Jose Pavis at Rugerero, Rwanda

Psychological victims of the genocide

2010-03-30T01:42:00.000-07:00

A lot of victims of the genocide are dead... They suffered a horrible death. Madness was ruling in April 1994. Up to one million people lost their lives. April is known here as ‘the month of remembrance’. People mourn their lost loved ones; they vouch that it won’t happen again.

There is a second category of victims of the genocide: the physically injured, of course and also the emotionally injured ones. The vast majority of survivors have moved on with their lives and have shown incredible signs of resilience and forgiveness. The setting of ‘gacaca courts’ (a local, traditional, community-based system of judging people, of solving conflicts) that was eventually introduced to replace the more ‘legalistic’, western penal system, was very much instrumental to reconciliation between the two artificially constructed ethnic groups.

I have come across two of these injured victims of the genocide. They both spent twelve years of their lives in jail, waiting for their judgement to come up, but were eventually handed in to the gacaca court – which found them innocent and completely cleared of any wrong doing.

Both have been seriously emotionally injured. You do not spend twelve years of your life in a African prison, waiting for justice to make its call, knowing deep inside that you are innocent, without developing some emotional scar. Yet one of them has bounced back and is now deeply involved in selfless community work – striving to help children receive the best education possible. There is depth in his eyes, strength and determination in his actions and an overall aura of wisdom about him. I want to get to know him better, to be inspired by him.

The other, in his early forties today has not recovered. A fellow inmate – a well known artist, taught him how to play the guitar. He is at his best when he plays his guitar and sings the songs he wrote in jail. The rest of the time, he seems lost. He was married when he was taken to jail and he had a young son. Twelve years later, when he was set free, he found out that his wife had remarried and he had no home to come back to. He went back to live with his parents. You can read in his eyes that he has not found another purpose in his life. There is a mismatch between what he says he should do to get back on his feet and what he actually does. He talks about going to university and study commerce, about perfecting his English, which is quite good already (all self-taught!) but he ends up going drinking with his mates. He would like to make some money by having a ‘taxi-moto’ business in the area, but is unable to meet the repayment of his loan and has the motorbike taken away from him. Lately he has been talking about buying some bees and producing honey (the honey around these hills is fantastic!). He is talking about getting his own place to live in about three months’ time. ‘That would be wonderful, go for it!”

African lake

2010-03-29T01:58:00.000-07:00

Two ‘G.’ words

2010-03-28T10:53:00.001-07:00

98% of our genetic code is the same as human beings. Our population has been on the increase, lately

A memorial to the genocide, in Kybuye

A lot has been written about the ‘F...’ word. How about ‘G...’ words? For many people in the world, Rwanda is about two ‘G...’ words: ‘Gorillas’ and ‘Genocide’, they do not know anything else about the country. The risk of stereotyping is huge and very dangerous: ‘Rwanda people kill their gorillas and then kill each other...’ Nothing could be further from the truth. One step in the right direction would be to say (i) a few uneducated, desperate, greedy people used to kill gorillas, with the same frame of mind as some executives decide to cut rain forests to clear land for mining and (ii) under the ‘right’ circumstances, after a ‘well’ orchestrated campaign of building up hatred, any ethnic group can suddenly start slaughtering another ethnic group along a similar scenario: Jews were the victims of such treatment in Nazi Germany, Armenians in Turkey, Ordinary Cambodians were killed by Cambodian Khmer rouges, Serbs were hunting for Kosovars not so long ago.

There are some encouraging signs about the two ‘G...’ words in Rwanda today: (i) the gorilla population is on the increase, gorilla trekking is the number one source of foreign income in Rwanda... so they are preciously protected from poachers, (ii) the dividing line between Tutsis and Hutus is slowly but surely becoming blurry. Soon you won’t know if your neighbour is a Tutsi or a Hutu. It is no longer required to have such a label written in your ID card (the Belgian colonial power introduced this concept of ethnic labelling on ID cards, as it served their colonial purpose well).

So, more gorillas, Tutsis and Hutus merging into one Rwanda, people moving forward!

We know what the ‘f-word’ stands for... What does the ‘h-word’ stand for...? ‘Hope’?

Boats on Lake Kivu

2010-03-28T10:49:00.000-07:00

Venise Vs Kivu

2010-03-28T10:01:00.000-07:00

Today, Sunday I have decided that it is time so see some water.
I have enjoyed the 3 hours scenic bus drive to Kibuye, a peaceful town on Lake Kivu (about 100 km long), on the border to the Democratic Republic of Congo.
I am sitting on the porch of my room - right on the lake, soaking in the atmosphere, when a man on his boat calls me and asks if I want to have a ride on the lake... OK, how about in one hour? OK. How much? 2000Rwf (4 $). Deal!!!

I meet him as planned, off we are. The balance on the boat is delicate but I trust him... As soon as we start gliding on the water, he breaks into some African chanting (I can tell it is not Kinyrwanda, it is Swahili... Good guess, muzungu!). His very deep and loud voice resonates throughout the lake.
I am really enjoying this! Very romantic and exotic at the same time... Venise, eat your heart out...

Soeur Josephine: 1 - Sudanese war Lords: 0

2010-03-26T15:54:00.001-07:00

I recently heard on the radio that, a few years ago, during a very serious famine (partly due to the civil war) in the Sudan, millions of US dollars of relief money intended to feed the starving many, was actually used by rebels to buy arms for their cause. A more immoral story would be hard to come by and yet this is not a one off African scenario.
Diametrically opposite on that spectrum of food access fairness is the attitude and actions of one confident but self-effacing nun: Soeur Josephine.
Today I spend my last day in these magic Southern hills. I have locked the cottage, bid farewell to Papa Jacinthe and his family, said goodbye to Baptiste. I am going to sleep over at the Muganza Health Centre, where Soeur Josephine lives. She is expecting me. Standing next to her is a chubby little girl, Josiane, who must be 3 or 4 years old. Josephine introduces me to her.
‘She was starving to death, her brother died of hunger a little while ago in hospital. They could not save him and he was begging them to stop trying feeding him. I said to myself ‘Non!’ not her. She is not going to die, she won’t die. NO, she won’t!!!’
Josiane is not chubby from eating too many sweets but because of malnutrition... Josephine tells me that the little girl is starting to get better but that it was really ‘touch and go’ for a while.
Little Josiane is sucking on a nutritional pack that the government provides for children like her. She needs to suck on about five of them per day to gradually absorb the nutrients that she has been deprived of all her life. There is something peaceful, un-childlike and intense about little Josiane. I spend some time alone with her, I help her unwrap that life-saving food bar, I speak to her in a language that she does not understand but she lets me come into her world. Loudly and cheerfully, I say to her: ‘Yummy, good girl! yummy!! She is indeed enjoying the act of eating. I enjoy watching her eat! Another voice inside me quietly but resolutely invokes: ‘No, little Josiane, you won’t die! You will live! You will! Simply because you are so beautiful and so innocent!!!
Later on I take Josiane in my arms and we watch Soeur Josephine get stuck into her emails... Josiane is fascinated by the computer... from starvation to computer age within a few days, what a journey! I feel some life force coming back to her...
Josephine tells me, matter-of-factly that Little Josiane comes from a family of 10 or 11 children, that her parents aren’t coping at all.
Thank God Josephine copes... I admire her unassuming strength so much; I despise so much the weakness of the Sudanese war lords!!

More than a school

2010-03-26T10:39:00.000-07:00

Today is my second last day at the school. On Friday, I am going to Kigali to do a couple of things in the ‘big city’ before flying off... It is also the day before my birthday, and I am secretly hoping that a special Rugerero event is on its way...

The community work at the school that I had painstakingly planned for last Saturday was cancelled the day before because of the visit to the ‘secteur’ of a member of the Senate. Everyone has been invited to attend... including teachers, parents... ‘Oh well!!! The white washing of classrooms I was hoping to witness before my departure would be a non-event...

- No!! says Frederic, the assistant to the Headmaster, let’s do it on Wednesday morning. We’ll cancel the classes, we’ll invite the parents and the children to help’. By then, I have adopted a more fatalistic attitude, bordering on the ‘whatever’ mindset... I’ll believe it when I see it.

Wednesday comes. I am about to see it, in its full African splendour. Sometimes, you gotta have faith. The repainting of the Sistine Chapel is about to begin...

The artists

Mostly mothers, grandmothers. They arrive from everywhere in small groups, so serene and gracious in their beautiful, bright dresses. They wait patiently... for a couple of hours before paining starts.

The magic brew

Gaspard, the President of the Parents Committee, has hired the local ‘lime and white wash expert’ to oversee the operation. Recipe: start the wood fire, mix the lime with salt, hot water in a huge caldrons. This is the first task to do: a boys and men task...

Tool making

As they arrive, women have their brushes made from a stick and some grass. NO! these are NOT brooms, but artist brushes!

It is a long wait before the water starts boiling and the mixture is ready... Good, this gives me a chance to shake lots of hands, to thank the volunteers and take more photos!!!

Action!

Suddenly, the magic potion is ready. What follows is a combination of the storming of the Bastille and the delicate painting of the Sistine Chapel

The splendour of Chaos...

Community Ceremony

Time now for a community ceremony. Laurent, the vice president of the Parents Committee has prepared the programme in details. The school yard is turned into a ceremonial area, under the equatorial midday sun.

In Rwanda it has to start with some traditional dancing, singing, drumming... Even the Muzungu is invited to join in. You don’t need to invite him twice to a bit of African boogie-boogie!

Lots of short speeches follow,

Gaspard, President of Parents Committee

More speeches... including one from the School management to thank the Muzungu and Abana.

(sic) ‘

Mr José, we are very happy of the work that you have done in our school. From your coming here until this time, we have the remarkable change in our school, we have the remarkable change toward our attitude about education.

You have done many activities in order to improve not only our knowledge but also to improve our attitudes according teaching – learning process.

The training received from you every Saturday allows us to improve our skills in English and in pedagogy.

Your activity about finding for us appropriate documents and didactic materials will help us to attempt at good teaching – learning process.

Your advice about education constitutes the guide in our daily life, not only when we are at school but also when we are out of school.

The manner which you want to keep the documents and all things tidy has been for us the model and we will respect what you have begun in continuing the task of progress our school.

Your effort in finding for us the good trainers shows how you think about our performance in our job and the quality of our students.

Your name will not be forgotten in Rugerero Complex School and we beg you to come back one day even if we remain in contact by technology.”

Muzungu Jose is also invited to make a speech and then a present is given to Jose the Anana muzungu on behalf of the school and parents.

Jeannette, the headmistress and Frederic, her assistant, surprise me with a present

Some 120 uniforms out of the 500 made for the poorest of the children are given. Children and their parents are VERY happy.

The ceremony is over. I could not have hoped for a better birthday and send-off present. I am so impressed and touched by the feeling of community and celebration among the children and parents present. Light heartedness, simplicity, togetherness, celebration... beautiful!

Please, Rugerero school complex, whatever ‘education’ does to you, don’t EVER lose that!

You might even consider sending a few volunteers to many schools in Australia!

More faces on the hills

2010-03-26T07:30:00.000-07:00

no comment

2010-03-26T07:27:00.000-07:00

Of cupboards, carpenters, time and other matters

2010-03-26T07:08:00.000-07:00

Garanteed handmade in the Republic of Rwanda

I have penciled you in for your 16 cupboards...

Pay as you go... 12 done, 4 to go!

Always working with a smile

Building up the relationship with the customer

One day, I will be a carpenter, like my dad

I think I should be able to tick that box soon, but I am not 100% sure yet...

In the mind of someone living in the Eastern suburbs, on the Northern beaches or the North Shore of Sydney, the act of bringing cupboards/bookcases to each classroom of Rugerero Primary is a straightforward operation...

Please, reconsider, re frame, re-contextualise your episode representation. I’ll give you a few hints:

- Buying ready made cupboards from Butare or Kigali would have cost about three more times than having made them locally.

- - No decent road to deliver 16 cupboards.

- - Hardly any trade vehicles venture around here

- - Cost of petrol in Kigali or Butare: about 890Rwf, price of petrol (when you can find some) in Rugerero: 1300Rwf

- - No electricity means no power tools to build. Everything goes slowly

- - Raining season means that it takes longer for assembled pieces of wood glued together to hold... at least that is what the carpenters tell me when I go for my biweekly visit to check progress report

- - Lightning killed two people recently and the carpenters had to interrupt 'my' job to make two coffins... Then they went to the burial, as did everybody around the hills.

So I have learned to be patient and philosophical about the initially promised deadline of 5 weeks.. Almost three months later I am still waiting for the delivery of the last four cupboards. I went to see my friends, the ‘menuisiers’ (‘carpenters’ ) – they speak very good French but no English.

- I told them that I was leaving soon,

- They told me it would be ready,

- I told them no final payment until it is all done,

- They said OK,

- I said and that includes fixing the cupboards against the walls, as you promised,

- They said, ‘oui, oui, oui.’...

and more portraits

2010-03-21T04:06:00.000-07:00

An ambigous relationship

2010-03-21T04:03:00.000-07:00

He is one of my neighbours. A very friendly, helpful neighbour. His local knowledge, his intelligence, his linguistic skills, his ability to ‘read’ situations make him a very valuable neighbour for a helpless muzungu like me... If I am in a predicament, I know I can call him and he will come to my rescue. Generosity and spontaneity of the heart. I am quite fond of him. And yet, at the same time, I know I can’t fully and blindly trust him. I am aware that he sees me as a rich white man, that I ‘should’ help him financially, that somehow, I owe him... I know he suggested to Bapiste to buy a lot of petrol for my motorbike and generator so he could pinch a few litres and resell them locally. Today I catch him in the act of transferring some phone credit from my mobile phone to his... When I confront him, saying how unethical this is, he apologises profusely and later carries out my suggestion that he should pay me back the 500Rwf worth of stolen credit, so he can be completely forgiven... (Who am I, to forgive...). I want him to stop and think. Why should he see any muzungu as a rich man who, somehow, owes him something? Why can’t he rely on his intelligence and entrepreneurial skills to make his own money? Let’s leave all this colonial nonsense behind. I detect in his eyes a lot of confusion. I cannot help sensing in me a feeling of guilt and anger at the past intervention of white men on this continent... They have some indirect responsibility for this ambiguous relationship... I end up giving him a hug and give him back the 500Rwf.

I know that if in the middle of the night, under a pelting rain, I ran out of petrol on my motorbike, he would be there straight away with a couple of litres of petrol... of unknown source. He would rescue me. An ambiguous relationship indeed!

Me and my hut

2010-03-21T03:41:00.000-07:00

Small house, big garden

The cows never too far away

Roof re thatched every year

A space for extended family

Sacred cows watching

Sorting out the seeds for the next crop

Fire wood duty... every afternoon!

Have lived here all my life

Will probably live here all my life

I go and play with my friends next door every afternoon

Waiting for them to show up

I play with them too

A room with a view

An africanecdote and a west sad story

2010-03-21T03:28:00.000-07:00

An East Africanecdote...

... and a west sad story...

An East Africanecdote...

I love surprises... I am sitting at the back of a ‘taxi moto’ taking me to the bus depot to catch my bus back to Butare and home. All good! I enjoy the ride, the fresh air, I like to watch people in their cars or on other ‘taxi motos’, I take in some Kigali scenery. The driver is quite nice. Despite opur helmets we manage to sustain some conversation. But suddenly, the engine stalls... I know that feeling! We have run out of petrol. No panic, despite the fact that it is peak hour and a lot of cars are behind us... WE stop, get of the bike, and the driver brings the bike on the pavement. So far, so good. I would have done exactly the same. What he does next would have never crossed my mind: he picks up the motor bike, turns it upside down, leaving just one wheel making contact with the ground, and he shakes the thirsty vehicle vigorously. I watched amazed. He is bringing the few drops of the precious liquid back where it is needed. He turns the motorbike back on its two wheels, hands me back my helmet, brings the mean machine back on the road. The engine starts again and off we go... I get into my bus, still amused and impressed. I do hope he is on his way to a petrol station, though... there is only so much a good shake can do to the oil crisis. Cost of my taxi-moto fare: 600 Rwf (1$20), cost of one litter of petrol: 935 Rwf (1$ 80)

A west sad story...

In 1994, during the genocide, Soeur Josephine was living in Cyangugu. Like everywhere else in Rwanda, things were tough, death was everywhere. She told me a few times that she often thought that her turn was coming. It did not. Instead, one night, someone came to her with a small parcel found in the street. It contained a few months’ old baby who was assumed to be dead. She looked more closely... Yes, there were signs of physical composition, but Yeah, there was still some life force there. She took the baby in. She saved her life. She called her Emma. Meanwhile, the threat of death was becoming more and more real, so Josephine, the baby and a couple of other nuns decided to walk across the Congolese border and settle in the forest there for a while. Emma recovered, turned into a lively and cheerful baby and when she turned three was adopted by a Belgian family. She is now 15 and lives in that part of the world. Today, I have come to visit Soeur Josephine to continue showing her how to use her laptop and access the internet. Today, access is easy: good! One of the emails waiting to be read in her ‘inbox’ is from the Belgian adoptive mother. She is breaking a silence of many years to give some news of Emma and to send a couple of photos of a beautiful typical teenager girl... Josephine is over the moon. She keeps saying ‘Emma, O Emma!’ and is practically caressing the computer screen. A very moving moment. The adoptive mother was also asking Soeur Josephine to pray for Emma, saying that she was a bit wild and was so hard to handle at times that she had to be put into a boarding school. Soeur Josephine was so excited to see ‘her’ Emma that she hardly heard that piece of disconcerting news. She just said I will pray even more for Emma...

People’s faces

2010-03-16T11:13:00.000-07:00

My daughter always says to me: ‘Dad, you always take photos of weird things like the wheel of a car, a branch on a tree or a road sign... Why don’t you take more pictures of people, of your friends’? She does have a point... This is a set of portraits of people I come across every day around the hills where I have been blessed to live for the last three months. I can’t call them ‘my friends’, but I certainly feel part of the same family as them...

I am trying to work out what is the common denominator between all these faces. I know there is but I can only feel it, not intellectualise it... I am happy to stay with the feeling!

I share with you... If you don’t like them, I promise... a set of road sign photos is coming up...

Who needs computer games?

2010-03-16T07:09:00.000-07:00

Abana Jo, the WhiteTornado

2010-03-15T20:10:00.000-07:00

A classroom wall reveals a lot about what happens in a classroom, what education is provided within the four walls. I will let you infer what has happened in this one, over the last few years.

It hurts my eyes to see that children spend their days in such an environment. When teachers don’t bother to open the shutters and darkness is added to the ambience, I don’t find it to be a conducive learning atmosphere... I have wanted to do something about it for quite some time...

I approached the president of the parents committee, Gaspard, and suggested that he find some volunteer parents, that together, we should whitewash all the classroom walls. I will provide the lime required. He agrees to go along with this project...

I asked Frederic to help locate where we can buy the lime, how much would be needed and how it could be delivered to the school by Saturday... Why Saturday? Because it is the one day per month set aside for community work – everybody is supposed to get involved... so I thought: ‘community’ – 'school’ – ‘free labour’... let’s do it! ‘

Buying the lime is cheap, getting it to the school is complicated and very expensive I(it doubles the cost).

But when there is a will, there is a way. I hope we can pull it through... I hope i can show a photo of a clean wall soon...

Easy and important

2010-03-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

Frederic gettting the notebooks and pens ready for distribution

Olivier, the science teacher comes to help

Gratefully and graciously received...

Now, let's get to work...

I found the task of buying 600 books and 600 pens effortless and straightforward. This is easy African Aid

It did not take long for me to bring them to school. Quickly and efficiently, Frederic organised with each class teacher the drawing of a list of those children known to be the poorest of the poor. The local authorities at the Kivu Sector have identified such children and they do need some material help.

So it was good, the other day, to go along with Frederic and a few other teachers to hand-in these 600 pens and notebooks. Children who received them were very grateful and I was impressed by the orderly and sensitive manner in which this was done. Those who were lucky enough not to qualify did not object.

I said a few words to all of them after the handing-in procedure - about where these notebooks and pens were coming from – (Abana, Australia, wanting to help, importance of education etc.).

Next year a similar operation will be conducted, this is one of the ongoing help that Abana Committee has promised to provide until it is no longer required.

They have almost made it

2010-03-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

A few photos from the senior classes of the school, they are called ‘Tronc commun’ and are the next two years of compulsory education recently introduced in Rwanda; (next year there will be a third ‘Tronc commun’). They have survived the very rocky and ‘natural’ selection road of primary education and they are very keen to move on. They have their eyes set on secondary education. They are already part of an elite, of a Rwandan intelligensia...

I have enjoyed visiting them whenever I could, they love to engage, they love to practice their English with me. I enjoy watching they enjoy learning...

Ciel, mon mari... Sky, my husband

2010-03-15T19:12:00.000-07:00

On the horizon,

Where the earth

Touches the sky,

Is an invitation.

Humble contribution

Of our small planet

To the infinite above,

Clouds reveal the sky.

As above

So below...

The mind is to the Heart

What the earth is to the Sky.

Abana Australia, Rugerero management: no more excuses

2010-03-15T12:10:00.001-07:00

Yes, indeed Rugerero School complex (that’s how they like to be called now) is geographically VERY isolated. Children and their families lead very insular lives and don’t see much of the rest of the world.
Road communication is appalling. Everything cost extra because of the difficulty of access. It is hard to bring books, cupboards, teacher trainers, food etc.
But one thing is easy to bring: telecommunication – whether it be mobile phones or Internet access.
So, being of the view that good collaboration between Abana Committee in Australia and Rugerero school complex management will be crucial to further progress in the quality of education for children (abana, in Kinyarwanda) I have stressed to both parties that it is now easy for them to stay in touch, ask questions, make suggestions and overcome challenges together. Both the headmistress and Frederic now have an email address, I will give them the email address of the Abana committee and their phone numbers and vice-versa.
No more excuses...

Couples on the hills

2010-03-15T09:58:00.000-07:00

Hello, creatures of the WWW, beings of the virtual brotherhood...

We are never online, but often on land

WE have no email address,

We have no home address either.

We follow no blogs,

We follow our cows.

We live on the same planet as you,

But perhaps in a different reality.

Our life expectancy is about one third shorter

Than the average blogger.

We walk an average of 15 kilometres a day

And are far less likely to be affected

By obesity than by sero positivity.

We have a lot of children,

Because we have no electricity

And are in bed by seven.

We are couples,

Bond together

By a mixture of love and necessity.

Our heads are free from

So many unnecessary complexities;

Our eyes have beheld

A very narrow range of technological diversity.

They have retained the candour

Of profound simplicity

Our hands often become one

With the handles of our hoes...

We hesitate,

We fluctuate...

Whether to beg you to leave us alone,

Or bring us modems and modernity...

Roadwork ahead

2010-03-13T08:37:00.000-08:00

Oops! the road has collapsed, let's fix it...

Women work, men 'supervise'...

Come, girls, let's just do it!

Not faking it either...

But having fun... playing hide and seek with the photographer...

Gotcha!!!

Beautiful!!

This morning as I ride my motor bike from Rugerero Primary to Rusuzumiro Primary, I see a large group of people fixing a section of the road that has collapsed.

I notice that most men are ‘supervising’ and ALL women were working hard....

I stop and take some photos. The atmosphere is jovial, I am joking with them.

I can feel the sense of community among these friendly people – no one will fix our road, let’s do it ourselves.

They know exactly what to do.

Historical moments

2010-03-13T08:16:00.000-08:00

What password would you like???

OK, You are in!!!

This morning, some local and intercontinental history was made...
On the local front, for the first time since I have been here I was confident enough to take a passenger behind me on the motor bike... my first customer was Frederic, the assistant to the headmistress. We made it safely from the school to my cottage and then we made intercontinental history by creating an email account for Frederic so he can easily communicate with the Abana committee and myself. Both experiences felt good!

Another scenario of colonialism

2010-03-12T06:48:00.000-08:00

White men and women come on their tall ships. Open-minded explorers, adventurers, traders. They meet the locals, the natives, the Afro-Africans. Together they explore, have adventures and trade open-mindedly...

They make a deal, a pact, a mutual commitment: after 7 years, the white men and women w2ill stay and the locals, the natives, the Afro-Africans go on the tall ships to Europe and continue the cultural evolution of the previous group. They change side every seven year onwards.

- Interracial marriages allowed?
- Yes, of course.

- After 7 years, where will the mixed couples
- A coin will be tossed to decide.

- When they have become adults, where will the children of mixed couples go?
- To South America, on tall ships.

Last stretch for volunteer number 3

2010-03-11T04:25:00.001-08:00

I have about two more weeks of work at the school. I would have liked to say: ‘all done, mission accomplished, but quite realistically Rugerero Primary will still need some help for some time, and not only financial help. Immediate follow up action is going to be vital between Abana committee in Australia, its President Christine and the School management. There is still some ongoing matters to finalise in the next few weeks...

- Frederic and I have opened an email account for him, so he can stay in contact with Abana Australia. The Rwandan government has given the school a laptop, will the money that I have left, I will buy a modem and some phone credit: Internet and phone connections are works quite well at the School. No excuse like in the past of saying ‘we have no idea what is happening at Rugerero...

- I am busy finalising some in-service training for teachers, for the rest of the year. Highly qualified trainers (all national School inspectors in specific subjects or general teaching methodology) have accepted to come and help. They will need to be paid for their time and effort – some of them would be coming from Kigali.Abana Committee will need to organise their payment. I won’t be here any more to do so. It can easily be done.

- I have suggested a performance contract for the teachers and management of the school, so the ‘good’ teachers are rewarded with a bonus at the end of the school year. Abana Australia will need to honour this promise. I have already sent the costing of this scheme to the Committee.

- The teaching Resource Centre I have set up is up and running. It will need to be kept in good, functional order. I will leave this for Frederic and another teacher who has offered to help, to do so. Frederic is the most important human resource at the school. The headmistress is too often absent (at meeting, sick or ???). She does not have the same rapport with the staff. She is incredibly shy... I have had to accept this reality and work past her.

- A final detailed quote for solar panels to be installed at the school has also been sent to the Abana Committee. They will decide whether to proceed or not, and if so, when.

- I hope that most teachers now have a clearer idea of what active teaching is all about and what focusing on learners entails – I have serious doubt about a couple of them – but this would apply to most school, all over the world. This is wher I feel I would have needed more time to work with the staff. Last Saturday, we did some singing together with the CD player bought by Abana and the couple of CD I brought from Sydney. It was good fun and we explored possible ways of using this medium to develop language skills.

- I do feel some increased confidence and enthusiasm from quite a number of teachers. The school inspectors confirmed this to me. Will it last, will it grow, will it dwindle? Time will tell.

This experience has been incredibly enriching for me personally. As I suspected, I have learned much more than I have taught. I have enjoyed working in an environment totally different from what I have known in the 35 years I have been involved in education. I have met some wonderful people and I have come to love this country. Last but not least this experience will have had a strong impact on my inner self...

Thank you Abana for trusting me with this mission. Over to you...

going native?

2010-03-11T04:18:00.000-08:00

There are times, when I just gotta dance...

... especially with my made to meaure shirt and my hat from Dar es Salaam

Why I love those hills

2010-03-08T06:37:00.000-08:00

Kigali 'Taxi moto'

2010-03-08T02:15:00.000-08:00

When you are in Kigali, you gotta move around in 'taxi motos'...

Just call one, agree on the price, and off you go...

Deconstructing technology and construction in Rwanda

2010-03-07T22:21:00.000-08:00

The shower head is very loose. Water going everywhere... No problem, position yourself accordingly, anywhere in the bathroom

I often think of Germany as a country where everything ‘works’, where everything is built strongly, is very functional and made to last - windows open perfectly, doors lock tightly, cars are well made. A long history, an underlying ideology and a matching lifestyle go along with this reliable, functional and anxiety-free Life coping device.

Here, in Rwanda, I have seen three sporadic examples of German technological efficiency. A lot of the drinking water made available to the population of the hills where I live comes from the work of German engineers who have channelled water from the Nwinge natural forest to some community water outlets. You could not provide much better help than that! Example two is the construction of Rusuzumiro primary school – unlike many Rugerero classes that are often dark, dirty and unconducive to healthy learning, that school benefited from German building and the classrooms are strongly built, lots of good windows (that open perfectly), brick walls can’t get dirty, cupboards were included in all classrooms. A spacious office was built for the headm,aster. Example three: a very fancy Porsche four wheel drive, driven by a Rwandan mum taking her children to school in Kigali. Wunderbar!

Things are usually built differently in Rwanda. Building material, construction processes, final fittings, sturdiness and expected lasting expectancy are much lower than in Hamburg. Durability, reliability are more elusive concepts here. ‘Cheap’, ‘Made in China’, ‘Short-life expectancy’ are the pillars, the foundation upon which a lot is built around here...

When I went to buy a mobile phone for the Abana volunteers, I was given an option: ‘authentique’ or ‘pirate’? Huge price difference! The same applied to batteries, CD player. When I needed to buy a new spark plug for my motorbike, I was told that ‘pirate’ ones were available in Muganza but only worked for a couple of weeks. Not many people can afford ‘authentique’ . Abana volunteers can, many Rwanda people can’t even afford ‘pirate’ goods...

So I find that when it comes to having a relationship with western, muzungu items of ‘modern comfort’ – such as good windows, door handles, cupboard locks, table sturdiness, mattress density etc. I have to revise my conditioned standards and do some rethinking...

1. I am not in Hamburg

2. Who said that corrugated iron roofs were not meant to leak?

3. Why can’t most Africans afford buying strong Sweedish car made with the sturdiest steel when they provided most of the raw material to build that Volvo?

4. What does Africa has to contribute to Humanity in terms of technicality?

I will only say a few things about item 4...

Africans have contributed a lot to the human ability to interact and adapt to their physical environment... Their main offering in my view is their ingenuity to make things last... One example, the taxi van I take from Muganza to Butare would have been thrown to the tip in Germany many years ago... Yet it is still going strongly on this incredibly bumpy and dangerous road. Mechanics are insuring that the engine runs well, that there is just enough ‘cushionary’ function in the shock absorbers to make the journey humanely possible. The dexterity and total intimacy of the driver with his vehicle makes it possible for this old van to go forever. The van carries about twice its allowed capacity...

Another contributor to African technicality is the African’s fearlessness when it comes to fixing broken things. Everybody believes he is an expert and nothing is impossible. The generator has stopped working, five men and boys are fighting to have a go at fixing it.

After a heavy rain quite a few roofs at the school start letting a bit of rain in... I ask Papa Jacinth about those traditional huts after huge storms. Don’t they leak?, I ask. No they don’t he says. They are rethatched every year and they do their job... All women and children have mastered the art of making string from a few blades of tall grass and can bind anything together before transporting it on their heads... It seems that there is a common thread (excused the pun) among all this... Most technical sophistication that has been imported from Europe via colonialism and post-colonialism does not really work here, as if it had not been properly shared, transferred... Dumping the cheapest, lowest quality material on this continent does not help either.

Traditional ways are more reliable, more deeply engrained in the local psyche, soul and hands...

Let's face it

2010-03-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

Beehive man

2010-03-07T10:48:00.000-08:00

Beehive man

The son had the idea to go into honey production.

The dad said: ‘I will help you, son’.

He had one of the biggest trees on his property cut down.

Some strong men sawed the trunk into big half cylinders

that would become the home for the beehives.

Then one old man was called to do the more delicate job of carving the half cylinders.

He must be in his seventies.

What he has lost in pure, raw strength,

he has gained in knowledge of the wood and wisdom of chiselling...

Will the bees ever know?

How sweet will the honey taste?

Bingo?

2010-03-07T09:43:00.000-08:00

Bingo?

One of my regrets about the work I will have done at Rugerero so far was not to have been able to find a teacher training course adequate for the young, unexperienced teachers. I would also have liked to have more time to work with them myself. The two-hour Saturday sessions I have with them are not enough.

So when I received an email from Dominia, (one of the inspectors who came to school last week) giving me a list of highly qualified trainers, I was delighted.

I will arrange to meet her in Butare on my way home from Kigali, on Tuesday.

I would feel much better if an ongoing in-service could be set up before I leave...

Raining season

2010-03-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

The raining season has started... Powerful, big storms!
Sometimes, it is just too much for the road to remain a road.
Today part of the short cut that I usually take on my motorbike to get to school has collapsed.
Landlslides are frequent and can be dangerous.
Recently more than 300 people died in a landslide in Uganda.

Rusuzumiro

2010-03-07T05:57:00.000-08:00

Jean de Dieu, the headmaster, in his office... a printer on his desk, but not electricity

The teachers of Rusuzumiro

The school buildings

The pupils...

Nice classrooms with a lot of light

Class 6 pupils

Rusuzumiro is another local primary school around those hills of the Kivu sector. Abana has allocated some funding so they can buy some books, stationary and a few other items. I have spent far less time there than at Rugerero. I have come on Saturdays to help teachers practice their English. Of course during these conversation classes, we talk a lot about their working conditions.

The school headmaster, Jean de Dieu is a very intelligent, hard-working and efficient manager. He is everything that the old headmaster at Rugerero was not and everything that I foresee Frederic will become...

Rusuzumiro has received a lot of help from Germany to build classrooms. They are indeed very well built: lots of light, strong brick walls, glass on the windows, a very big office for the Headmaster.

Today I spend the morning at the school. I have made some suggestions to Jean de Dieu as to what he could buy with the money donated. He already has a clear idea of what the school needs and soon his list will be finalised.

Unlike Rugerero this school has not been asked to teach the three extra years of ‘compulsory’ primary education recently introduced. I put ‘compulsory’ between brackets, because in reality, only a small percentage of children reaches that level... A lot of children have been lost in junior years... starting at the end of class one.

You can't take that away from them

2010-03-07T05:38:00.000-08:00

Cooking with Gas

2010-03-05T05:48:00.001-08:00

Some food always finds its way to the kitchen floor. Thank you!

Cooked bananas, Pakistani rice and 'ratatouille' sauce

Bananas cooked with tomato sauce

Cooking bananas (heavy!)

Non powedered milk cow

Rwanda Master Chef Champion, Tokyo, 2009

Lots of cows abound around those hills, but only powdered milk for my morning porridge... I want to know where the powdered cows are...

I’ve been asked by a very special person to write about food on my blog. It is indeed an important part of my daily life, so I will. I would imagine that I am one of the very few households in the area which does not produce the food I am eating everyday... Subsistence farming is vasty prevalent in Rwanda. Most people live from what they grow and are completely dependent on good crops to eat well. This basically means high vulnerability. In the fairly recent past, very poor crops resulting from bad weather have caused famines and starvation on a large scale. For 90% to 95% of the people I come across in the Nyaraguru district, daily life is all about working on the land from morning to evening to extract the food required. One main consequence of this reality there are actually very few places where one can buy food – no supermarket, with pineapples from Guadeloupe, apples from New Zealand, olive oil from Greece, beef from Argentina... I remember reading about the average distance covered by food to travel form the places of production to the average middle class family in California. It was measured in thousands of kilometres. Here in Rwanda, it would be measured in hundreds of metres for the average family. The ‘Think globally, eat locally’ principle applies here. But for me the only muzungu around those hills, a man whom spends most of his time at the local school, things work out differently. I have to rely on a fairly complex system of transport and loose network to bring food to my plate every day. Besides bananas(sweet or cooking bananas) most fruit and vegetables come from markets in Muganza or Butare. So I am often dependent on Soeur Josephine to eat. This food has to be delivered by ‘taxi moto’, which adds about 8A$ per delivery.

I have opted for a vegetarian diet when I realised that eating chicken or rabbit implied seeing the animal being brought alive to the house... No baker, no butcher, no greengrocer. Eggs are easily found from people in the neighbourhood. Rwanda produces excellent coffee, tea and sugar. These items are bought in Butare or Kigali, along with rice, which I eat everyday. The avocado are coming into season and there are a lot of avocado trees around, so Baptiste can easily get hold of some. Not much variety in what I find in my plate everyday – rice everyday (imported from Pakistan – globalization does exist here too occasionally chips or boiled potatoes (with the rice) and a ratatouille-like mixture of whatever vegetable are available. I have been craving for raw vegies, so lately I have asked Baptiste to grate some carrots and cabbage. No dairy product. Red beans are quite common, but I find them hard to digest.

Unfortunately, I find it quite hard to share meals with Baptiste, as we are unable to sustain any conversation and when I try to say something, he always says ‘yes’. I find this frustrating and often I go and eat outside watching the big African tre that has become my friend...

Quality control

2010-03-05T05:17:00.000-08:00

Today, when I arrive at school, I notice that a lot of teachers are busy filling out their course programmes, their attendance sheets and other forms... How unusual! What is happening? Frederic, the assistant to the headmistress, tells me that school inspectors are in the area. They were in a school nearby yesterday. I can see that there is a universal fear of school inspectors... I have seen similar reactions in other parts of the world... A fear of the Gestapo, a fear of being judged, branded as a failure in the educational system of a nation...
Indeed the inspectors arrive – three of them, two males and one female. Well dressed, city-sophistication, a certain feeling of self-importance, a definite school inspector look. I go and introduce myself to them, tell them about Abana... I tell them to be kind, that these teachers work under difficult conditions; I tell them that I can’t find any maths books for the Class 6 children; I ask them who we should call to get them, I tell them that rural primary school teacher training is so important in Rwanda... (‘Bloody muzungus’...). They do listen to me and we engage in a constructive conversation. The lady inspector says she will help me to find some trainers for these teachers. She gives me her phone number, I give her my email address and I plan to visit her in Butare, where she is based.
She gives me a copy of the document they use to assess the teaching efficiency. Good! It is slightly more sophisticated than my performance contract, which stipulates: Teachers must remain awake in class at all times...’ I am glad the inspector came to day! They can help the Rugerero Primary cause.
And by the way, 4 out of the 5 teachers inspected received a ‘good’ overall evaluation. Frederic received a ‘very good’ I always knew I did not have anything to teach him. I do tell him, however, that it is now his duty to share his experience and expertise with the less trained teachers. He agrees!

Lunch with my colleagues

2010-03-05T04:33:00.001-08:00

When I reread what I have written about my experience here in Rwanda, especially about the teachers, I find that I can be too harsh, judgemental and too ethnocentric... To day I do not go home for lunch, as I am waiting for the solar panel technician from Kigali. It is raining hard outside. I am hungry. Catherine, one of the ‘good’ teacher at the school asks: ‘Are you hungry? Do you want to come and have lunch with us? – ‘Yes, I’d love to.
I knew that all the children who come to school get a free lunch provided by PAM (Programme Alimentaire Mondial), financed by the United Nations. I have been told that one of the main reasons for a number of parents to send their children to school is this free meal... It quite possible indeed that without this meal, quite a few children would fall into the ‘malnourished’ category. As for the teachers, I am sure that, financially, it helps them to have one free meal a day as well. The menu is always the same: cassava porridge and red beans. The food is brought in a huge plastic bucket and everyone helps him/herself in his/her plastic plate. The atmosphere in the classroom-turned-into-dining room is convivial. The food is really basic and not unlike what one would expect to serve in a jail. I am sure not too many ‘western teachers’ would find this meal to their culinary standards. And yet, for these teachers, this is normal, this is good. It is a metaphor for their working staple diet, it is a symbol of their harsh working conditions: classes of more than 50 children, 7:00AM to 5:00PM classroom presence, no support staff, no electricity and a salary hardly allowing them to feed their families.
Today as I am eating my red beans and cassava, I feel for them. Part of me wants to cry, parts of me wants to shout, to rebel.. ‘it just ain’t fair!!!” I feel the gap between what I have experienced, working in over privileged teaching conditions and what they go through every day. Do they know better? Yes, they do. Have I been helping them to improve just a little bit their working conditions? I don’t know, but I bloody well hope so!

Working together

2010-03-03T05:17:00.000-08:00

The Teachers resource room is starting to look like one. I can feel the teachers’ spirit has lifted since they have received material to work with. 95% of them are keen to work, I am not sure how much can be done for the 5% left.
95% are more and more taking initiatives and I see more and more of them preparing their classes. The teaching methodology can still be improved. I give some advice here and there in an ad hoc fashion but I know it is not enough.
Today one of the teachers brought his radio to the teachers resource room. There was some African music in the air and I could not help myself from doing a bit of dancing... How unprofessional! how African...

We all need a bit of magic in our lives

2010-03-03T04:40:00.000-08:00

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Who stole my French mobile phone and my lighter is a trite question. Why did it happen? More interesting question... So I could meet the local witch doctor? At least, an excellent question!
Today he comes to my room, the scene of the crime, with Papa Jacinth’s eldest son. With my Cartesian mind, I explain that they may have been taken through the window. The lighter and the French phone were spending most of their time in Rwanda on my bedside table, next to that window...
I observe his ritual – not unlike a policeman who puts some powder on a window to look for fingerprints, he puts some kind of dust on the bedside table and on the window ledge. He mumbles a few words. I try to sit still and connect with the Spirit too. The ritual only takes a couple of minutes. I ask if it would be OK for me to take a couple of photos. He does not mind. Great! Wouldn’t it be nice if my phone and my lighter reappeared on my bedside table in the next couple of days? If this is the case, I( will ask him straight away to come to Rugerero and put a few pinches of his magic dust on the head of the teachers who falls asleep in class. Today, the children were left incomplete darkness, doing nothing whilst this teacher was god knows where. When she came back to class, I gave her a mouthful about her teaching duties.
We all need a few miracles in our lives.

An African kind of day

2010-03-01T23:29:00.000-08:00

Today I had a day I could only have in Africa. Since I am in Africa this should only come as half a surprise... My French mobile phone and my lighter (brought from Australia to light candles in the evening) have gone missing for the last couple of days. I have been looking for them – to no avail. I told my good neighbour Papa Jacinth yesterday and he was very upset. I am now pretty sure they were stolen from the house, as I never take them out. He tells me that his son’s mobile phone was also stolen. Could this be the work of a very well organised gang operating in the aera and reselling the stolen goods to North Korea? I doubt it very much. Papa Jacinth says he will investigate. At this stage, he suspects Mr B. As for me, I go for Mr C, a young boy (perhaps twelve or so) whom I often see outside the house early in the morning when I do my yoga. He could have easily stolen these items from my bedroom window, which I leave open only when, I do my yoga... A few hours later, I come across Papa Jacinth’s son who has gone to the local ‘sorcier’ (witch doctor) to get some help.
At the school, I have a busy day, putting the newly bought resources on the newly installed shelves, I put the school stamp on the books and put category labels on the shelves ‘English readers ‘advanced’, ‘material for maths class’, ‘English dictionaries’ etc. I had previously walked around the primary school to feel the ‘teaching pulse’... Quite low, today! Only a couple of teachers are actively teaching. Not many teachers would be eligible for a ‘teaching performance bonus’... Then I decide to go to the District office (the local administrative office) so I can use the electricity produced by their solar panels to type the list of teachers on my laptop. When I get there, I am told that it is not working as the system was struck by lightning a couple of days ago.
I go back to school. I am expecting two boxes of textbooks I bought in Kigali to arrive in Butare Soeur Josephine will then organise transport form the bus depot to the school (she deserves quadruple performance bonus!). The books we supposed to arrive at 12:00 they arrive at 2:30 PM, not bad! I also have an appointment at the school with a technician from the solar panel company to look at the nitty gritty of installing such equipment at the school, one day. He is coming from Kigali by public transport – the last 40 minutes being on a ‘taxi moto’ under heavy rain. Frederic and I welcome him – we talk about the power needs, the number of panels required the converter, the lightning rod and so forth. We walk around the school, I see one teacher sleeping at her desk, in another classroom 2 or 3 teachers are chatting away, completely oblivious of the children. A couple of teachers are teaching, Yeah! It is time for the technician to head back to Kigali, at least four and a half hours away. He tells me his boss did not give him enough money for his transport. He tries to call him. No answer. What shall we do with the broke solar panel technician? The ‘taxi moto’ is waiting. Last bus from Munini to Butare is at 5:00 PM, not much time to waste. I can see that e3verybody is expecting me to give him the 10$ that he needs to get home. I am furious with his boss (who is no doubt a multi millionaire).
It has been raining most of the day. Ridding my motor bike home on those very slippery dirt roads is going to be very tricky... As I leave the school very slowly, I have about fifty children following me, shouting, laughing, pushing my motorbike, making me lose my delicate balance. I am mad at them! I get off my bike and pretend to run after them, they run away and the run back. They think it is a very funny game...
Last stretch home, I have left them behind. Yeah, I am almost there... but careful there is a pig on the middle of the road, he sees me and runs right in front of me, his trajectory is completely unpredictable. I am chasing him. Perhaps he is the one who stole my mobile phone.
What an African kind of day! I am exhausted...

A story behind African shirts

2010-02-28T00:24:00.000-08:00

A few years ago, Soeur Josephine was in hospital, very sick. She told me she was waiting for the end. But it was not yet her turn... Instead she had a vision... Why not start a sewing workshop to help some young girls in the Muganza community who had dropped out of school to do something fulfilling and income producing. Soeur Josephine recovered fully, left the hospital and followed her dream. No money, no space where to set up the workshop, no sewing machine: only minor obstacles for Soeur Josephine! She eventually found one machine, Abana donated a few more, she found a room to let next to the Health Centre where she lives, rented it very cheaply from the church to which it belongs. She trained five or six ‘girls’ (as she call them) who were keen, who felt proud, who learned fast. Quickly they made enough money to buy their own machines to continue their business and train six new ‘girls’ on the now training sewing machines. The ball was rolling. The sewing project is flourishing today. They will sew the uniforms that Abana will buy every year to those children who can’t afford the 9 $ it costs. A win-win system for everybody. A good business plan, Bill Gates you’ve got competition...
On my second visit to Kigali, I bought some material to have a couple of shirts sewn by the ‘girls’. They did a great job and I have vowed that to have a warm thought for them and Soeur Josephine whenever I will wear them. Soeur Josephine has also embarked on another project: helping all the handicapped children in the area... children who are usually ostracized and who are definitely ‘at risk’. This is not a money making business, this is a purely altruistic, money costing operation, but she is as ‘successful’ here as she was with the sewing project. She recently told me that there is a small business opportunity for hair salons run by local young men...
Dick Smith, you think you are an entrepreneur.. Too bad I am balding.

Helping Rugerero teachers

2010-02-27T23:27:00.000-08:00

To day, Saturday afternoon, I have a two hour session with the Rugerero teaching staff. 23 teachers out of 26 have showed up and most of them on time! Could this be a cultural change in the organization?? On my agenda, two main items: (i) what would entering a performance contract with Abana entail? And (iia ) what have I bought on behalf of Abana to make teaching aids for the classroom and basic teaching books and (iib) how can they develop and use their budding resource centre.
But first I tell them about the Abana motto. ‘Helping them help themselves’ and how this can apply to the children in their classes. I also say that it is time to stop feeling sorry for themselves, to strongly believe; ‘yes, we are poor, we don’t have much material, please do it for us!’ NO! We can help you buying a few things, we can tell you one thing or two about teaching efficiency, but after that it is all in your hands. You ARE the Force! And, we, muzungus can also learn a few things from you, Africans! You know how to work together, how to support each other, how to laugh and have fun together. This is your strength, and one day, YOU to the western, civilized world to teach us what we have lost... They smile. I mean what I am saying...
I go over the six points of the contract. Basically”
1. I will go to school every day and fill out and attendance sheet
2. I will teach when I am supposed to teach
3. I will prepare my classes
4. I will attend all teacher training sessions sponsored by Abana
5. I will keep my classroom hygienic and tidy
6. I will allow the school ‘direction’ (management) to visit my classes, observe my teaching and see all relevant pedagogical documents (class diary, class register, class marks, pupils note books, Term teaching plans and lesson plans).
I give them a chance to discuss all this in small groups and make comments, criticisms, suggestions. We reconvene. They don’t have anything to add. They think it is fait dinkum, me too! I think to myself ‘if this thing works, it is more that ¾ of the battle won.
Second half of the session: the teaching resource room and staff room. ‘This is YOUR working space away from the children. I would like ALL of you to come here and feel that it is YOUR space – not only senior teachers working with senior pupils, but you, Class 1 and Class 2 teachers. You are very important’. I show them sample stationary I bought to demonsytrate how it can be used to create teaching tools. I can see that for some of them, this is a new concept, that this is a new way to look at their job... ‘Yes, there is more to teaching than to make children repeat together very loud, day in and day out “ one – two- three – four”, or “this is a book”. They realise that they might have to work harder, to be more energetic. I also promise them that they will fee emotionally rewarded when they see the children enjoy learning and actually integrate new learned stuff to their inner world... ‘Why did I buy some whitener? To recycle old French text books (which have wonderful Rwanda culture drawings) used to teach vocabulary. ‘White out ‘maison’, cuisine’, ‘jardin’ – sorry Monsieur Sarkozy you came too late to apologize- and replace by ‘house, kitchen, garden’... I also spoke how to use flashcards and how to make new ones when required... EASY! I tell them that the school will have money provided by the Rwanda government to buy more stationary. They work in group again to decide (a) what is not so useful, (b) what is useful and (c) what else they could use. They do come up with positive comments and suggestions. I tell the ‘direction’ that the staff room needs more desks, a few more chairs, so each teacher can have his/her own individual working space, which will have to be kept separated from the collective, communal space shelves, cupboards where material and books will need to be organized in a systematic manner. Collected property, shared resources! I tell them that I am very impressed that the two pairs of scissors I bought when I arrived are still here for the benefit of everyone. ‘Well done! Way to go!”
Four fifteen... we worked overtime... Time to go home and start the weekend. I feel like a beer!
Only a few more weeks of work for me here. On Monday I am expecting a big delivery of textbooks and dictionaries badly needed. A solar panel technician is coming to the school to make suggestions about what we can do when we are ready to move into that phase. I have a meeting with teacher trainers who have agreed to come and help when I am gone. I would love the parents committee to organise a ‘clean up the classrooms working bee’ on the next compulsory community work day on the last Saturday of the month.
Will I be able to pull it together? Don’t know... Where’s my beer!!!

Two obstracles to learning

2010-02-26T06:10:00.000-08:00

Two obstacles to learning

Let’s talk about learning in the broadest sense – learning maths, learning a foreign language, learning how to drive, how to use a computer, learning how to love, how to listen to others etc. Let’s put all of the above in the same category: ‘learning’. Let’s focus now on ‘obstacles to learning’ and more specifically on what I consider to be the two main obstacles. One is purely psychological, the other is purely physical. I have experienced both here, in Rwanda (and in many other places, of course.)
Psychological obstacle
We all know it. It goes: ‘No, I can’t learn this! It’s too difficult for me! I am too old. I don’t really need or want to learn this...’I have personally experienced this obstacle: ‘Learning Kinyarwanda? Too difficult – Bantu languages SO different from Indo-European languages, my brain is too old, where else would I need Kinyarwanda, besides Burundi...’ Result: I have only learned greetings in two months.
Example two. Workshop for teachers at the Jesuit school in Kigali where I was invited to give an informal talk about bilingual education. Before starting, I noticed that all male teachers were sitting on my left and all female teachers on my right. ‘Is this a coincidence’, I asked jokingly. They simply said ‘no’. OK... I went on with my interactive presentation, code switching between English and French all the time, to show how easily it can be done in a bilingual school... and I quickly discovered that the divide was not made along gender differences but along a linguistic divide. Men, who were the younger group had all embraced the challenge of learning English – one of them told us how he did it: listening to BBC radio and Voice of America every day, writing down unfamiliar words, looking them up in a dictionary, reading the English language Rwanda newspaper (‘the New Times) every day. He said that after four months he could understand everything and was able to start expressing himself confidently. I applauded him and told the rest of the group: ‘See, it can be done. On my right was the ‘No, can’t do it’ group, the older group, the women. A coincidence? No. A proof that men are smarter than women? No way, José! It is clear than an elderly wife-mother-full time teacher will be less available to tackle the task of learning a new language on her own. So the ‘I am too old, I am too busy, I have no real desire to do it, I have taught in French for the last 15 years, why change now?, let the young men do it’ will interfere with the learning process... Psychological barrier, a phenomenon well documented by a Bulgarian psychiatrist named Lozanov (worth reading...)! I doubt that these women will ever learn English, but I did not tell them that...
Obstacle 2
‘Yes, I want to learn, I know I can do it, and I’ll show you how easy it is..... BUT sorry, we have no ‘New Times’ or any other reading material to give you. No electricity, no radio, no CD to listen to. No transport to access them either... A minimum of material conditions are required to be able to learn anything (including to learn how to really love? Perhaps...). I am not talking about falling into the trap of educational gadgets consumerism, I am talking about basic infrastructures and material to get started on the road to learning. This is why my gamble at Rugerero is to provide pupils with as much learning and teaching material as possible and show the teachers what can be done with basic ingredients to feed any learning hunger. This is why I am bringing more staple food from Kigali to feed those who are starving, who suffer from learning deprivation... No, not everybody can learn calculus, understand James Joyce, or play Paganini on his/her violin, but MANY more people than those who actually do the above potentially can. And EVERYBODY potentially can pass the entrance examination to secondary education in Rwanda!

jungle

2010-02-24T10:53:00.000-08:00

I like to sit on top of the highest branch,

On the highest tree.

No one can get to me up there,

Not even the lion or the hyena.

I can see everything in the world below.

I can choose my lunch carefully,

Spot my dinner miles away.

My claws are always ready to become my fork.

I survive by being extremely shy and sensitive.

Any noise, any visual intrusion into my clear horizon,

Any unfamiliar sound or smell

And I flee, I am out of here.

I move to another clear horizon

And to familiar sounds and scents.

I am not interested in any conflict,

Or any sort of confrontation.

I raise above the masses,

I don’t eat off the ground,

And won’t stoop for any low shrub.

My neck allows me to spot danger miles away,

Before it becomes a personal threat.

My legs are proportionate to my neck,

Just in case I have to run for my life.

Equal opportunities

2010-02-23T22:20:00.000-08:00

Private, city school look

Rural, public school pupils

This boy alreday has a good command English and French

Nice buildings, nice school grounds

Classrooms in need of a clean up and light

Equal opportunities

I have been in Kigali for the last couple of days and, among other things, it has helped me put my life at and around Rugerero Primary into perspective. Coming to this capital city after leaving behind a carless, road-less, electricity-less, jobless, cashless, running water-less, shop-less world is an eye opener. A couple of hundred kilometres can translate into a couple of centuries’ differences on the road to ‘modernisation’. It is a bit like having Middle-Ages lifestyle right next to twenty-first century icons. It is much more than a ‘city’ vs.’ country’ dichotomy... it is more like ‘Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Full stop!’
- ‘So, what’s new? Get on with it! Why do you think you are here in Rwanda???
- Ok, I’ll try, but...
As I watch this woman driving her children to school in her brand new Porsche four-wheel drive, I can’t help thinking of the hundreds of children walking a few kilometres to school, barefoot to a bare classroom, shivering when it has been raining. I can’t help juxtaposing the picture of the bureaucrats at the Ministry of Immigration, sitting in their nice offices, trying to look important but without having much to do and the picture of those subsistence farmers who start tilling their land at 5:00 AM every day of the week...
- So...? How do you feel about this? Surprised? Angry?
- ‘Surprised’, no. ‘angry’, a little bit. Mostly confused, yeah, ‘confused’ a lot!
- Get over it! What is, is and what ain’t, ain’t! Tell us about your day, this blog aion’t the wailing wall!
Ok, then... today, I spent half an hour talking to a bureaucrat comfortably sitting in his office at the Ministry of Immigration to have Abana registered in Rwanda and then spent the rest of the morning looking at and selecting teaching ads and books for the brave teachers from the Middle-Ages.
In the afternoon, I conducted a workshop on the topic of ‘bilingual education’ at a Jesuit-run-primary school from the twenty first century. Computer room, very neat classrooms, children working with textbooks, notebooks, pencils in front of them, children, who, after the final bell of the day, come and greet me warmly and confidently in English and in French, beautiful grounds, very thoughtfully designed school yard with plenty of space to build a secondary school, in due course. Teachers are actually teaching, children are clearly enjoying learning. All the things we take for granted in a school, clean toilets, staffroom, admin. office, spacious headmistress office with computers, filing cabinet are there, there is even a Visitor’s book, which I am asked to sign...
I had almost forgotten what a ‘proper’ place of learning does offer. I was about to forget what the eyes of a child whose brain and sensitivity have been stimulated looked like. I will need to prepare- myself to travel back to the Middle-Ages tomorrow. That’s where I want to be!

Natural beauty

2010-02-23T06:40:00.000-08:00

Once in a while, I enjoy changing my perspective from 'the big pictuure' to the micro world around us. So much beauty!!

Today is savanah day

2010-02-22T08:41:00.001-08:00

Today I am in Kigali where I have a few things to do (get some books for teachers, some basic material for children, do a workshop about bilingual education with teachers at a Jesuit school, meet people at the Directorate General for Immigration and Emigration, in order to register Abana in Rwanda.
But first, I have allowed myself one day off – a savannah day. At 5:30 AM I am off to the Akagera National Park to see some wild animals and look at another type of scenery (so far all I have seen is 976 hills... I want to see open spaces!).
Jean Baptiste, the part-time taxi driver / full time university student, whom I met when I first arrived to Rwanda, is waiting for me at the gate of the ‘Centre d’accueil Saint Francois d’Assise’. We leave at 5:31... Jesan Baptiste has told me that he has noticed that Muzungus don’t like it when other people are late... it is a few hour’s drive away. This will give us time to chat. Good!

Skies

2010-02-21T01:19:00.001-08:00

I believe my blog is too wordy.... Take this!!! with love, Jose

Local faces

2010-02-21T00:36:00.001-08:00

The old headmaster: a Rugerero metaphor or a universal archetype?

2010-02-19T23:28:00.000-08:00

The transition old-new assistant to the headmistress has been very smooth. Frederic has already done some good work in helping me to identify some local trainers for the next 10 months or so. When he says he is going to do something, he does. I find it easier to work with people like this. The old headmaster who was demoted to being assistant to the headmistress and who was stood down from his ‘facade’ job a few day ago continues not to show up to school.
I am invited by the parents committee to attend a meeting where some issues regarding last year’s budget will be discussed. It so happened that a few millions RW F have not been accounted for... They were claimed by the old headmaster for this and that expenses but no ‘piece justificatrice’ (receipt) have ever been produced. A letter is written to the local authorities to bring this up. (Apparently this has happened before, but nothing was done). I am asked to say what I think. I say that I don’t want to meddle with internal issues, but I do say that parents have a right to know, to demand an explanation. The old headmaster has refused to attend the meeting... I have decided already that I have done enough to insure his demise, that it is now time to move forward and focus on the 2010 budget, among other tings! Is the old headmaster an archetype of corrupt power? Perhaps, perhaps not. But he is gone and I hear later that he has been appointed to another school (exactly what I was hoping for). I tell the people at the meeting that one of my first observations after I landed in Rwanda, was reading a huge sign outside the International airport Terminal saying: ‘Let’s put an end to corruption’...
At the end of the meeting, the vice president of the parents committee gives me a big hug. I feel honoured. Is the departure of the old headmaster a metaphor for new beginning, for a new Rwanda?

Good teaching, good learning

2010-02-19T16:26:00.000-08:00

Good teaching, good learning

We all have memories of one good teacher that made a difference on our education, in the broadest possible sense. I have the feeling that Frederic will have that impact on a number of children at Rugerero primary...
He teaches physics and maths at the senior level of the school (the ‘Tronc commun’). I go to a lot of classes here to observe and make some comments to the teachers. Very often I ‘butt in’ and end up working with him or her. I call this co-teaching’ to justify my interfering... With Frederic, not much to say. He knows about getting the pupils involved in the learning process, about pair work, about classroom management. He has used straight away the material that I bought for teachers on behalf of Abana.
I am hoping that Frederic will not only make a difference on a few individuals but also on the school, on other teachers. He was overwhelmingly voted ‘assistant to the headmistress’ by the staff and a few other people. He is the best asset the school currently has.

Public transport problem? It's all on your head

2010-02-17T22:37:00.000-08:00

The eyes of kindness

2010-02-16T07:45:00.000-08:00

The eyes of kindness
I like to go on sunset walks. I venture a bit further away every day and I am starting to know a few neighbours. They love it when I take picture of them. Just for this time I ask for someone to take the photo so I can be (partly...) on it.
She has the eyes of kindness! I wanted to be seen in her presence...
After a day at the school where I do I feel I am imposing some muzungu notions of 'progress', I do like feeling immersed in the world of local, rural and beautiful Rwandans...

Cooking with Gas

2010-02-16T07:36:00.000-08:00

We ran out of gas today. We are cooking with gas, so we need to respond urgently... I decide to ride my motorbike to Muganza, eleven kilometres on a very bumpy road. As I am driving as carefully as I can. I am thinking: I hope the bottle is really empty and that there won’t be any sparkle jumping from the engine. It does add to the thrill of living dangerously... Soeur Josephine will try to have the cylinder filled in Butare another two hours away. We find out later that no one in Butare stocks this type of bottle. She has the bottle taxied to Kigali another 3 hours away. We’ll be cooking with charcoal for a while.

Clearing an abscess

2010-02-16T07:28:00.000-08:00

Clearing an abscess

The white tornado was at it again...
I arrive at school early, having arranged a meeting with the headmistress. We speak for about 25 minutes... I have a long list of items / questions / issues I want to discuss with her. Then I notice two men outside... elderly, well dressed, looking bright and wise. I get a positive feeling from them straight away. I go and introduce myself to them (‘I work for Abana (...), I am here for only three months (...), we would like to help the school (...) etc. My usual rhetoric. They tell me that they are the President and Vice President of the parents committee. Yeah, bingo.... I have been wanting to meet them for a while, as I have heard that they have potentially quite a lot to say about the running of the school... including the right to ‘sack’ the headmaster if there is evidence of mismanagement. I suddenly find out that there is going to be a meeting at 9:20 with all the teachers, the headmistress, Vincent (the executive secretary of the secteur – the local government authority (which also has a say in how the school is run). Vincent has just arrived. I go and greet him and remind him (once again...) of my position: the now assistant to the headmistress (ex headmaster, himself) should go; he should be replaced by a new person).I then go back to the two top representatives of the parents committee and, as calmly as I can, make that point again. Much to my inner delight, they both tell me that they fully agree with me. They have been thinking so for a long time...
The pace is picking up!!! I feel more and more that the upcoming meeting is very important. One hour ago, I knew nothing about it, now it is imminent and I am invited to attend. I am very happy to take the backseat and observe the proceedings. The meting is of course held in Kinyarwanda. Good!It is a school meeting and I, the munzungu in the village, am just the modest representative from a tiny NGO in a very far away country. The room is organised so the whole teaching staff sits in the audience and face the headmistress, the executive secretary, the president and vice president of the parents committee sitting together at the table. To day, the assistant to the headmistress is here – NOT a coincidence. He knows that politically he has to be seen at school to day...He is sitting in the audience and is trying to look professional... He takes a lot of notes. All the people at the table take turn talking very briefly. I occasionally hear my name and the word ‘Abana’ and muzungu being mentioned. being mentioned. Good, we are in the picture. At one stage, one of the teachers comes and sit next to me. He has ben appointed ‘interpreter’. I now feel as if I were at a plenary session at the United Nations...The translation is quite loose but clearly indicated to me that the proceeding follows the usual, very predictable pattern of going over general issues (enrolment figures, number of teachers etc.). After about thirty minutes, I am asked. to officially introduce myself to everybody present. I am now quite used to introducing myself and explain why I am here to anybody willing to lend me an ear in Rwanda! So I get up and start. I have decided that it is time NOW time to deal with the abbess in a more radical manner. ‘My name is blah, blah, blah, I am a volunteer with Abana, blah, blah, blah, my observations of the school are blah, blah, blah and the final conclusion I have come to is: the current assistant to the headmaster has to go and be replaced by someone else... NOW is the right time to discuss this and act!’ I sit down. I feel calm, strong, relieved, in my truth... SILENCE in the room. I have broken a pattern. I have upset a well oiled code of plenary session discourse at Rugerero. More SILENCE. Finally Vincent has the courage to follow up. He says that yes, he has been aware of some problems with the management of the school... The two parents follow suit... they agree with Vincent. The assistant to the headmistress is now talking for the first time. He is on the defensive. He does feel under attack from everywhere. Some teachers stand up and voice their discontent. Something is happening. I now have retracted in my outsider position. I observe. The abscess has been identified. There is no qualms about where it is located. The tooth will need to be pulled out. I will say one more thing. I get up and suggest that NOW is the time to democratically elect a new assistant to the headmistress... I nominate ‘Frederic’. Initial silence, a few smiles at my political incorrectness. Ten minutes later a secret ballot is organised. Frederic has accepted my nomination; another candidate wants to run as well, the old assistant to the headmistress declines the offer to run. Looks like he got the message! Frederic is overwhelmingly elected...
The mouth is a bit sore but you can feel already that the real pain is gone.
A tiny step for mankind, a huge step for Rugerero Primary!