Everyday Heroes
This month we´re leaving the Rwanda story from last month in as a reality check. Consider their plight, then ours. We´ve won the lottery of life. The real question is: How are you going to love yours?
The scourge of AIDS and the tragic aftermath of genocide heap unconventional work and unimaginable responsibility upon the shoulders of women in Rwanda. Our contributor plans to be a teacher, a tried and true career choice for women through the ages. However, she takes her skills and career aspirations along an unusual path. Teaching at an orphanage in Rwanda involves hospital visits to HIV infected children and traveling dirt roads on a motor scooter to get where she needs to go.
My Rwandan Experience (Part Three - the conclusion, sort of...)
By Dani Seligman
I thought that I would be writing a love story: The tale of a privileged, white girl who adventures to Africa and falls in love with a country, a people and a way of life. I thought the story would be romantic and harrowing. I thought our young protagonist would change the world and alter the lives of the innocent Rwandan orphans. I thought she would love every minute and everyone. I thought she would denounce her consumerist self, vow to live a life of asceticism and perhaps even decide to cut ties with her native country, calling Africa home.
While some parts of this story did play out along parallel lines with my story, others did not. While our protagonist fell in love with ‘a people’, I fell in love with many people. While she fell in love with a way of life, I fell in love with aspects of this life, and while our protagonist enjoyed every minute I appreciated every minute but found a few almost unbearable.
I am writing this email sitting on a Boeing 737, a machine with more money than the entire community I was living in will spend over the course of several years. I just finished a package of salted peanuts, and am quietly sipping on a chilled glass of white wine. It is under these conditions that I am writing part three of my email series.
The last couple of weeks in Rwanda went by extremely quickly. My week days were spent teaching and visiting Alice, my Saturdays in the villages and Sundays lazing around. Rather than boring you with a detailed play by play I will share with you some of the highlights of my last weeks in Rwanda.
One Sunday I took Mama, Papa, Derick and Gatesi to the Beach and treated them to a day of fun. The kids truly had the time of their lives. You see they rarely leave their home and had never seen the water before. I will never forget the looks on their faces as we cautiously approached the waters edge to dip our toes in the cool liquid. We took a boat tour around the lake and Derick even got to play captain. I think I may have created a monster. Mama Derick was so genuinely happy and appreciative, but, watching her watch her children was all the thanks I needed.
Last Sunday, rather than lying around like I usually do, I accepted and invitation from Mama Derick to join her at work for one of her shifts. She showed me to the nurses room where I spent the first part of her shift making little balls out of gauze and pads – because women here do not have them – by folding gauze around some cotton. I must say I was really good at this and got several comments regarding my speed and accuracy from the fellow nurses. After about an hour or so Mama Derick came in and asked me if I would like to see a delivery. I said yes. How could I give up an opportunity like that? As soon as I walked into the delivery room I had second thoughts. I had this image in my head of me, the Muzungu, fainting at the sight of blood, but just to reassure you all I was fine and it was really amazing to see.
The delivery ended up being much faster than I had anticipated, possibly because this was the eighth delivery for this woman. Labour and delivery in Rwanda is unlike any delivery seen on TLC’s a Baby Story. I assume that the maternity wards in North America have a slightly different feel to those of Rwamagana Hospital. There are no pink bunnies on the wall. The women labour on their own. There is no team cheering her on, or there to congratulate her on her hard work after it is through. There is no screaming out in pain. The women labour almost silently, enduring their pain and internalizing it. This is amazing considering there is no such thing as an epidural. They do what they came to do and leave, picking up life where it left off.
The last week in Rwanda seemed to be over in the blink of an eye. Saying goodbye to the kids was much more emotional then I had originally anticipated. It says a lot about communication, that despite never having had a conversation with any of them I feel so attached to them. The children serenaded me with song and dance. Their voices hit me in the chest, literally taking my breath away and I fought to choke back my tears. Imagine. Two hundred children, singing a song that was written specifically for you. After they had finished their song I read a speech that I had translated into Knyarwanda. They loved it! The children howled in laughter as I lovingly butchered their language.
Now for the question I know you have all been waiting for. How many children did I show up at the airport with? Ten, eight maybe five? Now, don’t you worry. The answer is only one, and I didn’t exactly show up at the airport with him. Let me explain. When I was in Rwanda I fell in love with a boy. His name is Rionnel Cyusa. He is nine years old. I look into his eyes and see pure potential. I see hope. I first notice Rionnel when he seemed to understand my English and be able to explain my directions to the class. The next thing I noticed was that he is a very talented artist, especially considering the fact that most of these children have never held a crayon or marker before. What pushed me over the edge, what made me fall, was his singing. The children would often start singing in the classroom but on this particular day Rionnel stood up and started singing a solo. It was as if his voice reached out and literally grabbed my heart. I knew I needed to make this child’s life better, so as many young women would do I phoned my father. To my surprise ad my delight, he said «go for it!» Rionnel is now working with a tutor so that he may learn English. In October he will interview for a spot at a prestigious boarding school in the area. He will attend this English boarding school for two years. After two he will have a big decision to make. Either he will continue his studies in Rwanda, or he may come to live and complete his studies in Canada for as long as he likes. While you may think that this decision is too heavy to leave in the hands f a nine year old you must remember that in Rwanda, children make life and death decisions every day.
This past month proved to be the most telling of my life. I learned more about myself than I have in all of my years. I had much time to think, hours for daily introspection. I discovered the things that I like about myself, and more importantly, those that I don’t. I know what bothers me and what tries my patience. I learned to identify characteristics in people relatively quickly, and that I trust too easily. I realized the characteristics most important to me in friendships and relationships. I have a much greater appreciation for all of the people in my life and how they enrich my daily experiences. By far the most important knowledge I gained from this experience is that I have the power to be independent. I have spent a lot of time relying on other people, both my parents and my friends, and while that is alright for certain things I recognize that I need to take more control of my life.
While parts of this journey were painful and lonely I have absolutely no regrets, and I would do it over again in a second. I have seen and experienced things that I will never forget, things that most people only talk about. I have witnessed the starvation of poverty and how HIV is literally decimating a continent, wiping out entire generations. I have seen first hand the importance of feminism and that it is the woman who runs and can save Africa. I now know that we each have the power to make this world just a little bit better.
Once again I have decided to finish off on a positive note. I am sure that you all remember Alice, the orphan in the hospital who recently had both of her feet amputated due to complications caused by AIDS. I have some good news. Not only has the bleeding in her feet slowed, but she is getting a new set of prosthetic feet! A man who came to visit Rwanda from the UK met her in the hospital and was smitten. He is having a set of feet made specifically for her. While they will not make up for the ones that she lost, they will at least make her mobile. It is a drop of good news that eases the burden in a sea of bad, but everything makes a difference.
You can all make a difference…
| Readers moved by Dani´s story have asked how they can help. School teacher Shyrna Gilbert sponsors the Turnere Foundation which works directly with widows and orphans, victims of the genocide. Contact: shyrnag@yahoo.com |
08.11.2007
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