Reflections from the Halfway Point

To Emily of August 2014,

It's me, your older, wiser, and better looking self from the future. I've made it to the halfway point of our YAGM year. I know I must seem a million miles away from you--and in some ways, I am--but I'm closer around the corner than you think. Time will seem to creep along glacially and time will seem to vanish, in that cruel way that time waxes and wanes. From the summit of my year, before I take the descending journey through to the end of July, I want to leave you with some advice.

• Orientation will be the best week in the history of the world. You won't realize it until it's over, so savor it now.
• When you get to Rwanda, try not to be so overwhelmed. You're here for a year, I promise all of this strangeness will soon feel normal.
• Study harder in Kinyarwanda lessons. I know your brain is tired, but you'll thank yourself.
• Your doctor was an idiot, so make sure you take your malaria medication with food. You will save yourself a lot of pain...literally.
• When you get to your placement you're going to be stressed and overwhelmed and homesick. Cry it out and then pull yourself together. You're in this for the long haul.
• You're going to want to buy some boots sooner. Trust me on this one.
• This too will pass: I remember October being difficult. I also can't remember a single thing about October. This is your life, so just live through it, the ups and the downs.
• November will bring all of the YAGM friendship. You can make it. It's worth it.
• Really? It's December...you should be studying more Kinyarwanda than you are.
• Wear more sunscreen in Burundi. Yes, more. Even more than that.
• Your mood will greatly improve when you institute daily dance parties into your schedule. I recommend you begin this habit sooner.
• Basin baths are a lot more fun when you do them in your room. Instead of being wary of spiders getting into your water, you can watch Grey's Anatomy while you wash your hair. It's a win-win.
• Ralph is a rat who lives in your room. You will try to kill him multiple times and he will not die. While you write this blog post, he will leap over your bed and run out of your room. He is probably an animagus.
• You can't even begin to understand how good the pineapple is. Get ready.
• The staff at Peace Guest House will become your best friends. Start going their earlier, they make delicious sandwiches.
• Things will feel normal. Things will feel good. You will be happy, you will laugh. You will also miss people and miss places, miss foods and beers, unlimited internet and snapchat. You will find joy in the small moments, feel the tangible beauty of a sunset over Lake Kivu, and realize play crosses language barriers. Things are different. It isn't always better, but it isn't always worse. It just is. You will be a lot happier when you realize this.

Best of luck as you start your year. Don't stress out so much about packing, and hug all of your friends one more time. A year is a long time, but love finds connections in the most unexpected ways. You will have adventures you can't imagine. It's a beautiful world, welcome to it.

All my love,

Emily of February 2015

My 5 Favorite Misconceptions about Americans

The world knows a lot about America. It makes sense, the USA is one of the most influentual countries in the world, and it is something I've noticed in my travels to various corners of this planet. We can talk about how this is Western Privilege and a product of various forms of imperialism--and these are important conversations, don't get me wrong--but I think it's also important to note that the rest of the world doesn't know everything about America. My host family has never heard of Thanksgiving or Halloween and don't know every detail of American politics. In fact, some of the things I've heard from Rwandans about America have been humorlessly untrue. So, in light of an introspective post about the global reach of American culture and influence, here are 5 of my favorite misconceptions about Americans from various Rwandans I've met this year.

1. Marriage Contracts
In explaining my family to people, I mention that my brother is married. More than one Rwandan has countered with "And how long will your brother and his wife be married for?" Um, for life? What? It turns out that many Rwandans think that American couples sit down together and sign a contract before getting married--for one year, or five, or fifteen, etc. So you marry this person for a set amount of years and after, you're set loose back onto the world. I have no idea where this idea came from, but it is hilarious to me.

2. Pet Problems
I have a picture of my dogs as the background of my phone and my host sister loves to look through my collection of puppy pictures. But many of my friends in Rwanda think having pets is extremely strange. A few people have expressed that they hear Americans have a problem with friendship so they adopt pets. It is very strange for a communal culture like Rwanda to understand living alone. I've tried to explain that you can live alone and still have a lot of friends, but as soon as pets come into the conversation the argument is made that Americans clearly don't talk to other humans if they choose to spend their time with animals.

3. I Wanna Walk Like You
This one is rooted in some truth--Americans drive everywhere. We definitely drive too much and most Americans know how to drive a car. However, this means that many Rwandans see a white person and think they don't know how to walk anywhere. My first month in Cyangugu, my host dad didn't think I was able to walk more than half a kilometer. Explaining that I actually enjoy walking, and sometimes do it for fun, was a completely foreign concept for him. I've been told that many Rwandans are surprised when they see white people walking anywhere!

4. Smelling What I'm Stepping In?
Rwanda, and especially Cyangugu, is a muddy place. The rainy season pounds the dirt roads with heavy storms that causes mud--mud which I'm pretty sure is actually trying to be cement. My shoes are always covered in dirt or dust of some kind. Rwandan culture drives people to clean their shoes anytime they are dirty. My culture, and laziness, drives me to think "well, if it's going to just get dirty again tomorrow, why bother?" I have been told that Rwandans see white people walking around with dirty or dusty shoes and think we are "somehow fake" or "misfits." I try to explain that in America, if your shoes are dusty it's not a big deal but this is a new idea for many Rwandans.

5. Just Like the Movies
There's this recent trend in American movies--especially Marval Superhero fims--to show technology that doens't exist yet. Think Iron Man's computers--see through glass and 3D screens. Many Rwandans are exposed to American culture through media and movies, so they are very disappointed to learn that this technology doesn't exist. Trust me, I am too.


Part of the fun of my yagm year is getting to share American culture with my community. Even the things they think are strange or different! Part of living in community with people is sharing with each other, and as much as I am teaching my family they are teaching me. This is the beauty of traveling--to learn from each other and share with each other across the globe. Even if my brothers think it would be strange to chose my dogs over 100 cows.

Oh, the Weather Outside is Delightful!

Christmas is less than 10 days away. For the first 21 years of my life, this has meant being at home in Ohio, preparing for the holiday with an onslaught of holiday concerts, making Christmas cookies, playing in the snow with my dogs, and decorating our Christmas tree. This is the first time I haven't been home for Christmas since I was born. This is a very strange thing to consider.

However, it is an adventure to be in Rwanda for Christmas. For one, Rwanda is pretty much on the equator, so it is a balmy 70-75 degrees Fahrenheit every single day. It is like living in perpetual summer. The other day, I was sitting outside at a guest house with a friend. We were talking and enjoying cokes as a cool breeze came off Lake Kivu. At one point, the sun had shifted, we moved tables to be in the shade so as to not melt in the warm sun, and I said, "Woah, it's December."

So here are 5 Things I Miss About Winter in America and 5 Things About Winter in Rwanda that are Pretty Cool

5 Things I Miss About Winter in America

1. The Christmas Spirit: Call it Christian hegemony, but I am terribly nostalgic for the lights and decorations and carols you can find pretty much anywhere in America. I saw one Santa in a store in Kigali, and that was it for holiday decorations.

2. The Feeling of Winter Break: All of my PLU friends are struggling through finals right now (sorry everyone, but I wouldn't trade places with you). However, after a week of sleepless nights, junk food, and incredibly high stress levels, you get to go home and have your parents cook for you and have nothing to do but lay on the couch and watch HGTV. The agenda-less life of winter break is tantalizing.

3. Skiing: For something that I have only known how to do for a few years and am still pretty medium to below-average at, I really miss getting to go skiing in the winter. For the past three years, I've taken a trip to Montana to ski with PLU friends and it's going to be strange not to get to do that this season.

4. Sweater Weather: Even though long winters in Ohio get really old by like, mid-January, the cold of December is still endearing and exciting. There's few things I love more than playing board games by the fire in a warm sweater drinking hot chocolate.

5. Christmas Eve: Christmas Eve is a busy day in my family. My Dad is scrambling from one Church service to the next while we get things ready for the evening and next day. We go to an annual Christmas Eve party of good family friends where I always enjoy the homemade marshmallows and delicious appetizers. We end the night with the candlelight service at church, playing in a family string quartet. It's a great routine and a tradition I'll miss this year.

5 Things About "Winter" in Rwanda that are Pretty Cool

1. Sunshine: I mean, as much as I do love cool weather, it's not terrible to have beautiful sunshine literally every day. Even during the rainy season, I can count on multiple hours of sun. It's not too hot, not too cold. It really is perfect, tropical weather. My Chaco tan is getting to be very impressive.

2. Christmas with YAGMs: As much as I will miss my family back home, I am so excited to be spending this Christmas with my YAGM family. We are all meeting in Kigali for the holiday. Going to Kigali is always fun, not only because of the friendship, but also because it means getting to eat non-Rwandan food. Meze Fresh burritos and cajun chicken sandwiches, here I come!

3. Fireworks: Rwanda is not a country that is big into celebrations. People just tend to gloss over holidays, whether it be birthdays or Christmas. Thankfully, the Democratic Republic of the Congo is not like that. On New Years Eve, we will be able to step out onto the road my house is on, look out over Lake Kivu, and watch a fireworks show from the DRC. I would say that's a pretty cool way to celebrate.

4. New Year, New Beginning: Many times, New Years Day doesn't always feel like the start of anything. I have always measured my life by school years, so the holiday feels more like the halfway point. In Rwanda, since the whole year is summer, there's no need to organize the calendar around summer vacation. This means that all schools start in January, which shapes how the rest of the country runs. January really means the start of a new year.

5. Over the Hump: Before coming into my YAGM year, many people told me that once you're past Christmas, the year really seems to fall into place. You are used to being in the country, you have a routine, and it starts to feel like home. While I sill miss things from America (I'm looking at you, Thai food), I do feel like I'm getting more and more settled into being in Rwanda every day. Here's to 7 more months!

Meet Me in the Pouring Rain

I had the afternoon off, so I decided to go into town to do some long needed errands. I spent a chunk of time waiting at the bank—which, if you thought American banks were slow, try going to a bank on African time—and practicing my broken Kinyarwanda to the delight of the other people waiting with me. As I finished my errands, a steady rain had started. The motos don’t run when it’s raining, so I thought I would just walk home. Sometimes the rain in Rwanda lasts for just a few minutes. Sometimes it never ends. I took a chance that it would be the former…which I’m sure you can guess was not the case.

I decided to take the slightly longer walk home because that hill out of town was less steep and, as my host Dad endearingly reminds me, “be careful, you can slippery.” The problem was that I hadn’t taken that way home since my first day in Cyangugu. A passing truck with a poorly-translated window sign advised me there was “No Time to Loose” so I tightened my raincoat around me and made my trek home.

The rain showed no signs of stopping and as I hummed ‘Let it snow’ and wished I had some corn for popping, water came at me from all sides. The thunder crashed above like a ten lane bowling alley and I watch jagged lightning illuminate the jagged mountain peaks on the horizon. It didn’t take long for my pants to be holding twice their weight in water.

When I had been preparing to go into town earlier today, I slipped on my trusty rain boots, stylishly cuffed halfway too offset the sight of me wearing boots when it was hot and sunny. I brought them along to be useful against the potential mud that would maybe accrue on the off chance that it rained. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that this style only served to funnel rainwater directly onto my feet. I soon learned as well that my raincoat, which I always considered to be one part style and two parts function, was actually one part style and the mere idea of function. Needless to say, I was quickly soaked.

The water rushed down the descending hills next to me as I wove down the gentle slope hoping that I’d picked the correct turn to get home. Every so often I would pass an outpouring of water from the town above, gushing out of the mountain and flowing beneath precarious log bridges in turbulent rapids. The water, muddy brown and aggressively fast, was both beautiful and frightening in that way that powerful water can be.

After some slipping and sliding off the hill of Kamembe Town, I was pleased to find that I had picked the correct turns home and made it to Mont Cyangugu, where I live. I sloshed my way up the cobblestone road of Mont Cyangugu, thinking that I would have made a terrible World War 1 soldier and wondering how long it took for trenchfoot to set in. Thankful that my phone case is waterproof, I set the soundtrack to my walk home (thanks One Direction, for your jammin new album) and finished the short walk to my house. Just as I reached home, the rain let up. One of my house girls emerged from her sanctuary inside and saw me, dripping wet and pouring a good two inches of water from my boots. She started laughing and then I started laughing, trying to explain in Kinyarwanda that I got caught in a rainstorm.

Even though I was soaked to my skin, I had a hilariously good time on my walk back. I wasn’t worried about being lost and it didn’t take very long to be as wet as I was ever going to be, so I just decided to savor the time walking alone in the pouring rain. There is beauty in a storm—from the flooded fields to dark clouds over a lake framed by Congolese mountains. Plus, being soaked by rainwater counts as washing my pants, right?

Rainwater coming through a sewer drain

Where the many pouring rivers combine

Enjoying the rain in my "suggestion" of a raincoat

Pro tip: boots function best when worn as designed

Muddy water cascading off the hill

Land of 1,000 T-Shirts: A Story of Development from an American in Rwanda, Part 1

My host mom, Mama Muhire, took me to the market to buy rain boots. We’re just getting into the rainy season in Cyangugu and the steep hills that carry you from one part of town to the other easily turn into mud chutes after just a few minutes of the aggressive pounding rain. My trusty Chacos, worn for years up mountain summits and through Canadian Lakes, just won’t cut it in the sludge that is Rwandan mud. I need boots.

Unfortunately, I am white. When I go to a market I will automatically be given a higher price than something costs. Mama Muhire tsk-ed and mmm-ed at the seller, but he was determined to charge me double for the boots. She walked away, telling me that she would come back later without me to buy the boots.

While we were in the market—a multi-storied building with various goods on each floor—Mama Muhire took me through the clothes section to browse. She held up dresses to both herself and me, siphoned through baby clothes to search for things for Mukire, and chatted with the women selling the goods. It was just like shopping with friends in America, except one of these similarities was unexpected. I was surrounded by piles and piles of American clothes….in Rwanda. Each seller’s section of the market was defined by the narrow walking paths in between feet-high mounds of clothing. Women sat in these mounds, sometimes partially buried underneath them, and held up clothes for you to look at. They sorted through the piles and pulled out items to lie on top of their mountain. Some clothes sported familiar logos from Western companies, some of the brands were the same as I owned, and much of the writing on the clothes was in English.

Now, okay, I should have known that this was coming. I know that many charities and organizations find a great deal of satisfaction from sending used, unwanted clothing from America to countries “in need” of the secondhand goods. I’ve been in Rwanda for months now, so I’ve seen people walking the streets in shirts I know are from America—after all, did that young man really go to “Gerry’s 50^th Birthday Bash!” or does that young girl really believe that “Blondes are Better in Southern California”? I think not. However, it was something else entirely to see the piles of these clothes in one large room.

For those of you who are unaware about this phenomenon of t-shirts (and other clothes) pouring into the developing world, allow me to give a brief overview. This information is from an article that a professor at my Alma Mater wrote while she was a lecturer at Duke University[1]. Dr. Shah writes about Gifts in Kind (or GIK), which are “services or goods (usually goods) which are donated and distributed in the name of international aid, charity, and development.” She assigns a second name to these donations: SWEDOW—or Stuff We Don’t Want. Most often these are clothes that are rejected from secondhand stores in America—think Goodwill or Salvation Army—or are clothes produced in response to an undecided event, most often sporting events. Last year, the Seattle Seahawks played the Denver Broncos in the Superbowl. Living in Washington, I saw t-shirts almost immediately after Seattle’s victory surrounding me. But for every shirt that proclaimed the Seahawks world champions in a sport that’s only played in America, there was one produced that said the same about the Broncos. These now-incorrect t-shirts can’t be sold in a country that knows of their inaccuracy, so charities such as well-known World Vision sends these shirts to developing countries.

Most of the clothes I’ve seen in Rwanda, however, aren’t championship shirts for a losing team. Many are clothes that Americans or other Westerners donated to charity stores. Shannon Whitehead explains about this process on her website[2]. Americans donate about 4.7 billion pounds of clothing each year, and only 10% of these clothes are fit to be resold in American retail stores. There are a myriad of uses for the remaining 90%—from textile recycling to ending up in landfills—but one common place these unwanted clothes ends up is in the markets of Sub-Saharan Africa much like the place where my host family buys its clothes. The clothes are sent from America to Africa in huge container bales where local retailers then purchase them. These clothes are sold in markets, and the profits are used to purchase another bale. This seems pretty straightforward—the retailer buys from a supplier and then sells it to make a profit to continue buying from a supplier. However, the key point here is that the supplier isn’t a local factory or textile plant giving jobs to local community members—it’s the family that does spring cleaning and gives three bags of clothes to Goodwill, or my housemates and me who, during move-out after graduation this past May, took anything we didn’t want in our house to the local donation center. The supply for these African retailers relies on Americans buying too much. Does anyone else see the issue here?

Whitehead quotes Professor Garth Frazer from the University of Toronto who says that “no country has ever achieved a sustainable per capita national income (at a level associated with a developing economy) without also achieving a clothing-manufacturing workforce that employs at least 1 percent of the population. For some context, Rwanda has one major textile production company, UTEXRWA. To employ 1% of Rwanda’s 11 million people, this company would have to employ 110,000 people. It’s website says that it employs 740[3].

Okay, so there’s an issue, but what do we do about it? People aren’t going to stop donating their unwanted clothing, shirt manufacturers aren’t going to stop producing both team’s names on championship shirts, and companies aren’t going to stop taking these clothes and selling them in developing countries. At least, this won’t stop any time soon.

And here’s the other complexity of this issue—the people in Rwanda who buy these bales of clothing rely on their profits to send their children to school and buy food for dinner. If the supply were to suddenly be cut, there would be nothing to replace it with and many of these women would suffer for it. The systems aren’t in place for a textile industry to replace the demand of donated goods with locally produced clothing—and even if there were, the prices would likely be much higher than they are now.

It’s a complex issue, and not one that I have an answer to. However, I plan on exploring these issues deeply throughout the year and sharing my thoughts with you. I know this post ends with a certain level of pessimism—that the problem is complicated and there’s no easy answer—but this is the world of international development. It’s sometimes frustrating and unfair and seemingly unsolvable, but there are also many brilliant people working very hard to make this planet a better, more equitable place.

I welcome any thoughts you may have about this issue of aid-gone-wrong. Look for further posts in the future with more thoughts on international development in a Rwandan context.

---

1 Sha, Ami V. "Shirt Off Your Back: Stuff We Don't Want." Encompass Ethics Magazine Spring 2011: 16-18.

2 http://shannonwhitehead.com/what-really-happens-to-your-donated-clothing/

3 http://utexrwa.org/company-profile/

Settling Into Cyangugu

My apologies for the gap between posts! I've been buying internet on a day-by-day basis, so it's been a while since I've been online.

This past week marked my first month of being in Cyangugu and I finally feel as though I'm getting settled into being here. As I've talked to other YAGMs--both current and alumni--I've understood that the first month or two can be very challenging. It's hard to be in a new country, and adding onto that being alone in a new country and the transition can be difficult. Kinyarwanda is a frustratingly difficult language and Cyangugu--being so close to the Congo--is filled with second languages of either French or Swahili. With communication being a significant barrier to my relationship building here, I've nevertheless found love and grace from so many people as I adjust to African life. The more of a routine I've fallen into, the more I can find my place in my community.

I've been spending most of my time working at a school just a stone's throw from my home. It's an English-speaking school sponsored by the Anglican Church of Rwanda, and I've been helping out with the English classes in the Secondary School. Rwanda is on a different school schedule, so the school is in exams right now for the end of term. There's no need for a summer vacation when your country is in summer year round, so Rwandans take their 2 month break over the holiday season instead. Many of the teachers find the American schedule funny, especially since the concept of seasons is so foreign to them. The easiest way to surprise a Rwandan, I've found, is to say that parts of America get to zero degrees Celsius or lower in the winter. This is now my "fun fact" when I'm asked to share something abou my home country.

I'm hoping to teach an English class to local government leaders as well, but the process for getting this class started is definitely running on African time. With these blocks open in my schedule, I've had plenty of time to relax. I've been reading quite a few books (I recently reread the entire Harry Potter series) and playing guitar upwards of an hour a day. I know that I will appreciate this free time once my schedule fills up, so I'm enjoying it while I have it! I've also taken some time to explore my neighborhood on my own, which has let me meet some cool people and gain some confidence in my being here. This is my home now too!

My newest friend has been Ralph, the rat who lives in my walls. We first met when I woke up to him crawling on my feet, but after a stern conversation that I would not like this to repeat (which mostly consisted of me kicking my feet in my bed a lot), we've come to a healthy co-inhabitance. And by co-inhabitance I mean that I'm tolerating him until I can find a way to evict him. I'm no stranger to rodents though, having worked in the mountains of Colorado for three summers and having dealt with pack rats the size of housecats, so it's like a little bit of my summer home in Rwanda. It's all part of the adventures of living in Africa! So put Ralph in your prayers for the week--that he will find a home with greater bounty and a less reluctant roommate soon.

This may be a promise often made on travel blogs from around the world, but I really am going to try and post more regularly! Now that I've figured out my internet situation more consistantly I hope to give more frequent updates on my life here. I also will be sprinkling in some longer, more reflective posts.

Here are some things to look forward to in the coming weeks:
-Reflections on development and America from a developing country
-A selection of some of my favorite daily sonnets that I've written
-What are the foods I eat here, from mundane to strange
-Reflections on race as a white person in the minority
-Things I love about Africa that I wish I could find in America

Enjoy your week!

Life in Cyangugu

I've been in my site placement for two weeks and I've experienced a wide array of emotions and experiences. I underestimated how difficult it would be to leave the comfort of my yagm group and head off on my own to the other side of the country, but luckily my host community has been supportive and welcoming, making me feel right at home!

I'm living with my site supervisor who is the pastor of the Kamembe Parish of the Lutheran Church of Rwanda. In the home is Pastor Godwin, his wife Mama Muhire, and two little ones named Mukire and Reinhild. Pastor Godwin has three other sons who are away in boarding school, but they will be home this fall for school holiday. Rwanda's school year is different from America--the year goes from January to October. My family is wonderful and I've loved getting to spend time with the kids. Reinhild, or Reiny as we call her, is the only girl of the five children, so I think she likes having another female around the house!

The YAGMS and our Pastors on departure day--and some youth from the Kigali Parish to see us off!

Pastor Godwin and myself

Cyangugu is a really wonderful town, with rolling hills and beautiful views of Lake Kivu. There is a nice downtown area of Kamembe with supermarkets (which are unlike American supermarkets and more like small stores with food and drink), pharmacies, banks, internet cafes and more! Cyangugu is right on the border of the Congo, and my host parents do some business there trading small fish and cassava flour across the border. My first day in town, my pastor took me to visit his wife in Rusizi, which is the small area right on the border. He showed me across the lake to where we could see the hills of the congo and walked me right up to where the border is. It seemed to me so inconsequential, that a nondescript division of land so changes the lifestyle and economy of the people on either side of it. The homes look the same on both sides of the lake, and as we walked through the town I couldn't tell who was Rwandan and who was Congolese. It's interesting to reflect on the ways we create divisions between us and others.

I made it to the water!

Enjoying a cold coke by the lake

My first few weeks have been filled with activities at the church and settling into life in Cyangugu. The parish here is only a few years old, but there is a lot of life and energy in it. The children's program is strong, with many children from the area the parish is in coming two or three times a week to have a program and practice in the choir. Over the next month or so, Pastor Godwin and I will visit every church member in their home and share in fellowship with them. We've already spent time with quite a few families, and it has been nice to get to know them outside of the Sunday worship. The language barrier is difficult, but I'm aslo learning a lot about how to create relationships across the divide of language. The first church member we visited, Murebwaire, gave me a gift on an umbrella when I got to her house. She said it was to prepare for the rainy season, and I was touched at this thoughtful gift. It came in handy as not one hour or so later, when she came with us to see another church member, it started pouring. We joked that it was God's way of saying thank you for the gift of hospitality!

All in all, I've been enjoying my introduction to this part of the country. I'm starting to have a regular schedule, which is helping me to feel more settled. This week and next I am beginning to work at a local Anglican school teaching English and helping to advise some of the clubs. I will also be teaching English classes for district and sector government leaders in the evenings. Both the school and the district office are on the same hill as my home, so it's a very close walk.

In my reflections about these first two weeks, I had a conversation with someone about other life transitions I have had, particularly with college orientation. I remember the first few weeks of being at PLU to be stressful and intimidating and sad. Soon enough, however, I found my place and eventually PLU became the best thing to ever happen to me. Without placing too many expectations on the experience, I have a feeling that being in Cyangugu will be the same. I've been experiencing a whirlwind of unexpected homesickness and awkwardness, but all that is starting to feel like it's passing. I think it's important to name the fact that moving across the world isn't always easy. However, I know that I am supposed to be here. In the generous greeting hug from my host mom, the enthusiasm of the children from church at my introduction, and the repeated phrase "you are welcome" when I meet with someone or visit a new place: these are the things that remind me that I'm exactly where I'm meant to be.

Lutheran Church of Rwanda, Kamembe Parish

Receiving a generous welcome gift

Visiting with Mama Kibonge and her family

Visiting with Baptiste and his wife, some of the earliest members of this church

Running into Baptiste's daughter on the walk back