Update from Blake in Rwanda
I have been asked to write a blog of my time here. This is my first entry and in fact my blog. I hope I do not disappoint!
As for me I am in Rwanda working as a short term consultant for a British based NGO (Forest Peoples Project). I have been hired to assist a local NGO’s pottery project become more profitable and this
includes product development, finding new export markets but it also means looking at the capacity of the villagers and seeing what is feasible. The work is interesting and the recipients are incredibly
deserving.
Many of these people are widows and single moms who lost their husbands during the genocide. During the last meeting one of the villagers said “please do not forget us.” It really hit me. He could have meant meant it in a “oh woh is me” kind of way. But I prefer to think he was trying to lay a guilt trip on me so that I will work hard! Damn effective!
I figured I would write my blog because a) I have to and b) the alternative is to eat another box of cookies.
It is dark outside and while Kigali is quite safe by African standards it can get a bit tiring to walk around and always get hassled. It is more tiring here because as opposed to a city like Toronto, Canada where I am from) where the people here do not have a number of shelters or food banks to go to when they are in need.
Recently, I decided to go out and explore the neighbourhood. I figured I would just walk and see where it would take me. I ended up in an area that was really beautiful. Wide boulevards with gardens in the middle of the street, super clean with nobody around. Sure enough I knew I was in a good area when I saw that there were a number of embassies nearby (Chinese embassy was huge but a total eye sore) as well as posh looking UN offices. There was one school or some kind of govt building that was quite beautiful architecturally but around the window there were bullet holes all over it. Kids were smartly dressed in uniform but I could not figure out why as this was a Saturday and I assumed they were not at school. Seventh Day Adventists? Next stop was the Hotel Intercontinental where I walked around for a bit and tried to soak up some luxury. Walked out and after a little while I passed a guy on the street who called out to me in French. I felt relaxed and he had a car so I knew he was not homeless. I went over and we began to chat in French. He asked me the usual questions (origin, occupation etc..) The more he talked the more I sensed that something was a bit off. I asked what he was doing and he told me that he was attending a wedding. He told me that he was a bit early so he was just going to wait. I discovered that he was 6 hours early so I knew something was not normal. He asked if I had a girlfriend and I told him that I had one and that she was living in Rwanda and that I was staying with her (not true). I also told him that I was working in Rwanda as well. I mentioned this to hint that that I am not a dumb tourist (as opposed to a dumb consultant from Canada). The next question was really bizarre, the guy wanted to know if I liked my girlfriend. I said yes, of course. He then asked if she had a beard? Again this was in French and because I do not claim to be fluent I asked him to repeat himself in French and then in English. I could not figure out if that was his way of knowing if I was gay or if my girlfriend was a female but really really hairy.
More recently, I visited hotel Mille Collines a.k.a. Hotel Rwanda. I spent the day swimming and eating my face off. It was a pretty nice place but I would not call it 5**. For me their was a strange feeling about the place as I just saw the movie and could not help but think that the pool I was swimming in was used as drinking water during the genocide. I imagine because I am new here I am looking for reminders of what happened but over time one probably becomes oblivious to such things. That said, there always seem to be subtle reminders e.g. bullet holes, newspaper articles, book releases and lots of genocide memorials around the country.
Work wise it has been tiring but getting more interesting. I visited a Batwa village yesterday to see the potters in action. There were a ton of kids around but nobody made me feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. In fact they were quite welcoming as I suppose for no other reason I will be providing entertainment for the next few hours.
I have to say in the village it was interesting to observe how they interacted with one another, to figure out why some had shoes and why others did not they sell them when times get really tough), illiterate guys who closely paid attention, young teenagers who exerted their toughness by beating on the little kids to keep them away from the meeting and there was one guy who was furiously writing notes of our meeting. It seems that they are quite into the project and are keen to figure out how they can maximize their income. What was also interesting to note was the fact that at this meeting only men were there yet the association had 50/50 representation. I
figured this was due to the fact that women did not have true representation. In fact, it turns out all of the women were working in the fields. I am not sure if that means that the mean are really lazy or if the timing of our meeting just meant that there was no conflict with the men’s jobs.
Otherwise not much more to say except my room is clean but the bed is a brick. I wake up every morning with one of my shoulders asleep. I
have a group of women down the hall who figure they are the Rwandan Hilton sisters. They drink, entertain in their room, are really loud and have absolutely no consideration whatsoever. I see them on the stairway and they have serious attitude! I love it! It takes me back to high school. Across from me there are two guys in a single room who slam their doors and blast the
TV. I got revenge when I called them at 2:00 a.m. to tell them to turn their TV off. I think it freaked them out a bit. I felt good.
Outside my balcony there are a few houses and a shabby garden. One house blares the radio, which can be annoying but I have to say Rwandan music can be quite good. I asked what the name of this one artist who I kept hearing again and again. I should have known. It was Shakira! 
Speaking of music there is a song that I can not pronounce. It is called, “Nyiramaritete.” It a traditional Rwandan song. I asked what it meant and he said it was a nice popular song here. Apparently a sister hated her brother because he kept on having children - all of them boys. In Rwandan culture, the birth of another boy gives the family more power. Well this guy had 11! Apparently, she got so fed up that she slaughtered 10 of them. The good news is that the 11th one showed her up by murdering her. I can’t figure out if it really is a happy song but it sounded like one.