Good Day

Technically for me, today is Friday. Approximately 3:22 am on Friday. For those back in the states it is still Thursday and my brother's 26 birthday...Happy Birthday Kev!

I am writing from under my mosquito net in bed because I can't sleep again. Last night I did sleep throughout the night though! I don't have internet here of c

ourse so I have to write a draft and then cut and paste it when I go to the internet cafe. You never know how much time you are going to get at the cafe because this is how it works: you buy a coffee, choose a sliver of paper out of a cup with a code on it, enter it into your computer and hope you get lucky. The luck of the draw comes in internet increments of 7 min, 13 min, or 30 min...so I never know how much time I have. I had to learn that 

the hard way.

Last time I wrote I was headed to a horn factory. The "horn factory" ended up being a small one room house at the base o

f a volcano about 2 hours up a mountain from Kigali. On the way up we passed women and men carrying water jugs and produce on their head

s. The women usually have a baby attached to their lower backs wit

h a piece of cloth and I am still fascinated how they do this. At one point I lo

oked over to the side of the road and a small child was in mid release of a throwing a rock headed straight for the car. I kind of gasped, ducked, and laughed at the same time because it was so absurd. Apparently the children in Rwanda treat outsiders a lot differently than most African countries. I was told that a majority of them are told that white people will eat them. So if they aren't trying to throw a

 rock at you they smile and wave, but then run away if you take a step closer. The drive up the mountain was so green and gorgeous. Every which way there are rolling hills that have all been touched by farming. Even the steepest parts have patches. It was endless until we reached our destination. At the "horn factory" a man and his apprentice collected anim

al horns to cut, heat, shape, and buff to make into shiny beautiful pieces

 of jewelry or ho

usehold appliances like combs or bowls. The bone almost becomes see through when you sand it down and buff it. We spent all day there trying to design, explain, and barter in broken french what exactly we wanted. It was an exhausting but very educational day.

Yesterday I finally got to sleep in. When I woke up I still had no food and had been living off the finger size bananas we had in the car 

ride up the mountain the day before. I was in a hurry to get ready and needed to send one of our house workers to run to the market and pick me up a stack of bananas and bread (this is a typical task of your house staff, and hard to get used to to ask at first, but they want/are paid to do it! i promise haha). Anyways when he came back all he had was a pineapple haha...apparently this happens a lot too. I just laughed to myself and said Thank You! or in  Kinyanrwandan its "Marcozi!" After I ate my pineapple, Ilea came to pick me up and we walked to the BURANGA center.... this is where the women roll the paper beads and where I will be working. I met all of the women and one commented on the size of my hips and the women all conversed about them hahaha greeaaat. I think I am in the right place though because here that is a great compliment! After a english yoga instructor who donates her time for Yoga Therapy came in and showed them all how to do yoga. It was so much fun and we all couldnt stop laughing. Afterwards I walked up to my marketplace and bought some produce...I am still trying to get the hang of what to buy. Later that night I was in a taxi with a driver that I have become good friends with. His name is Enesi (pronounced Ynezi). He is such a good man and actually took me into the other grocery store in town to pick up a few more things. I ran out of money at the store so he covered me. I noticed that he is a very tall man which is an indication that he is Tutsi. In the car ride back I learned that his sister works at Buranga, our paper bead co-op, so I asked him if he had anymore brothers and sisters. He told me that  he used to have 2 brothers, but now only 1...and 3 sisters but now only 2. He then told me that they were killed in the genocide of 1994. I said I was sorry and he said "no, it is okay...I am Rwandan, we all have lost someone." Suprisingly, Enesi was very open about talking about the genocide but most people are not. Last night after he dropped me off I couldn't help but make the connections of what it was like for him. I read many times that the Hutus would usually first cut off feet during the genocide and say something along the lines of "you aren't so tall now, are you." Talking to Enesi brought me back to the reality of where I am. It is easy to forget at times because most of the time it just seems like a normal city and that nothing ever happened. It is hard to believe that 15 years ago, amost 1 million people were murdered in 100 days and Kigali was a no man's land. This experience is going to be life changing.....I will write again soon. 

Much Love, 

E.