In my heart, next to Jesus

February 22, 2011


Hello from Rwanda, readers! The last few days have been mostly uneventful; Shabbat is quiet for us, and then Sunday, the village doesn’t have much going on because the kids go to church and spend the day relaxing. Yesterday was another voting day, so the school and the work site were closed for a “vacation." However, we did have Enrichment Programs, which meant a final cooking class with the Mommas. We made crepes that were, of course, full of sugar and absolutely delicious. Luckily, this week, we were without any major lightning storms, so we were able to cook outside.

Today returned to our normal crazy schedule. I was on kitchen duty this morning, so at 8:00, I reported to the dining hall to start chopping, dicing and peeling to help prepare lunch for about 500 people. I cut up tomatoes, hollowed out cucumbers to be diced, peeled sweet potatoes (this lasted about ten minutes before the kitchen staff realized they could do five potatoes in the time it took me to do one, so instead, they switched me to chopping onions). Then I started taking the stems off some very bizarre-looking vegetables (no one in the kitchen knew what they’re called; I asked) and then we started cutting those in half. At the end of the morning, the staff gave me a short tour of what was cooking in the gigantic metal tubs in a room adjacent to where I was cutting and chopping and generally moving at a third of the pace of everyone around me. Most of the tubs contained rice and “sauce,” which is the term for a mix of mystery vegetables, sometimes beans, water and perhaps, if you’re lucky, a tablespoon of tomato paste (one tablespoon for 500 people doesn’t exactly get you far). As we were finishing up (I was working with my friend Jenna), a delivery from the farm drove up the path to the kitchen: pineapples! Unfortunately, the pineapples didn’t make an appearance at lunch (but a small vegetable salad did!) but they did make the kitchen smell amazing.

At 1:00, it was time for my final hour teaching the construction workers English. Tuesdays are generally, for me, long and exhausting days at the work site, but teaching this hour makes my day that much brighter, watching people who, four weeks ago, didn’t speak a word of English, come over to our meeting spot, greet me with a “Hello, teacher. How are you?” and then proceed to tell me, in full sentences, that they like cement and Jesus, can they please have more bricks and a level, and, my personal favorite, they love teacher. It’s amazing to me how far they’ve come in such a short time; this week, they did “head, shoulders, knees and toes” without my or Ilyssa’s help, and did remarkably well (very little eyes, ears, mouth, nose confusion, relatively speaking). We reviewed everything from clothing to colors, “I like” and “Can I have” to “Thank you” and “Please.” At the end of the hour, after having done “jump right, jump left, front and back” with only a few collisions (there were many more last week), everyone came around, shaking our hands, telling us “thank you, teacher” and that they love to learn English. Hearing this, knowing they have started learning something new and now have mastered new skills, makes me realize that my time here has meant so much not only to the students, but to people who never had the opportunity to be students at a place like ASYV. Knowing this, I have no choice but to smile a little wider.

Immediately following English class and lunch was my final Tikkun Olam at Peter’s house. Today was more mud mixing, bringing piles of it from outside the house to the inside to finish the dividing walls, and, of course, playing with Peter’s children (who love to “help” us throw the mud at the wall). At the end of today’s work, Andrew, our group leader, told us that they will always remember us for our work there, and that the group will be sad to continue working at Peter’s house without us. It’s strange to think that in a week from today, I will be moving into my Jerusalem apartment, unpacking the clothes and shoes and everything that I haven’t seen in weeks, everything I’ve been too busy to miss (although my socks are starting to become permanently brown, despite my attempts at washing them repeatedly). While I’m doing all this, Andrew and the Tikkun Olam group will return to Peter’s house, mix more mud and continue slinging at the walls until they are completely improved. Part of me, a big part of me, wishes I could be there; I wish I could stay and return to Peter’s house, to play with his children and throw mud at the holes in the interior walls, I wish I could stay in the village, with my students and Aimable and everyone who has made this place a home for me. I know that these are just wishes, that all good things must end, but I also know when I do say goodbye in less than week, it will be only temporary; I know I will come back to my home in the Rwandan hills.

After Tikkun Olam, I had a brief (and completely strange and disorganized) meeting to discuss the upcoming Talent Show we (Year Course volunteers) are trying to plan for the village. Well, whether or not it a) happens and b) is any sort of success remains to be seen. I will keep you all updated on this as the saga unfolds.

Tonight was, sadly, my final Family Time with my girls in Family 8. Hannah and I got to run the activities tonight, so we brought them candy (they LOVE sweets because they never get them, so they are a major treat), mango-flavored hard candies and chocolate-covered caramels. As they were unwrapping their dessert, I handed out bracelets I brought from Israel. They were red chamsa bracelets, I explained to them that in Judaism, we wear chamsas (the hand of God) for luck, to ward off evil spirits. They loved them, Momma Hillary included, and put them on immediately. After figuring out the clasps on their bracelets, the girls all passed around our journals, signing them and writing us notes, and made us cards from construction paper and crayons. When one girl, Cecille, handed her card to me, she said, “Elana, you know that you are in my heart. You are in my heart next to Jesus.” Having her tell me I am right next to Jesus in her heart is a big deal; all of the kids are very religious and despite the hardships and atrocities they have faced in their lives, their love for Jesus never falters. So, this was a bold statement.

We listened to some music (Michael Jackson and Beyonce, of course) and subsequently had an impromptu dance party. As the music played, I showed the girls (Cadette, in particular, who has been asking for photos of my family since I got here) pictures of me with my parents and of my family. They commented on how nice I looked (in the pictures, I’m wearing makeup and “real” clothes… this must have shocked them). We took a family photo (they had a great time with this, but Momma Hillary didn’t understand the whole flash thing), and after, Momma gave us a speech, in Kinyarwanda, of course, with translation by Francoise and Cadette, telling us how thankful they are for everything we have done, for everything we have taught them and most of all, for the love we have shared. She reminded us that God will bless us, that we should have a safe journey home, and that we must return to Rwanda. When she was finished, she gave me a huge hug and a kiss on my cheek, and I thanked her for everything she does and will continue to do for her girls, who have become my girls, too. The house mothers, Momma Hillary especially, are amazing women. They lost their families and their children in the genocide and now have a second chance at being mothers to children who really need them. Their strength and love and compassion are unending, and therefore, unbelievable.

The girls didn’t like seeing us walk down their stone path at the end of Family Time. They followed us outside, hugging us and begging us to stay. We promised to come back over the weekend when we have some spare time and they aren’t studying. Souvenir followed me, hanging onto me by my shoulders, saying, “You will always be in my heart. I will never forget you.” Hannah and I walked back to the guesthouse, cards and journals full of well-wishes in hand; behind us, the girls lined up on the walkway, waving and screaming our names. I’ll see them again before we leave, but knowing there won’t be another time we sit in a circle, drink tea and listen to Erica (the family counselor) translate for Momma, pray in Kinyarwanda, French, Hebrew and English all at once, answer questions about why I don’t believe in Jesus, make adorable cards, exchange email addresses, open candy and sing along to MJ, I want to cry with them, and all of a sudden, the promises I made all of them that it will be okay, that it’s no use to cry, seem empty. They don’t know it, but they have taught me just as much, if not more, than I have taught them. I have learned, laughed, cried and shared with them, as they have with me. I always asked my parents for a sister, and now, I have sixteen of them. I have sixteen beautiful, smart, brave Rwandan sisters, and they are in my heart just as I’m in theirs, but unlike them, I don’t hold them next to Jesus. They are on a level all by themselves.

Tomorrow is our volunteer “vacation” to Gisenyi, which is about an hour north of the gorillas. Gisenyi is on Lake Kivu, the only lake safe for Muzungus to swim. We are visiting the hot springs (by boat), soaking up some sun (hopefully) and enjoying some meals that do not involve rice or beans (hurrah!) We arrive back on Thursday night, so I will update all of you on the details of our adventure then (or perhaps Friday… it depends how tired I am).

As always, thank you for reading.

Lots of love,
Elana (the Muzungu sister with soft hair)