World Relief Stories

Malawi: A Travel Log Day 6

2008-03-20T05:46:00.000-07:00

Day 6

Chicken Run and Toy Story

It's been a while since I've seen someone get so excited about chickens.

Well, other than my boss, that is. She's into chickens and all things that run around on four legs.

Villagers in the remote village of Embangweni are ecstatic with their brood of egg-layers.

They're so excited we could hardly get out of our vehicle before we were rounded up and in the coop.

No sooner than World Relief had supplied the birds, the members of a local church - St. Joseph's - got together and built a chicken run out of sticks.

The villagers have only one complaint: the chickens aren't as plump as they'd like.

But this simple agricultural project goes a long way towards increasing food security among these church members and their families - people who are at the top of the totem pole when it comes to vulnerability.

Chickens are perhaps the most entertaining thing in this village.

So when Kevin produced a bag of toy cars for the kids, eyes lit up.

These children had never seen toys before. Usually, they play in the dirt... perhaps with a stick or a few pebbles or a piece of twine. The look on their faces was one of pure delight.

Back in the U.S., Kevin's sons, ages 5 and 9, had loaded their dad up with toys to give away to children in Africa who'd never seen a toy truck before, let alone a PlayStation.

The action of a child is a reminder that each of us can truly leave our mark on the world in some small yet meaningful way.

We will take many memories with us from our travels in Malawi, but perhaps the most enduring image will be the power of simple things to make a real difference - things like chickens and toy cars.

Malawi Travel Log Day 5

2008-03-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

Day 5

Deadly Serious Business

Coffin making is big business in Malawi.

Everywhere along the roads you'll see "Coffin Workshops."

One sign in particular caught my eye: "Heaven Bound Funeral Parlor."

I guess it's putting a positive spin on it.

The booming coffin-building industry is yet another grim reminder of the realities of life in Malawi... the cruel realities of rampant AIDS, hunger and child mortality.

In some areas, the coffin makers can barely keep up with demand.

People here look forward to their home in heaven. But how wonderful it would be if, first, they could live a life worth living here on earth. Pray for Malawi!

Malawi Travel Log: Day 4

2008-03-18T05:20:00.000-07:00

Day 4

Fried Termites and The Road-Kill Dinner

Merrily cruising along the main road today when a fuzzy white object richocheted off the front windshield. What on earth!

"A bird!" cried our driver, excitedly.

Screeching to a halt, he proceeded to turn around in the road.

I assumed our driver's humanitarian nature had gotten the better of him. Naturally, he was checking on the welfare of that poor pigeon.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. That bird was his dinner!

Sadly, though, our driver was 30 seconds too late. If there's food lying around - even a dead pigeon in the road - you have to have lightning reflexes in Malawi!

An elderly gentleman standing by the roadside was already holding his "trophy" aloft, a crooked-toothed grin spread over his face.

As the old saying goes: "A bird in the hand..."

Termite Indigestion

Ever tried fried termites?

I did today.

My in-laws used to have termites eating away at their house.

I never realized you could eat them.

Salty, with a crunchy shell... and not very satisfying.

Now I have a whole bag of the things to dispose of... I mean, consume.

I could try smuggling them back into America - the boys at church would love that - but I'm not sure what U.S. Customs would have to say about it.

Could sprinkle them on my cornflakes.

Please do forward any termite recipes...

Malawi: A Travel Log Day 3

2008-03-17T05:57:00.001-07:00

Day 3

First Time For Everything

Incredibly, it's the first time these village children have ever seen white people.

One or two wide-eyed toddlers back away in terror and burst into tears.

The isolated tobacco growing village of Chipolwa seldom sees anybody from the outside world - let alone a couple of Americans armed with Nikons.

It's also a surreal "first " for me. A few days ago, I was gazing at the Space Needle in Seattle. Now I'm deep in the Malawian countryside, milling around a village of thatched mud huts and dried tobacco leaves - the villagers' primary income source.

I feel like the Pied Piper as I wander, trailed by a throng of 100-plus chattering children - and some parents, too.

African Inventiveness

Plucking up courage, a 10-year-old boy holds out a soccer ball.

Made out of a blown-up plastic bag, held together only by string, the ball is remarkably round and bouncy.

In Malawi, soccer is HUGE. But no one in this village owns a "proper" ball. In fact, the children have never seen one... let alone heard of David Beckham.

A teenager strums on a banjo that he's made entirely out of scrap materials - an astonishing feat of creativity.

It's a reminder that these children each have God-given artistry, God-given abilities. Yet, here, they've no life options other than tobacco harvesting. There is nothing else.

World Relief has a vision: could their incredible inventiveness be "harvested"?

In the local church, Dublex Nkhoma, a 30-year-old teacher from the village, runs World Relief's child development program for pre-schoolers - teaching a generation of little Malawians the alphabet, numbers, spiritual songs and - most importantly - how to pray.

The number of pre-schoolers in Dublex's class has soared from 42 to... wait for it... 105 in just over a year.

These little ones, I feel, are destined for a higher purpose than tobacco harvesting. Their time will come.

Malawi: A Travel Log Day 2

2008-03-16T07:17:00.000-07:00

The Church That AIDS Built

Four years ago, the Free Methodist Church in Salima had only 12 members.

Now the church has 382.

Ironically, the scourge of AIDS is breathing new life into many of Malawi’s churches, as people respond to the love that churches shower on people living with HIV/AIDS.

At the Free Methodist, hundreds have started coming to church since World Relief trained church members how to care for people living with AIDS in their community.

People want to know more about the faith that inspires their neighbors to visit those whom others consider outcasts.

It’s as if God has taken something terrible and brought forth good.

Says Macdonald Esau, a local church leader: “People in the community say: ‘It’s good that people from the church take time to visit people who are not members of their church’.

“This is the work of Jesus on earth.”

Glimpses of Malawi: A Travel Log

2008-03-14T06:10:00.000-07:00

Day 1

Warm Hearts, Steady Heads

Malawians are known for their “warm hearts” – but they also know how to use their heads.

Water, fruit, firewood – everything is expertly carried on top the head – no hands!

Of course, we had to ask for a personal demo. And this lady was only too happy to show off her balancing skills.

It was a lighthearted moment… we would need it ahead of what was about to come…

Children of AIDS

As the group of young children stood for a photo op outside their church, it struck me that none of them might live to reach adulthood.

In all likelihood, none of these children will marry. None will have families of their own.

Every one of them is HIV-positive.

They were born with the AIDS virus – and eventually AIDS will claim their lives.

Eight-year-old Tadala is the same age as my own daughter. Only Tadala is HIV positive.

Her mom and dad both died of AIDS. Now this orphan lives with her grandfather.

A year or so ago, Tadala was covered in boils and sores…. a classic sign of advancing AIDS. She used to vomit every day.

But now because of the support offered by World Relief through St. Mathew’s Anglican Church in Salima, Tadala is one of the HIV-positive children “fortunate” enough to have access to antiretroviral therapy (ART) – drugs that slow the brutal onset of AIDS.

Her grandfather says Tadala is stronger now. The boils have gone; the vomiting has stopped.
“When I pray,” her grandfather says, “I ask the Lord to give Tadala a long life, a healthy life.”

Is it possible? Is my Jesus able to give Tadala a future? Is He also the Lord over AIDS?

Survival. Hunger. Poverty

2007-04-03T06:16:00.000-07:00

Survival. Hunger. Poverty.
Words that can stay theoretical and abstract until you meet the person experiencing them.
More accurately: Words that have stayed theoretical to me until I met someone experiencing them.

I met Katherine Nibaruta on March 29, 2007— the day World Relief distributed 35,000 kilos of beans in the northern Burundian province of Kayanza. The 1,500 people to receive the beans were all from the Kabarore Zone and came together eagerly and thankfully at the Kabarore Primary School to collect the promised food. Thousands of dark faces, bright smiles, and colorfully arrayed women greeted us. Katherine was one of them.

She came from a family who had lived in the Kabarore Zone of Kayanza, Burundi, for generations. It is a land of tall hills, bright green fields of tea, and stretches of wide-leafed banana trees. The land is so beautiful and so lush, one is struck by the contrast of the beauty of the land and the great poverty of the people residing in it. Katherine’s family had farmed that land for years— growing sweet potatoes, beans, corn, bananas, and avocadoes. But now, even though the land appears green and fertile, it is actually desolate. The excess rains and floods, and then lack of rains, have destroyed their crops. The soil is infertile, and they have no manure to nourish it and give the soil the nutrients it needs.

On March 29, when I met her, Katherine had no money in her small, dirt-floor home. She said money went only to the strong who can work for food. At 55, she is considered elderly by her community and can no longer work to earn money to buy the food that is so expensive in the local markets. She had no food in her home. The banana trees were too old and no longer produced fruit. The avocadoes and potatoes and corn were ruined by the rains. Only a few beans and bean leaves from her garden to sustain herself, her ailing husband, and their four remaining children

Unfortunately (and true of many Burundian families), this was not the first time Katherine and her family have been in such a dire situation. As a child, Katherine grew up in a nearby home with two sisters and two brothers. Her childhood was filled with typical Burundian home activities— fetching water, cooking, and cleaning. As a young girl, she attended Catholic school for five years, receiving only a basic elementary education.

Katherine married at the age of 20, the second wife of her husband Juvenal. His first wife had nine children. Katherine bore eight, but only three of her own survived. The war in Burundi was the beginning of hardships for Katherine and her family. The cows that they used for milk and manure (for the soil) were stolen. The military took up position right behind her house to protect their village, but they still were forced to flee several times to Rwanda.

And now, with the inconsistent weather and food shortage, Katherine’s situation seems bleak. She received a bag of beans from the food distribution which she is thankful for and brings a bit of respite. 23 kilos of beans. 10 days of food— one meager meal once a day in the evening. I asked her about her future, and she said she could not really see her future. She says, “I have no hope for food, for my future.”

And Katherine is only one story— one real person that has changed my thinking of survival and hunger and poverty from a trite theory to a sad and terrible reality.

The other 1,500 people that received food that day all have stories and situations that parallel Katherine’s. They came to the school that day from nine surrounding hills, invited by the leaders of their communities including the nine local chiefs, an array of national and local security, and nine pastors who partner with World Relief to bring aid to the people. These nine pastors came together from a range of denominations— Catholic, Baptist, Pentacostal, and Assemblies of God— partnering with World Relief for the sake of their people. As the crowd gathered to collect the food, one of the pastors addressed them. He spoke about creating hope for the future and encouraged them, saying that Christians in America know of their need, have given money to help them (through World Relief), and are praying for them in their hardship. In response, the people of Kabarore were thankful. They waved and shook our hands in a gesture of gratefulness. But their struggle to fight hunger, poverty, and to survive will continue. Katherine’s struggle will continue. This is no longer theoretical.

To find out more about the work of World Relief in response to the crisis in Burundi or to donate to our work, click here.

Faces of Gaza

2007-02-20T06:37:00.000-08:00

Turning off the main street in Gaza City's Sajayieh neighborhood onto a narrow dirt road, we navigated carefully the countless twists and turns, avoiding numerous pot holes along the way and barefooted children playing in the street.

Walls covered with grafitti announced allegiance to various militant groups, mainly Hamas and Fatah in this part of town. Entering one of the worst neighborhoods in Gaza, where battles are fought regularly, sometimes between families, sometimes between political factions, and oftentimes with Israeli forces, we're on our way to vist the home of one our students at our School. A teacher and I along with two members of the relief team are visiting the Burdani home.

Home visits are a vital part of the ministry here at the school and provide an opportunity to meet the family and see the living conditions that our students go home to everyday. Needs are assessed, a box of food is brought, new children are registered for the coming school year, and families are prayed for. Though a vital part of the ministry, home visits are becoming increasingly more difficult and dangerous as factional fighting is on the rise throughout the Gaza Strip. On this particular day a member of Hamas and two members of Fatah have been killed and a large number have been kidnapped.

Our visit has obviously been announced as we pull up next to the home with a crowd of children awaiting our arrival. The building we enter is a three story concrete structure, unfinished on the outside and cold on the inside. We make our way up the stairs to the rooftop where Du'a, a fourth grader at our School, lives with her parents and five brothers and sisters. Du'a's cousin and classmate, Amal, is visiting as well with her mother and brothers.

The room we're seated in is not unlike most of the places we've visited before. Mats cover the floor with very little furniture to be found. A bed in one corner with a small table and an old TV is all there is. The ceiling is made up of asbestos sheets, open to the outside wind and rain and obviously leaking in certain parts of the room.

The opening for the window is uncovered, with no glass to prevent the cold and rain from coming in and with no bars to prevent the children from falling out. Hanging from the ceiling is a Quranic verse and a framed picture of a family member, probably a 'martyr' killed in one of the many Israeli incursions. This is the one room of the house where the family eats, sleeps and lives...all eight of them.

Our hostess graciously served us cold drinks as we got to know the family. Sha'ban, the oldest son, dropped out of school in 6th grade and is now 17 years old...without a job and without an education. Rowan, seated next to her mother, is five years old and has not been able to go to kindergarten because of the family's situation.

She is now registered in the Kindergarten scheduled to open the beginning of March. She will need a sponsor to help cover the costs of tuition, uniform, transportation and books. Abu Sha'ban, the father of the home, has been unemployed since the beginning of the intifada in 2001. Like so many others, he used to work in Israel and was able to provide very well for the family.

At one time close to 100,000 Palestinians from Gaza were employed in Israel. The border closures and travel restrictions have reduced that number to a little more than 200, causing unemployment in Gaza to soar above 40%. Somehow this family of eight is able to get by without a source of income...extended family members giving what little they can, UN relief supplies for refugee families, and a box of food items from the School and the church's relief program.

The mother shares with us how happy she is with the school and with Du'a's progress. The two girls, Du'a and Amal, are seated in their school uniforms with smiles on their faces.

As I leave the Burdani home, the built-up fatigue and frustration of life in Gaza quickly fades and I'm remined again of why we're here. A little light has been brought into this darkness...in this family, in this home, in this neighborhood, in this area of Gaza, in this part of the Middle East...the light of Christ is shining and the darkness cannot put it out. I'm reminded again that there is hope for this land and the people of this region.

As you read the headlines and see the news this weekend of more kidnappings and killings and factional fighting, remember that what you see below are the faces of Gaza. Not of militants, or enemies, or terrorists...but the faces of children, the faces of the future, the faces of HOPE!

God bless you all for your continued prayers,
John & Marcia

John is a World Relief partner working with a school in Gaza, offering hope and a future to children.

Day 5-Last day in Wamena

2006-09-29T06:47:00.000-07:00

Charles-day5
Originally uploaded by andrearatzloff.

Today is our last day. Our flight was scheduled for 9:20AM, but we changed it to 3pm to finish up our work here. We had one destination today, to the mountains in Pikhe, to photograph the youth there. Chris, our guide, knows these people. Some of them attend his church. Today, we had the taxi driver’s phone number so we didn’t have to stand along the road waiting.

Our first stop is by the roadside near one of the homes. The girls at this home are strolling down the mountain with pieces of timber to sell in the market. We had a quick chat, some photo shoots and off they went. Then we met another family of 15 in their traditional home. This village is about 10kms up in the mountains, and the people here haven’t even heard of HIV/AIDS. We take a few photos and chat. The road is very slippery and we hurried back to the hotel to check out before 12:00noon and get ready for the flight.

We start driving down the road as I took some pictures of the scenery and people who we met along the road. Two fascinating scenes grasp my attention. A young girl with her daughter on her shoulders running down the hill. Another is an old woman, with big loads of firewood on her back and head going to the market to sell it to provide for her family of five. I have enjoyed my trip, and I hope that I will have the opportunity to come back in the future.

Day 4-Visit to local Hospital/other church leaders in Wamena, Jayawijaya

2006-09-28T05:21:00.000-07:00

Charles-day4
Originally uploaded by andrearatzloff.

Last night, we had to ask for extra blankets at our hotel, it was so cold. The blankets here are so thin that the only difference between them and the bed sheets is the color!

Our first destination today was the hospital. We met with Dr. Charles Rutalangi to ask him about the HIV/AIDS cases at the Wamena General Hoaspital. He told us that he has had recorded three cases of AIDS, two of them have already died. He admitted that they were only suspected AIDS cases, because the patients had long illness, tuberculoses, and lost so much weight before they died. He said he thought there were more cases, but they have no way of finding out. At this hospital, which serves over 300,000, they do not havea facility for testing HIV/AIDS!

Our next stop is the home of Abraham Ongirwalu, the pastor of Gereja Kristen Injiri. Asking him what his congregation is doing about the AIDS problem, Abraham told us that they have quarterly seminars for the congregation heads to talk to them about the subject. But because even they have little information, they are not yet confident enough to begin sharing with the entire congregation.

While we were still chatting Bapak. Rudy Souisa, the former first assistant for the district of Jayawijaya, similar to what we would call the deputy Mayor. He told us that government was doing all it can, but the morality is individual responsibility. Rudy told us that the main cause of the spread of HIV here is prostitution. In the Papuan culture, men found to pay for a local Papuan prostitute are fined a minimum of 6 pigs. Pigs are often used as a form of payment in this culture. The cheapest pig costs about five million rupiah (approximately 500 dollars). Though that is expensive, because many men come from outside the Papuan culture, even if they are caught they are not often punished! While those involved find the cost of prostitution affordable, perhaps only $10, the consequences are silent and are only reflected in the increasing rates of HIV/AIDS infections in this town.

As we return to the hotel in the evening, we saw cottages of what used to be a hotel, now abandoned and surrounded by bush. Chris, our volunteer escort, and head of a local youth church group told us that the owners ran bankrupt, and the Hotel was closed. The driver stopped, and I took a photo on the road with the Hotel in the background.

Tomorrow is our last day here. No appointments yet, but we will meet some other people before we depart.

Day Three: Wamena--Field visits to churches/church leaders

2006-09-27T06:10:00.000-07:00

Charles-Day3
Originally uploaded by andrearatzloff.

The evenings here are cold, and it has been raining every night. I have had to wear my jacket which I haven’t used in the one year since I’ve been in Aceh.

Our destination today is to the different churches in Wamena. We want to talk with the different leaders to find out what they are already doing to help their congregations better understand the HIV/AIDS situation.

We stood along the road, just outside our hotel for almost an hour waiting for a taxi. Most already had passengers. One of them told us he was dropping off two passengers and would be back shortly, but he never came back. I went by the shop to buy a bottle, but it cost four times what I would pay in Aceh. Everything here is very expensive, since air transport is the only way to get goods to Wamena.

After finally catching a taxi, our first stop was Gereja Bethel Indonesia in Pisug village, 8 kilometers from Wamena. We met Pastor Henok Kossaj and four members of his church. As we talked, I asked them what they know about HIV/AIDS, and what they are doing as a church, and I got some interesting responses.

Kossaj told me that he knows AIDS is a disease affecting people in Wamena, and no one in his village has it. Ironically, he mentions that he doesn’t know symptoms of the disease and has never seen anyone with it.

Markus Kossaj, a member of Kossaj’s congregation, told us that AIDS is a disease which affects the private parts. Hanas Dabily, told me that in the Dani (the tribe in Pisugi village) tradition, they burn the dead, a sure way of getting rid of AIDS. After several discussions, we left for another village.

Our next stop is Pikhe village. We meet pastor Evangelist Jason Jikwa,of the Gereja Baptist Panorama. He tells us three members of his congregation who died recently were diagnosed with AIDS.

But he says he cannot talk to his congregation because he has little information about the disease. Jason has attended one seminar on HIV/AIDS where he learned AIDS spreads through sex, so he tells his congregation to remain faithful. He says he mentions it during the Sunday prayers but not often. “Sex is a human desire and it is very difficult for me to stop the people,” he says. “Maybe if I had more information, then I will start talking about AIDS.”

Pikhe and Pisugi villages are less than 9 kilometers from Wamena, a place considered to have one of the highest AIDS infection rates in the country, but the people are simply not educated about the disease.

The church here has a lot of authority, convenes the village meetings, and has a big congregation, but their leaders cannot talk about AIDS. Most leaders are over 40 and aren’t comfortable speaking freely talk about sex in church, yet their congregation is dying!

Before we left for Wamena, Pastor Jason took us to visit a traditional homestead next to his church. There are four traditional Papuan grass thatched huts enclosed in a fence made of short wood with a single entrance. The women and their children live in three separate huts while the men sleep in one hut, directly facing the entrance to the compound. Jason tells us the men’s hut is strategically positioned to enable them to watch over everyone who enters into the compound. We briefly talk to the elders just outside their hut. There are more than 20 people in this compound, but none of them have even heard of AIDS! After our return Wamena, we plan for tomorrow, when we will be meeting other church leaders and the head of the main government hospital in Wamena.

Day Two: Jayapura/Wamena - Papua--Insightful statistics!

2006-09-26T07:18:00.000-07:00

Charles-becakPapua
Originally uploaded by andrearatzloff.

I have experienced more than my share of delayed flights. I woke up very early this morning to catch another flight from Jayapura, where I spent the night, to Wamena, a smaller town. Last night I went to sleep very early, exhausted by the almost 8 hour long journey from Jakarta! This place is two hours ahead of other parts of Indonesia – same country!

After a 30 minute drive to the airport, we hurried through the security check only to find no one was at the Trigana Air counter! It was 7:45 AM, and our flight was scheduled for 8:30 AM. Dr.Tomatala, my trip colleague/translator/guide went to the airline office to inquire about the schedule, only to be told that the flight would depart at 10:30 AM. No announcements, no apologies!

We went to the coffee shop outside the airport terminal and just by the doorway was a young man selling newspapers. An interesting headline caught my eye, so I stopped. The paper was in Bahas, the Indonesian language, so I couldn’t read the entire headline. The final word jumped out—HIV/AIDS…so I decided to buy a copy and have Dr. Tomatala translate for me.

Dr Tomatala began to translate, “Free Sex and HIV/AIDS”.

Ironically, as I travel to visit Papua to investigate the opportunity for an AIDS program, I see my first Indonesian Newspaper with extensive coverage on HIV/AIDS. Dr. Tomatala goes on to summarize the two pages devoted to the topic for me:

“Current HIV/AIDS infection in Papua ranges from 90,000 to 130,000! In September 2004, a report by the Health Department indicated that 2,226 Papuans had HIV, and 2,363 had AIDS,” he read.

The article goes on to quote recent survey results of 2,100 students between the ages of 8-12 conducted by the University of CendraWasih in Papua which indicated 15.2% of the respondents admitted to have been already involved in sexual activity. It is 10:00 AM and our plane still hasn’t arrived. I held on to the paper for future reference.

When the announcement for our flight is made, people are practically running to the plane and I wondered out loud what the problem was. Dr. Tomatala informed me it is free seating, so people rush to get the “best” positions! We board and head off to Wamena.

After landing in Wamena, I spent thirty minutes with the immigration police registering and clearing with my Travel permit for Papua. We took a becak (pedicab) the short distance to our hotel. The ones here are different from the ones in Aceh so I ask Tomatala to take my photograph.

Some places are closed because I hear they are celebrating the beginning of the fasting month, so tomorrow will be a holiday for us as well.

Charles Kakaire is the World Relief Communications Officer in Indonesia, traveling to Papua in response to the HIV/AIDS situation.

Ending the stigma associated with AIDS? A long way to go!

2006-09-25T07:39:00.000-07:00

WR charles
Originally uploaded by World Relief Pictures.

Indonesia, Sunday 24th September 2006

On my way to Papua yesterday, I had one of those annoying journeys when my flight from Jakarta was delayed by over 6hours. But well, thanks to Garuda Airways, which offered me a place in the executive transit lounge where I spent my time until 2:50am, the new departure time for my flight.

As I waited in the lounge, I met a new friend, an Indonesia man in his 60s. My friend and I started to chat about many things among which was the topic of HIV/AIDS in Indonesia. The purpose of my trip to Papua is specifically to get a deeper understanding of the context and extent of HIV/AIDS, so that I in turn inform other people, mostly the World Relief donors, since Word Relief is being invited by the local church in Papua to support them in their HIV/AIDS interventions.

Before we could go deep into the talk, my friend concluded I took a wrong decision to accept to go to Papua. Reason? I was going to catch the disease by getting near the infected people! In his view, HIV/AIDS is spread by getting close to those who have it! “They will spread it to you, unless you stay away from them” he said.

For a while, I was taken many years back as I tried to convince him that one cannot catch AIDS by simply associating with those who have it. Getting such a response from someone who lives in Jakarta, Indonesia’s capital, I only started to imagine what sorts of opinions I would find in the people in Papua, my final destination, one of the most remote and primitive part of Indonesia.

AIDS seems to be a new topic in Indonesia, although it is slowly eating away the population. And the ignorance, lack of awareness about the disease, and near absence of Voluntary Counseling and Testing (VCT) services, creates more room for the disease to spread. Currently, Papua is considered one of the worst affected areas in Indonesia, but even here, people hardly know about the disease. With common views about AIDS resembling those of my new friend at the transit lounge in Jakarta, unless checked, the disease will continue to slowly but surely eat away the population of the world’s fourth largest country!

As for the stigma associated with the disease, the journey to find out more is just beginning! Please come back, as I update you daily about my experiences in Papua.

Charles Kakaire is the World Relief Communications Officer in Indonesia. He is currently on a trip to Papua, where World Relief is being invited by the local church to support its HIV/AIDS interventions.

Faith in Adversity

2006-08-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

In the last nine months, while working with World Relief, I have met more suffering people that I had ever met in the last 20 years, but one unique thing strikes me each time I am encountered with another person or family, the incredible faith in God, and resilience amidst their suffering. Probably one leads to another.

On a recent trip to Sudan’s Darfur province, I met 35 year old Jeddah Idris, a single mother of nine children ages 2 to 19. Two years ago, her husband was killed when a group of local militia attacked their home. She and her children survived, but were left with nothing, after their home was set on fire and all property looted. Now living in a small makeshift house with all her children in Azirni main village, Jeddah says one word repeatedly, Alhamdulilah, Alhamdulilah, meaning thanks be to God, adding that it’s because of Allah (God) that the children and herself are still alive. As though nothing is missing in her life, Jeddah smiled heartily saying life continues, as she mounted on her donkey, to begin her daily four kilometer journey to fetch water for the family. World Relief bought her the donkey, which is the main source of labor for families in Darfur.

IMG_0038
Originally uploaded by World Relief Pictures.

When the earthquake hit Indonesia’s town of Jogjakarta, 30 year old Umi Teresia’s mother died in the rubble of a collapsed neighbor’s house where she had gone to pay for labor to plough her rice fields. Meeting Umi, just days after her mother’s burial, she told me one thing had kept her strong, the belief that God had a plan for her and her family beyond the earthquake. Their house was also flattened by the earthquake but Umi, her father and her 8-year old son managed to escape unhurt. Sitting on top of the rubble on their collapsed house, in what she said would have been the living room; Umi said everything is God’s plan including those people, as she pointed to a group of World Relief volunteers helping to clear the debris to create space for the emergency shelters. A few meters away from the Umi’s house, an elderly couple, Suyadi and his wife Sukirni, who like many Indonesians, have only one name, were sitting on their partly damaged sofa, one of the few things they managed to salvage from the rubble. Talking with the couple, they said they lost everything but God saved one precious commodity for them, their life, adding that God will also provide for alternatives.

But it was 29-year old Imran from Beurandeh village in Banda Aceh who moved me the most. Like many other families in Indonesia’s Aceh, this man lost his wife and his three children, and he even never got to see their bodies! His house and all the possessions were also washed away by the tsunami. With teary eyes, Imran told me how he was driving a taxi, a job he had had for two years, that morning when it was swept off the road by the first wave. He and other passengers survived by running to the high ground before the second wave struck, which was so strong that it washed away houses, cars and even the road. He couldn’t even return home for an entire week! Describing how life has been since the tragedy, Imran said, “Hanya Tuhan yang membuat saya kuat,” meaning, only God has kept me strong. Now living in a new house constructed by World Relief, Imran recently remarried and says the rest will be God’s plan. From three different locations, miles apart, Jeddah, Umi and Imran have experienced different disasters, but they all have something in common, a high level of resilience and an incredible faith in God.

Charles Kakaire is the World Relief Communications Officer in Indonesia.

Hope in Cambodia

2006-06-19T08:23:00.000-07:00

This is my first trip back to Cambodia in over three years. What has been my family's home since I was 12, coming to Phnom Penh allows the opportunity to spend time with my parents, see the development that has happened, and to experience first hand many of the World Relief programs I write about at work.

Spending a day visiting a variety of programs, a picture of the way we started our day stands out....

A modern day Pied Piper, a World Relief Hope staff member wanders through the thin corridors of the squatter settlement by the railroad tracks with his megaphone playing a short little tune recognized by all the children in the community. As he walks, children fall in step behind him or run ahead to the shade tree where other Hope staff set up.

Excited and laughing, the children flock…a few completely naked, one carrying a dog, others with a younger brother or sister on their hip. It’s the highlight of their day, it seems. Curious mothers, some under the pretense of watching their younger children, stand around the back. A man selling brooms stops his cart to listen.

Soon, all eyes are fixed on the leader who begins playing a game to pull the group together.

“I am going to the market,” he yells.

“What will you buy?” 75 children yell in unison.

“A dog,” he says, pulling the young girl carrying the dog behind him, provoking the laughter of the children.

A series of games, singing, and interactive lessons promoting healthy behavior and a caring community kept most children completely enraptured for an hour. The puppet show, featuring Bert (or Sophan as he was renamed for this particular show) from Sesame Street, called attention to the dangers of the tiger mosquito which carries dengue fever. When the villain mosquito appeared on the scene, the children booed and called for it to go away. As the show continued, it outlined ways to eliminate the habitat for the mosquitoes and to protect yourself from getting bitten. Vital lessons for children (and the curious mothers) to ensure they are protected during the upcoming rainy season.

A skit put on by incredibly animated staff and a volunteer from the audience kept the kids laughing hysterically at moments and moaning in pain at others. Emphasizing the importance of helping others, the skit showed one character lose his brother and another his cow, and followed how the others in the community responded. The moral of the story is that you should help people, that God commands us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. In Cambodia, a country dramatically impacted by genocide in the 1970s, this is an essential lesson. Trust and help without strings attached is a rare commodity, one the Hope team is seeking to build into these children’s lives early.

In the Hope program, I saw something you rarely see in the classrooms in Cambodia. A large group of children engaged, responding independently and thoughtfully to their teacher. Children knew every word to the a song about washing your hands and being clean before everything….about the importance of serving as a role model for your friends in your cleanliness and hygiene. They left the group humming the tunes or singing the lyrics…many teach the songs and lessons to their neighbors, parents and friends.

As I talked to the staff, I found a group of committed, animated, fun-loving adults who poured their lives into children each and every day. Going out into the communities they work in, they reinforce the health lessons…ensuring that children are putting into practice what they learn. In the midst of poverty, hopelessness and despair, Hope lives up to its name…investing in the lives of children to provide hope, life and a future for them and their nation.

Andrea Kaufmann is a Staff Writer/Copy Editor for World Relief in Baltimore.

2006-05-04T09:27:00.000-07:00

Steve and Rachel Good of Zion Chapel in Goshen, Indiana, are serving in Mozambique for World Relief. Steve is working in the field of microenterprise.
Trip to the U.S.
We were in the U.S. for one month over Christmas and into January. It was great to connect with our families and friends again and see that they are doing well. In January, there were World Relief meetings in Baltimore and Minneapolis. It was amazing to be in one place with WR Mozambique staff, people who have visited Mozambique this year and U.S.-based WR staff. We realized how many people we have met and grown to love in the past year.

Our Work
The microenterprise project of raising chickens is expanding. We have completed seven new chicken houses in Xai-Xai, a city on the coast and our trainers have trained 30 more volunteers in Manhiça in the microenterprise course. We will begin building there soon.

We were very pleased to know that the projects in Chokwe and Macia continued doing well while we were stateside. Our bookkeepers are Edgar and Acidia. They are doing a great job of keeping track of the books, paying the volunteers and doing the banking.

Alcides and Anabela help us as our technicians and supply runners. Anabela and her husband are leaders in an Anglican church. They also work with World Relief in the HIV/AIDS program by coordinating home health care volunteers. Their church has projects to raise money for food for the orphans and widows in their church family. They are busy making a difference in their community, not only in word but also in deed.

To Be or To Do
In our meetings with World Relief staff and church partners, one of the issues that came up was that Americans love to come to the field and "do'' something significant such as build, teach, paint, or provide health services. We are so overwhelmed with the needs that we want to help fix them in a concrete way.

On the other hand, Africans value relationships. Yes, they appreciate the same things we do, but they also appreciate that we sing and dance with them, talk with them, spend time with them, find out what their lives are like, Just to "be" together is good.

These are some of the perspectives we need to keep in mind as we live here and plan for teams coming to Mozambique. We want to make the best use of their time and still honor the African values of being and relationship.

Thank you for your part in giving to God and to us and for praying for us. We feel we are part of a team, not doing this alone, and that is so valuable.

Lament: My Country Is Dying

2006-04-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

Written by Rebecca Oehrig, our volunteer in Mozambique

It is my country not by birth, nor by nationality, nor by choice, but it is a country that has chosen me and despite my best efforts to remain somewhat aloof, has entwined itself in my heart. Today I weep for my Mozambique.

I weep for the sorrow that salts the air in the throes of a deadly acronym. I weep for the daily funerals. I weep for the broken homes, destitute widows, orphaned children. I weep for the still-breathing skeletons with hollow eyes that sit in a lonely wait for death. I weep for the hunger pangs, the bloated tummies, the oozing sores that eat at flesh which hangs like oversized clothing. I weep for the helplessness, the despair, the loneliness. I weep for myself because to me AIDS has names and faces. To me, these are my friends.

I have become quite adept at identifying those who have “the virus.” I am literate in the tell-tale signs; I know the pattern well--“I have sores that won’t heal, legs that won’t walk, a cough that won’t subside. My husband has abandoned me, my children are hungry; I have nowhere to turn.” I touch and comfort and give and pray…and leave.

But today it was Gloria who showed me that I am inextricably bound to the sorrows of this land, and whether by choice or by chance, I am here now with the opportunity to either live and love with abandon or shrug a helpless shoulder.

Gloria is a waif of a woman with the heart of a lion who came into my life by chance, as it were. The woman, Isabel, who was employed to clean the World Relief office (and subsequently my house) fell sick and Gloria was brought in as a temporary replacement. Her spirit, integrity and work ethic won my admiration and her kindness and faith won my heart. So when Isabel came back to work, leaving Gloria unemployed, we hired her full-time to clean our apartment. She is becoming a dear friend as we sit over tea and bread and chat about life and family and correctly-spoken Portuguese. She cares for me as carefully as she cares for my house—staying late into the evening to look after me when I get sick and calling me when I travel to make sure I have arrived safely. She, like countless other African women, is single-handedly raising four children and two grandchildren on $75 a month and has known more sorrows than one woman need bear.

This morning I got a call from Gloria, which was strange for a Sunday. Her cousin, who has been sick for quite some time, is dead. She died this morning.
--I have no money for transport. I knew I needed to visit her last night, but I had no money for transport.
Her cousin lives outside of the city, but despite the distance and expense, Gloria visited her to care for her at least twice a week.

--Mana Rebecca, she died because there was no one there to care for her well enough. She died because I couldn’t come. She died alone. She has a daughter with no father…and now no mother.
What does one say, in a language not her own, to the grief of a friend?

--Are you at home? Can I come see you? I don’t know what to do.
The doorbell rang some twenty minutes later and I held my friend as her head hung in defeat.

--I had hoped. I had hoped and prayed that God would heal her. But now the hope is finished.
But the tears did not come…We talked briefly, prayed, and sat in silence as so many thoughts swirled. Then she went on her way with her Bible and an envelope of money I gave her for transport and funeral costs. A small offering in the face of such need.

I don’t know if Gloria cried, or will cry, or if her tears have been spent on her mother and father and brother and husband and daughters. But I cried. I shut the door and leaned my head against the frame and wept. Not because this story is anything out of the ordinary--her cousin is just one of the hundreds who die each day--but because this story is ordinary. Because when we prayed for Gloria’s cousin two weeks ago, I knew it wouldn’t be long. Because the “sick” and the “orphaned” and the “widowed” cannot be confined to a program at a church—their story is told by every family. I wept because the need of this land has shifted in my life from facts and statistics to names, to faces, to people, to friends. I wept because one’s heart cannot hold and one’s mind cannot comprehend the magnitude of suffering that is a daily reality. I wept because sometimes one must just weep.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach Good News to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners…to comfort all who mourn and to provide for those who grieve in Zion.” –Isaiah 61:1-3

Bauman Blip - 3 April 2006

2006-04-10T10:42:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since we have sent out a little "blip." It's amazing what can happen in a couple of weeks! Let's see... we have been doing lots of work and school, had wonderful visits from old friends and some new ones, too, a "mystery illness" that landed me (Belinda) in the hospital hooked up to an IV for a day, and four days flat on my back (I am fine now!!). All to say, we are still here in Rwanda...growing and learning and giving no matter what the day brings.

While Stephan was out on a recent field visit, one of our HIV/AIDS associations bestowed upon our family a huge gift... a live chicken! This is a gift of great sacrifice by those from the village. We were honored. The chicken quickly made itself at home by letting Caleb feed him huge African slugs and by taking walks through our kitchen (Caleb LOVED chasing him out of the house). Joshua and Caleb asked, " Do African chickens sound the same as American chickens?" My knowledgeable answer is YES... and just as loud!

Joshua and Caleb asked if we could give "Lee Lee," our chicken, to a family or village so they could eat the eggs and "get healthy." One of our staff members, Jean Baptist was going to be making the long journey home to visit his family village near the Burundi border. Now a young man, Jean Baptist was only 12 when the genocide happened but he remembers his father taking his family by cover of night to the forest where they hid for 3 months. He grows very quiet as he tells me, " You know, I do not remember ever sleeping at that time..." When they came out of the forest, his father was attacked and they slit the tendons at his ankles. From that day on, Jean Baptist became the one to work for the family. He has put himself and two siblings through school and supported both his father and mother. Today, Jean Baptist, took "Lee Lee" to his village to feed his family eggs.

Joshua summed it up well when he said, "My heart feels so happy right now it's gonna pop..."

With hope and love,

Belinda, for the Bauman Tribe

Sybil and the children of Chokwe Primary School

2006-03-15T04:19:00.000-08:00

Moz3_06 031

Sybil Baloyi, founder of World Relief's Child Development program in Mozambique and Director of Mozambique's Mobilizing Youth for Life, surrounded by students from Chokwe's primary school. She is an amazing person to see in action and her passion is evident, "My goal is that one day these children will be part of the leadership of Mozambique, standing up for the Lord."

Sergio from Chokwe

2006-03-15T04:03:00.000-08:00

Sergio from Chokwe

Sergio is a confident, bright young man with strong convictions - a drastic difference from the insecure, low-esteemed kid that joined World Relief's Mobilizing Youth For Life club three years ago in Chokwe, Mozambique. "God has helped me accept who I am" he shares, explaining how he sees himself as a child of God, not as one who is insignificant.

Bauman Blip - 27 Jan 2006

2006-01-30T09:28:00.000-08:00

Updates from the Bauman family in Rwanda. Stephan Bauman, World Relief's country director, his wife, Belinda, and two sons - Joshua and Caleb, have lived in Kigali, Rwanda since July of 2005.

Dear Family and Friends,

I want to introduce you to Natalia, a precious part of our days here in Rwanda. Natalia plays with Joshua and Caleb on Tuesdays after school. Drawing is their favorite thing to do together. Natalia teaches them to draw poisson (fish) and her favorite bird is the “umosambi”. The boys teach her to draw “Thomas the Tank Engine” and 747 jumbo airplanes. Call it a cross cultural experience of the highest level (smile).

Natalia is a Rwandese orphan. Her father was killed in the genocide, her mother from AIDS. She and her sister live as an “orphan-headed household” on less than a dollar a day. To be honest, I have to remind myself all she has been through. Her little spirit is so resilient, her face so bright. She loves what every 12 year old girl loves—her girlfriends, sweet smelling soap, nice clothes and shoes. But above all Natalia loves to be hugged. When we were first getting to know each other, she was a bit shy, but now when she comes through our gate she practically crashes into my chest and throws her face into my neck saying “Mommy!!” We will stand there hugging for about a minute and then I will get the full report of the week in her language with bits of English and LOTS of hand signs!

All our love to each of you…

Belinda (for us all)

Jeff's Journal - Sudan 1/10/06

2006-01-10T10:49:00.000-08:00

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Last night I had a hard time sleeping. I went to bed about 11ish and fell asleep pretty fast. Then I woke up at almost 2 am and proceed to think. All I could think about was how hot it was and that there never seemed to be a break in the heat. Then I thought about all the new things that I was experiencing and that kept me awake. Finally I fell asleep.

After a shower this morning I felt much better. Ate breakfast and then went to the Internet café. We all needed to send some emails. We weren’t there long. Hopefully someone will go tonight so that I can send so more out.

I found out an interesting thing this morning at breakfast. Today is Eid. This is a different Eid from the one that was celebrated in December. Today is the celebration of Moses not sacrificing his son Ishmael, but sacrificing a lamb instead. The music started around 4ish and then there were a lot of goat slaughtering. The other house was able to experience this firsthand as a goat was slaughtered real close to there home. Then when we were driving back from the Internet café, we passed a field where everyone was gathering for prayer. It was really cool to see. All the men up front in there white gowns, and the women in the back. It was quite an experience.

Today, I have spent the day working on finances here. I met with Myron and Marion, the finance manager, and found out what the plan was and we have been working on it all day. It is just about 6:30 so I thought I would stop and write some.

Meals are an interesting thing here. The food is great. Thankfully, Myron and his wife Janice have lived overseas a lot so they now what needs to be done to make the food edible. We even have salad that the ladies soak in bleach and clean for us. It is much nicer than Indonesia where we didn’t have anyone to cook for us.
Well, it is 9:45pm and everyone is kind of gone there own way, so I thought I would take some time and write a little more about things. The houses here are a lot different than in Indonesia. We have no running water except showers. They fill up drums that have spickets on them for hand washing and other things.

World Relief has two houses. One is a little nicer and it is where the women and Myron and his wife stay. They have ceiling fans that occasionally work. Actually, I think the power here was just turned on today. So when we went over there, they had a TV going and the ceiling fans. This house is also where the kitchen is. It is just down the street from the other house.

I am staying in the other house. This is where the men stay and where the office is located. There are extra beds here so that guests that come through can stay, or field staff that is passing through. It is a bit lonely in all honesty. I am trying to make the best of it. Thankfully, I brought a bunch of books and I have this laptop.

I want to go back and talk a little more about Lokichoggio (Loki). Apparently before the UN came in, there really wasn’t anything there. Since the UN has arrived, all of the little places have sprung up. The road coming from the airport and the road perpendicular to it are cover with little shops. Anything from stores to hairdressers to bars. I saw one sign that said “Texas Bar.” From what I understand, after the harvesting season, any left over grain are taken and make into a beverage which they can get at the bars.

It was quite interesting to see the different cultures that coexisted. There were the very traditional dressed people. Women with the necklaces all the way up their necks and the men with headdresses. Then there were the people dressed in very Western clothes. I was sort of surprised.

In Juba, there are more buildings like I said before. Juba was a British settlement and when they were here, they built a lot of the building that are seen today. The only thing is that they haven’t been kept up. They are really run down.

In both places, the roads are terrible. They are full of ruts and potholes. Most of them are just dirt roads with the occasional paved road coming away from the airport.

Jeff's Journal - Sudan 1/9/06

2006-01-09T10:46:00.000-08:00

Monday, January 09, 2006

I slept okay last night. Unfortunately, my I woke up at 3:30ish and had a hard time going back to sleep. I dozed on and off I guess and then fell asleep sometime after 5:30 and had to be up by 7. We had breakfast at the UN compound, and then had to run around a bit and coordinate some supplies from other NGOs.

Our flight took off around 12:30ish and was just a 50 minute flight. Myron was met us at the airport, and gave me my visa entry form that I needed. Unfortunately, because of the changes that are going on in the government, my passport was stamped that I need to register with the local authority in 3 days. Myron said that this has been a bit of a problem and he would help work that out.

I thought that Loki was like living in the bush, and living in Juba isn’t far from it. Juba has more buildings than Loki does. A lot of the buildings are very run down. The homes that we have are much smaller than the house in Medan was, although this isn’t a very big surprise.

In Juda, I ran across an interesting discovery. Squat boxes and nothing else. Enough said about that.

There are mango trees everywhere here. The ones by the internet café, where I am now, are loaded with fruit. Some of it looks to be over ripe. They are fairly tall and fruit on every branch. Myron said that the British planted them here along the Nile when they settled the area.

Jeff's Journal - Sudan 1/8/06

2006-01-08T22:40:00.000-08:00

Sunday, January 08, 2006

I woke up this morning about 8ish, but didn’t get up till a little after 9. Boy, it sure felt good to get a full night sleep. It is beautiful here today. The sun is shining and I hear some of the same noises that I heard in Indonesia, bird and maybe monkeys. Ria said that I could sleep with my windows open last night if I wanted, but to please make sure I closed them before I left. There are monkeys that try to get in if the windows are left open. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep with the windows open. If they tried to come in during the day, what would keep them from coming in during the night!

Nairobi sits just below the equator, and Juba sits just above. So now I can say that I have been below the equator also. All of the greenery is very tropical. There are lots of palm trees everywhere, and beautiful tropical flowers.

Today, we go on a flight to Loki on a commercial plane. There we spend the night and tomorrow we take a UN plane to Juba. I am excited to meet Paul, the manager of the Loki camp. He manages all of the going and coming of everything and everyone in and out of Juba. Apparently, my suitcase it over the weight limit for the UN flight so Paul is trying to see if he can book extra weight. Otherwise, I will have to pack so of it into another bag to send later on in the week.

We landed in Loki this afternoon about 4pm. First let me tell you about the flight. We were in a small 20-24 passenger plane. Not so bad except is bounced around a lot. When I stepped off the plane, I realized that the temperature was going to be very different than it was in Nairobi. It is very hot here. No humidity, just heat.

Coming into Loki you realized that it was exactly what you mind pictured when you think of Africa. It is small and mostly all of the buildings are lean-to style right next to each other. There are very few cars. Almost everyone is on foot. The World Relief compound is small. There are buildings here. One building consists of three bedrooms, each having two beds in them and a front porch. The bath house is a small building of to the side of the rooms. It has 2 showers and 2 toilet stalls. When we got here there were 2 calves roaming the compound. Apparently, they belong to one of the staff.

Loki sits at the base of some mountains. Right now is the dry season here and you can’t help but notice. There is dust everywhere. Nothing grows very tall. From what I was told, this has been the driest season since possibly the 30s here. They do not have a kitchen here so all of the meals are at the UN compound. It will be interesting to see what their compound is like.

It is the end of the day Sunday and I am getting ready to turn in for the night. Supper at the UN Compound was nice. There was a football (soccer) game on so a lot of people were there watching it. Almost everyone eats outside which was nice. Often there seems to be a nice breeze that blows through. This helps out a little.

We went for a walk just before supper. Everyone was watching us. All the kids wanted to say hi to you. At one point there was a small group of kids following us. It was also cool to watch the shepherds walking their goats.

Jeff's Journal - Sudan 1/7/06

2006-01-07T22:32:00.000-08:00

Jeff Demers is working with the South Sudan team assisting in bookkeeping. These are excerpts from his journal.

Saturday, January 7, 2006

I am now in Nairobi. It is about 20 minutes past 11pm. The flight was Amsterdam to Nairobi was much better than the one from DC to Amsterdam. I did sleep a bunch on this flight. I would put on a movie and try to watch it, and before long I was asleep. Oh well. The flight took about 8 ½ hours. We landed and then I made my way through getting the visa for Kenya and got my luggage.

Peter, the taxi driver, was waiting for me, and he brought me to the apartment where I am staying tonight. Peter and I had a nice talk. He is also married with 2 children. He told me that the road we were taking from the airport to the apartment was called the “Great North Road.” It runs from the Indian Ocean all the way to South Africa. It pointed out the left window and said about 1 kilometer behind the Industrial building that we were driving past was the National Reserve. WOW!!

I couldn’t really see much because it was already dark. What I did notice is how similar it feels to Indonesia. This time I also thought about the smell. So many people have asked me about that. Well, the smell here reminds me of Indonesia. It smells warm, dirty/dusty. I have to think about it more to come up with better words to describe it. All the buildings are short, except when we went passed the center of town. Then the buildings were taller.

Ria Boot, the lady whose house I am staying at tonight, is very nice. She is middle aged I would guess, maybe in her forties. She and another lady share this apartment, but the friend is already in Sudan somewhere. We talked a long time about Sudan and what the situation is like there now. She said that since she has been there, she hasn’t heard of any carjackings or muggings. She said that everything seemed very secure. Apparently, the Southern Sudanese people have a constant worry about the North, Darfur and such. It is really sad.

Well, I think I am going to try and turn in. I will write more tomorrow once I get to see more of the surroundings.

Dan's Diary - Burundi Jan '06

2006-01-02T08:02:00.000-08:00

2.January.2006 – At the dawn of a new year, many of us are reflecting on 2005 and making plans for 2006. We have formulated excellent goals and ambitions for the New Year, many involving diet and exercise. As I reflect on the lifestyle of our brothers and sisters here in Central Africa, often their goals are also focused on diet and exercise – that is, eat more and walk less! These women rushing to market with bananas on their head hope to earn at least one dollar so that they can feed their families today. I pray that each of us would have wisdom in setting priorities for the New Year – that we would have complete health – spiritual, physical, social, emotional, and mental. May the Lord bless you and take care of you; may the Lord be kind and gracious to you; May the Lord look on you with favor and give you Shalom (complete health and peace)!

World Relief in Meulaboh, Indonesia

2005-12-08T11:26:00.000-08:00

Meulaboh boy and WR logo
Originally uploaded by World Relief Pictures.

Megan in Malawi 11/05

2005-11-17T06:26:00.000-08:00

Moni Nosay. The month of November has come and I’m still in summer (both mentally and physically). Have two seasons really passed since I left?
Since I last wrote… I went to Chitipa to do my research project on African Church. Chitipa rests 700 KM North from Lilongwe. Before this trek up north I didn’t realize how beautiful Malawi was-the North holds the natural beauties of Malawi-forests, wild life, and mountains. African Church is an independent church or African initiated church. In preparation I had read much on the movement of independent churches, their role in contextualizing the gospel and so forth. But it was such a different experience to move beyond the literature and theories and to learn from a church as they work towards redemption in their communities. It was a profoundly moving experience. 2.5 Million Malawians belong to this church (1/5 of the Malawian population), yet most people are not aware of this Church, largely because they are sidelined by society. I found a church that believed in the gospel’s power to transform, they welcome anyone into their church (drunkards, polygamist) because they believe that the teaching of the gospel has the power to transform and redeem, they allow everyone a chance for redemption. They have very little, my observations are that the 2.5 mill. members are probably of the poorest in Malawi (the wealthy are not so attracted to this church), yet they do what they can with their resources. I met a church who is rising to her feeble knees in faith and confidence as they seek to serve and care for the orphans, widows, patients and the vulnerable within their community. A church that lives in rich fellowship, they meet together; share bread with one another as they share the celebrations and burdens of their lives.
....Last month, the mother to my friend died in a car accident. The grieving was honest and raw. At funerals I have attended in the states there is the desire to conceal ones grief, if I begin to cry/sob to much I excuse myself to the bathroom...but here, it is so raw, so open and vulnerable.
Mothers, daughters, cousins, friends were wailing, moaning loudly over this deep loss. Is it wrong to say it was beautiful? It was beautiful to see people embracing and experiencing pain and loss in such an honest, authentic and communal way.
I have 12 days left in Malawi, as this will be my last update letter, it would be nice if I could offer a neat and tidy email wrapping up my time here-- -Aye, it’s never that simple though is it? Goodbyes, endings, and leavings are never that natural or tidy. How do you say goodbye to friends, sisters and co-workers who have entered into your life intimately and walked with you,
teaching you patiently and compassionately?
As I prepare to depart I am so thankful to this land, to this community. This has been a place where I have rediscovered my humanity and the humanity of my brothers and sisters. Malawi tastes and feels the emotions of both extremes, whether it is the wailing and moaning that occurs at a three- day funeral, or the joy and celebration of weddings and babies. Within and between these extremes humanity and life are felt poignantly. It sounds cliché perhaps, but I’ve learned about the power of the life giving gospel.
The life and dignity that the gospel offers, it restores those who have been broken and torn by poverty, and injustice, reminding them that they have worth, that they have human dignity. I’ve experienced the gospel as a fresh breeze, as it brings humanization to a dehumanizing world. I fear this all sounds overly dramatic or romantic, sorry for that.
Please do continue to pray for me and pray for Malawi. Pray for the current food shortage, and that rain would come abundantly this year. Pray for grace and patients for me as I "transition" back to the states. I came to Malawi postured as a learner, and I hope that I will return home in this same posture. The temptation for cynicism is great, but this doesn’t build bridges or communities, nor would it be a true reflection of my time here. Thank you all for walking with me these last six months, through your prayers, comments, questions and encouragements.
Blessings,
Megan (Chikondi) McMinn

Megan In Malawi 10/05

2005-10-22T13:03:00.000-07:00

Greetings Everyone,
It has been a beautiful day in Malawi. The soothing sound of pouring rain woke my sisters and I up last night-the first rain sense I have arrived in Malawi, the pouring rain turned into a cool overcast day, the purple flowers (are they lilies, lilacs--I don’t know) on the trees were bright and lively, the grass a little greener (maybe this was just me being optimistic).
It was a pleasant reminder to me of the beautiful northwest of Oregon. It was an unexpected rainfall, it shouldn’t rain until the end of November, but we have been given this blessing. Malawi is a land that depends heavily on nature, this past year there were poor rains, and so currently over four million people are faced with food shortage. So you can image the joy and hope that rain brings.
This last month brought its own challenges, I spent the better part of August and September sick, and just recently my body has recovered its health.
It’s amazing how much a healthy body can help ones attitude. For a while I was beginning to look forward to November 29th, but once again I am finding the silly and mundane parts marvelous and fascinating. It’s amazing the myriad of emotions one goes through in such a short span.
On Wednesday I went to Dzleka refugee camp. It was not what I expected; I expected big dirty tents, crowded people who would beg for money, freedom, dignity. Instead I found myself in the calming hills of Malawi, walking through pastures and farmland. I found tomatoes fields, maze fields, I found people that lived in small brick houses, there were schools, hospitals, I found people who were learning to live and enjoy life here. They had shops, restaurants, bottle shops at the camp. I didn’t find any beggars or weepers or mourners while I was there. Surely they are there too, somewhere. But mostly I found people who were creatively living life while in a refugee camp.
Okay so I don’t understand my fascination with minibuses. I really find them marvelous so let me try to capture the minibus experience for ya’ll- because you are really missing out--------
Crammed in, boxes, bags, bodies all in one. Sweet smells, sour smells all becoming one. I turn to the boy next to me, his empty box container that used to carry tangerines; he was the boy coming to my window earlier in the morning asking me to buy tangerines, the many no zekomos (no thank you) that I said to him today. The lady who sits across from me, stories told in the folds of her face. The men in the back who I have walked passed throughout the day.
For this short time, our destinies are molded and becoming one, our destination is the same for this short while. Our lives are in the hands of the same driver. Our stories are meeting, mingling, and dancing in this short journey. We become sojourners in this rusting, old beat up minibus that takes us from our many points of departure to our less than common destination.
I think I am so fascinated with minibuses, because I am fascinated with the human experience and how they can be so different yet they can touch, if even just for a moment. In that shared moment I am acutely aware of our different human experiences and yet at the same time of the common humanity that binds us together.
I have finally taken the time to attach some pictures to go along with these mass emails of mine. The first picture is a picture of me and my Jaja (grandmother), its from last Sunday when she was departing for Zambia. Okay i couldn't add the others because the email was to big-sorry.
Blessings dear friends and family,
Megan McMinn

Dan's Diary - Burundi, Oct '05

2005-10-22T10:39:00.000-07:00

22.October.2005 – This past month our team in southern Burundi finished constructing the 500th home for returning refugees and people displaced by war in Burundi. These homes are basic buildings with rock foundation, mud bricks, dirt floor, metal roofing, wooden doors and windows, and an outhouse. This project is done in partnership with evangelical churches from Belgium (Tearfund Belgium) and the Belgian government. Pray for the many, many refugees who continue to return to Burundi from Tanzania to find their homes destroyed by the 12-year war that has just come to an end. We will continue to provide assistance as we can and are able.

Rwanda - First Lady Trip Part 2

2005-07-20T13:01:00.000-07:00

Day Seven

After spending the morning sending out email and catching up with work – Esron, Laura and I, along with our driver, Didas, load up the SUV with our bags and head out for the five hour trip to Cyangugu (pronounced Chan-gu-gu). Laura is going to meet up with the short-term mission team and work with them. Esron will be my guide and help arrange meetings with the local leaders of our programs in micro-finance, HIV-AIDS, and child survival. He explains that we will be going from Kigali through the provinces of Gitarama, Butare, Gikongaro, and finally Cyangugu – his home province. As the communications officer for WRR, this is a great opportunity for us to talk and see how we can benefit each other. I’m about to find out that Esron also is the perfect tour guide – he knows this part of the country inside out.

As we leave Kigali and enter rural Rwanda, I begin to see just how much beauty this country holds. Living up to the moniker of “the land of a thousand hills,” we move from buildings and homes filling up the landscape to lush farm land. The main roads between provinces are paved, so it is a nice, winding ride over hills and through valleys. Hills are sectioned off into large plots of farmland. Banana trees, corn, sugarcane – far as the eye can see. You can see farmers and workers out in the fields tending the crops, or walking along side the road carrying baskets on their heads or metal milk containers on their bikes, heading for the market. We go through one wide valley full of sugarcane – but the land does not seem cut into sections. It turns out that it is one very large plantation owned by an Indian company that also owns the sugar factory. By having one owner operate this area, production was higher, exports increased and the government made more tax revenue – so the local farmers were forced to sell their land. I assume that they still work the land, now for the Indian company.

The homes in Gitarama remind me of the adobe-style homes found in New Mexico. They are made of mud or brick, usually with plaster covering the walls and corrugated tin roofs. A fence made of reeds or sticks borders a courtyard around the home. It’s common to see a pen for the livestock – usually goats. Besides not having running water, the homesteads are appealing; I begin to imagine what life would be like living in this setting. A romantic thought, but as a Westerner, I have no idea how difficult it would be to step back a century.

Esron notices a higher level of police presence along the way. Didas explains that there are a large number of outside groups working in this area – mainly church groups. So far during this trip, I have never felt in danger or threatened, but the sight of armed military or police is ever present.

We pass a genocide memorial, one of many I see on this trip. Each town has a place where “the bones” are buried and each site has a memorial – identified by a purple banner – some with the words “Never Again.” The topic is one that is easily discussed among expatriates, but more difficult to broach with Rwandans. Esron opens up on his own by explaining that the hardest question a survivor is asked is “What did you do to help during the killings?” He still does not have an answer. “The devil went wild.” It’s hard for me to imagine the scope of the killings. “Did the killings happen over the whole country, or just certain areas?”

“The whole country: north, south, east and west. Some areas did not get hit as fast, but the Interahamwe (Hutu extremist) would radio that a certain village had not been attacked and killers were dispatched. It was very well organized. Before, when conflict broke out, everyone would run to the churches or police stations, because they were considered safe zones. This time however, it only made the killings more efficient. The doors to the churches would be locked and gasoline would be poured through the windows and set ablaze. In some cases, Catepillars would be brought in to knock down the corners to the buildings, causing it to collapse on the occupants inside.”

I can tell that it is hard for him to share this information. A naturally cheerful man, his facial expression is pained. I wish there was something I could do or say – but it is not possible.

There are three social classes in Rwanda: the Hutus, Tutsi, and the Abatwa. The Abatwa are the lowest, they are nobody – invisible. They can’t attend school and usually don’t attend church. When the extremist leaders in power were sensitizing the people to participate in the killings, the Abatwa refused to listen or participate. Today, when someone is accused, they blame the government that was in power at the time – saying they were deceived and sensitized. The response from the survivors commonly is “look at the Abatwa, they were not deceived –they did not kill.”

I remember hearing earlier in the week, that during the killing spree, the Interhamwe was heard singing worship songs. It brought to mind Nazi Germany. Before Hitler, Germany was considered one of the most Christian nations in Europe. Rwanda in 1994 was supposedly 80-90% Christian, it has also been said that the church at the time was a mile wide and an inch deep. Many called themselves Christian, but their understanding of the Bible was shallow. False teachers would choose one verse from the Bible and work it into their own message – messages based on hate for people of different ethnicity. They worshipped the “idol of ethnicity” and evil conquered the land.

What is not widely reported are the stories of true grace and Christian love during that period. Christians who sacrificed their lives to save others. Christians who prayed for their neighbors before they were struck down. Christians who have forgiven those who participated in the killings and work toward reconciliation for their nation.

Before the genocide, the people where taught about ethic groups and why they are separate. Today, the term “ethnic group” is not spoken. They are taught that there are different social groups, but that they all are Rwandans. They all share one language, one culture.

We continue on; driving through the town of Ruhango. The streets are bustling with activity – it is market day. Twice a week, people from near and far come to Ruhango to buy and sell at the market. The marketplace is alive with the bright colors of the women’s dresses. People are walking, balancing unbelievably large loads on their heads.

Then we pass the Rock of Kemegeri. In ancient Africa, a king asked each chief of the many provinces to come up with the worst punishment he could imagine for criminals. The chief Kamegeri had a stone carved into a long, flat surface. A fire would be built under the stone, making the surface very hot. The criminal would be laid on the stone. When the King heard about this method of death, he responded “No! Put the chief who came up with such an evil plan on that rock!” The lesson to the rest of the chiefs, “Do not abuse your power and conduct evil on your people.”

We drive through Nyanza, the place where ancient kings used to live. The countryside is awe-inspiring. Around every turn and bend in the road, the beauty of Africa just continues to unfold. There was a time when America wasn’t homogenized and the natural beauty was evident everywhere. I’m not saying that our conveniences, infrastructure, and planning are wrong – just that it is refreshing to see so much natural beauty throughout the landscape – uncluttered by franchises and signage.

We pass SAVE, the first church in Rwanda. It was a Catholic church settled by Belgians in 1900. I’m telling you, Esron knows everything.

After stopping for a quick lunch, we head up to the Murambi Memorial Centre, a school that sits on top of a hill with a panoramic view of Rwanda. I somewhat know what to expect from a picture I saw from another team that visited this site last year. This is a national genocide memorial that displays the horror of the killings in an unforgettable way. As we wind our way up a dirt road, the hilltop opens up before us and there sits an impressive structure made of glass and steel. It is a new, modern building that serves as a museum – though it is completed, it has not yet been opened (I think they are waiting for VIPs to perform an opening ceremony.)

A young woman offers to guide us around to see the real exhibit. The first thing we see is a burial spot with large rectangular black marble stones laid out on the ground. This is where “the bones that could not be preserved” are buried. We continue on around to the rear of the main building. We see the school compound, a dozen or so long brick school buildings, each containing about 7 classrooms. A tall, lanky, older man, Emmanuel Murengira, joins our group. On the top of his temple is a hole about the size of a bullet. He guides us into the first room.

Laid out on wooden tables are the preserved skeletal remains of dozens of men, women and children. The bodies are coated with lime and the stench is strong. Tufts of hair are still visible on a few heads, taut skin covers bones, and some skulls are grotesquely flattened. It looks like hell. I continue down the row, room after room, all full of remains. I have seen my share, but Esron whispers that it would be considered rude to leave without seeing everything – like we were just here as tourist. So we continue on, building after building, room after room. I see remains, the size of my children, still wearing shirts. We come to a room that is full of skulls, hundreds. Leg bones are stacked like firewood along the back wall. Finally, we enter a room with clothes lines strung wall to wall – blood and dirt stained clothes hang from the lines. Emmanuel explains that the killers took the quality garments off their victims – these are the clothes they did not want.

It was now time to hear Emmanuel’s story. Emmanuel watched as his wife and five children were massacred, then was shot in the head and left for dead. Some of the killers were his neighbors. He escaped to the forest where he hid for two days, then moved on, hiding here and there, until he made his way to Burundi and had the bullet removed from his skull. The killers brought in a backhoe and dug a pit where they dumped all the bodies. He now spends his days here, retelling and reliving his story to visitors. The pain and hopelessness in his wet, worn eyes haunt me still. He says he has no life, everything was destroyed. It is silent for a long time. Laura is shaken, Esron is still, I’m at a loss for words. I finally have Esron tell him that I don’t know what to say, that my heart goes out to him, and I offer to pray for him. He informs Esron that prayers are the only thing that keeps him going. We pray.

As we leave, I reflect on the fact that many in the Western world do not believe that there is an actual devil. The idea that God created angelic beings, and His most beautiful and powerful one rebelled and was thrown out of heaven, that Satan is allowed – during this time – to influence and deceive man, well that’s for the unenlightened. There is no spiritual battle being waged between good and evil.

Come to Rwanda. Talk to the survivors. “The devil ran wild.” Hear the stories of pure, unimaginable evil. One million dead in 100 days. Not one part of the country spared. Neighbors killing neighbors. The uneducated, rejected, poorest social group, the Abatwa, not being deceived, but resisting evil. Those accused of killing trying to convince others that they were deceived. Many of the accused committing suicide because of their shame. The people of Rwanda know the devil.

They also know how to defeat him. Christ has already done that. The church is growing deep, leaders like Pastor Abel are teaching and demonstrating the light of Christ. World Relief programs are flourishing, because the local church is strengthening.

That’s enough for tonight, I’ll tell you about the monkeys I saw in Nyungwe Forest tomorrow.

Day Eight

First, I must briefly summarize the rest of my previous day. After leaving the genocide memorial, Rwanda itself helped to bring me back out of the gloom of that visit. The beautiful scenery that is so difficult to put into words began to cheer me up. When we approached the Nyungwe Forest, Laura and Esron stated, “now you will see the monkeys.” I looked out the windows and scanned the treetops, hoping to catch a glimpse. As we made our way around a bend in the road, there ahead of us – sunning themselves on the pavement – was a whole family of Olive Baboons. There must a have been at least twenty. A baby baboon grabbed onto his mother and clung to her belly as she walked away. Others just looked at us as we slowly moved by. It was quite the spectacle.

We continued down the road and drove deeper into this huge national forest. Some areas of the road were smooth, other sections in bad need of repair. A couple of rockslides covered half the road as we cautiously made our way around.

Didas has been a great driver for us and has made the trip that much more enjoyable. He is a young man, clean cut and handsome, and he is learning English. He is embarrassed at times when he speaks, but we encourage him along. I tell him not to be embarrassed; his English is much better than my Kinyarwanda.

We pass another species of monkey, the black-and-white Colobus monkey. These are a little more skittish and disappear into the bush. The further we drive, the more expansive this forest becomes; I look out over the vistas and see no trace of civilization. Then we pass a line of soldiers walking up the road. They patrol this forest – it astonishes me that they spend weeks out here walking through the dark trees and bush.

After close to two hours of making our way through the forest, we suddenly enter into farmland again. It is a clear line between forest and tended land – and now we pass through miles of tea plantations. Arranged in perfect rows, waving across the hillsides and down into the valleys, the green leafed tea bushes go on forever. Occasionally, we pass workers picking the leaves and throwing them in the basket strapped to their backs. Tea is a huge export for Rwanda.

Finally, near sunset, we reach the Wildlife Conservation Society’s guest house. I remember Bill who I sat next to on the plane, didn’t he work for them or something? We check into the office, I notice a book for sale on a shelf, “Into The Kingdom Of The Gorillas.” In preparing to come to Rwanda, most travel sites on the internet listed this book as a must read. I flip over the book and there is Bill Weber, co-author of the book. He is responsible for bringing eco-tourism to Rwanda, saving the silver back gorilla population. It’s a small world.

The Evangelical Church of Fullerton team arrives shortly thereafter and we all enjoy dinner together. They have been busy building houses for widows and all seem to be having a great time. They are young, energetic Christians full of energy and compassion for the people they are serving. I feel old. I take my geriatric vitamins and go to bed.

OK, wrapping up the previous day was not brief.

The Real Day Eight

This is my recollection of a long, emotional, gratifying, educational, mind-numbing day. We start off with breakfast with the Fullerton team; they are preparing to go back to their communities and continue working. Christine, one of the Fullerton volunteers, asks to join our small group (Esron, Didas, and me) as we go to visit our programs. She is studying Public Health in college and would really like to see what kind of impact World Relief programs have on the local community. We agree to have her join us and her team leader approves. By day’s end, I see that God had planned for her to be among us.

After a forty minute ride to Kamembe, we pull up to the World Relief office, which is a non-descript storefront in a concrete building. We enter the back office and meet Pastor Evereste, project coordinator for Mobilizing For Life, and Theodosié, URWEGO community banking supervisor. There are three loan officers. The one in Kamembe oversees 300 clients, and the loan officers of the two other sectors: Emala and Bukimze have 250 and 300 clients, respectively. World Relief’s URWEGO recently won a national competition among micro-finance institutions sponsored by the UN. Theodosié has arranged for us to visit several of her clients – the first being in the rural village of Bukimze. Before we head out, she takes us by her house to meet her husband and six children, ages 5-19. On the way to her home, she ask Esron to ask me if I would be willing to share a message at her church tomorrow, it turns out that is an evangelist (spiritual leader) of the Free Methodist Church of Kamembe. I’m honored for the invite and accept – thinking she wants me to just say a few words. “Could you speak for twenty minutes?” Esron translates with a big smile. She wants me to preach? I explain that I’m not a pastor, but I would be glad to speak. I made a promise to God a few years ago that I would go wherever he sent me and do whatever he expects – while His reply was not verbal, I’m sure it was “Boy, I’m going to hold you to that one!” Esron tells me he will translate – I think he is enjoying seeing me sweat.

We arrive at Theodosié’s house and meet her family. We exchange greetings and her husband chats with us awhile. They are a loving family and Theodosié’s face shines with pride. It’s a short visit, we have long ride over rough terrain ahead.

The road to Bukimze is like riding over a dried river bed full of ditches and stones. It is similar to visiting the backcountry regions of Appalachia in West Virginia or North Carolina – except even more remote. We traverse the ridge of a mountain for awhile, occasionally passing people working outside their homes or fields. They stop what they are doing and watch us pass by – possibly the only vehicle they have seen in days.

About a half an hour into our drive, we come upon two women and a man walking down the road. Theodosié ask Didas to stop the car. As one of the older women peer into our car, a grin breaks across her face. It is Theodosié’s mother and father. They run around the car to embrace her. We get out and meet them and learn that she has not seen them in six months. After several words are shared, and another hug, we are off again. Theodosié is very happy.

Finally, we arrive at the home and business of 63-year-old Gatalzi and his wife, Josephine. It is illegal in Rwanda to have a business and home connected, but since Gatalzi has the only storefront along this route, an exception is made. Josephine was actually the first one to get a loan through URWEGO, but it became too burdensome for her to travel to Kamembe for supplies, so Gatalzi became the primary client. To encourage business opportunity for women, only 10% of URWEGO clients are allowed to be men.

In URWEGO, clients are grouped together into an association. The association is responsible for making sure payments are made, so each member is accountable to the group. They also support each other – when one faces illness or hospital fees, the group helps them cover the costs, as well as visit with them and bring them something to eat. Time and time again today, I hear from clients how important it is to be in an association.

Gatalzi and Josephine have been able to pay school fees for their children and bought two cows with the profits of from their store. They even pay a neighborhood kid to take care of the cows. Most of the money is reinvested into the business, his last loan amount was 90,000 francs (approx. $180). This family has been with URWEGO for 4 ½ years and is on their 11th loan cycle.

Gatalzi has eleven children, five from a previous wife who died of an unknown disease. His children are learning how to budget and plan ahead from their father, his sixteen year old son wants to be a business man when he finishes school.

Esron ask him if he has been tested for HIV. Since his first wife died and his second wife is tired often, the thought passes through our minds that he may be a carrier of this disease. “If my first wife died of AIDS, then I would be dead as well.” Esron encourages them to be tested. It is possible that his second wife may be fatigued due the number of children she bore, but they should still be tested. Mobilizing for Life and URWEGO work together, clients of loans also receive teachings on HIV/AIDS.

Christine from the Fullerton group shares the gospel message with the family and neighbors; children are increasing in number around us. Gatalzi shares that they are members of the Catholic Church and know the importance of repentance and prayer. They ask us to pray for them, so we do.

We continue on down the bumpy road and begin to loop around to Kamembe. We finally hit pavement again and make our way down to the Rusizi River on the Rwanda-Congo border. We intend to cross over the bridge to see the Congo side, but a political official in the DRC has been charged with killing someone and has been locked up. Apparently, tensions are not stable in the border town, so the border has been closed. I really wanted a post card from the Congo, but I guess we ought to move on.

Once back in Kamembe, we enter the market place. Brick outer walls and a tin roof, this structure is a block long and wide, and the ceiling is open in several areas. The marketplace is a big indoor/outdoor structure with merchants selling clothing, soft goods, meat and vegetables with crowds bustling around. I’m warned to watch my pockets; thieves are common here.

The first stall we come to is that of a woman selling beans, flour, sugar, and oil. Again, we are told how she has been able to pay school fees for her children due to the income she receives.

The next stand is that of a butcher whose business has prospered to the point that he has two locations within the market place. Another association member sells some of his goods at the other location. His butcher shop is a small 10x10 room with a side of lamb hanging from a hook in the back and a butchers table in the front where transactions take place. It is currently crowded because of the Muzunga visiting. I should begin my own business of attracting crowds for area merchants.

The butcher praises the benefits of belonging to an association. He says he can think of no challenges and his business continues to prosper.

We make our way along to Ngirinshute Emmanuel. He started with URWEGO in 1997 and is currently on his 12th loan cycle. He sells beans, onions and other food items and his operation is by far the biggest we’ve seen. His storefront is approximately 150 square feet inside; in addition, he has mats on the ground in front of the store, covered in vegetables. One of the customers he is waiting on tells us she buys from him regularly and that he is a good businessman. Emmanuel is actually a former student of Theodosié; you can tell she is proud of him. His wife helps him operate the store when he travels to Kigali to purchase supplies; he also employs another young man.

He explains that when his association meets, they start off with prayer. It is sometimes difficult because some of the members are Muslim – but they still read from scripture. Then they discuss business, address any concerns, and listen to any messages from MFL. They also close in prayer.

A frequent complaint I hear from most clients is the difficultly in making loan payments weekly. It would be easier if they could pay monthly. While this may be true for some, experience has showed a higher loan default rate when the payment is monthly. Still the discussion between the clients and loan officers continues.

Our last visit is to a grinding mill run by a Muslim client. Barakaguira Zacharie is in his 12th loan cycle as well and is a member of Emmanuel’s group. He demonstrates his grinder for us, chopping up cassava, then we move into his backyard, again children come from everywhere. Some are his, some just curious. With the proceeds from his business, he has been able to buy five goats; one goat is named Urwego.

A grenade killed his first wife and baby during the genocide; he and his second wife have just given birth to a new baby. He is very happy to see us and talks about the importance of URWEGO. He has been able to send all his children to school and when a child is sick, is able to pay the hospital fees without having to sell a goat.

He invites us to see his new baby, we enter his home and the baby is handed to Christine. After speaking with the family, Esron informs us that, according to their custom, if you hold a baby, you must give a gift for that baby (cash). I’m glad I didn’t hold her! Esron, the ultimate diplomat, tells them that they should not expect visitors of another culture to understand the nuances of theirs, and the purpose for this visit. He lightly rebukes them and they understand. Man, I’m glad Esron is here.

I should mention that I had a backup plan. When they brought the child out, I showed them a picture of my children, which they passed around. In essence, they were holding my children, so if each person made a donation – I think we would have come out ahead. Old Eastern Shore tradition.

Side note: Nearly every household or business we visited included a hint, or an outright request, for some financial assistance. Throughout my travels, when I passed people on the road, I frequently heard the shouts “Muzunga, money!” It was usually from children with their hands held out. I imagine this is partially due to conditioning from prior relief efforts, which probably included well intentioned hand outs. One client told us how his business would be better if he had a cell phone. Esron responded by saying the next time he visits, he looks forward to hearing about how the client saved enough money to buy one. Didas, our driver, reminded me of an African proverb: “You give a man a fish; you feed him for a day. You teach a man to fish; you feed him for a lifetime.” One overall impression from witnessing the fruits of the programs developed by World Relief – was the impact that is possible when local churches and communities are empowered to help themselves.

I know very well that there are instances where charitable giving is necessary. Handing a malnourished child a hoe and packet of seeds is not a loving response. The child needs food now. Entering into a disaster zone, as we recently did in Indonesia, requires immediate giving of shelter and supplies. But once that critical need is met, I firmly believe that the methodology of World Relief is the correct course of action – lasting improvement through local initiative with knowledgeable guidance.

This concludes the URWEGO part of the day, we now move onto the orphans and women living with HIV.

The Free Methodist Church of Kamembe is an ideal example of the local church being the Body of Christ. This is the church that I will preach at tomorrow (go ahead and laugh). “Impuhwe”, which means ‘compassion’, is the association formed within the church to oversee their outreach ministries. They have several programs:
* Samaratians of Love – bringing patients in the hospital food, sharing the Word, and even bathing them.
* Life Continues – Clothing and food for people living with HIV/AIDS and sharing the Word of God with them.
* Care for Orphans – children who lost their parents to genocide, AIDS, or other reasons. The church has started a school and looks after 14 orphans, providing housing, occupational training, clothing and food.
* Care for Widows – Help with housing, clothing and food.

I ask if they have a difficult time recruiting volunteers. “No, we have plenty of people willing to follow the teachings of Christ. The difficulty is finding the resources we need to send the volunteers out.” Now that is amazing - and a challenge for the American church. There are volunteers currently building four homes for orphan children – all donating their time. These are not wealthy people – just willing.

We visit a group of orphan girls in a classroom at the church. They are learning to sew and are currently working on a suit. They all wear white blouses and long navy skirts. Three of the twelve are head of their households. Following custom, they sing a worship song for their guests. They begin to demonstrate sewing techniques as the church leaders explain the program to us. These are only a small number of orphans in Kamembe, many of the others are living as street children. While thankful for all the church has provided for them, there is sadness in their eyes, a longing for the parents that they will not see in this lifetime. They are a close knit group and quiet – until they sing. The children of Rwanda sing beautifully – that they continue to praise God regardless of their personal situation shows the importance of the hope we all have in what has been promised.

Next we head over to visit a young woman who is HIV+. When we arrive at her small, mud brick home, there are two other women with her. Both women are HIV+ as well; it seems that they came to support her. We enter through a small door into a room divided by a faded, worn bed sheet. Her bed is behind the curtain, we all sit down in the front section, which barely holds the six of us. In this crammed little space, the only light coming through cracks in the door, I begin to see life through the eyes of Verese, the young woman we are visiting. Her friends, Christine and Sarafina, sit quietly and listen. The only possessions I can see are a wooden bench that has been brought in from outside, a chair and a table that contains anti-virals, lotion, shampoo and a ceramic mug. I know that the lotion and shampoo were included in a kit provided by World Relief, which also includes a basin, soap, towels and powder. Each care-giving volunteer receives a kit, as well, which includes: gloves, diarrhea medicine, water purification tablets, a plastic pad and a tongue depressor.

Looking at the mud brick walls and the dirt floor, I realize that I will soon get up and leave, she will stay here until she dies from this disease. As we begin to ask questions and inquire about their lives, the despair just hangs in the room. Throughout the interview, the women sat with heads hung low and mournful expressions. Except for one moment. Christine from Fullerton asks them if they find hope in Jesus Christ. All three faces light up with broad smiles. The woman sitting next to me responds “my flesh may decay while here, but I will live forever in Heaven.”

Sarafina found out she was positive with HIV when she went to get a pregnancy test, she also learned she had a child on the way.

Christine’s husband had died, she did not know why at the time. She has five children, she found out she was HIV+ when she delivered her last baby. The baby is HIV+ as well. She is struggling for another reason at the moment; a thief broke into her home and stole all her belongings, her neighbors are trying to track down her meager possessions.

Verese was getting sick often and her neighbors suggested she get tested. She does not remember who gave her the disease.

None of the women hold grudges against the men that infected them, even the husbands. They have accepted their status and are just trying to live their lives.

They say the church has helped by providing them comfort and advice. The teachings from MFL enable the church to educate these women, who in turn, educate those around them suffering from the disease. The women say there are many more just like them in this area.

When asked what is the best way to avoid getting AIDS – they all reply that, outside of marriage, abstinence is the only way to be fully protected. Fidelity in marriage is clearly important, but it takes two. The government and other organizations that air radio messages or put up billboards – all that is necessary as well. Different people will hear the message different ways – but they must be educated.

Christine holds the hand of Verese throughout the interview, at first surprising Verese. Their hands remain together until we say goodbye.

We enter the outside world again and chickens are running by, a little boy in rags is grinning, and some of the other neighbors greet us.

The day is getting late, we are emotionally and physically exhausted, but we have one more stop. We go to visit Ruth and her caregivers. Ruth has AIDS as well, and is in a later stage of the disease. We enter the courtyard and find grass mats arranged on the ground. Several women from the Free Methodist church are there, and I recognize one of the orphan girls among them.

A woman retrieves Ruth from a nearby home and walks her toward us; she is wearing a sweater and her arms are crossed in front of her tightly. Coughing comes in frequent spasms. The sun is beginning to set and a slight breeze is cooling down the day – but it still is warm to me. After greeting everyone, I suggest we move indoors for Ruth’s sake.

Again we enter a small room with a bed, table and chair. Another chair is brought in, Ruth gets into bed, Olive Marianne, her volunteer caregiver, sits next to her. The others sit outside the home, we keep the door open, and we can’t see Ruth from our chairs, she talks behind the door.

The only light in the room comes from the open door and the twilight of dusk. The walls are mostly bare, except for two strands of linked paper loops, the kind made in Sunday School by little hands, formed in the shape of a cross.

When asked how she feels today, Ruth responds “I feel terribly sick” and then goes into a coughing spasm.

Ruth and her husband rent the room for 2000 francs a month ($4). Her husband is not home at the moment; he usually comes home drunk and does not provide for her. Her anti-virals are supposed to be taken with food, but he does not purchase anything for her to eat. The women from the church help her when they can. Apparently Ruth contracted HIV outside of marriage; it is not clear if it happened before or after she was married. She says her husband knows the story. He is not infected and when he comes home, he uses a condom when he lays with her. He uses strong abusive language; as Esron frames the situation, “he is not fulfilling his role as husband.”

She found out she was HIV+ when she could not conceive a child. On a visit to the hospital for fertility testing, doctors told her of her status. She says when she first knew of her status, she immediately felt a strong trust in the love of Jesus. She knew that He would be with her during this time.

We asked Olive how Ruth became involved in the church’s PLWHA (persons living with HIV/AIDS) program. “After being trained by World Relief on HIV/AIDS, my eyes were opened to my community. I began to look a people more closely and could tell if they needed to be tested. This one (Ruth) touched my heart.” She goes on to explain that although it is difficult at times to be so involved in this program, “the love of God allows me to continue.”

When Ruth has the strength, she attends church with the other volunteers. When she does not have the strength, the volunteers bring church to her. They have a room set aside in a neighboring house for prayer.

Ruth is constantly surrounded by these volunteers, they help her, bath her, and take her to the hospital when needed. They love her unconditionally and give her the support she needs. Even the orphan girl, with all that life has thrown at her, spends her time here helping Ruth. This is the Body of Christ at work; or as Jesus says in James 1:27 “Pure and undefiled religion before God and the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their trouble, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.”

Once again, we are asked to pray – this time Pastor Evereste is here and leads us. We depart Ruth, but the memory of her stays in my mind still.

We head back to the Guest House for dinner. Christine is grateful for the opportunity to experience the visits with us – it has moved her deeply. She shares many of the same thoughts as I had reflecting back on the day, the conditions under which the people live, yet the hope they all possess thanks to Christ.

It’s late, I’m tired, but I need to write out a sermon for tomorrow. I sit in bed with paper and pen in hand. In the next room, Andy, WRR church relations coordinator, is sharing his testimony with the Fullerton team. It is a powerful story of a life full of shame, selfishness, bad decisions, guilt and exploitation. Then finally complete surrender to Christ, followed by restoration, forgiveness, liberation, freedom and willingness to serve. The details of the story are so interesting that I soon find myself sitting among the rest of the listeners amazed at God’s power to use our weaknesses for good.

Next, Fidel, one of the Rwandans on the trip tells the first half of his testimony – it covers decades, so he get to the early 90’s before we decide to continue the next evening. I miss the second half, but the first was an interesting look at a life growing up in the forest of Africa. He told of being left alone in the dark, inside a stick hut, in the middle of the forest while his father was getting drunk hours away. Of a large snake sliding over his chest as he lay in bed, watching it swallow some ham left inside the hut. He told of being chased up a tree by a wild animal, sitting there in the branches crying for an eternity, until a neighboring farmer chased it off. He told of hiking three hours through the forest, by himself, just to get to school. And he told of turning out just like his father, spending all his money on alcohol and hitting rock bottom. Then he told of Jesus coming into his heart through a drunken visit to a Christmas service at a Pentecostal church. The story of a life restored.

Now it is really late. I pray to God to give me the words to share with the Free Methodists. The words poured out and fifteen minutes later I was asleep.

Day Nine

I preach and then we go to the Peace Guest House outside Kamembe on Lake Kivu and rest during the remaining day. Later in the evening, we head into town to visit the internet café and check in with the rest of the world, then pick up some food for tomorrow – since we will be far from any restaurants.

What? Oh, you want to know how the preaching gig turned out? Let’s just say that Esron and I are thinking a Global Evangelistic Crusade at this point. Maybe fill in the vacuum of Billy Graham’s retirement.

Just kidding. The message was well received. Early in the service, Esron and I looked at each other and smiled. All the worship songs and discussions from other leaders matched the message that I prepared perfectly. God is amazing.

We shared the scripture passage of Matthew 25:31-46. In the passage, Jesus is teaching his disciples on the Mount of Olives and preparing them for the coming Day of Judgment. He separates all the nations into two groups: the sheep and the goats. The sheep are the ones that feed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, took in the stranger, and visited the sick and imprisoned; the goats are the ones who did not. The sheep are invited to eternal life with God; the goats are cast out of God’s presence.

I told them of the prior days visit where I saw their association “Impuwhe” in action. I told them how encouraging it was and that many of them will be counted among the sheep. I also challenged the goats in attendance to think carefully about the decision they are making.

I then spoke about how we all suffer, regardless of nationality. That man has been suffering from the beginning. All the heroes of the Bible suffered, including Jesus. An American parent who loses a child hurts just as badly as an African parent who has lost a child. We are all in need of a Savior and Redeemer. Christ did that for us. He suffered terribly for us. He died for us. He defeated death for us. He provides hope for us. All we have to do is let him into our hearts to repair the damage we have done. Then we can begin to truly live and be counted among His sheep.

Simple message – but all credit goes to God.

Day Ten

We head out from Kamembe and towards the remote villages of Kibogora to visit our Child Survival Programs (CSP). There is a crazy sense about driving an hour along a remote mountain dirt road and entering into a village with a medical center, stores and school – knowing that supply trucks must converse that same route routinely. It is here in Kibogora that we visit the World Relief Rwanda CSP office. The staff and volunteers are bustling around, several visitors from the Kigali office are here working on the computer and reviewing reports. There is a hospital next door and apparently this is where Sheila is stationed. Sheila is a Catholic missionary nurse who first came to this region fifteen years ago (if I have my facts right). I mention her because everyone mentions her. If a white person visits a village within a 50 mile radius, there is a good chance the locals will call him or her “Sheila”. She has made an incredible impact in this area, I wish I had the opportunity to meet her – but we must continue on to a village about thirty minutes away. We will be meeting with another Esron and Sylvian, both CSP promoters (teachers) and Nyiragatesi Annonciata, a CSP care group leader. As we travel along, the dirt road we follow begins to narrow. We pass through a village and the chorus of “Muzunga” can be heard as the children point and run after us.

Eventually, our Nissan Pathfinder is following a motorbike trail, which is a little unnerving when the left side of the trail drops off to the hillside below. We get to the point where we can proceed no further by vehicle, which is fine because the village is only 100 feet away.

We hike up to the village and once again, I’m instantly surrounded by curious young faces. It would be great to be wearing a Goofy outfit – that would really freak them out and could be a great launching tool for Disney Rwanda. (ok – you try writing a really long journal and keep it serious.)

We come upon a home and a gathering of care group volunteers are lined up and begin to sing for us an African song. I never tire from hearing the groups sing –what a beautiful way to greet guest to your home. Of course, if I did it we would never have any guests, but that’s beside the point.

We sit down for a discussion on CSP and meet the impressive Annonciata. She is the care group leader and is responsible for sharing the lessons from World Relief promoters to the women of her village. A young, bright woman, she proudly demonstrates the difference CSP is making in their village. I learn later that when the local government officials have a sector meeting, they invite her to speak about child survival.

CSP only started in this area a year ago, first with eighteen families, then grew to include many more over the following months. By December, they had reached 67 families; today 525 children are part of the program. Out of that number, 180 children are no longer malnourished, the rest are slowly entering into the proper “green zone” – the area on the weight/age chart that shows healthy children.

Progress among participating groups is good so far. The promoters teach the groups about health issues and how to improve the survival rate of young children. Topics include: the importance of mosquito nets, proper breastfeeding and nutrition, how to treat diarrhea (plenty of fluids and go to medical center), testing for HIV/AIDS, and reproductive health. They also weigh the children to identify malnourishment.

In this village, many children were dying from measles, but thanks to teaching on the importance of immunization, not one child is dying from this disease today.

They have seen a drop in cases of Malaria and local children are not dying from diarrhea – as they were before CSP. Even though CSP is aimed at infants and toddlers, older children are benefiting from the teachings. For example, the whole family benefits when drinking water is treated before consummation.

We are invited to watch feeding time with a group of young toddlers. All the women in this care group have formed an association, “Umucyo”. As described earlier, associations work for the good of the group. In care groups, each member brings what she can to the table at mealtime. That may be a potato, a tomato, an avocado – whatever they have. It is prepared by the women and all the children are fed a nutritious meal. Today, eight healthy looking kids each get a bowl of food (a cooked mixture of flour paste, avocado, tomato, salt, dried fish, oil and Irish potatoes.) While they eat, Annonciata shows a chart of each child’s progress. Many are now in the “green zone”, several are in the top of the “yellow zone”, but making steady improvement.

The news of their progress is great to hear, and watching them stuff their faces is a delight. But the need is so great. Nearby, several children stand behind a fence on top of a small cliff and watch the demonstration. My heart goes out to them, for all of them look hungry. I inquire if this program builds animosity and jealousy among neighbors. I’m told that the reason the neighboring children are here is because of the Muzunga –normally, they would not witness the mealtime.

We thank the group for the demonstration and move on to the next home. Annonciata is going to demonstrate a home visit for us, so we head to the home of Felicite Mukaruhuta. She is an older woman and has five children. She is grateful for the presence of Umucyo – none of the children in her house are suffering from Malaria or diarrhea now. She mentions that one of her children won’t eat. Esron challenges her, “so what are you going to do.” “I don’t know how to get her to eat, I’m going to have to take her to the medical center.” Esron smiles, “that’s the right answer!”

Esron test her again. “I noticed in the backyard you are making banana juice, could we have a taste?”

“No, not without boiling it first.” Correct again.

We say our goodbyes and head back to our vehicle. It has been an informational morning, but it is time we head back to Kigali, I leave Rwanda tomorrow night.

As we pass through the nearby village again, the chorus of “Muzunga!” is louder; I look over and see at least fifty children running toward our SUV. It is a weird feeling. I wave, Esron and Didas laugh, and we hightail it out of there.

We decide to go straight from Cyangugu to Kibuye (see map) then over to Kigali.

While a shorter distance by map, the road from Cyangugu to Kibuye is all bumpy, winding, dirt roads. By the time I reach Kibuye, I feel like every internal organ is out of place.

Kibuye is a resort town on Lake Kivu, we quickly drive through and see some of the guest homes that sit lakeside. I wonder if I’ll ever afford to bring my wife here.

The next notable mention on my ride back to Kigali is the town of Nyange (in the Kibuye province). This is the town where during the genocide, many Tutsi’s fled to the church for sanctuary, only to have the killers lock the door and bring in the heavy equipment, knocking the church down onto the trapped congregation. There now sits a memorial at the site.

The other interesting story of this town occurred a short time later. Immediately following the genocide, there were apparently a few killers still on the loose – wrecking havoc wherever they could. A group of the terrorist burst into a school here and demanded all the children to separate – Hutu on one side, Tutsi on the other. If they didn’t separate, they would all die. In an act of great courage, all the small children stood together and said “We are one.” The killers opened fire. A few survived and are now national heroes, along with their dead classmates. When recently testifying before the courts, these heroes stated, “we do not know where the power came from that gave us the courage to stand together – we just know that it did not come from us.”

In Rwanda, you try not to drive a night. Traffic law enforcement is not present and driving here is best described as every man for himself. There are a few rules of the road – like honk your horn before you pass – even when approaching a blind curve. But at night, it’s just safe to stay home. We were a half hour from Kigali when the sun went down. We were behind a slow moving truck, working our way uphill, trying to pass. Even though in Rwanda driving is done on the right side of the road, the cars from Japan that have the right side steering wheels are cheaper. So when passing, in order for the driver to see ahead, he has to come over further than he would if he was sitting where I, the passenger, am sitting. I think you can see where this is going.

So here we are behind this slow pickup, Didas has been driving all day, half of it over rough terrain, and we just want to get to Kigali. He keeps veering over to pass, but cars continue to force him back over. Finally, he sees an opportunity and again veers over to pass, when out of nowhere comes barreling a truck aimed straight for us. Literally, in the blink of an eye, we swerve right, the truck slides a millimeter to the left, and we smack side mirrors as the truck continues it’s high speed downhill descent.

“Praise the Lord!” yells Esron from the backseat. I ask him to reach into by bag and grab a pair of underwear as we continue on to Kigali. They drop me off at the Bauman home and I join them for dinner before retiring back to the guest house for my last night in Rwanda.

Day Eleven

My final day in Rwanda. I spend the morning checking email and trying to wrap things up before my departure. Stephan changes my plan with a request. Tim Morgan from Christianity Today would like to see our Essential Oils program, would I mind accompanying Nicolas, who heads the program, out to the demonstration field. Sure.

I was under the impression that God had showed me all he wanted to during this trip and now I was just to finish up. I had read about Essential Oils, the extraction of oils from organic plants, to be used in cosmetics, aromatherapy, and other uses. Widows and orphans work the fields, providing them the opportunity to support themselves. Somewhat interesting, but not really.

So we head out towards the demonstration farm on the outer skirts of Kigali. Tim is conversant in third world farming techniques – so he is asking good questions to Nicolas on the ride to the site. Nicolas received his bachelor’s degree in agriculture here in Rwanda, then escaping the genocide, made his way to Europe and got his Masters and Phd in Applied Entomology in London. So the discussion is mainly on plant species, soil viability, extraction techniques, and other stuff that made me sleepy in college.

We pull into another uphill dirt road and drive a short distance to a geranium field. We get out a walk along the hillside, the beautiful scenery is tranquil. He shows us a few different plants and explains how they keep piles of old wood branches spread out over the field so the termites have something to eat. If they didn’t, they would attack the plants. I learn something new.

Walking back down the hill to the car, Nicolas stops and explains why he decided to do this particular program. During the genocide, he (Hutu) and his wife (Tutsi) escaped across the border and he vowed never to come back. The horrors of what they saw were too great.

While in Europe, Nicolas was able to celebrate the fact that they survived and escaped and continue on with life. His wife was spiritually and mentally wounded. The pain went deep and she fell into despair. He could not understand why she could not get over it and after awhile, became unsympathetic. A few Rwandans from the intellectual community, whom escaped the genocide, decided to meet in Germany and discuss what they should do next. They consisted of mainly college and business friends that remained in contact with each other. It was during that meeting that Nicolas felt God’s presence. The meeting turned into a session of listening to each others story. The painful memories were retold for all to hear. It was here that Nicolas began to understand the ramifications of the genocide. His people were guilty of trying to exterminate a neighboring tribe. His people had the blood of innocents on their hands, and until they repented of their sins, they would be cursed. He was not an individual, separate from his tribe, but part of their nation. He needed to repent for his people. (2 Chronicles 12-22)

He then fully understood the pain his wife had experienced. He dropped on his knees in front of her and weeping, asked for forgiveness. He explains, “at that moment, my wife was resurrected from the dead. Her wounds were healed. She became whole again.”

The experience also was the turning point that brought him back to Rwanda. He realized that the land was soaked in the blood of innocents, the land had to be redeemed. Thus, using the gifts that God had blessed him with, he and his wife came back and he started applying his knowledge of agriculture to restore the land.

He went on to explain that a key component of the program is to hire widows and orphans. The first workers he chose to hire had no life left in them. They were depressed and showed no willingness to live. Since the launch of the program, most have chosen to become Christian and now smile and live a life full of hope. The land they till was overgrown and neglected, today the land and the people working it are restored.

Tim and I stand there, dumbstruck by Nicolas’ testimony. The story of Rwanda is far from over.

We head over to the demonstration area –this is where the oil is extracted from the plants. One of the caretakers joins us; he is a tall, thin man wearing blue overalls. Nicolas informs us that he was a prisoner who was found guilty of participating in the genocide. He now works among the widows; he has repented and they have forgiven him. He seems very happy to show us around.

As we head back to Kigali, I think back on the whole trip. God has clearly been telling a story these past few days.

I do some quick shopping, head back to the office to say final farewells, then Esron and a driver whisk me away to the airport. The sun is completing its descent and in the twilight hours, I can see the airport ahead with its lights shining. Then it goes dark. I look harder and see lights on from inside the building. “Did the airport just blackout?” I ask, but the lights are on and no one understands what I’m saying. Maybe it was my imagination.

We arrive; the line for customs is long and not moving. We are cutting it close, so I go to prayer and turn over the situation to God. I know I can’t control it. Finally, the line begins to move. I say goodbye to my friend, I hope we can see each other again in the near future. I make my way up to the X-ray machine and place my bags on the revolving belt. Whoomp! The place is pitch black. I just smile, I’ll miss Rwanda.

The generators kick on and lights return. The metal detectors have to be recalibrated. After a long wait, I’m through. Waiting to check bags, I have no idea what time it is. Has my plane already left? I ask a woman that is directing passengers to the baggage claim counter what time my plane leaves. “Your plane is two hours late.” Will I miss my connecting flight in Brussels? “Probably”. Quick prayer. God’s in control. No problem. “I enjoyed your country.” We converse for awhile, finally I get to check one of my bags and proceed to wait two hours.

I made all connections, arrived in Dulles on time. A very long flight is over. Flying into Dulles, I peered down at all the paved roads, the endless number of cul-de-sacs, and the two story block homes with fences. I understand how blessed we have it here in America. How the investment in infrastructure the previous generations made has paid off. How respect for one another and our commitment to law and liberty, while far from perfect, has resulted in a strong and powerful nation.

I also see the responsibility that we have to continue to help those in need. Africa is no longer a mystery or a black hole to me. It is a continent of great promise and potential made up of warm and generous people. They are our fellow brothers and sisters and we have a responsibility to help our family. This is the story that I must continue to tell.

P.S. Sure was good to see my beautiful wife and children again!

Reflections

Rwanda is a country with huge potential. The solutions required to overcome the obstacles that stand in the way of a healthy economy are large, but not out of reach. Investments in infrastructure and technology – both which are currently underway – could propel Rwanda into stability and growth within the next decade.

The Rwandan church is getting support from the Universal Church – Christian agencies and church groups are ever present. The local church seems to be strong and developing true disciples – some of the strongest, biblically based disciples I’ve ever met. Granted, my exposure within the ten days in country was limited, but the entire culture seemed to be one based on loving thy neighbor.

One thing that was noticeably absent was the culture of sex that is so pervasive in America. Women dressed modestly; there were no billboards or newspapers with half clad women on display clinging to a beer drinking man. Conversations among Rwandans do not seem to slip into “adult humor.” I’m not so naïve as to think it does not happen, but the overall culture is one of modesty and I found that refreshing.

After sunset, I did see the prostitutes on street corners, usually near the hotels (near the foreign clients.) The day I spent at the Hotel Des Mille Collins talking with Cecile – a group of five men (they appeared to be a camera crew) sat at a table by the pool with three Rwandan prostitutes as the women drank, laughed, and flirted. The women carried on, the men just sat there watching them with hungry eyes. Later in the lobby, I watched as one by one, the three ladies escorted their “dates” to the elevator. Within a city where most people struggle to put food on the table, it is easy to sympathize with the prostitutes. A man left to his own desires, with emptiness in his heart, and in a foreign land – I can even understand his submission to lust. God allowed me to see the women and the men through His eyes – how apart from Him; man will carry on in destructive behavior. This is why He provided us with a Savior.

What is the most popular thing that Rwandans do for fun? They gather together for dinner at someone’s home. Television is a luxury, movie houses are few and most can’t afford to go anyway, I didn’t see any golf courses. But the dinner table is always full. Families and communities are tight knit because people spend time together, eating, talking and laughing.

My number one “take-away” from this trip is a clearer understanding of the role of the church. The local church holds more power than we sometimes realize. Only the church can transform lives by promoting moral living and the church is best equipped to help the poor and suffering. Followers of Christ, when putting their faith into work, can and do make a world of difference. The solutions to the ills of this world are found within the Body of Christ. I know that sounds preachy – but it is true. I’ve seen the dramatic impact a properly trained and mobilized group of believers can make on their community, within my own church and within Rwandan churches.

Prayer Requests:
* God’s protection and strength for World Relief staff and volunteers
* God’s continued blessing and guidance for Pastor Abel of the Evangelical Church of Rwanda and his family
* Lift up Celestin Musekura as he continues his studies in seminary as well as his leadership within ALARM (African Leadership and Reconciliation Ministries)
* Pray for Cecile Antonie, the news producer from South Africa, that God would bring her peace and comfort and that she would accept His merciful love.
* Pray for the orphans and vulnerable children of Rwanda, including, Tatu and her three brothers; Clementine & Jean Pierre; the children being cared for by the Free Methodist Church of Kamembe; a dirty little boy on the street in Kamembe with a wide grin and a homemade toy made from a plastic bottle, stick and wheels; the hungry children of Kibogora; Vedaste Bisengimana from Kamembe and his sister Dina – he would like to go back to school.
* Forgiveness and restoration as the country continues to deal with the horrors of the genocide.
* Justice for the oppressed, for the innocent that have been accused to be set free, and for those guilty to be brought before the courts.
* For the Abatwa to be treated with equality and respect.
* Emmanuel Murangira, our tour guide of the Murambi Memorial Centre, may his life be restored and that he can begin a new life full of joy and hope.
* Pastor Everaste and Evangelist Theodosie – strength and comfort as they tend to their sheep.
* URWEGO clients, including: Ngirinshute Emmanuel, Josephine, Gerard, Venuste Gatalazi, the butcher in the Kamembe marketplace, and Barakaguira Zacharie. That God may continue to bless their businesses and that His truth shines through their businesses.
* The Free Methodist Church of Kamembe and their outreach association: Impuhwe. May God continue to strengthen this beacon of light, to help them grow in presence, and to provide them with the resources they need in order to complete the work before them.
* God’s comfort and healing for those suffering with AIDS, including: Verene, Christine, Sarafina, and Ruth. Comfort and strength for their care providers, Olive Marianne in particular.
* The child survival program in Kibogora, may it continue to grow and reach more and more children in this sector. Strength and encouragement for promoters and leaders: Esron, Sylvian, and Annonciata. May the love of God shine through to the programs recipients, including Felicite Mukarhuta and her five children.
* Lift up our chauffer, Didas, a bright young man that is looking for steady, meaningful employment and to master the English language.
* Pray for the Essential Oils program, that they can find international buyers to sustain this program and help many more widows and orphans find their way to God’s mercy and love.
* Pray for my good friend, Esron, and his wife Serene, as they continue to shine Christ’s love to all who meet them.

Rwanda - First Lady Trip Part 1

2005-07-20T12:59:00.000-07:00

Rwanda Trip
Field Journal

I’ve been sent to Rwanda to help coordinate the media and marketing functions surrounding a visit from the First Lady of the United States as she visits a church partner of World Relief. The church is one of the groups involved in Mobilizing For Life, World Relief’s AIDS education and church mobilization program. I will also be visiting our program in Cyangugu during a short-term mission trip from one of our church partners in the United States. This journal is a look at my time in Africa (a first for me).

Day One

After a long, long, long flight from D.C. to Brussels to Kigali – I have arrived in Africa at last. The trip was measured by in-flight films – Sahara, Ms. Congeniality II, Robots, Million Dollar Baby – and for the Brussels to Kigali section, the screaming of the child in front of me and the poor mother trying to console and control three young boys. I sat next to Bill from the Wildlife Conservation Society – interesting fellow that has spent most of his adult life in Africa merging conservation with eco-tourism. He was helpful in sharing a few tips on life in Kigali.

The Kigali airport is small and there is not the strong sense of security as found in post 9/11 America. Apparently, my checked duffel bag was the first bag loaded on the plane, because it was close to being the last one to come off. I had not planned on checking any luggage – but I soon learned that when you travel for World Relief, you become a pack mule for every staff member who has a connection to the country to which you are traveling.

Once I escape baggage claim, I am greeted by Esron, World Relief Rwanda Communications Officer and a driver. It’s 7:30 in the evening and already dark. Here at the equator, the sun rises at 6 a.m. and sets at 6 p.m. year-round, give or take 15 minutes. The ride from the airport to the guest house reminds me of driving through Tijauana, Mexico at night (until now, Mexico has been the extent of my international travel) – people walking on the side of road, no lane lines, a beep of the horn then whizzing by slower vehicles on their left. Kigali is spread out over several hills, each hill seems to have at least one main paved road on the top, and dirt roads that line the sides of the hills. As we descend onto the dirt road that takes us down toward the guest house, the ravines and bumps in the road created by water runoff toss us around like rag dolls.

The guest house surprises me. It reminds me of the style of homes found in Southern California, it is a beautiful yellow two-story stucco and wood home with tile throughout and landscaped with various plants and flowers. Several World Relief American staff live here and when I arrive they are watching the DVD “October Sky” via a projector on the wall of the living room connected to a laptop and speakers. After warm greetings, I settle into my room and attempt to convince my body that it is night.

Day Two

Definitely having the mosquito net installed today! The mosquitoes are not nearly as bad as the Eastern Shore of Maryland in the summer time, but the constant buzz around my ears was driving me nuts. Even though it was rather warm, I spent the evening under covers with a t-shirt around my head.

Breakfast is toasted rolls and bread, honey and preserves, and fresh fruit. The coffee is really good – so needless to say – I’m happy.

I have several church options this morning and choose to attend a local Rwandan evangelical church. I go to the church with Laura, a World Relief church relations coordinator who arrived in Rwanda the previous Wednesday and Christy, who works with URWEGO, World Relief’s microfinance program. Christy has accomplished what many say is miraculous – she has become fluent in Kinyarwanda – the local language – in a matter of months. Kinyarwanda, I’ve been told, is one of the seven hardest languages to pick up. I’ve learned “Muraho” (Hello), so I’m feeling pretty confident at this point.

We attend an Evangelical Church of Rwanda in the neighborhood of Remera. Remera is one of the poorer neighborhoods in Kigali, you can tell by driving (bouncing) by the small homes that there is little in terms of possessions. The church itself is 10 years old and made of brick with a tin roof and has another brick building for Sunday School. Service has just begun when we walk in from the back of the building. The floor is packed dirt and we sit on one of the wooden pew benches near the back. Immediately, I amazed at the number of children – at least 30 – that take up the front pews of the church. Apparently, they are amazed at this small group of Muzunga (white people) that have joined them, all the children look back and stare, several whispering to their friends. Christy explains that the service starts out with each choir singing worship songs, first the children, then youth, then older adults, and finally another group of young adults. They sing loudly and beautifully – their songs are directed to God so they pour out their energy. Drums play and the singers dance in rhythm with the music.

After the singing, we move into introductions of the visitors. They welcome those who have come back to the church and those who are here for the first time. I’m glad Christy is here to translate and our words are well received. Next, two women in the congregation share their testimony. One was very sick with malaria and praised God for allowing her to get better and allowing her a second chance to focus on what matters during her time here on Earth. The second woman shared the story of a recent visit from a thief while she and her husband slept. She thanked God that nothing important was taken and that they were not harmed.

Pastor Abel led the sermon with a message on knowing who you are and how Jesus abides in each of us. Pastor Abel is the father of Jean-Paul, World Relief Rwanda’s Director of Programs, and is the head of the Evangelical Church in Rwanda and has visited the U.S. several times to meet with partner churches from the Free Evangelical Church. He chooses to preach at the church in Remera because it is the poorest. Today he works the importance of being tested for AIDS into the sermon. “It is important to take stock, to know who you are and where you stand, so you can determine where God wants you to be.”

When the service comes to a close, the children surround us to shake our hands. I take out the digital camera and take a few photos and the children excitedly jockey for position. I kneel down and turn the camera around to show them the photo and am nearly bowled over by children crowding to see themselves. This leads to many more photos. It is a great feeling to see the joy on their faces.

Pastor Abel’s daughter invites us over for dinner in the evening and we gladly accept. We are promised a big authentic Rwandan dinner – if I haven’t mentioned it yet – the Lord is definitely blessing me on this trip.

Everyone at the guest house decides to go out for lunch. We head out to a local Chinese restaurant with a rooftop patio and order several dishes to share. The spicy chicken with cashews is good – except the cashews look and taste a lot like peanuts. Hmmm. Lunch discussions give me a glimpse into the life of a Christian humanitarian aid worker in a foreign country – a life that many people either look at as crazy or adventurous, or both. In reality, they are just regular people with the same everyday issues, joys and concerns. The big difference is that they are willing trust God to handle the dangers and trials that everyone back home is quick to point out, and focus instead on serving the people that many of the world ignore. Joining us for lunch is Tambry Brose and her pre-teen son, Austin. Tambry’s husband, Dan, is the Country Director for Burundi and until recently, Rwanda as well. They have three sons and have lived in Africa for the past four years. Austin finishes his lunch early and takes off to find a friend at a shopping center nearby. The bombings in London last week serve as one more reminder that no place is safe in this day and age, but still, would I be willing to move my wife and kids to a foreign country, one of extreme poverty, to live for several years? It’s humbling to see how alive and happy Tambry and Austin live – to see what is possible once you get past fear.

After lunch, I head out on my own for a hike around the area of the guest house. It’s actually my third outing to the surrounding area, one being an early morning jog that reminded me how out of shape I’ve become. After panting my way back into the house, I was greeted by Dan Brose with the comment, “that was quick”. But the hike was a leisurely walk around the hillside, not too strenuous. Once I leave the gate of the guest house (all the bigger homes in this area are hidden behind fences), I begin to pass local people walking down the road. “Bonjour”, “Muharo”, the greetings are exchanged. Most people break out in a smile, some try to speak to me in French (my one year of French in ninth grade is not very helpful) but once I say “English” they just smile and say something in return as they continue on, probably mumbling to themselves “poor American – can only speak one language.” A few do know English and ask how I’m doing. Very few look at me without smiling or waving. All in all, the people of Rwanda are very welcoming and kind. Outside a mosque, I meet a young Muslim man wearing a white robe. We greet each other and he warmly tries to strike up a conversation. The language barrier is too great, but with the few English words he knows, he wishes me well. I continue walking and past by several new, big homes either recently built or in the middle of the building process. There is a strong rental market here with all the different organizations working in Kigali. Outside the gates are signs that read the spectrum of non-profits. I feel comfortable enough with the layout of the land, so I return to the guest house to relax before the start of a busy week.

Around 6:30 pm, Christy arrives to drive Laura and me to Pastor Abel’s home. It’s dark, so once again we are cruising down bumpy, narrow dirt roads with people walking on both sides and crossing hurriedly in front of us. Just when I think we should probably slow down, someone behind us beeps and flies by. I ask what happen to the windshield, it is cracked like a spider web on the driver’s side. I’m told someone hit a bicyclist. I’m somewhat surprised to learn that Rwanda does have a seatbelt law for front seat passengers – and you will be pulled over if you are not buckled in. That doesn’t do much for the pedestrians of course.

Pastor Abel, his wife, and two daughters greet us warmly. We sit in the family room of the modest home and share conversation while dinner is being prepared. Pastor Abel returned from a trip that took him to Washington, Kentucky, and Ohio recently and he spoke of the different churches he visited. Another family member arrives and they begin to speak in Kinyarwanda. Christy interprets and I find out that they are speaking about the gracacas. To handle the grievances and bring the perpetrators of the 1994 genocide to justice, each sector of Kigali holds gracacas, similar to court proceedings, one day a week. Each member of the community can bring up an accusation as to how a neighbor participated in the genocide. The accused are allowed to defend themselves and if found guilty, the judges, chosen by the community, decide the punishment. No lawyers allowed for either side. The stories are heart-wrenching, one woman bringing charges against her next door neighbor, accusing him of killing her whole family. Of course, there are those using this system for revenge, falsely accusing a neighbor of participating, when in fact they are just settling an old grudge. Others in the village must then come forward to defend the accused. I asked if the people feel this system is working, “Some more than others” is the reply.

A knock on door brings in a close friend of the family. We are introduced to Celestin Musekura, a big man that immediately makes you feel like a close friend. Celestin is the head of ALARM, African Leadership and Reconciliation Ministries, which teaches pastors and lay people throughout Africa leadership training and pastoral counseling. In addition, ALARM offers micro-finance programs helping encourage small business growth through poor communities. Celestin in currently in seminary outside Dallas, Texas, but his responsibilities with ALARM has brought him back for a six-week trip in several African countries. A very engaging man, he brings a lot of humor to the evening. We all are invited to the dinner table and begin to dig into a delicious feast. The meal, made with many ingredients from the family garden, includes a banana and green pea dish, a beef dish, white rice, and a tomato and pepper based sauce. We are offered a drink made from blended Sorghum. Celestin jokes that it is Rwandan chocolate, but I noticed that Christy and Laura declined. What the heck, when in Rwanda…ok, not the most pleasant drink, but I finished it! Celestin suggested I drink more, it would give me “visions”, as the table laughed. I was to busy praying my stomach wouldn’t get me back later.

Following the main meal was a dessert of small, sweet bananas and a hot tea made with milk. I was stuffed as we moved into the family room for more conversation. Baraka, Pastor Abel’s daughter, is studying to be a pastoral counselor and interns for a public health center treating people who have been traumatized, mainly by the genocide or by AIDS. This is a fascinating family. She explained how she works with all type of people that are having difficulty in processing what has happened to them. Children who survived the genocide often blame themselves for their parents’ death or feel guilty for not dying as well. Adults who lost loved ones cannot always follow the natural grieving process and suffer psychologically – it is hard to imagine the pain they must feel. It amazes me that under just one roof – one family – bring the light of Christ to so many people.

After thanking them for their hospitality, we head back for much needed sleep.

Day Three

Mosquito net worked like a charm. I’m well rested and ready to start the week. When we pull up to the World Relief offices, I immediately make a note to myself to look into job openings here. The offices are actually a series of adjoining townhomes set on the side of a hill and overlook Kigali. Open and airy with balconies! I may feel different during the rainy season – but today this seems like paradise. I’m introduced to many staff and repeatedly am told “We are so glad you are here, we have been praying for you.” I make a mental note to be more receiving of guests that visit headquarters.

I meet Stephan Bauman, his wife Belinda, and their two young boys. Stephan is the new country director for World Relief Rwanda and he just arrived the previous Wednesday. First week on the job and he has to organize a visit from the First Lady and a team from the Evangelical Free Church of Fullerton, California, who are arriving for a short term mission trip! He fits right in – a warm and welcoming man wearing a constant smile.

I soon discover the back courtyard and the kitchen where someone is preparing tea. I could get use to this. I take the time to get some work started then we are off for a site visit – the educational compound that Laura Bush will be visiting.

I’m beginning to get use to riding through Kigali – paved road full of cars and bikes with no apparent brakes – sudden turns onto dirt roads lined with bicycles and people walking dangerously close to the traffic, slamming up and down over bumps and crevasses, until finally arriving outside a gate and waiting on a guard to let us through. Fun!

The church school compound, the Evangelical Friends Church and George Fox Secondary School, is bustling with activity. Walls are being plastered, new gates are being welded, windows are being painted, a grass hut is under construction, the church is having a brick planter installed and a mountain of cinder blocks is being removed – one brick at a time balanced on a worker’s head as they walk it out the compound and up to the hill to who knows where. In the middle of all this is David and Debbie, a missionary couple who help run the school – now suddenly tasked with preparing for a high profile event.

The sound of children singing flows out of the church building as we head over the school compound. The advance team from the White House is here, as well as the folks from USAID and government representatives from the office of the President of Rwanda. Small clusters of VIP’s scattered around the school courtyard discuss preparation details as curious school children peek from behind class windows. I stroll through the grounds and capture some of the sights on video and with photos. This makes me really popular with the school children.

Once the VIP’s are satisfied and leave, Stephan, Dan, Debbie Dortzbach and I join David and Debbie (missionaries) to watch a rehearsal of a skit several teenagers are performing. The teenagers have created a skit based on the AIDS education they have received (through WR’s Mobilizing For Life program). They perform well and are passionate throughout the performance – but the skit seems a little hard to follow. Thankfully, Debbie Dortzbach, the International Director of HIV/AIDS Programs for World Relief, is there and we are able to witness her gifts. While the rest of us thought it was a little confusing – since it was performed in Kinyarwanda we had no idea what was missing or how to convey criticism to these teenagers that have worked so hard.

Debbie took over and praised the youth on their performance. She went on to kindly offer a few suggestions, tips on simplifying the message, spoke a little in Swahili (surprising the students) and generally won them over. The rest of us sat amazed. We are all thankful she is here.

We headed over to the church to watch the young women sing and dance an African worship song. The joyful noise from these young women and the rhythmic dance kept us entranced. A few of us felt like jumping up and joining them – but thankfully we did not.

As the sun set over Kigali, we “organizers” gathered outside the church and joined in prayer – that God would be glorified throughout this week and especially during the visit. Wonderful things are happening in Africa through the Body of Christ, His church, and we hope that message comes through loud and clear.

Day Four

The day starts off with a morning service at the World Relief offices. When I arrive, everyone is in song and a drum is beating. The new faces are then asked to introduce themselves to the staff; there are a few of us – several just starting their “tour of duty” in Rwanda. This is Stephan’s first opportunity to lead a staff service and he shares a thoughtful and inspiring message. After service, many staff members come over to shake my hand, which in Rwanda one hand does the shaking as the other grabs the opposite shoulder. Many Rwandan have at least two names – their Kinyarwandan name and their Christian name. It’s difficult for me to remember either one – but I try.

After some email checking and sending (I’m used to high speed internet, so it takes some adjustment) – off we go to the site of the First Lady’s visit. It’s even busier than the day before. The whole campus seems to be under construction. Heavy equipment is regrading the road, so instead of hitting your head on the ceiling of your vehicle, now you just bounce up and down. Many of the buildings look almost new and the frame of the grass hut is finished – workers are now tying the grass to the walls and ceiling. The tool of choice is the machete, which at first is eerie when one recalls the weapon used during the genocide. But here the machete, or variations of the tool, is used everywhere – cutting grass, trimming trees, cutting boards to length.

The grass hut is the focus of everyone’s attention. It is here that the First Lady will meet with an orphan head of household in person, away from the media. This household is composed of 4 children aged 13, 8, 6, and 3 years. Valerie, the mother of these children died of AIDS in 2004. Their father was killed during the genocide.

Mukeshimana Tatu is the 13 years girl who heads this household. She is the second born in a family of 5 children. She dropped out of school in July 2004, stopping in Primary Five in Nyanza Primary School. In school, she did especially well in languages; French, English and Kinyarwanda and was always among the top 10 in her class. She was preparing for baptism when her parents died.

Her elder brother mistreated the family, sold the family home, and abandoned them; Tatu had to assume responsibility. Her strongest wish is to regain the family house and to continue with school where she left off. She would like to be supported with her siblings, instead of having to provide for them. She also wishes to be able to bring back Pacifique, her youngest brother, when they have enough food and security in the house.

The advance team from the White House informs us that they do not want any professional looking banners inside the courtyard of the school – where the first part of the ceremonies will commence. They want the cameras to show the First Lady and the children in a natural, African environment. This after I lugged a 3’x8’ World Relief banner half way around the world. Plan B – they are ok with signs made by the children. Off I go to recruit little hands for banner making. Enter into the picture Katie, a missionary in her early twenties who teaches the children of the full time missionary families on the campus. I’m glad I found Katie, not only does she have art supplies and access to two children happy to play with paint – but she also has a bathroom in her house that she offers me to use. It’s good to know where the private bathrooms are when you’re in a foreign country. After much relief and playtime with the kids – I have a homemade World Relief banner that can be posted within camera view! Look for it on news!

Several of the other World Relief staffers need to go to the market for supplies – my first chance to see the downtown business district. Along the way we pass an open bed transport truck with the back loaded with men in pink jumpsuits. I’m told that they are men who have been accused and incarcerated for participating in the genocide. There are no armed guards watching over them; the men are being transported to worksites where they spend their days laboring for the government. The pink jumpsuits deter them from escaping. The sad part is that there are many reported cases of innocent men – just because they are Hutu – being locked up. Some have expressed that true reconciliation in this country will be difficult to come by under this system of justice.

Visiting the marketplace in Africa is quite an experience. Women stand behind mats on the ground piled high with fruits and vegetables. Every store has a small MTN sign, the local cell phone carrier, where you can purchase prepaid cards to replenish your minutes. The stores vary and many seem odd. You can walk into a store and find a glass case containing one video game software box, a digital camera, a printer, and reams of paper and ink cartridges. Another store will have all kinds of cheap oddities – kind of like a yard sale inside. The next one will be a neighborhood grocery store with the equivalent of two shelves from a supermarket in the states. You can find everything you need, but you need to visit a lot of stores.

Day Five

Day of frustration. Trying to make contact with media covering the First Lady, messages left unreturned, phone numbers not going through, difficulty in reaching NBC (the Today Show is following Mrs. Bush). Six hours ahead of the East Coast – so can’t reach anyone there until 1pm.

Not much to report – spent afternoon at Hotel Des Mille Collins after learning that the NBC crew were housed there. Belinda was able to speak with a producer on the phone and offer an interview with the orphan head of household since it is such a powerful story. Long story short – producer asked to see a write up of the story so I go to the hotel to deliver. While there I meet Cecile, a South African free-lance producer who is working with NBC (not the main producer I was seeking, but a well connected media veteran in Africa – which maybe useful later on). She has been traveling to conflict zones around the world for many years and has seen the horrors of war, famine and AIDS first hand. She has filmed documentaries for BBC and CNN – so I share with her what we do and she shares what she has seen. She vents awhile about the lack of attention being given to orphans – and I listen. While the work she does is fascinating, I can see it does take its toll. How much despair can one person witness? I’m glad I met her and that she does what she does – bringing the story to the rest of us. I pray that she finds peace and hope at the end of the day.

One the ride back to the guest house, Debbie makes the comment that this is harder than preparing for several weddings scheduled at once – I think we all are happy that tomorrow is almost here.

Day Six

The day has arrived! The big anticipated event! I start the day with my morning prayers – that God walks with me today and blesses this event. Tambry has prepared cinnamon rolls for breakfast – we are off to a good start!

I spend the early part of the day preparing press kits with the help of the World Relief Rwanda staff; then it is off to the Evangelical Friends Church and George Fox Secondary School. Upon arrival, we find security measures in full swing. At a checkpoint, our names are found on “the list” and we enter a tent with a x-ray machine (like you would find in an airport) and proceed to empty our pockets into baskets. A walk through a metal detector and we are in.

Rwandan military is present, as well as the Secret Service. There are the guys that sweep the area – they wear street clothes and carry backpacks. Then there are the guys in the suits and glasses – they walk around and talk into their hands. I stroll the grounds and begin snapping photos. Everyone is directed to where they are supposed to be – students in school uniform are lined up in the school courtyard. Many invited guest are in the church listening to music and talking. I’m considered press – so I can stroll anywhere. The grass hut is complete and decorated inside with decorative mats and stools and other art. I go to the courtyard and see the HIV+ women who are displaying the fruit of their trades – colorful baskets, essential oils, fabric and sewing machines. Hundreds of kids fill in the courtyard at their designated spots.

Rick and Kaye Warren arrive; they are in town for a separate event and, being personal friends of the first family, have been invited to attend. Debbie and Kaye are friends and begin to catch up with each other. Rick introduces himself to me and we speak briefly – I let him know I used to live in his neck of the woods for a few years in Southern California – he mentions he visited Annapolis last year. Nice enough fellow, I think he’s sold a few books or something.

He meets Stephan and Belinda and I offer to take their picture. “Do you want to take a picture with me?” he asks with open arms. Well, I didn’t realize I was that well known, maybe he’s read one of my press releases; maybe he just wants to show his friends that he met me. What ever the reason – I accept.

The scheduled time is approaching and an armed U.S. military helicopter approaches out of nowhere and begins to encircle the area. I inquire about the occupants of the aircraft to one of the men in suits who responds “Yea, they’re our guys.” You get the distinct impression that they love this stuff. A couple of our Rwandan WR staff is dressed in suits as well, one puts on his sunglasses and pretends to be secret service – we all have a good laugh. All the kids in the schoolyard watch the helicopter in excitement.

Everyone is in place, and a temporary bamboo fence is erected to block the view of the First Lady while she exits the Suburban and makes her way to the greeting room. Since its bamboo, I can still see her and her daughter, Jenna, approach. They are ushered into a side room to meet their hosts, which includes the Brose’s, Bauman’s and Mrs. Dortzbach.

The temporary barrier is removed and out walks Mrs. Bush followed by Jenna. They pause along the row of women that are pretending to work on their crafts. Mrs. Bush looks up at me, standing among all the press snapping their cameras and explains, “they’re sewing fabric.” I wanted to respond, “I know, I work for World Relief, we provide the programs that enable them to learn a trade and support themselves.” But instead, I just nod my head in thanks for the explanation.

Jean Paul, our WRR Director of Programs, has been chosen by the White House to be Mrs. Bush’s translator. We are all proud of him and he has been nervous – but confident. He changed his tie and shoes several times earlier in the day, now he’s looking sharp and walks right alongside the First Lady, explaining all that she is seeing. They head to the main part of the courtyard where a team of children are already in dance. The drum is beating and the children are putting on quite the show. The First Lady had visited the Genocide Museum before arriving here, and apparently both she and Mrs. Blair were deeply disturbed by what they saw. Watching the children dance and sing, I had to wonder what she was thinking. Maybe she was just praying that they would carry this spirit of rejoicing with them into their future. That they would not ever have to experience the horrors of the past again.

Next the teenagers performed their skit. The story was of a group of friends playing soccer and having fun. Another boy approaches, coughing, he wants to join them. They ostracize him because he has AIDS. He is stigmatized – no one wants him near. A peer-counselor enters the scene and explains away the misconceptions and shares the truth –they need to love and care for their neighbor, their friend. The group welcomes him back. They bow and receive a rousing applause.

The headmaster for the school speaks and explains that thanks to the programs of World Relief, they are able to teach children about AIDS and remove the stigmas. They provide care for orphans and educational opportunities for the poor. At the end of this part of the program, Mrs. Bush is escorted out of the courtyard and to the grass hut to meet with the child-led household. This is closed off to media, but Jean Paul is there to translate. Mrs. Bush asks the girl, “What has the church done for you?” The girl responds, “When my relatives kicked me out, the church brought me in.”

With everyone waiting in the church, the entourage makes their way inside and is seated. Young dancers and a drummer entered the church from outside, singing and dancing an African worship song. While watching the dancers, Jenna reaches behind her and holds the hands of little children – all trying to touch her. Mid-way through the performance, Jenna stands and picks up a little girl to put in her lap. Another child comes around and sits in Mrs. Bush’s lap, Jean Paul even got one. Of course, the cameras went crazy, but it was also apparent that the simple gesture meant a lot to the Rwandans gathered in that church.

A young man named Fidel gave his testimony. He became infected with AIDS and after his wife died - came to the church and dedicated his life to telling his story to others.

Debbie Dortzbach gave closing remarks called “A Charge To Keep”. The whole speech is on the World Relief website – but needless to say, it was well received and poignant. Ngoga closed the event in prayer.

The First Lady and Jenna exited the building a headed toward the heavily fortified vehicles. They greeted the children that performed and Jenna gave them all tote bags with White House coloring books, crayons and other craft supplies. Then off they went and we could finally breathe. Everything had gone well, no catastrophes. (Side note – Friday’s USA Today shows a picture of Jenna and Laura holding the children.)

We head back to the office, worn out, but pleased.

FirstLady_Rwanda

2005-07-18T11:37:00.000-07:00

FirstLady_cp 032x
Originally uploaded by WRPictures.

First Lady Laura Bush visiting World Relief AIDS program, Mobilizing For Life, in Kigali, Rwanda at the Evangelical Friends School.

Child Survival Project

2005-07-15T11:34:00.000-07:00

Child Survival Project
Originally uploaded by EShore Daddy.

Mothers of a care group named UMUCYO in rural Rwanda, feeding their children a healthy meal. By combining their resources - these mothers have seen their once malnourished children grow into healthy toddlers.