I've arrived in Rwanda with all its beauty and splendor and ambiguity. Rwanda is bordered by Uganda in the north, so I flew into Uganda a week ago to start off my new adventure with some familiarity. I visited friends and attempted to tie up some of the loose ends I left when I said goodbye to Uganda 3 months ago, not knowing if I'd return to Africa anytime soon. The Democratic Republic of Congo, or D.R.C., borders Rwanda to the west, Burundi to the south and Tanzania to the east. They call it the "land of a thousand hills" and one would readily agree the moment they entered the country. This place is stunning, and when I get my mind around the enormity of the beauty here I’ll try to explain it with words as best as I can. The land is green and fertile, but I wonder if fertile might also be an interesting way to describe the ambiance of society.
I say this about the people, not just because this country is so densely populated, but because it feels as though there is something just under the surface of life here waiting to emerge. I haven't been here long enough to attempt to understand, but my guess (which perhaps is simply stating the obvious) would be that the fertile atmosphere has everything to do with this country's complex and tragic history. It is as if any kind of seed could be dropped into this place and it would grow. Which means there is a tremendous amount of opportunity for one to plant life giving seeds for our fellow human beings here. I believe we as human beings we carry in each of us the ability to birth life or death into our surroundings and into each other. I believe we do this with every decision we make and with every thought we think.
The challenge I give myself then is this: How am I going to plant seeds in this place? And what kind of seeds do I plant? I don't know if I have much to offer these striking people. I don’t come to Rwanda with the attitude that I’ve got life figured out and should help others do the same. I don’t come thinking that my Americanism is what Africa needs. I don't speak Kinyarwanda or French. I am not Rwandan so while I will try, I will never fully understand this complex yet beautiful culture. I do, however, come with a longing to understand how the world works. I do come with a curiosity about the differences that make each of us who we are.
And so I am here to serve the incredible and resilient women of Sisters of Rwanda (www.sistersofrwanda.org)(Sisters of Rwanda no longer exists - however, Jared and I founded KEZA in its place). A group of women who are used and abused by society and virtually left to die. This group of women here in Rwanda, represent to me, women who are entrapped in sex slavery all over the world. I am also here help develop a revolution (or "seed" if you will) that suggests we see each other as fellow human beings, all worthy of being treated as such. A revolution to raise up a generation of people, MEN and WOMEN who do not tolerate gender based violence, or any violence for that matter. A revolution to raise up a generation of MEN who protect and edify women. A revolution to raise up a generation of WOMEN who understand their important role in the world and whose voices are heard. A revolution that promotes gender equality within this society and throughout the world. (www.ubunturevolution.blogspot.com)
So here I am. I have arrived in Rwanda. I am constantly aware that I am awkward and insecure in my own skin here. And really intimidated by my lack of understanding. Yet the familiarity of Africa consoles me in my fear. Kigali is certainly unique, yet I’m finding a consistency in African cities the more I travel. I am so happy to be here. I think I feel this way every time I travel to a new city. The ambiguity felt in a new place is thrilling and exhausting. I admire those who can jump into these unfamiliar situations and feel quite at home. Perhaps one day I'll get there.
Right now though, all of me wants to hide and watch Rwandan life from afar. And at the same time all of me wants to cannon ball right into the middle of it all, make a big splash, find my way to the surface, and then laugh at the fantastic absurdity of it all.
