Notes from Rwanda
 
 

Land of a Thousand Hills
 
RETURN TO HOMEPAGE
 
Rwanda Trip: December 6-18, 2007
Travelers:  
Cindy Perry, ODW-USA Coordinator and teacher at Thetford Academy.
Kylie Butler, Junior at Thetford Academy.
Lizzy King, Junior at Thetford Academy.
Rebecca Young-Ward, Junior at The Sharon Academy.
Deb Archambault, Dartmouth Women’s Rugby Club Coach, Cindy’s sister, and
chaperone.
Ellen Young, Rebecca’s mom.
Sonya Scherr, Valley News Reporter.
 
Graduation, Saturday, Dec. 9, 2006

We have been so busy, watching 2 groups of kids graduate from their Project Independence programs, arranging the rest of the gorilla tours and transportation, and visiting the Amohoro children.  There must have been 500 orphans, some with caretakers and a few elderly women.  It was the most exhilarating experience, wonderful, beautiful, and all at once, heartbreaking.  There were so many children, from infants to older teens, without parents.  They were all dressed in old, used clothes from America, and were mostly dirty.  
 
Everyone has shaved heads, and for many good reasons.  The youngest and middle- aged kids wanted to touch us:  our hair, our skin, and our clothes.  They surrounded us, staring, in awe of something, although I am not sure what.  We were all women, and their moms are gone, so maybe that was part of the fascination.  And we are so white, as you can imagine, amongst all the beautiful black faces.  On some level, maybe we represent hope, since it is because of Susanna that these kids are in school and have health cards.  And, eventually, they found we did bring gifts.  You’d think a soccer ball was a pound of gold the way they lit up and grabbed the balls away from us.  Children in pure ecstasy surrounded us, and we were their witness to a moment of severe joy.  To have a toy, a ball, to play – it felt like we were giving them life.  Soccer balls, basketballs, rugby balls, and knitted dolls (from Susanna) were in a sense life, as they brought play and fun and joy into children’s lives that have been robbed of these things we take for granted.
 
Mark, a peace negotiator from Belgium said, “People in Africa live very close to life, and
also very close to death.”  Unlike Americans and Europeans, they know the
preciousness of life and the costs of losing it.
 
The kids in the program (internships) go home to hunger, and to hungry brothers and sisters.  They learn to prepare food for the wealthy, only to go home to starvation.  They know they are at the bottom, yet they can smile, work hard, sing and dance.  They find clothes to dress up and look nice for the graduation celebration, and they take hold of their certificates with pride and admiration.  They are strong, and loving, pure and hopeful.  If any one of us had even half of their will and ability to be strong and survive, the world would be peaceful, all bellies would be full, and all children would have a safe and happy home. 


So Proud of Their Certificates at Hotel HiTech!
 


Singing in Celebration at the Stadium Restaurant
 
To Marc, Dec. 10, 2006
I wish you were here, to love these kids by my side.  You have no idea about who they are until you hold their hands in yours.  I regret you didn’t share the experience I had today.  It was powerful, spiritual, and the spirit of these kids made me REALLY believe in God. It is that will and perseverance that is God, that is Spirit, not the misfortune and terror and evil of mankind in the world. Life goes on, moves forward, in spite of death and poverty. These kids are rich in hope and are reaching out, even to me.  I wish someday for you to experience their presence.  Otherwise, their spirit they exhibit is hard to explain.  

                    
 
Gorillas, Dec. 11, 2006

After a sleepless night in Ruhengeri listening to dogfights in the darkness of the night,
the excitement began at 5:00 am, daybreak.  As the sun rose over the volcanic chain,
and the pied crows lighted by the dozens in the leafless tree, the world came alive and
the excitement began to stir.  We ate breakfast, packed the truck, and we’re off to an
adventure of a lifetime.  The Virunga Mountains waited patiently for us, as the gorillas
came down from their nests for breakfast.   


 Volcano at 5:30 am, Ruhengeri
 
The ride anywhere in Kigali, Ruhengeri (Musanze), or elsewhere in Rwanda is the
scariest ever.  People everywhere are walking:  women with babies tied tightly to their
backs, old and young women and men, and people on bikes.  Many have very heavy
loads on their heads, including branches, long sticks of bamboo, huge sacks of potatoes,
4 G. jugs of water, laundry, and most anything else they want to carry.  Bikes are
loaded down with people or lumber, or several large bags of potatoes, and all people
walk, ride or push for miles and miles.  Everyone is wearing thin, mesh or plastic shoes,
or no shoes at all.  The road is dirt and rocky, and in some places, tarred.  The people
wear old, used clothes, and some women wear brightly colored cloth wrapped around
themselves as skirts, headbands, or baby slings.  Everything is mismatched, except for
an occasional nice outfit, especially on Sunday when hundreds walk to church in their
best clothes.  Whether near a town or village, or several miles out, dozens and dozens
of people walk, ride and push.   
 
At the muddy streams, people wait in long lines with several 4-5 G. plastic gas cans for
water to take home.  Some places have clear spring water, and others haul water red
with clay.  They haul this water, on foot and on their heads, for miles and miles. Even
the smallest children, some as young as 3 or 4, carry large sacks of potatoes and water
jugs on their heads.  Never have I seen so many people walking to do their daily chores
and errands; never have I seen so many babies and children on the streets.  


Closest to the park entrance, the road is the worst, and the people, the poorest.  Most
kids do not have shoes, and many wore rags.  The youngest toddlers wore only dirty
old shirts, and no pants, underwear, or diapers.  All of the people here are farmers, and
hoe the land by hand.  They grow potatoes, corn, beans, and a few other veggies like
cabbage and tomatoes.  All of the children hold out their hands and ask for money as
we passed by in the Land Rover.  Many chased the car, hands extended.  The youngest
kids stared, smiled, and waved.   
 
We gave out all of the food, crackers, cookies, Nutella, and even a little money as we
passed by. Every food item we could get our hands on at that moment was tossed out
the window to eager hands.  The kids were thrilled and excited.  It was painfully sad.   
 
Once at the trailhead, many, many women, men, and children stared at us as we
prepared ourselves for the gorilla trek.  It felt wrong to be tightening my new Merrill
hiking shoes, wear three layers of shirts, and own a camera, video camera, backpack
and clean water.  I felt choked by shame and guilt.
 
We set out self-consciously with our guide, Francois, and two armed guards, as well as
bamboo walking sticks.  We were setting out to look for gorilla Family #13, a family of 20 gorillas: 1 male silverback, 11 female “wives”, and 8 babies.  We were to meet up with the trackers further up the mountain, just outside the area where the gorillas were resting.



Potato Fields at the Entrance to the Volcanic Chain
 
We began the trail through a grove of eucalyptus trees where we tried the inner bark
and leaves of the tree.  We quickly learned that Francois could eat most anything!   
After the grove, we walked into open fields at the foothills of the Virunga Mountains,
mostly planted with potatoes and corn.  We were approaching the saddle between
Volcan Bisote and Volcan Sabyinya.  The earth was rich with volcanic soil, and soft from
recent rains.  The day itself was clear, hot, and beautiful, as was yesterday.  To have 2
such days in a row in this area of Rwanda, we were told, was very rare – but we had
them!  Up and up the hills we went, taking pictures of the breathtaking views as we
climbed higher and higher.  We found 2 chameleons along the way, and passed them
down the line for a look and a photo or two.  Francoise claimed this was good luck to
find two chameleons, and that we’d have a good trek because of it.  (Turns out he was
right.) We came to a wall at the mouth of the jungle, built by farmers to keep the
buffalo and elephants out of their potato fields.


Volcanic Rock Wall at Trailhead

We climbed over the wall of volcanic rock and began the steep and often muddy ascent
of the saddle between two volcanoes.  At 2700 meters altitude we quickly felt the
difficulty of breathing. We progressed slowly but steadily, stopping occasionally for
water and a brief rest.  We also stopped for lessons in gorilla diet.  We tested fresh
bamboo shoots, which were similar to celery, but with a stronger after-taste, and more
moist.  We had a thistle-eating demo by Francoise.  He pushed all the leaves off from
the bottom up, and chewed on the stalk, which he said the gorillas ate for water.  He
demonstrated this by letting the water pour from his mouth as he chewed the stalk.  He
took a mouthful of some other leaves, too, saying it was their salad.  One thing was for
sure: This man would never go hungry or thirsty in this jungle!


Francois Prepares to Eat, and Drink, Thistle

And then, finally, after a little more than an hour, we met up with the trackers and
another guard.  We could hear the gorilla noises a short distance up the hill.  Armed
with just our flash-less cameras and video cameras, we quietly approached Family #13.  
We came upon the alpha silverback first, lying on his back and playing with 3 little
gorillas!  There were two other females close by, resting, possibly the moms of the little
ones running all around.  The silverback just lay on his stomach and calmly looked at
us, and eventually rolled onto his back, feet in the air, relaxing, scratching his chest and
underarms and letting the babies run all over and around him.  We saw an infant only
two months old in her mom’s arms, and a couple of babies about 6 months old.  There
were 2 or 3 four to six month olds playing away from their moms, not far from the
silverback. They climbed and played and sat occasionally to nibble on something or
rest, but they were generally active.  We didn’t see all of the “wives”, but they were
close by, as we could hear them on occasion in the near distance.
 


Silverback Daddy Plays with One of Eight
 
Looking at all of the gorillas, I saw humanity in their faces.  These beings are our
cousins.  It is evident in their eyes.  The moms aren’t as trusting as the silverback,
especially the one with the smallest infant.  Once, when we got a little too close, she
moved away.  Eventually she moved and sat near the “President”, as Francoise
affectionately dubbed him.  The baby was about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.  All of
the members of this family looked content and healthy and well cared for.  There was
an odor in the air of faint skunk-like character, but lighter and sweeter and not as
offensive.  They all looked clean and groomed and very attractive.  The baby had a full
head of hair, cut square!  She was extremely cute, like in pictures, but REAL and free!


Mom and Two Month-Old Baby

Walking down the mountain, right after meeting and enjoying the gorillas for an hour,
I was choked up and cried a bit, fighting the tears on the trail down the thickly
vegetated saddle.  I felt that I was so lucky to have had an experience with wild animals
such as this.  Just to be a witness to the trust the gorillas had, despite the harm that has
been done to them by humans, was a very spiritual experience for me.  I was
overwhelmed with emotion and the presence of Spirit.  I wanted to stay with the
gorillas and get to know them by name, as Francoise did.  He considered them his
family, and the jungle, his home.  I was just a guest, and leaving felt permanent.  I
wanted more.


Proud Mom and Two Month-Old Baby
 
Exiting the trail at the foot of the Virungas, through the small eucalyptus grove, we
were greeted by many local farmers and a couple of dozen children, all under the age
of about twelve, many under six.  All of the people wore clothes soiled by days of
farming the dark volcanic earth and red soil.  Many of their shirts, skirts and pants were
torn and tattered, and almost no one wore shoes of any sort.  They were lined up along
the edge of the field behind the parked 4 x 4’s awaiting us.  What ran through my
mind?  What we paid to rent the vehicle with a driver for two days, $400, was more
than these onlookers would make in 2 years time of hard, physical labor, if they were
lucky.
 
Feeling an overwhelming need to respond to these people, the contents of my
backpack raced through my mind.  What do I have; what can I offer them?  The money
I carried was “group” money, counted out daily for every expense we needed on the
trip, so it wasn’t mine to give.  There are no ATMs in Rwanda, so there was no way for
me to replace it either.  Cashews!  I had a rather large baggie of salted cashews.
I was sure they had never tasted such a treat, as I had only seen peanuts in Rwanda. (They
grow marvelously sweet, small peanuts in Rwanda.)  I pulled the cashews out and
motioned to the large group of children to come to me as I walked towards them.  
When they saw what I had, the large group pushed and squeezed together, hands
extended, each trying to be a little higher than the next.  As my heart broke and the
tears welled up in my eyes, the kids pushed and shoved and I handed out small finger-
fulls of cashews, placing each pinch in one after another soil-caked little hand.  The
toddlers reached up from under the older children, and a baby on a young girl’s back
began to cry.  I closed the bag and motioned to them to stop crushing the baby in the
crowd, and to sit down.  They all obeyed, but as soon as I reached into the bag for more
cashews, the hungry little hands all popped back up and everyone was fighting again
for that one little pinch of nuts.  When the bag was almost empty, Francoise came over
and handed the rest out to a few kids on the fringes of the group, and I held their hands
and said goodbye.  

I was overwhelmed with grief as I removed my muddy hiking shoes and placed all my
gear into the Land Rover.  Never have I been so acutely aware of everything I was
wearing, and everything I was in possession of at that moment. Again, it felt wrong to
be removing my new Merrill hiking shoes, wear three layers of shirts, and own a
camera, video camera, backpack and clean water. Again, but even worse this time, I felt
choked by shame and guilt.  People living that close to life, to me, is like having one
foot walking the line of death; the inequities in life are just not fair.
 
I can’t stop thinking about how I can help, how I can make a difference.  In my life,
almost every penny I earn is accounted for, but it is the choices I make that I question.  
What could I do differently in my life to help someone in his or her life?
 
I have decided to support a family.  For $400-$500 a year, I could house and feed a
family of kids with a teen as head-of-household.  I would think nothing of spending this
on a vacation, or even willingly spend it on a car repair.  To think this amount of money
could mean the difference of life or death for a family of kids is mind-boggling to me.  I
want to help, and I don’t want to be a part of voyeurism, looking at the poverty and
not doing anything about it.  I do not want to just be a witness to life’s inequities;
I want to be proactive in my existence and my actions.  I will talk more with Eric (in Rwanda)
about identifying a family to receive my support.  I want to correspond with them and
know how they are doing.  I want to witness their growth and their success, not their
hunger and misfortune.  Like Eric said at our last lunch together before heading to the
airport,” You came to see, now go and tell.”  And so I am.  I want to, and will, make a
difference.

 
Homes in Ruhengeri


Rwanda is a strange but magical place, where life and death dance together in the
streets.  Try to understand this is a birthright of the natives; an understanding we can
only imagine having.  One must learn the steps from birth, and it is from that moment
on that Life and Death begin the struggle over who will lead each waltz.  Born to a life
of privilege where life always leads when the band begins to play, except for those
crashing, harsh moments when death cuts in, I can only pretend to understand through
my passion and desire to dance with others.  I can only try to touch base with my own
losses in life, which seem grand enough, and then try to imagine how genocide
survivors carry on.  For now on, I am reaching out and asking them to dance with me,
and I offer more life than death, as I push that bugger out of the lead with compassion
and love for the children of Rwanda.


Cindy, and many eager models!


Kigali Genocide Museum, December 13, 2006
 
There are seven tombs in this public memorial, and one remains open to accept more
bodies.  The stench of decaying human flesh is wafting in and out of the tomb with the
breeze.  Bodies of loved ones are still being discovered as the trials of war criminals
reveal burial sites still uncovered.  Families bring as many as five skeletons per coffin as
they unearth their 12-year-deceased loved ones.  Over 250,000 bodies now rest at this
one site of seven tombs.  I was surprised to hear they still unearth the long-buried
bodies.


The open tomb at the Kigali Genocide Museum.

I was also surprised to learn why there were hardly any dogs in Rwanda.  After the
genocide, when whole villages were exterminated and no one was left to care for the
dogs, they developed a taste for human flesh as it decayed.  They would eat the bodies
left to rot in the hot sun.  So when the genocide ended and the survivors returned, the
dogs were all shot.  Yes, all things are connected.
 
The museum itself was divided into three parts, and was circular in construct.  The first
part of the exhibit was the history of events leading to the genocide, the genocide itself,
and rooms filled with photographs of the murdered men, women, and children.  Often,
survivors gave their only photograph they had of the murdered loved one for the sake
of their memory in the museum, and as reminders for genocide to never, ever happen
again.


Rebecca Young-Ward, Kylie Butler, and Lizzy King at the Kigali Genocide Museum.
 

The second part was the depiction and stories of many genocides that occurred in the
20th century:  Bosnians, Pakistanis, and Jews, included, to name a few.  All were stories
well told and horrifically depicted.
 
The third section was dedicated to the lives of children lost in the genocide of 1994.  
Fourteen larger-than-life photographs of individual children were hung along with
their names, ages, and how they were murdered.  This was a simple but powerful
exhibit that portrayed the atrocities that occurred, and the evil man is so capable of
mastering.
 
Kylie, Lizzy and Rebecca finished their museum tour rather quickly, but Deb and I were
drawn to reading everything.  It was not a museum for the illiterate or the impatient.  
Also, English was always on the bottom of all the translations, so it required a fair
amount of bending over to read on the historical parts of the displays.
 
Although this was a good museum, and powerful in its words, photographs, bone
exhibits, and message, I do wish we had time to see other genocide sites.  We intended
to go to one just outside Butare on a trip south of Kigali, where over 200,000 people
were murdered; but the drive and lunch took so long that we didn’t have time to go.
(Lunch in Rwanda takes about three hours, regardless of where one goes!)
 
We did, however, see the King’s Palace in Nyanza and the National Museum in Butare,
south of Kigali.  Both were very interesting and educational.  We saw and entered re-
makes of the old style King’s hut, as well as his mother’s hut and the beer maker’s hut.  
We saw how they stored milk in wooden jugs with pointed, woven covers, and how
they made butter in huge gourds hung in rope slings, which they rocked back and
forth.  We saw their large, comfy beds covered in bark cloth, as well as the separate
entrances for men and women to the bedrooms.

Sonya Scherr, of The Valley News, inside the King’s mother’s home, viewing wooden milk storage bottles with  
straw tops and the large gourds that were rocked back and forth, filled with milk, to make cheese.


Ellen Young, Rebecca Young-Ward, Cindy Perry, Kylie Butler, Lizzy King,  
Sonja Scherr, and Deb Archambault in front of the model of the King’s home.

At the National Museum, one interesting artifact was a 200-year-old drum.  Burundians
first stole this large, weathered drum from the Rwandan king, and they named it, “We
by the Rwandans and named, “We hate Burundians.” Funny little racist event –
especially since both countries are derived from the same groups of people: Bahutu,
Batutsi, and Batwa.


The National Museum of Rwanda in Butare

Food: Ten Days of the Same
 
At Centre Christus, our home for ten days, there was no variety, and the non-fussy in
the group probably gained weight despite the dislike of the bland taste of the food.  
Lizzy and Rebecca ate almost nothing for 10 days.  They did eat potatoes, white bread
and plain spaghetti, and occasionally, rice.
 
For breakfast, or “petite dejeuner”, we always had dry, white bread and local jams like
papaya and mixed fruit with mango, and on a good day, locally made cheese.  The local
cheese is strong, orange, and textured like Velveeta – not very appealing, to say the
least.  The tea and warmed milk were always good and welcomed, though, and worth
the $1.60/day.  We never did eat lunch there, as we were usually on the road.   


Breakfast at Centre Christus – 7:30 sharp, or go hungry!

Dinner at the Centre (Really – look this place up at CentreChristus.com!) was also
repetitive.  Fried potatoes (of one sort or another), spaghetti, or rice, cassava greens
(similar to chopped spinach, but less bitter) or chopped cabbage, and beef or goat meat,
served family style.  The lack of protein for us non-red meat-eaters was rather severe.  
One night we had (kidney?) beans that were quite delicious, and twice we had boiled-
then-fried green bananas that replaced one of the other starches.  Bland, tasteless, and
repetitive is the best I can do to describe these $4.00 (2000 francs) meals.
Twice, though, we had soup that tasted like puréed potatoes and either cabbage or cassava leaves,
and maybe carrots.  It was actually SALTED and quite good!
 
Other Delights: Cold Showers, Bugs, and Monkeys
 
I am so ready for a long, hot shower and a long, soaking bath.  Cold showers and
doing the Hokey Pokey are torturous ways to clean oneself.  I now understand why
everyone smells of sweat and body odor, although I still succumbed to the daily
torture.  Washing my full head of hair was breathtaking – literally!  It was difficult NOT
to vocalize while in the shower!  The water was not potable, and keeping one’s mouth
shut while rinsing in the VERY cold water was a trick never to be mastered by me.  The
last day was the worst, as the shower drain was clogged, and 2 dead worms were
floating in the ever-increasing depths of the water at my feet.  Wearing the flip-flops
they provided just didn’t cut it, and I tried not to think about the nastiness my feet were
enduring while the rest of me experienced cold-water pain.   
 
There were two monkeys, five cows, a bull, and a cat that resided on the Centre
Christus campus.  The cows had a very patient Shepard who followed them – as best as
I could tell – all day, every day.  The mostly black, calico cat appeared at dinnertime for
beef (goat?) scraps on several occasions, and the two monkeys climbed the window
grates during breakfast.  The monkeys would catch and eat all of the locusts that would
hole-up in the cracks of the building at night, eating their heads and bodies and
discarding their wings on the ground with one, swift slurp in and out of their mouths.  
They did this in a flash!  One day, I fed them small bananas (all bananas are very small
in Rwanda).  They took them from my hand, jumped up on the nearby rooftop, and
peeled and ate them instantly, throwing the peels on the ground.  They were very cute
and friendly, but the female had some sort of wire hanging from her neck.  We couldn’t
tell if it was an injury (probably) or a strange surgery.  It didn’t seem to bother her, but
it looked bad to us.


Monkeys at Centre Christus, Kigali, Rwanda


Dozens of hawks, pied crows, and huge herons nested in the trees at Centre Christus.  
A robin-like bird with a white stripe across its eye greeted me each morning from the
bushes outside my room.  Its song was like that of a robin’s as well, and it was always
bopping around the soil looking for worms and bugs.
 
There were locusts, cockroaches, centipedes, millipedes, and a variety of flies, spiders,
and moths, a few mosquitoes (Really!  Not many!), ants, termites and, I am sure, other
insects.  There were also lizards that lived in the dropped ceilings of the chamber rooms
to eat them all!  I named my resident lizard “Lizzy” so I wouldn’t have to room alone
for ten days.   
 


Termite Mounds  

My room was separate from the other three rooms, and I was in a single.  All rooms
had bed nets, and a sink.  They were safe enough, but were not cleaned the ten days we
were there.  The doubles were $11.00/night, and the single was 3500 francs, or about
$7.00/night.   



Millipede and Lizard

Being in a single was lonely at times, but it gave me time to boil several pots of water
for the group for the next day or two, reflect on the day’s events, read, and maintain an
accurate account of the day’s expenditures and the monies needed day-to-day.  Not to
mention time to play solitaire – without a computer!  It was great to have the time to
live a simple life, even if it was only for ten days!
 
A Bad (but Funny) Joke
Once, when one of the girls on the trip was getting sassy, my sister said, “You better watch your
mouth, or we will have to wash it out with tap water!  You’ll be begging for the soap!”  We all
had a good laugh at that one!  
 
Patisserie
And on a final note, 16 students in Kigali, the first to graduate Project Independence from
training at Hotel Hi-Tech, had a great idea.   They liked the training program SO much, that they want to form a co-op and start a Patisserie. They want to have a business that some of them run while training more and more groups of orphans to bake and to run a business.  They have put
together a business plan, which Eric (of CHABHA) will be translating into English for us.  We want to help them.  They need about $12,000 USD to do this right.  If you want to help, please contact Cindy at school or home.  As soon as I get the business plan, I can pass on a copy to whoever would like to read it.  I hear it is really great!


Three boys with their homemade toy.


Cindy Perry
ODW-USA Coordinator
Thetford Academy
PO Box 190
Thetford, VT  05074
School: 802.785.4805, x208
Email: cindy.perry@valley.net
Home: 802.785.4459

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