6 May 2013
Moses lives in Cyuru, the village Charissa lived in while
serving in the Peace Corps. Doug and I have sponsored him through Compassion
International and have received communications from him through his school. His
birthday is May 8, and he turned 8 years old this year. I bought clothes for
him and his family while in Colorado Springs as birthday gifts. Regina arranged
to go with me last Saturday so I would have an interpreter. We planned to leave
Rwamagana on the 7 a.m. bus for Kigali, so we could do our visiting and head
home before nightfall; but Regina texted me that her Kenyan employer, Arnold,
would be willing to drive us to Kigali. While waiting for him to arrive, I
spent my morning hand-sewing a caftan of the red tie-dyed fabric I purchased
the previous week. I cut a wedge off both ends to even it up, cut a neckhole
and front slit, then used the red scraps I had cut off to make neck binding
which contrasted nicely against the black stripes radiating from the neckhole.
I turned up a hem and sewed it, then left the side seams until I could fit it
to Mama Fidela, the wife of Charissa's village sponsor who fed her dinner for 2
½ years!
Arnold did not appear until 11:15; then we parked at a
crossroads for awhile, waiting to pick up another friend who also wanted a ride
to Kigali. Two rifle-toting policemen pulled up on motorcycles to check out our
driver, because his rear tire was not completely off the road onto the
shoulder, but they let us go with a warning to fasten our seatbelts; so we
continued down the road without waiting any longer! After a somewhat
hair-raising dash to Kigali, we took another detour to pick up a friend of
Arnold’s before dropping us off at Nyabugogo bus station. Regina asked for help
in finding the next bus leaving for Rukomo; we were delighted to find we were
the first aboard. We chose two seats together, next to a window for good
ventilation, and I stowed my big dufflebag under a seat. Regina left me there
and went to buy some delicious meat-stuffed pastries and bananas for lunch.
After awhile the bus driver informed us that we would not arrive in Rukomo for
4 hours because his bus went to another city first. We disembarked and found
another bus which had two spaces for purchase; center aisle jumpseats, two rows
apart. We finally departed Kigali sometime after 1 p.m.. So much for an early
start!
The pot-holed highway which heads north has been repaved
recently, for ¾ of the way to Rukomo. But road construction from that point on
delayed the trip over and over. Heavy rains in the north have left enormous
mudslides and cascading waterfalls plunging down the mountainside. The
highlight of the trip, though, was seeing a huge 18-wheeler lying upside down
where it had slid off the road into a ravine.
We didn't see it happen, but it was a recent tragedy. When we finally
arrived at our stop in Rukomo almost 2 hours later, Regina and I negotiated the
price for motorcycle taxis to Cyuru even higher up in the mountains. Even with
a helmet on my head I heard cries of “Charissa!” from pedestrians we passed on
the dirt road. Apparently there is a greater resemblance between mother and
daughter than I imagine!
Moses was at Compassion Center for Saturday school when we
arrived in Cyuru at 3:15, but we were immediately surrounded by all the other
children in the little village. With the children eagerly chattering away in
Kinyarwanda and hanging onto each of my fingers, the little parade made its way
to Charissa's old house where the new Peace Corps worker, Anna, is living. She
knew all about me from talk in the village about “Mama Charissa who was Moses’
sponsor!” In Rwanda, the women become identified by the name of their first
born child and drop the name given to them a birth. We had a tour of the house
and a nice chat with Anna. The front room has floor to ceiling bookshelves
filled with books and teaching supplies! She shared her phone number with me,
so now I have a local contact who will keep me up to date with more details
about Moses.
Then the parade moved on to Mama Fidela's house, where we
found her with three beautiful daughters: Teta, just a year old, Raisa, four,
and Fidela, seven years old. The baby was frightened by the presence of a white
person in her home and cried if I stood too near her. It didn't help that she
was sick, although I never found out with what. I had brought clothes for her
girls and the red caftan for Mama, which I fitted and marked for finishing
later. Moses arrived shortly after and came running into the gated compound
looking for me. His eyes lit up when I came outside and he launched himself
into my arms and hugged me fiercely! He has grown in height and no longer
suffers from the characteristics of malnutrition, although his chin was covered
with the scabs of untreated impetigo. Instead of dirty and barefoot, he was
bathed and wore plastic sandals commonly seen on poor children. I am not happy
that his school uniform was anything but new; but he enjoys school and he has
learned how to hold a pen and write, although English lessons won’t begin until
Primary level 3, two years from now.
The parade increased in size as we made our way to Moses’
house, where we were greeted by his parents and escorted into their one-room
windowless abode. The “house” has one stool, a one-person-sized table — which
held the clothes I had bought for Moses last year up off the floor — a mattress
on the floor where all five in the family sleep. The floor was swept clean, but
the walls are made of unplastered adobe. Into this empty home I brought a
duffle bag full of shoes and clothes. I explained that in the US we celebrated
birthdays with gifts, and since it had been a year since I had seen them last,
each of them had turned a year older; so I had brought birthday gifts for each
of them. There were ahhs of delight, and each one took turns slipping away to
put on their new clothes. Everything I brought fit perfectly! Moses has a
younger 5 year old sister, Uwimbabazi, and an older sister, Clementine, whose
t-shirt was in rags, exposing her maturing body. I didn't give them everything
I brought for them from the US this first visit. I want to help them learn how
to care for their new things and not overwhelm them when they have no place to
keep an abundance. This is an issue I will take up with Compassion office in
Kigali. I think some of the money I send should be delegated toward the
household in general and health care.
What a delight to see them all, but the exertions of the trip caught up with me. I spent Wed at home in bed with gut issues and a very sore
back. I spent over three hours on the bus rides between Kigali and Rukomo on a
jump seat which tilted precipitously to the side. Although the highway has been
newly paved for three-quarters of the distance, the constant turning from side
to side took a toll on my back. After a day of pain killers and bed rest, the
back pain was greatly reduced, so I was able to return to teach on Thursday,
although the gut issue is still not resolved. If it were worse I would suspect
amoeba, but it’s just bad enough to be annoying, not a health risk. One of the
teachers informed me that the water I had been given by the kitchen as “boiled”
was probably just out of the rain barrel and is likely what has made me sick.
More on other items in the next post ... and maybe some pictures.
