I had hoped to post a blog yesterday but I had to post it today. Here is why. I needed a phone card but it rained steadily most of the day yesterday and turned our street into a river as you can see from the photo. The boutique that sells the phone cards which I need to have in order to load money onto my Internet account from my mobile phone is on the other side of the street from where I am living. The family I am staying with is in the car with the headlights on at the end of the block in the photo. They had gone into town to the airport to retrieve a colleague from Goma who had just arrived in Bujumbura for a conference. I walked down to meet them and we went out to a great East Indian restaurant that opened two months ago in Bujumbura. LOVED it! I felt like I had had a bit of a vacation or something. The ambiance was peaceful, the company great, the waiters constantly attended to our needs, and the food was awesome. It’s a short blog today as I have a lot of work to do and the electricity was not working earlier today.
Amahoro,
Suz

On the road again.....

I had a lovely sojourn to Kigali last week via a little bus called “Yahoo Express!” The driver was a bit of a yahoo—most aggressive driving yet on these roads. Once or twice I thought there would be an accident because of his ambition to get to the border crossing before the other buses. Road rage is alive and well here too. Both Burundi and Rwanda are gorgeous countries and with the rain just begun, what was already green seems to be even more luscious. I left Bujumbura at 7:30 am and arrived in Kigali around 2:00 pm. Rwanda is called “Land of 1,000 Hills” and makes for spectacular scenery along the way. At the border, the Rwandese immigration officer greeted me and exclaimed, “You’re a saint!” when he saw my name. “Apparently,” I replied, laughing, “but only because of my father.” After he stamped my passport, he said that he was glad to know his country now had a saint in it. Had I mentioned the immigration officer from DRC who told me my name was wrong—that it should be St. Yvette since I was a woman?
In Kigali, I met an American who is doing her master’s in South Africa and was just beginning some research in Rwanda. I enjoyed our supper conversation at the Guest House. Turns out she is friends with an American that I met in Bujumbura and she told me he was in town for training and was staying the next night with us. We had a good time—I have to admit that I needed to chat in English and laugh for a long time. It did almost as much for my soul as the beautiful scenery. I can get so serious here that it is extremely important to continually and consciously seek to find balance.
Friday after interviewing a man about mediation and some other projects Quaker Friends are doing in Kigali, I decided to jump on a public bus and head into town with a woman and her fiancé since I had broken my comb that morning. I went down to the local supermarket—Nakumatt—and got a new one. The adventure, of course, began when I had to make my way back to the Guest House solo (no laughing yet, ML!!). I found the right bus, and suddenly found myself alone but I refused to get off because I was sure it was going further. It was indeed! However, it stopped again and the assistant said something that I thought meant I had to get off. So I did, just as about 50 other people were trying to get on. I lost my spot. I stood there watching the bus pull away and then looked up at the sky, and shook my head. Though it was 1:30 in the afternoon, the sky was black. I knew I did not have much time to stand around, waiting for another bus. I saw a taxi scooter, and decided to jump on it. Loved it!! A little scary here and there since scooters don’t get too much respect but I arrived safe and dry and that is all that counts.
The woman who was getting married the next day had invited me to her dowry exchange which was supposed to be at 9:00 am. My supervisor and I were leaving for DRC at noon. True to the African understanding of time, we waited two hours without even seeing the groom. Too bad!! I did see the bride who was one of many women getting married on Valentine’s Day in Kigali.
The trip to Goma was uneventful. I facilitated another session on grieving to a small group of people who are working with trauma victims. I did not return to the IDP camp but I did talk to the Goma Relief Committee and told them that the St. Ignatius Refugee Committee would like to partner with them in the coming year and try to assist them financially. They were thrilled and thanked us for our compassion. They are doing such good work and even with Nkunda arrested there is still much instability and uncertainty in the area. When asked what Nkunda’s arrest meant, one of the elders, a man with excellent English (he was the first Congolese to study in the USA), retorted with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye, that he was under house arrest. As he talked, the image that came to mind was that of Martha Stewart—not really a very serious punishment. Sounds like a “Let’s make a deal!” scenario.
One of the men who was my interpreter and chauffeur last trip to Goma had, while attempting to change a tire on a vehicle, accidently had his leg run over. He amazingly only suffered a dislocation and some torn ligaments or something. He is in rough shape but it could have been much worse in many ways. Prayers for his recovery are appreciated since health care here leaves something to be desired. He has some other minor injuries but they could end up being severe if doctors do not treat him properly. One concern is that he is in a full leg cast but has a pretty severe wound to his leg which is not being exposed to the air or treated in any fashion.
I did manage to eat something that did not agree with me and took half an Immodium to survive the 3.5 hour bus trip back to Kigali. I am a fan now and will no longer roll my eyes at those silly hot tub commercials touting the abilities of the drug. I was not too sick but it was a wee bit of an adventure. For the most part I have done fairly well with food and water and have remained quite well.
I am back in Bujumbura until Monday when I return to the village where the riot took place. It has been pretty calm there so I hope to have no further incident involving bullets or rocket launchers!!! Jeff, I remember your words of advice to stay out of trouble: trouble = bullets.

Thanks again for all who are following my journey. Lucien, welcome aboard! Glad to see you've joined us. Fr. B, I hear you are back too! Karibu! I am half way through my adventure and will be home in no time! Hard to believe really.

Suz

When is Never Again?

I do not think I wrote about seeing the memorial for those killed at Kibimba back some time ago. Kibimba is on the way to Gitega and in one of my first blogs I talk about the runner and the book that I read prior to leaving called, This Voice in My Heart. I stopped on the way to take some photos. In case you do not remember, the site memorialized the massacre of secondary students, teachers and neighbours who were Tutsis at a school during the Crisis in 1993. Some of the students, Gilbert the author of the book, being one of them, ended up seeking shelter from the Hutus in a petrol station, but to no avail. Most were burned to death. Gilbert barely escaped, by using a femur of a classmate to break a window and outrun those who wanted to kill him. There is also a memorial that says “Plus Jamais Ca!” – Never Again. We hear that so often these days but I wonder when never again will happen. We have had so many incidents of crimes against humanity and we still don’t react as an International Community in a timely or efficient manner. I have been doing a great deal of reading about what happened to the people here, about the number of children recruited as soldiers to kill, and about stories of hope and reconciliation. When I was up in Burasira I started to read Stolen Angels which is about the 130 girls who were stolen by Kony’s rebels in Northern Uganda and forced to be soldiers or “wives”. These are common stories in these parts. I have also met a man named Sebastien who should well be dead but continues to do what he calls “God’s work.” Levy hires armed guards as he goes about the daily work of making peace and healing communities here in Burundi. Mama Helen has accepted hundreds of children of rape who have been abandoned and now live in the DRC at Naomi’s Foundation. For every inch that the darkness tries to claw, I see miles of redemption embraced by people who should have been torn apart by their experience. These are the real agents of peace, agents of hope, and agents of blessing to so many people in dire need.

ps: Am off to Kigali and Goma again. Back on Tuesday. Not sure that I will post until then. Happy Valentine's Day one and all!

Burundian Wild Life

I have not seen too many wild animals here. I asked Zachee the other day if he remembers wildlife in his youth. He said yes, but that there were many hunters and now there is nothing here. I also have heard stories that during the Crisis, many of the animals were also killed, including the last Burundian elephant by the rebels. When I was at the seminary in Burasira, I saw the monkey named Sampson that they keep on a leash. Until Sunday, I had really not seen anything in the wild and then Zachee suggested that we go to the river to see the hippos. It was a national park with the opportunity to drive through the forest with a guide and armed guard (complete with automatic weapon) and to get out at the river to see these huge beasts. They make a rather frightening sound which might explain why poor Tim was not too keen on going to see them and maybe why he did not sleep too well that night. I tried singing “If you love a hippotamus….” to him but could not soothe him. I was in awe of these creatures and do look forward to hopefully going on a safari when I am in Nairobi. I had almost decided that I would not but now I think I could do with a healthy dose of God’s magnificent creation before returning home. This experience of working here has shifted something about what I thought I might do here as a tourist. I have less desire to do some of the things that I thought I might do and more of an intention to experience the non-touristy side of this continent. Not to worry, Kathy, if you are reading this, my intent is definitely to see your elephants in Nairobi—I am quite excited about that daytrip!

Visit with Burundian Deaf Community

Friday I had the opportunity to meet with the Deaf Community here in Bujumbura. The photo shows some of the group I met with. On the far left is Fabien; he is the leader of the Burundian National Association of the Deaf. On the far right is Lucky who is hearing and studied in South Africa. He introduced me to the BNAD members. To my left and right two down, are the interpreters who have asked me to return later this month and talk a little about the Code of Ethics that I follow to help them develop their own. Right now they do not follow anything. They just try their best but have no training. They would love to have an interpreter come for three months and give them some intensive training. Know anyone who might want to do that?
I had an engaging conversation with the members of the BNAD. I talked about the drumming and robotics program at MSD. I also mentioned the exchange program with Japan and they would love to have one with us too. I told them that Deaf children in Canada can be educated for free until they are 21 years old at secondary school. I talked about how Canada has Deaf lawyers, teachers, principals, politicians, and other professionals. They were so impressed. I talked about the Networking Days that the COT team holds and how we bring together Deaf and Hard of hearing students from the province along with school staff and parents. They LOVED that idea. Here there are two schools: one in Buju and one in Gitega. I wish I had known earlier this week when I was in Gitega as I would have loved to have visited.
I went out for lunch with Fabien and Lucky after my morning with the community. I felt brave enough to ask Fabien about what happened to the Deaf people during “the Crisis” as it is often called—the killing of Tutsis and Hutus in 1993/4. I was pretty certain that I would not offend him if culturally I could ask such a direct question. I was right. I was also right about what I thought his answer would be. When people came to the place where the Deaf people were, they did not identify one another when asked who was Hutu and who was Tutsi. They were Deaf first and chose to stay together and not turn each other in. While other friends and neighbours were killing each other, this minority group did not. Maybe the Deaf Community could teach the rest of Burundians how to live in peace?

Agent of blessing and entertaining angels unaware

I was trying to find the entrance to the grand seminary pictured here so that I could go to the church and pray a bit but the old man who guarded the place and only spoke Kirundi was not letting this muzungu near the gate. He finally called out to a young woman who was nearby and who suggested that yes, he could let me in. At the same time a younger man appeared with a woman and he took charge of the situation. Karibu! I was definitely welcome to see the church and he, and his attractive companion, led me through the grounds. When I said I wanted to pray, he was delightfully surprised and left me to the task. I bumped into the couple on my way out and he took my hand and said something in French I did not understand and led me back into the grounds and into a room which turned out to be the dining hall and visitor room. I was joining them for lunch apparently. After awhile, others joined us and what seemed like a bit of a flirtatious or affectionate exchange with several of the men gathered who wanted to practice their English, we shared a lovely meal. I think one of the nuns saw a prize to be snatched up and she did not let go of my hand when I greeted her and I had to wrestle my way out of her grip somewhat diplomatically. I think, Mary Lou, you should have more concerns about her than a man keeping me here in Africa!

At one point, early on, the man who I had first encountered said to me in French that he liked to welcome strangers to which I had responded that one never knew when they might be entertaining angels when they welcomed strangers. He looked surprised by my answer and declared, “Christ lives in you.” “And you,” I responded. He seemed to be such an agent of blessing for me, as did several of the people I met that day.
You can imagine my great surprise when the next day, four of the friendliest men turned out to be the priests at the mass. Now my clue should have been when one told me he was the professor of liturgy but what do I know really? Anyway, I am still learning all the cultural roles and affection here means something different for the most part. I sure appreciated having the opportunity to attend daily mass and even adoration. A choir of 109 seminarians of different orders sang morning prayers each day. Daily mass was concelebrated by up to six priests at times. We struggle to attract men to the priesthood but that did not seem to be the case. One priest I met briefly, came to talk to me when he found out I was involved with the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, a 400-year old tradition of prayer. In a note he later left me, he said “I am frankly grateful (that you) shared your noble experience of God…Jesus is your best traveling companion.” Something in these simple words touched me deeply and summed up what the men from this seminary were for me—angels unaware. I had been in withdrawal from my morning prayer routine since my February miselette is still in Nairobi and the St. Ignatius website does not appear to be updated while Fr. B is in the hospital. I have now taken to doing morning and evening prayer from the January misselette, since morning prayer was a lovely start with these men. I came across this phrase during evening prayer in the intercessions: “For the grace to be agents of blessing, we pray…” and that has become my prayer now—that I may continue to be an agent of blessing, of peace, of hope and that I may be ready to entertain angels and be entertained by them.

How come you are still talking? Or What did I just say?

I have not spoken anything of my experience of what it is like being an interpreter and having to depend on interpreters to get my information. The photo is of participants from one of the grief sessions I gave in DR Congo.

Today I have been working on the newsletter. I have about 13 possible articles that I can pull together at the moment, ranging from the Declaration being presented to Quakers on the dire situation in the Goma Relief Efforts, to weapons collection in Gitega (30+ automatic weapons, 1000+ grenades, etc. from local people turning in their weapons stash since the war ended), to election monitoring in Burundi next year, to the local work being done with HIV/AIDS and peace. Some of the material being gathered is in the second language of the person I am interviewing which makes me struggle with the accuracy of the reporting. Sometimes, I have sat through a presentation with an interpreter where I went from Point One to Point Six and wondered what happened to the other five points. It has been a bit of a challenge—one that I thought I knew well from my work as an interpreter—but now realize that I have only mildly understood what it is like to be dependent on an interpreter for EVERYTHING. I have watched as others broke out in gales of great laughter and the interpretation I received was not in the least bit funny. I have felt terribly left out of prayers that do not get interpreted for the most part, especially the final prayer of the workshop that I recently facilitated. In fact, I later learned that the interpreter had asked for an evaluation of my session and had not translated a single word but gave me the summary later. I sit occasionally at meals, struggling to understand, but not wanting to ask again what is going on. I sit through entire services in Kirundi and have no idea what has transpired so I start making it up in my head. Ok, that was the Our Father, no, this is it now, or maybe now…or ugh! It is a humbling, growing edge experience and I have thought more than once, that Deaf children in public schools should be given some kind of award for surviving each school day. In fact, Deaf people, in general, have even more of my admiration and respect for not lambasting some of us more often. I struggle trying to find a balance between stopping everything so I can be included more, or letting it slide so that people don’t have to slow down for every little detail. On the flip side, when I am presenting, I sometimes have to wonder what on earth the interpreter just said in Kirundi and should he still be talking since I only said five words?? Other times I have been thrilled that the process is going so smoothly. I am developing a fondness for consecutive interpreting. I am unsure how this will impact my work as a consultant but I am sure it will. In fact, it may turn out to be one of the most valuable lessons I learn.