sisters

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about paper beads in Beauty for Ashes, and this week we finished our first pieces of the new jewelry line – KEZA Beads (KEZA Beads). This accomplishment is just the beginning…

With KEZA Beads, a new gender equality campaign, putting together the new training facility, fundraising, and new interns, the directors at SOR felt as though we just didn’t have enough work to do. So naturally, we decided to take on another project…soap and candle making.

Becca Stevens (www.beccastevens.org) and 6 other women traveled from Nashville to Kigali, Rwanda last week to share their wisdom and expertise in the skin care and candle business. Becca is founder of Thistle Farms (www.thistlefarms.org) a skin care line, and Magdalene House – a non-profit that works with prostitutes, female drug addicts and former prisoners in Nashville. They were an eclectic group, each with their own strong personalities and amazing gifting. And they were each a beautiful gift to us. These women didn’t just come to burn themselves with beeswax…they came to share their lives. The spirit of this group was raw and genuine. Their authenticity melted away pretense, and broke down walls.

We sat as sisters, barefoot on the floor, and talked. Sharing stories of humiliation, rape, life on the streets, abuse, prison, addiction and much more; realizing that our wounds are shared by women around the world. Realizing that together we can heal, day by day. Reminding each other that we don’t have to have it together all the time. We cried together. We laughed at each other. 

Together, we rolled beads from paper, messed up necklaces, melted beeswax, started electrical fires, poured candles, mixed soap, dug in the dirt, prayed, and praised God for His grace.

So we made jewelry, soap and candles last week. 

It’s the beginning of something and the air is thick with anticipation. We are low on funds and materials are scarce – but we have finally produced the first of 3 products that hold our dreams within each. That may sound silly – I know when most people are shopping for candles or soap or jewelry they aren’t thinking of other peoples dreams. Yet for us, these simple items hold the very livelihood of 43 women and their children. We’ve got candles that smell like honey and coffee, soap that smells like fresh cut flowers and clean laundry mixed together, and beautiful jewelry that is original and unique – all hand made. The smells from this week will remain with me. Varnish mixed with beeswax, roasted coffee, charcoal, clean fresh flowers, rain, mud, geranium, sweat, and the strong aroma of hope. These smells represent unity and community. They represent hurting women in America becoming a family with hurting women in Rwanda. They represent healing…healing together. They represent dreams becoming a reality.

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Thistle Farming

“Thistle farming means that the whole world is your farm.” – Becca Stevens (www.beccastevens.org)

Becca goes on to describe that nobody wants thistles because they are pesky weeds, yet they grow everywhere. To most people they are merely weeds…nothing good comes from them. The only good thing about thistles is getting rid of them. For some reason we humans do the same thing with people. We deem them unworthy of anything good because we don’t agree with their views. We wish our enemies would simply disappear. We give up on those who struggle and stumble over and over again. Instead of using our energy to find the good in others, in those that annoy us, we use our energy to try and forget about them.

Thistles come back though, they pop up in unexpected places…uninvited and unwanted.

So Becca decided she would find something good in them. Just like she does in the people society wants to get rid of and forget. And she did…or rather, she does. She’s a real live thistle farmer. She strips down these weeds, removes the harshness so that they are tender and vulnerable. Just as her spirit does the women she works with. She processes the thistles so that they are useful. Just as she trains those who seek refuge in Magdalene House. The result is paper that is strong and beautiful. This paper becomes a messenger of hope. It will carry in it healing oils made by society’s forgotten women. It will carry their hope, their stories, and their light into the hands of those of us who forget them. And these thistles…these pesky weeds that nobody wants, will connect society’s forgotten with society’s forgetful.

For more information on Magdalene House & Thistle Farms visit: www.thistlefarms.org

Beauty for ashes...

Two weeks ago I accidentally joined the Sisters for their morning prayers. I had a meeting with someone who just happened to be on African time…in other words, she was late. So I walked into the Treasure Center - feeling awkward and out of place. I shyly greeted each Sister as they each turned to see who had walked in the door. Prior to this day the majority of our interactions had been with other people around, and because I don’t speak Kinyarwanda, all of our conversations had been through translators. So I sat alone feeling silly for a few minutes. I looked around and realized each woman was in her own space, praying; so I bowed my head and asked for forgiveness for being such a donkey. 

A few minutes later they formed a circle and joined hands…I humbly joined them feeling as though I was intruding. They just smiled and welcomed me into their circle. They started singing and I swayed with them as they praised God in a language I couldn’t understand. Then they prayed again, aloud & together, and at that moment I was struck by the beauty I was witnessing… 

I took my shoes off knowing the Spirit of God had joined us in that room. 

I have no idea what was prayed or sung that morning, but it doesn’t matter. I was fortunate enough to witness beauty in a way I could have never anticipated. I spent the rest of the day digging through beads, teaching about color coordination, and getting the knees of my jeans filthy as I sat with each woman one by one. It was a glorious day. I was humbled by the simplicity that had brought me such joy.

As I recall the events of that day, I am drawn toward words from the prophet Isaiah. He says a lot in this particular speech, but it is these words in particular that move me: “…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair…” 

When our hopes and deepest desires are burned by life’s experiences and other people’s cruelty, they blow away as easily as ashes blow in the wind. Yet through Isaiah, God is promising to restore beauty, joy and praise to our damaged lives. 

In a way, our most recent endeavor reflects this promise. We are using other people’s trash to create jewelry. Yes, trash to create jewelry. Our new jewelry is made from recycled paper that we are collecting all around Rwanda. The women are taking this scrap paper and rolling it into beautiful pieces of art. 

Can you hear the irony in this story about paper beads? The women we work with are considered the “trash” of Rwandan society. They have been used and abused the majority of their lives and left to die. They have been burned by friends, lovers, and even their own families. They were recognized only by people who wanted to abuse them more, while everyone else equated them with the trash they burn at the end of the day. Just as most don’t think of scrap paper as something from which beauty can be derived, nothing good was ever expected to come from these women or their children.

In a couple of weeks we will release the first of our product line called KEZA. In Rwanda’s local language Kinyarwanda, KEZA describes something beautiful and is a term of endearment. It’s not about the beads here; it’s not about the jewelry. It is about what each bead represents, each bead is a piece of the stories of their lives. We are taking society’s trash and making into something beautiful to share with the world. And through each necklace a woman is discovering the beauty inside of her. She is making something beautiful and valued, just as she is beautiful and valued. Each bead represents a jewel in a crown of beauty…as we exchange beauty and hope and joy and praise for their ashes.Each accomplishment made represents a drop of the oil of gladness, which we have traded for mourning. Each necklace represents the garments of praise these women put on daily as they leave their despair behind.

Each time I am with the sisters I encounter these realities I describe. The promises God made through Isaiah are coming true for these women, and I am constantly awed by the glory in each of their smiles.

I hope that the wearers of our necklaces will encounter the story each piece beholds.

New Treasure Center, New Hope

March is here and I can hardly believe it. The first 2 months of 2008 have been as crazy as the year has been fast for Sisters of Rwanda. Upon Jared’s return to Rwanda, we were kindly asked to leave the center we had been using as a refuge, training facility, home and church for 2 years. Our Executive Director, Jared, had been away for 6 months laying the foundation for SOR in the US. He returned in January amidst a plethora of newness. New systems needed to be put into place, new women joining SOR, new problems he hadn’t seen before, new budgets, new ideas for income generation projects, new campaigns to implement, a new Country Director on the way, and now we need a new Treasure Center. Happy New Year!

Of course, these things are to be expected, and in most cases they are welcomed. And welcomed they are. With each new obstacle we are reminded of why we are here. It strips us of any pride we may have been unknowingly (or in some cases knowingly) carrying around. Things that feel crushing, send us to the best place for us to be…our knees. New ideas or ways of doing things challenge us to be better than we ever thought we could be. The storms bring us together and remind us to work and live like a family. And as the old cliché says, the struggle in all of it makes us stronger.

We’ve been looking for 2 months now, and the process has been refining. Because the Treasure Center is so important to everything we do and hope to do here in Rwanda, we were waiting and praying for a perfect place. And at last we have found a new Treasure Center, a new home for Sisters of Rwanda! It’s just a minutes walk from the church and the homes of our beloved beneficiaries. It has plenty of room for everything we are already doing, and room to grow into who we are becoming.

The Treasure Center is more than a building. It is a place of refuge for women and children. A place to cry and share stories. A place to laugh and hope for a life without abuse and humiliation. A place to satisfy the hunger in one’s belly, and more importantly, the hunger in one’s soul. A place to mend broken hearts and rebuild dignity. A place to learn. Learn English, learn to read, learn to write, learn how much you are loved, learn pottery, learn bead making, learn to create beauty out of the ashes of life.

Above all, it is a place for women and children to hope. We have found a new Treasure Center, but more importantly, we have found a new place to hope.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines hope the following way:

Hope: to cherish a desire with anticipation; to trust; to desire with expectation of obtainment; to expect with confidence.

And so we have found a new place to hope. A new place for abused women to cherish with anticipation the desire for justice and liberty. A new place to trust those around you with your story, your life, and your future. A new place to desire with the expectation of obtainment, love. A new place to expect with confidence that the way women are viewed in Rwanda, in Africa and in the World can and will be changed for the good.

Rwanda - A New Adventure

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.

Resilience (a poem about courage & the power of hope)

Fear. Tears. Blood.

Yet I am here, still.

Hunger, it hurts. Thirst, unquenchable.

Yet I am here, still.

Ache.

Yet I am here, still.

There is nothing.

Yet I am here, still.

Betrayed. It is unnecessary.

Yet I am here, still.

Do you know what I've done?

Yet I am here, still.

I do not want to acknowledge what I have seen.

There is not enough room in my heart for all of that pain.

Yet I am here, still.

Broken.

Yet I am here, still.

I risk hoping.

Thus I am here, still.

packing light

Failure, guilt, bitterness, and fear, I'm learning, prove to be about as useful as a suitcase full of rocks. All it really does is weigh you down. And these feelings, like rocks, add no value to your trip, your adventure...your journey. They bring nothing to your destination but what they are...a suitcase full of rocks.


And they're heavy.  


I have a rather large suitcase full of rocks. I've been carrying it around for years. Literally. I think I was about 4 years when I picked up the first rock and put it, quite naturally, into my first little suitcase. I believe that first rock was guilt. 23 years later my suitcase is pretty full.


I'm quite attached to my rocks, I'm learning. They've been with me as long as I can remember, and I'm not sure I know what to do without them. Or how to get rid of them. But I'm tired of carrying this lifeless thing around. It's heavy. Sometimes it makes me not want to explore all that there is to discover in this life. I'm tired, I no longer care to add to its contents, nor do I wish to continue carrying what's inside.


So my resolution this year: I will pack light. Or I should say, I'll attempt to pack lighter. Anyone who knows me, knows that I ALWAYS over pack. I'm always worried about running out or not being prepared. So this resolution has its physical manifestation, I will literally try not to bring so much stuff. And its heart manifestation, I'll get rid of my rocks.


I am letting go.


Don't worry, I know how idealistic it sounds. I'm being realistic at the same time. I will still feel. But I don't need to collect rocks and stow them away for keeps. I will feel anger, and I will feel pain. But my hope is that my tears will not turn to rocks for me to carry. But rather, that they will roll off my cheeks like a faithful tear should after a good cry.


I will travel light, but I'll still travel. This year I hope to pack strength and courage. Joy and love. Hope and lofty ideals.