"Kate, you are African."

Yes, you heard that right. It only took one full day together for a Rwandanese to say that I am African...not once, but twice.

So, yesterday...

Benjamin, my colleague and now friend, went to a village two hours north of Kigali in the district of Nyabihu. We went there to do a pastors workshop focusing on forgiveness and reconciliation for the victims and perpetrators of the genocide. Before the genocide, this village was a prominent community in Rwanda. Although it's difficult to understand completely due to the translation from Kinyarwanda to English, I was given the impression that the former President, Juvenal Habyarimana, who was killed in the plane crash that started the killing spree in 1994 had lived there. This village, like many of the surrounding villages, was nearly wiped out immediately. Since it is close to the Congo, where some of the perpetrators fled, many of the villagers still live in fear that the extremist will return. In addition to that fear, they have to live side-by-side with the individuals who killed their family members and friends.

When we arrived to the town we were greeted by a woman named Cecine who was probably in her late 30's. She was beautiful. Her bone structure was so strong and she had bright brown eyes. She greeted me in true Rwandanese fashion...two arms on the shoulders (like a hug) and touch cheeks three times - right, left, right. I also met a group of pastors and everyone was very welcoming. Benjamin had told them that I was practicing my Kinyarwanda, which they all thought was very funny for some reason, and Cecine stole my cheat sheet and practiced pronunciation with me. The kids came in flocks. I was the only "umuzungu" in the village and since I had "rings on my teeth" they had to get a look. As soon as we started to walk anywhere they would follow us, like 20 at a time, and wanted me to take their picture. It was causing a bit of a scene so I only took a couple when there were fewer kids. I took a photo of a group of them and in that group was a tiny girl who was probably only 3 or 4 yrs old. We went to lunch (which is a whole other story...rice, meat, spaghetti, greens, beans, potatoes..all on one plate, weighed like 5 lbs and I offended them by only eating an actual serving but I would have been sick otherwise...I was the only person in a group of 30 who did not basically lick the plate clean)...but, back to the little girl...after lunch when we were walking back to the church, the little girl ran up to me and hugged both of my legs! Her head was probably just at my knees and she was squeezing my legs...it was the nicest thing - really made me happy!

When we got back from lunch we did the discussion part of the program where the attendees give their own testimonies and ask questions. One man's story in particular really caught my attention - again, it's translated so who knows - he was saying how he is trying to forgive so that he can move on and he is not opposed to reconciliation but how was he to do that when they, the extremist who fled to the Congo, were still trying to hunt down his family and him. It's crazy to me. It's crazy to think that is a real fear of a real human being, not an actor/actress. Every day that is on his mind. Every day he is wondering if / when they will find him. It baffles me. Even more, they only want him dead because of the tribe he was born into, because he is tall, has different bone structure, and his ancestors, who he has no real connection with may or may not have at one time or the other killed one of theirs...ahhhh, shocking.

In terms of the landscape, it was a gorgeous drive. The altitude was so high that my ears actually popped. It looked like UT - it was beautiful. Women were walking around with babies on their backs and baskets or bananas on their heads, while the men had bunches of pipes or boxes on theirs. There were no cars on the road, only the buses and an occasional truck, and people were just going along with their daily tasks. There were children everywhere running around or sitting in groups on the side of the road. A majority of their clothing was still western but the colors they wore together is not something you will see in the western world. They wear pinks, purples, neons, all together, men and women. The women only wore dresses or long skirts that were usually bright with intricate patterns. The land was so green and the farming plots were all divided and cut into the mountains...I forget the correct terminology but it was like steps.

It was a great day. I'm sure I didn't do it justice but I tried. I really wish you could all experience this. The way these people live their day-to-day lives is humbling. I'm starting to question why people in the west feel the need to help them by introducing technology. It doesn't look like they are asking for help to me, but then again, I'm only beginning to learn the language and I wouldn't know if they told me.

Words/phrases for the next 2 days
Mwaramutse (mar-a-mut-cee) - Good Morning
Mwiriwe (mer-na-way) - Good afternoon
Bite byanyu? (be-tee bee-yan-yo) - How's it going?
Nibyiza, murakoze, nave se? (not sure exactly) - Fine, thanks and you?
Murakoze (mir-a-ku-ze) - Thank you
Nitwa (nee-twa) - My name is...

Love you.