Farewell to Sonrise

Another full day so far. We got up and intended to leave around 11:00 for Kigali but ended up going back to Sonrise one last time. I bought a large skin drum for the church. The one they had was very worn out. The money I spent for the drum went to the Mother’s Guild. We stopped on the way and Cindy bought a pretty nice stereo for the school as well. Midori and Portia bought another drum so we took them up to the school. I was thinking we were just going to drop them off. Joy, the business manager, asked us to come in to the school to “receive thanks”. It was break time so the kids lined up and listened while the principal extolled our virtues. It was a little uncomfortable but we did have more informal time with the kids. That feels amazing. Everyone wants to make contact. Shaking hands, hugs, fists, high fives. We helped them set up the stereo in the dining hall and listened to “Love Can Build A Bridge”. It was nice to know that we left something that they will use and appreciate and enjoy. We also left them a bunch of money just for their general needs. Joy was warm and very appreciative and I’m sure she will see to it that the money is spent wisely and well.

I saw little Sophia again. We sort of sought each other out. She blessed me and wished me safe travels. She blessed you and our boys and said that she would pray for me “in Jesus’ name”. I have her name and student number and I would like to write to her when I get back. She introduced me to lots of her classmates and her best friend, Sonia. They were so sweet together. They held hands when we were chatting and their arms were around each other’s waists when they walked away. I shall always remember them just that way. Holding hands is a common and lovely sight here. Everyone holds hands (man-man, woman-woman, and especially children). Brandon got a picture of two soldiers walking down the street, large guns slung over their shoulders, holding hands.

Sophia/Hope

I connected with some beautiful children at Sonrise. One little girl named Sophia touched me deeply. I’m not sure if she has a sponsor or not. She may have a group sponsorship. I think sponsoring one of these beautiful children would be an important part of our tithing. She sat near me in church on Sunday and came up to me yesterday and today and began a conversation. She didn’t ask me to sponsor her. I’m sure they are told not to ask, but there is a real sense of self-worth associated with personal sponsors. I asked Sophia to sign my little notebook so I could remember her name. She passed it around and many children signed. She asked before we left if she could have my pen (again, I’m sure they are told not to ask). I said “sure” and she slipped it out of sight in a second. These children at Sonrise represent the hope of this country. Three languages by the time they leave, among the highest test scores in the country, computer knowledge, etc. When we were walking up to the chapel from the school there were about twenty workers making gravel from large rocks. With hammers. Their arms swung methodically and tiny chips flew from the big rocks. It was to create a gravel road bed. Making little rocks from big rocks. No glasses, gloves or masks. Just swinging a heavy sledge all day long. That is so Rwanda. Sophia was walking by my side. She insisted on carrying my guitar. It was big for her. It banged heavily against her little legs. “That looks like really hard work,” I said as we walked from the school to the sanctuary where Cindy and I planned to do our singing and dancing with the kids. “That is why I am going to school,” she said. “So I don’t have to do that kind of work.” The big rocks had been dumped by the entrance to the school. It was perhaps a kilometer away. Uphill. Women were carrying the big rocks on pads their heads up the hill to where the men were breaking them. Rwanda. The eyes of Sophia shined. She held her head up high as she lugged my guitar case. This little girl will make a difference in Rwanda. So will the others at Sonrise.

Downtown

Brandon and I walked around in the downtown area of this little town. It was bustling. I took a bunch of pictures to remember the feeling. Lots of people are OK with you taking their picture. I always ask permission if it’s a portrait. School kids enjoy it if you show them what their image looks like in the camera viewer. This little town (near Sonrise and the Cathedral) seems pretty typical. Tiny shops. Busy people walking carrying stuff on their heads from boards for construction projects to reeds to water containers. Many people riding bikes. Some vehicles. The trucks and cars are mostly old but nothing is ever broken beyond repair here. We went to an open air market where they sold everything from vegetables and fruits to clothes and small appliances.

The Old Woman at Sonrise

Getting together with the children at Sonrise.

At 4:00 we went back to Sonrise. As soon as we got there we divided up into groups again and began working and playing with the kids. Cindy and I worked/played with the same group of kids as yesterday. We did some of the same praise and worship songs and dances with great participation. You wouldn’t believe the harmonies and, again, how quickly they learned the songs. They sang “Love Can Build a Bridge” and did the sign language to the chorus flawlessly. They sang it while we were saying good bye about 45 minutes later. Cindy left them a CD of many of the songs we sang and danced to together. A few children came up and gushed about what great songs these are. “These are the best songs we ever knew in English,” one said to me. These seem like little seeds we left behind. It was hard to say good bye. We connected so easily. They seemed so happy that we came. Some of that music will live on here. It will probably grow and change over time like a humpback whale song. But I think it will live on. Whenever we sing any of these songs at church I will remember this time in Rwanda. Her hug was beautiful, a reminder of why we had come to Rwanda. As we were leaving the chapel a very old woman was sort of wandering around inside. She was talking to herself. I thought she was praying. One of the teachers told me (loud enough for the old woman to hear) that she was crazy and that sometimes she came in and wouldn’t leave the church. She came up to me after the children had gone back to their school and we were packing up. She spoke to me in Kinyrwanda. The adults from the school said that she doesn’t make any sense. The teachers seemed nervous, as if she might be offending me or putting me off. They wanted her out so they could lock up. I stuck out my hand for a handshake and she looked surprised. She hesitated but then she took my hand warmly. I gave the kind of handshake that signals respect. She immediately fell into an embrace with me. She was so incredibly thin, Heidi. She hadn’t bathed in a long time. She seemed so fragile, almost brittle. She hugged me fiercely. I asked the people from the school, who were clearly uncomfortable, if I could give her some money. They reluctantly said it would be all right. I gave her 5,000 francs (about $9.00). It felt like the best money I ever spent. I sort of put my arm around her waist and we walked out together. I was another of those special moments that I will always treasure. It was God.

Nancy's Jewelry

Nancy Strachan and Cindy Charles with our

new friends in the

gazebo at the Bishop's house.

Nancy’s jewelry idea worked out wonderfully. She brought suitcases full of beads and jewelry making supplies with her. Today we met with six women to show them the craft and leave the beads with them. We all had a blast! Cindy videotaped all of the instructions for putting on the ends and fasteners, how to bend the wire, how to measure and cut, etc. and left the tape with them. These were women from the church including a woman named Beatrice (The Bishops secretary /assistant). The women sang songs and laughed and teased and were so gracious to us.

After a little while of getting comfortable with the materials, one of the women began to sing. Within seconds all were singing beautifully. It was a lovely feeling to be in the gazebo on this pretty day, making jewelry and knowing that this is a project that could spin out and help many people. It was an easy and friendly time. And the singing and fellowship made Rwanda feel more like visiting the home of close friends.

While I’m here my mind never strays too far from the genocide but during that time my thoughts of death were suspended. These women were happy and grateful and leaving these materials and information behind seems like the kind of idea that will make a difference.

We didn’t get the chance to go to the bush hospital as we had planned because of Immaculee’s schedule changes. But by chance we met this American Doctor who has devoted his life to the healthcare of Rwandans. He and his wife have four kids and run a very earthy and simple medical facility not far from here. It’s called Shyira Hospital. [Shyira is the town where one of the “practice genocides” occurred. This area of the country was one of the worst outside of the city (Kigali) for violence during the genocide.] We did end up donating a bunch of money and stuffed toys for children and clothes. It was a happy coincidence that we ran into the Doctor.

My Prayers

Monday 7/9/07 7:00 AM I woke up early. About 5:00. The birds here are really loud at this time. Mainly these huge white-breasted crows and plenty of roosters. The last two evenings Cindy and Brandon and I have hung out while the others went to bed pretty early. We debriefed about the day, the trip, the people we are traveling with. We talk music, politics, religion – all of the things you are not supposed to talk about with new friends. I woke up this morning to my little morning prayers. When I have said, “Bless those less fortunate than us,” in the past it was sort of rote. Not that it wasn’t sincere, it was. But I didn’t really know what I was talking about. Now I see a little Rwandan girl wearing a tattered dress and nothing else, standing in the cold mud while her mother toils away hoeing a vast field with a baby on her back. When I, “Bless those who are victims of violence and oppression,” now I think of an old insane woman who stayed at Mother Teresa’s orphanage with only one arm, or a man at the market with machete scars across his head, or Richard’s parents and sisters who died in a church or his brother who was murdered in front of him and him feeling helpless to do anything. Before I prayed for pictures on TV or in the newspaper or stories like Immaculee’s or The Bishop’s. Now I pray for Rwanda. My prayers of gratitude are also stronger – better informed. Now when I get in my car to drive to work or to the store I will think of those lucky people here who have bikes to carry their heavy crops and wares. And those who must walk great differences every day to carry enough water on their heads to wash and cook. When I go to the grocery store and spend hundreds of dollars on food I will think of those whose food comes from the earth they till and of the hours of hard physical labor it takes to get the potatoes and beans they eat every day and are so grateful for. When I wake up to you each morning and smell your hair and touch your skin I will think of those who lost everyone they loved and had the strength and will to survive, go on with life and, especially those who can forgive. When I pray I will ask that the world may be more like Rwanda. It’s 1:30 in the morning where you are. I woke up two hours and twenty minutes ago. Again, I can see you and the boys in your beds dreaming peacefully with full bellies, comfortable and warm. I miss you more than I can put into words. My prayers of gratitude are for you.

Being White and Being Different

Being here and being white makes me ultra aware of being different. We have pretty much stayed together wherever we have gone. Portia is an African American but she looks different especially with her dreads. Most of the expressions are curious. Some, as when we were in the city center in Kigali, are not kind. I understand. We are so privileged. Most here are so poor. We have taken many pictures. That also makes us stand out. I try to be as unobtrusive as possible when the signs tell me. We are a group of pinkies in a sea of black.

At sunrise and at church being so different doesn’t have a negative feel but when we are out the stares feel mixed. Some kind, some curious, some menacing. This has helped me to empathize with minorities in majority situations. I want to remember this feeling.

Touching

These children (Sonrise High School music video)are so intelligent. We taught them the sign language for the chorus on “Love Can Build a Bridge” and they learned it in about 3 minutes. I’m not exaggerating. When I sang and taught them songs it seemed that they snatched the songs from my scrawny voice and gave them back ten times better, a hundred times better. Subtle harmonies, slightly changed melodies but, to me, even better than what I offered them. So many children shook my hand – which they do so often and sincerely here. They look right into your eyes. There is graciousness and sincerity and hope. It’s palpable.

The Children at Sonrise

Cindy Charles teaching dance at Sonrise School.

At 4:00 we went back to Sonrise not really knowing what to expect. At first we sort of just hung around. I took some portraits of beautiful children. Then we split up into groups. Cindy and I were with the children who wanted to sing and dance. We went to the sanctuary where we attended church yesterday. We taught a pretty big group fo girls some praise songs. “Open the Eyes of My Heart”, “Awesome God” and a few more. They learned them so quickly and sang them back more beautifully than you could imagine. Breathtaking. I played some blues and changed the tempo. I asked them to clap and to move along with the beat. Cindy taught a couple of line dances. They took to these quickly and naturally since singing and movement are both a part of song to them. Then they sang some songs for us. Most were in English, it was clear that they chose these especially for us as the songs they sang in church yesterday were in French and Kinyrwanda.

I videotaped them singing “Step By Step” by Rich Mullins. Inspiring. I can’t wait for you to hear and see it on tape. We left feeing real joy. It wasn’t that we developed any deep relationships, but because there was real fun and fellowship. Here were some folks who seemed glad that we came. I think Cindy felt it too. Relief. Gratitude. At last there was a group who saw us as bringing something. And they were grateful enough to give back. And it was in the language of music.

Others in our group played soccer with the kids (futbol), told stories and did crafts with the children. We all had a good time, but I think Cindy and I really felt good about our connection today.

Worshipping with Bishop John

With Bishop John at the guest house

6:15 Sunday Back From Sonrise After the first service we came back to the guest house to regroup and then walked to the Cathedral for Bishop John’s service. We waited in the back for a little while then we were escorted to the front row. This service was all in Kinyrwanda but translators sat with us so we could understand. They were marvelous. The bishop introduced us at the end of the service. It was also a very high energy service. The choir sand loudly and beautifully and for many of the songs people danced up and down the aisles and across the front of this lovely church. The congregation of this church dresses up (we were expected to wear nice clothes as well). The Cathedral has electricity and a sound system and the band played electric instruments so it was a very different experience from Sonrise. The singing was no less stirring. We were all a little exhausted from not sleeping last night. I could barely keep my eyes open. It was humbling to be introduced to the congregation. Nancy gave a beautiful and articulate response for us all. John is an eloquent speaker. Worshipping in Rwanda is so energizing, so exhausting and emotional. It takes hold of you John came back to the guest house and had lunch with us. He was very gracious and shared the considerable progress that has been made in Rwanda and how far they have to go. He was funny and endearing and really proud of the school. Visiting the school and worshipping with the children as well as the adults at the Cathedral brought home to me how very far Rwanda has come in thirteen years. Just thirteen years ago this area of the country was in complete turmoil. Richard told us that this was one of the most violent areas. Now people worship God together so completely. It’s amazing

Worship

With some of my new friends at Sonrise.

Sunday 12:50 PM We just got back from a very long Sunday of church. First we went to Sonrise for the service conducted mostly by the students. There was almost an hour of the loudest and most spirited music I have ever been in the middle of. It ROCKED! It rattled my bones. There was a lot of dancing and swaying and stepping in place. The children sang from the depths of their souls. I mean it. I’ve never heard anything like it. Our church at its most prayerful and engaged was never anywhere even close to this. Someone would begin a song and in a few bars everyone in the place was singing in full voice. When the song ended, someone else would begin another. It was practically seamless. The only song in English was “If You’re Happy and You Know It”. A translator came and sat down next to us and told us these phrases to translate some of the songs for us: *When Jesus is in your heart all is well *We will all be happy when Jesus returns *We are thankful that the Lord is our savior *All the good people in the world will be with him in Heaven So much was lost in the translation! The walls of this place were shaking with the spirit of these children. The sanctuary was very simple (as almost all things are, simple but elegant). The crosses on the wall were aluminum foil and construction paper. There were strings across us over our heads with dried flowers. The benches were simple wooden boards with legs. The only instruments were big skin drums. Animal fur still clung to the rims (goat?). The only fancy decoration was a glass cross on the table that served as an altar. My most powerful memory was the joy and power that went into their worship (video Worship Service in Rwanda). Can you imagine singing and dancing absolutely full blast for an hour before any words were even spoken at the service? The service itself was in Kinyrwanda and English. I am not sure if it was because we were there or if they do that so that everyone can hear both languages together to reinforce their language skills. Once again I am left with this really uplifting feeling that the stuff in a place of worship really means nothing. The comfortable benches, nice lighting, stained glass windows and all of the finery means nothing without the spirit of God. It was in this place with these wonderful children. God was within these plane brick walls, in the the sound of these worshipful voices and in the hearts of these children. Again, we have so much to learn from Rwanda.

Sonrise

These are some of the beautiful children at Sonrise School.

Sunday 7/8/07 We are now at Sonrise School in Musanze. Conditions are pretty rough here compared to American schools. The people are very nice and extremely welcoming. We toured Sonrise yesterday. Compared to US living standards the conditions for children seem bleak. Twelve kids to a room. Every child is allowed a small plastic bin (maybe 1.5 cubic feet) for personal belongings as well as a small carry on size suitcase which is kept at the foot of their beds. No pillows. We toured the entire school from the kitchen to the dorms. Three fourths of these kids are the poorest of the poor, in a poor country. Most are from orphanages. Many of the younger ones were street kids, many of their parents died of AIDS. When we got there it was Saturday evening. The sun had already begun to set (6:15 – 6:30). The kids were playing and socializing in their play area which is simply a large clay courtyard. It was very slanted and filled with ruts. Many were playing soccer (futbol) with a homemade ball. It was made of old plastic bags tied and twisted together. All of the children have extremely short hair so it is difficult to tell the young boys from the girls unless they are wearing dresses. They go to school six days a week. The upper school kids study until nearly bedtime (lights out). Forty kids to a class. Two classes per grade level. Subjects are taught in English but the kids also learn French and already speak Kinyrwanda. Joy, the woman who toured us, is very direct. Things are simple. Kids wash themselves outside (probably just the little ones). They wash their own clothes, make their own beds. I think they get a lot of visitors but there was a mixed reaction to our presence. We are allowed to take pictures but it feels like it might be a little annoying to the adults so I don’t know if I’ll take many here. There was also a mixed reaction to our doing projects with the children. Certainly, we won’t do anything to disrupt their school day, so anything like games, dance, songs and stories will have to be after that. I don’t get the sense that Joy (the business manager) is all that happy that we are here. She sort of tolerates our presence. What they have done with what they have is nothing short of amazing. Their test scores have been among the top in the nation since they have been in existence – which is only a few years. It is VERY strict! As we were touring we passed by a room in the girl’s dorm with the lights out. Joy switched on the light and found a couple of girls lying down. She fussed at them, “Are you Sick?” If you are then go get assistance. If not then get out of here.” I have mixed feelings. They are truly saving these children and helping them to be the best and the brightest in the country. I am mostly impressed. But it is strict and somewhat harsh compared to anything I have seen in the US. It is a different way of thinking about education.