Jesus Wept

This weekend was difficult in some ways.  Unexpectedly so.

After a relaxing morning spent catching up with my writing, I had second-hand experience with male chauvinism and, lo, there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

No, I thought hysterically, I’ve just updated my blog!  You can’t give me more material so soon!  Do you have no care or concern for my wellbeing?!

The Sitch - Part II

The history and economics of the armed groups here are fascinating.  And horrifying.  I’d already heard too many stories of women being raped in front of their husbands, children, or parents as a terror tactic, not out of any personal feeling of desire or even hate.  And now I've seen pictures of a village of smiling children born of rape. 

My teammates have seen and experienced things that I cannot imagine.  They are the generation that grew up in the aftermath of the massacres in Rwanda and multiple civil wars for power within the country.  I’ve heard and come to near tears over their stories, but I still can’t believe it.  There’s a total sense of normalcy because… people go on.  It’s what we do.  If the Great Lakes region isn’t the greatest example of the mind’s strength in healing itself, I don’t know what is.  One minute they’re giggling and making silly jokes and immersed in their smartphones, the next second they’re talking about violence, rape, and death.  Because it’s normal.

The Sitch - Part I

I guess now is the time to talk about the actual reason we’re here.  I enjoy talking about the funny parts of community life and creating a fourth culture in a new country, but there are (unfortunately) serious problems in this part of the world.

Catching Up

There have been so many events over the past few weeks and I have been so behind in posts that I can’t remember them all.

Weekend Life

Every weekend, I go to my famille d’accueil (host family), which means that I get to stay ‘on’ for another set of people.  I love my family to small, tiny pieces, but they involve long discussions, a very active toddler, and sometimes cooking on a little outdoor stove (which is a pot of flaming charcoal-shaped death).

I am quickly approaching a glut of ‘people time,’ but I really thought that being with a local family would help me with my French and Swahili skills.

They all speak English better than I speak either of those languages. 

Yes, even the toddler.

Life in Community

It’s been relatively easy to live side-by-side.

Relatively.

We (and by this I mean I) have argued over women in leadership roles in the church, the treatment of homosexuality in the church, the requirement of women to veil their heads in church…  In the west, I have always thought of myself as hideously conservative – there are things that I believe the Bible says that are inescapable – but here I find myself the voice of liberalism.

Warm Welcome

After arriving in what seemed like the back end of nowhere, I was terrified that one of the eager men offering to carry my luggage through the bus window would set off with my bras and undies to unknown territory.  To prevent this, I carried a grand total of roughly 50 kgs upon my person while they looked on in awe and teasingly mimicked my panicked It's okay, it's okay!  

One said to me, in perfect English, “You are taking our jobs.” 

If that isn’t just the thing for an immigrant to hear. 

That Country

(top left) I like when restaurants don't aim too high

The bus ride to the border of Rwanda has been one of the highlights of my trip so far – barring minor incidents.  First came the screaming over a young woman and her baby who had either paid for a different seat or were being asked to move.  She didn’t budge until at least ten minutes after people started yelling at her, and we were only a half hour late from the station, which seemed to be the norm for a weekend morning.  Different buses played everything from French songs to other songs to news, and vendors sold passport covers, belts, samosas, and cakes.

Everything I Never Thought

Retreat Centre

Retreat Centre

That time I was white (at the
Apartheid Museum)

The highest recognition

So I should explain that Johannesburg is beautiful.  The retreat centre was peaceful, clean, and picturesque, and recent changes by the area directors made it a welcoming, modern space.  In general, though, the most I feel at large cities is interest in their histories.  It is a city that allowed me to be white and knows more about Gandhi than I do (in retrospect, this is not a great feat).

Rwanda caught my heart and kept it.

We're all Mad Here

I am not entirely on board with Anabaptist views, but I have had the opportunity to think over my stance with a number of wonderful people I have met in the last little while.  Videos by Bruxy Cavey are attempting to convince me to make the leap; I’m not sure I can do it, but I’ll pray and see what God has to say.  However, there is no question that many Mennonites are rooted in scripture and back up this faith with works.  My international organization does not employ guards because they would have to be armed, and the supporters of the organization live out their faith in non-violence in some of the most war-torn areas of the world – to me, this is a testament to their faith and to the glory of God.

More generally, I have met four retreat centre coordinators and possibly four area directors, and they have all been glorious people.  I think it must be a job requirement.

The most recent are no different.  They are Canadian, drove me to and from the airport multiple times, made phone calls on my behalf, and fed me – these are basically all my adulting requirements for life.  There were some added lectures on vermiculture which should have been properly hideous but now seems like something I should begin immediately to better the world. 

We had ostrich chili (go back and read that again), ice cream, and veggies, and I feel very properly pretend-South African now.  If you’re wondering whether you are, here are (as I understand them) some real-life tests to help you tell.