Callixte

Callixte in the Genocide Memorial in Kigali

Our driver, Callixte (cal eest) is a sweet, quiet man. He doesn’t speak English so communication is ultra simple and accompanied by simple, universal sign language. I think he would just as soon stay quiet and let us chatter on without trying to understand us. We bought him dinner and tipped him very well when he left us to go home today. Tall, dark skin, shaved head, long fingers, big smile. He brought no bags along on our trip to Musanze. Just the clothes he had on. This morning when I got up at the guest house his clothes were drying on the hood of the car. He must have washed them out in his room last night. He ate with us nearly every meal and we made sure that he had water and snacks on the road. He has never asked a thing of us. Not a bathroom break, not food, not water, nothing. He smiles and nods and never says a word. He spent three nights away from his home with us. Three nights away from his home and his babies. He’s been with us for three days and I don’t even know what his voice sounds like.

But when we sit down to eat, all of us chattering away like monkeys, he bows his head and folds his hands and prays inside his head. Unashamed and unselfconscious. For minutes at a time. Then he looks up as if coming out of a trance. And smiles! We can learn so much from Rwanda.