PARTING WAYS

Our time in Tanzania is coming to an end and we are down to our last 3 days in Arusha. Although I am looking forward to going home to see my family and friends, I must say, it will be sad to leave this place. Over the past 6 months, Arusha has become my home away from home. My friends and classmates that traveled here with me and all of the wonderful people we met during our stay here have truly made this a journey to remember.

We began saying our good byes yesterday as we visited the ICTR for the last time to do our formal checking out. Due to our limited funds, we utilized our resources and made cards for everyone that had touched our lives in some way or another, which was about 30 people and we kept thinking of more. We stopped to see Frank, one of the security guards at the ATM who is intent on me coming back to Tanzania and becoming his wife one day. He is always so friendly and full of smiles. The question that people keep asking us is when we will be back to Tanzania and we reply, “Inshallah (God willing)”. I then went to see Hamad Kibwana who works in the finance department and had helped us out tremendously with our EU2 project. He was happy to see me and to get his card. He promised to keep in touch and continue to teach me Kiswahili. Neema, the secretary who helped us out so much in the beginning was the next stop and she said she was honored to receive the card. She wished us well and said we will probably meet again in this small world that we live in.

Next we saw Sumari and his good bye proved to be the hardest so far. Sumari is a local Tanzanian that works for the cleaning staff at the ICTR and has been my friend from day one. He came by my office when I first moved in with his charismatic personality and we immediately hit it off. Over the past 6 months we have had many conversations about life in Tanzania and life in American. He was surprised to find out that everyone in America did not own a car. I was surprised to find out that his salary is about 72,000 shillings per month (about $55). He has a wife and a young daughter named Belina, both of whom we met a couple of weeks ago when we visited his village to attend a confirmation celebration for his niece and nephew. As we said our good byes to Sumari we all began to tear up from his kind words. He expressed how we had been so kind to him despite the fact that he is a janitor and that many people at the Tribunal do not extend that same kindness to him. Tears soon began to flow followed by a little laughter as we could tell Sumari felt a little uncomfortable and made a quick exit to avoid more tears. He is one of the people I will miss most from here and I hope that we will be able to remain in touch. He said the likelihood of him coming to America is slim so he hopes that we will come back to Arusha one day.

Another touching good bye was with our supervisor. After waiting for an hour for her to meet with her supervisor (true ICTR fashion), we headed to lunch to have our last girl talk session. Yousser has not only been a great supervisor (although she did push our buttons from time to time with her somewhat obsessive compulsive personality), she has also been a great friend. She has invited us to her home several times and always kept us updated on what to do in Arusha and where to travel. We shared stories about men, careers, and just life in general. During lunch we tried to update her on our most recent escapades: mine to Kakuma, Eunice’s to Dar and Lindy, and Michelle’s to Zanzibar. Yousser then gave us some advice about traveling and the careers we are trying to pursue and family. She said that the transition home will be a challenge but after you do this type of work for a while, home will become where you are and you will not feel so attached to one place. You will want to go and explore more and those places will become your new home. She also said to expect to make sacrifices from time to time and in her case, she chose to sacrifice some of her career choices for her family. This is a decision she says she does not regret and would encourage us to do the same because at the end of the day the times that you will remember the most will be the times with family and friends, not the times you spent hours on end at the office. I really admire her strength as a woman and her endurance to carry on with her career after taking some time off for family. Today she manages to balance her career with her family life despite the fact that her job is very demanding and that fact that her husband lives in another country. She admits that there are challenges just as with any relationship but in the end, it is all worth. After advising us and giving us beautiful Maasai beads as gifts, we said our good byes which were a little rushed as Yousser had an appointment that she was already late for. I hope that we will be able to remain in touch and that our paths will one day cross again.

This weekend we will continue our good byes that include people like Alfred, our buddy who helped us find a place and took us on many safaris; Ben, our apartment neighbor from the UK that we bonded with over the robbery at the Ethiopian restaurant; Peter, our friend from church that is always looking out for us and had many connections in Arusha that he has hooked us up with; Richard and Novica, security guards at the ICTR that have treated us to several meals and showed us around Arusha; Frida and Regina, the wonderful ladies at the center who we could come to at any time for help with anything; Gasper and Emmanuel, our beloved taxi drivers; Tina, the lady who made some beautiful bags for me out of the kangas I got for my birthday; Lei Lei and the crew at the fruit stand; the crew at the East African Hotel where we spent many hours working on papers; Mass, Mic, Baraka, Kelvin and the other members of “Contagious” who provided hours of entertainment with their b boy style dancing; and many other people that we have met here and there. These are all people that will remain in my heart and mind for years to come as I reflect on this journey that has been a beautiful struggle. I think the beautiful struggle will continue as I return home and try to process all that I have learned and experienced these past 6 months while adjusting back to life at home, work and finishing my thesis so that I can graduate in May!!!

Nairobi, Nakuru, Kitale, Kakuma and all places in-between

December 7-16, 2009
Since classes have officially ended and we do not travel back to the US until the 21st, my classmates and I had a couple of weeks to travel within East Africa before returning home. Some of us traveled to Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam and I traveled throughout Kenya. I traveled with a friend and classmate, Majok, from Sudan so my journey is part of his journey as he traveled back to Kakuma Refugee Camp, where he spent 9 years of his life due to the civil war between north and south Sudan.

Nairobi to Nakuru

We first traveled to Nairobi again for a couple of days of rest and recuperation after a long, hard semester of classes and internships. Nairobi is a very crowded city that reminds me of NY with its traffic and aggressive drivers. Good place to visit but I know I could not live there. From Nairobi, we took a dala dala (called Matatu in Kenya) to Nakuru. On the news before we left, we heard that some of the dala dala drivers went on strike due to a new city noise ordnance that was passed. The dala dala drivers insisted that the noise ordnance affected their business because loud music is how they attract their customers. After a 2-hour ride, we arrived in Nakuru and were greeted by Majok’s sister and a rain shower. At the house I met many of Majok’s extended family including other sisters, cousins, uncles and Majok’s nephew, who is scared of mzungus because he cried every time he saw me. Nakuru is not as diverse of a city as Nairobi or Arusha, so I stuck out as one of the few mzungus around. I was warmly welcomed by the family and shared in their stories as they talked and made up for lost time. One of Majok’s uncles had just come from Australia to visit his new wife and eventually bring her back to Australia with him. I learned a little about life in Australia where the government helps to support its citizens through a more socialist form of government rather than capitalism. Although I do not speak the Dinka language, I was able to piece together some stories with the random English words and translations here and there.

Nakuru to Kitale via Eldoret

The next morning at 7am we began our long journey toward Kakuma. I wasn’t sure what to expect so I didn’t expect anything and just went with the flow. We boarded another dala dala that was supposed to take us to Kitale where we were to meet Majok’s younger brother but we were dropped off in Eldoret and ended up having to take another dala dala the rest of the way. It was about a 3 hours ride to Eldoret and then another 1 hour or so to Kitale. Eldoret I learned was one of the cities in Kenya most affected by the post-election violence of 2007. People that sought refuge in the church were actually burned inside in acts of violence similar to those of the Rwandan genocide in 1994.
We arrived in Kitale around 1pm and Majok’s younger brother, Nhial spotted us pretty quickly because again, there are not many mzungus in Kitale. This was the first time the brothers had seen each other in several years although they communicate frequently via phone and facebook. Nhial is a smart, well-spoken young man that is very tall, a distinctive feature of many of the Dinkas from South Sudan. He is currently completing a program at Kakuma Refugee Camp through an organization that will send him to Canada for college. He scored within the top 10% of the students in Kenya on the national exams, which made him eligible for the program. He is also employed as a teacher at the camp due to his outstanding grades throughout primary and secondary school. We bought out tickets for the bus to go to Kakuma (Nhial went to purchase them because if I was with him, he would be charged the “mazungu price”). We went to grab a quick bit to eat and visited Majok’s uncle who was also in town on business. At 3:00 we boarded the bus along with about 60 other people and all our belongings. We did not actually leave until 5pm because it took a while to load everyone’s belongings, some of which were went under the bus and some where strapped to the top of the bus. Before departing, we had a short sermon by a local preacher, who then took up an offering before departing the bus.

Kitale to Kakuma via Lodwar

We traveled throughout the night on winding, dusty roads with frequent police checks (not sure what they were checking for- the Kenyan police are known to be very corrupt and people are often forced to pay bribes to avoid going to jail). Majok’s uncle was actually arrested the night before for no reason and then released. There were many stories similar to this floating around including people being arrested for not wearing seat belts. About 3 hours into our ride the road switched from smooth to very bumpy which made the ride quite interesting. The bus driver was very careful to take the curves with caution, which made for a pretty smooth ride despite all of the potholes and uneven pavement. At about 1am we arrived in a small town called Lodwar where we were supposed to board another bus headed to Kakuma but that bus never came. It was stuck along the way waiting for water to clear so that it could pass a certain point in the road. The bus conductor refunded us part of our money since they could not guarantee when the bus would get there so we were stuck finding our own way to Kakuma which are another 1 ½ hours away.
Not sure if it was divine intervention, luck or a planned set up, but there were taxi drivers there ready and waiting to take us the rest of the way to Kakuma. So just after 1am, the 3 of us climbed into a taxi with 5 other people, including the driver and headed toward Kakuma, but only after going to get gas and driving around for about 15 minutes trying to find fish for one of the passengers. It was a scary ride as the driver was flying on the road to Kakuma. I tried to keep my eyes closed for most of the trip, preferring not to see my death if it was to come soon. I am pretty sure we ran over a chicken, goat or some other small animal at some point. We did arrive safely in Kakuma at 4am and managed to find rooms at a local hotel owned by Somalis. After some negotiating, we were allowed to stay until 1pm the next day instead of having to leave at 9am. I took a quick, cold shower in the dark and went straight to bed, exhausted from the almost 24 hours of travel.
The next day we were awakened by harsh rain that lasted until about 2pm. Determined not to let it mess up our trip to the camp, we ventured out around 1pm to grab “breakfast” (tea and chapati) and then walked through the town of Kakuma toward the camp. As we walked, Majok spoke of how much the town had changed. There was not much business and activity going on within the town and Nhial informed us that most of the activity occurred within the camp. Many of the local people, the Turkana tribe (an indigenous tribe similar to the Maasai in Tanzania) visit the camps during the day and many of them even work in the camp. In the past there have been conflicts between the Turkana and the people in the camps because in some ways, the people in the camp are better off than the town people. There were incidents of the Turkana coming into the camps with guns and robbing the camp residents. Since then the Turkana have to leave the camps by 6pm each day and the Kenya police help to monitor their movement within the community.
As I said earlier, I was not sure what to expect at the camp but I must say that it was much more than I imagined. Seeing camps on TV and talking about them in class does not really help you to prepare you from what you might see. Kakuma Refugee Camp was established back in 1992 when Sudanese refugees like Majok and many of his family members where taken there by the UN to escape the war in Sudan. Over the years it has developed into a camp that now provides for refugees from various surrounding countries such as Uganda, Rwanda, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Burundi and Somalia. The camp is separated by communities so all of the Somalis live together in one community, the Sudanese in another community, etc. Within those communities there may also be separation by tribes such as the Dinkas and the Nur of South Sudan, each have separate communities. There was no security, so we just entered the camp and walked down the main road. The first community in the camp was the Somali community so once we passed their homes, we were surrounded by shops and businesses on both sides of the road. When it rains, the roads in the camps flood so a lucrative business within the camp is transportation. The Somalis apparently have taxis and there are several young men that use bicycles to transport people across the flooded streets. You can get a ride for about 10 Kenyan shillings, which is equal to about a penny. We traveled on the bikes past several shops selling anything from clothing, household items and beauty products. There was even a place to use the internet and watch a soccer match. The local movie theatre showed movies for 5 shillings and there were barbershops throughout.
Once we passed the Somali section, we entered the Ethiopian section, another area with lucrative businesses. We visited Francos restaurant, which seemed to be a pretty popular spot as business was booming. There we ate traditional Ethiopian food, enjera, watched some Ethiopian dance videos and part of a soccer game. Back at the hotel where stayed the previous night, we did not have power, but here in the camp, the businesses managed to have electricity running off of elaborate systems of power lines connected to generators and solar power panels. This is one of the examples where you can see a distinction between the lives of the town people and the people in the camp. The meal at Francos was enough to feed 3 people and only costs about $2.00. People from the town and UN workers frequently eat there during lunch and host meetings there.
After leaving the Ethiopian section, we visited the Sudanese community to see Nhial’s home. This required some creativity as there was a lot of water and no bicycle taxis available. We ended up rolling up our pants and taking turns wearing flip-flops to thread through the water. Nhial’s house was a mud-constructed house with corrugated roof. Majok was impressed at the new roofs because he said when he was there, the roofs were made of plastic sheeting and grass. The home consisted of a bed, a desk and chair and a table. Nhial and his roommate decorated the place by putting kanga fabric on the ceiling and they had rigged up a light to the generator. Several of Nhial’s friends stopped by, including several kids who came to see the mzungu in the community. Apparently the UN workers do not venture into the camp much outside of working hours so it was unusual to see a mzungu on the weekends. Majok shared some of his wisdom and experience with the young men and encouraged them to do well in school so that they might be eligible for some of the same opportunities he was afforded. It seems that the best way out of the camp to pursue further studies is by doing really well in school and getting scholarship to study abroad.
As we spent more time in the camp and in town, Majok ran into more distant family members, friends and teachers he remembered from school and his time at the camp. Some of them were doing well and some of them were no better off than they were 9 years ago when Majok was last in Kakuma. This left him pondering for a little while what his life would have been like if would have stayed in the camp. We got a ride on the bicycle taxis back to town and checked into a different hotel. We sat and watched TV for a little while with other residents of the hotel before heading to bed pretty early that evening.
The next morning was Sunday so we decided to check out the local church Majok attended back in the day. As we approached the church, we saw several groups of Turkana dressed in their traditional costumes, singing and dancing. We stayed to watch the ceremonies for a little while and when it seemed that the usual church service would not happen that day, we headed back to the camp. On the way we met one of Majok’s cousins who heard he was in town and had been looking for him. His cousin was an aspiring rapper who had spent some money that was sent to him to pursue his rap career and as a result was now stuck in Kakuma on his way back to Sudan. Majok gave him the money he needed while trying to give him some good advice. But like many young teenagers, he was a young man learning his way and seemed pretty set on continuing his pursuits. As our bus did not leave until 4pm that day we killed some time chillin at Francos again and then headed back into the town to prepare for the long journey back to Nakuru. The journey home proved to be even more adventurous that the journey there.

Kakuma to Nakuru

We boarded the bus at 4pm. It was a smaller bus so they managed to get everything loaded and by 4:30pm we were on the way. The bus was very crowded and many people were standing in the middle of the aisles. Most of the people were just traveling to Lodwar, 1-½ hours away but it was still a long time to be standing. We thought we had good seats in the front right behind the bus driver but it became a place for more people to cram into the space. Also, this time our driver was not as cautious as the previous one and his fast pace on the sharp twists and turns, not to mention the bumpy road soon left me wishing that I could not see the road in front of us and left my stomach doing flips. I felt like I was on one of those 4D simulation rides or a roller coaster that lasted 3 hours. I ended up having to take some Dramamine to settle my stomach and tried to sleep to calm my nerves. There were times that I really thought we would not make it as the driver sped up through sharp turns or swerved to avoid potholes while making the bus “lean back” like we were on a Fat Joe video. .
At one point, we came to a point in the road that the bus driver was not sure if the bus would make it through or not. He instructed everyone to get off of the bus so that he could take the bus through without the passengers incase something happened. While I appreciated this gesture, the driver pulled off before everyone had a chance to get off of the bus so we were left in the rain with other passengers while some were left on the bus to risk the dangerous passage. Thankfully the bus made it through with no problems and we had to rush to get back on the board. Majok had one foot on the bus and one foot on the ground as the bus driver decided to pull. At 1am we arrived back in Kitale, where we boarded another bus to take us to Nakuru. This ride was a little smoother and I actually got to sleep some on the bus. After a 15-hour journey, we arrived back in Nakuru at 7am.

Nakuru

Back at Majok’s sister’s house, I happily took a shower and had breakfast, which was followed by hours of talking and catching up. The Dinkas are apparently known for talking. Majok and his uncles, brothers and cousins talked for hours on end on topics ranging from politics in Sudan, school, what family members are doing these days, and life in Australia and the US compared to life in Africa. One of his young cousins who is only 17 kept everyone laughing as he shared his views on various topics. After a couple of hours of listening to the men talk, I ventured outside with the women and girls and participated in some “womanly” activities, washing clothes. I have gotten used to washing my underwear since I have been here but washing all your clothes is another story and a pretty tiring job. We then began to watch a Nigerian movie before lunch. Lunch consisted of the traditional Sudanese bread called kisara. The most familiar thing I could compare it to is corn tortillas. There was an okra soup that accompanied the kisara along with some pasta and beef. I was so full after lunch that the “it is” started to kick in fast and I went to take a nap. The afternoon and evening consisted of more talking, laughing, and eating.
Again Majok’s young but sharp and informed cousin kept everyone laughing. He asked many questions about life in Australia and America. He remarked on how everyone has rights in many western countries. Men, women, children and even dogs have rights according to him which was very different from the system in many African countries. They talked about how the kids in school get lashes if they are late or act up in school and how we cannot do that in the States because the kids know their rights. Majok’s cousin stated they have to train the children as they are growing up or else the families will not eat. It is traditional in Dinka culture to pay cows as dowry for marriage. If a young girl is not raised to be a proper wife, no man will want her and therefore the family will not receive any cows. The dowry is often between 80-100 cows. Majok’s cousin also wanted to know if mzungus had a secret language they could speak besides English when they did not want people to know what they were talking about. These questions plus more stories about family members kept the conversation going into the evening when everyone retired to bed.

Nakuru back to Nairobi

The next morning we said our good byes and headed back to Nairobi. After a 2 hour ride we arrived in Nairobi but it took another 2 hours to get to place we were going to stay because the traffic was so bad. We had arranged for a taxi to meet us at the bus station but the traffic was so bad he could not even get into the city. We got off of the dala dala before we even got to the bus station because we were not moving anywhere due to the traffic. We ventured around trying to find a taxi and praying we did not get robbed in the process. As I mentioned in my earlier blog Nairobi is also know as “Nai-robbery” due the high theft rate. We found a taxi and we talked to the taxi driver about the traffic issue in Nairobi. It seems that the city is not doing much to handle the problem and the few stop lights and traffic police they have are not helping the situation. I saw many people simply ignore the traffic lights and just do their own thing. Citizens have taken it upon themselves to try to regulate the traffic in the absence of police or any organized form of movement. Exhausted and annoyed by the rides during the day, I spent the evening checking email and relaxing.

Nairobi to Arusha

The next morning I boarded the shuttle back to Arusha and I was very glad to be getting out of Nairobi. I was looking forward to the more slow paced life in Tanzania and to seeing some of my other classmates before they traveled back to the US. I arrived in Arusha by 4pm after spending almost 2 hours held up at the Namanga border. Leave it to my fellow Americans to be misinformed and hold everyone up. There were 3 Americans who did not know the visa for Tanzania was $100 so they did not have enough money with them. The ATM machine did not take their cards or have enough money so they had to take a taxi to the next town and use another ATM. They then had to change the Kenyan shillings to dollars at the currency exchange and finally were able to get their visas. There were several conversations going on on the bus trying to determine whose fault it was that we were held up. Some people felt that the Americans should have been more informed coming from a country where information is easily accessible. Others felt the bus driver should have informed all the passengers upon departure what to expect at the border, which did not happen. Still others felt it would not have been a big deal if the ATM had money! Either way I was glad to be back on the road and looked forward to spending my last days in Arusha without drama or having to take another shuttle, dala dala or bus!

Nairobi- aka Nai-"robbery"

We decided to venture to Nairobi, Kenya to experience another yet another country in East Africa despite the many stories we heard about Nairobi being nicknamed “Nai-robbery” due to the frequent thefts. These warnings came from out professor back at Arcadia who is from Kenya and many of our friends both local and international in Arusha. We were told that people in Nairobi walk very fast to keep from being robbed. People told us not to carry any bags or a lot of money on you because it would get stolen. They also stated we should not talk on the phone when we are walking on the street because that would get stolen as well. Taxis and the matatus (public vans used for transportation) are not even safe b/c the robbers will climb or reach in the cars to steal things.

So with this knowledge, we boarded the shuttle from the local hotel that cost us $25 each way for the 8 hour from Arusha to Nairobi. The thing is that this trip should only have taken 4 hours but since the road is not yet perfected/ finished, you have to take many detours on bumpy, dusty, off the beaten path roads that make the trip twice as long as it should be. As we were traveling down the road it seems like someone just got tired, said forget about it and quit. As the shuttle detoured to the less developed road several things happened on the shuttle. First, people started closing the windows. The road is very dusty so if you leave the windows open, you feel like you are being suffocated by dust. After a while you have layer of dust on your skin that makes you appear a shade darker. As a result of all the windows being closed, it immediately gets a lot hotter on the bus as well despite the fact that we were told that shuttle had air conditioning. Like many things here, that air did not work or maybe they just have a different definition of air conditioning that I do, but either way, it was hot. This leaves you waiting and hoping that the detour will soon come to an end so that you can open the windows and get some air.

About half way through the journey, we arrived at Namanga, the town at the border of Tanzania and Kenya. We were cautioned here not to change money or buy things from the hustlers on the street. At the border, we had to be cleared by the Tanzanian authorities and then walk across the border to the Kenyan side to get out visas which only cost is $25. An Indian man who was on the shuttle with us, was harassed by some local guys who were demanding money from him and caused him to fall and injure himself. When I met up with him he was very shaken and did not know where to go so I just told him to come with us. He was shocked as to why someone would do that to him. One thing that I have been learned here from talking to more locals is that the perception of Indians in this country is somewhat mixed. Many of the locals that I have talked to seem to have this animosity towards Indians because of the way they treat locals and that fact that they monopolize on a lot of the local businesses. Many Indians though, actually consider themselves Tanzanians as many were born and raised here. There are even Indians who are members of the Tanzanian Parliament. It seemed that perhaps some of the frustration of the local people was taken out on this poor Indian guy that just wanted to get to the airport in Nairobi and get back home. After about an hour of dealing with the border authorities, we boarded the shuttle again and continued on our way.

We knew that we had reached Nairobi when we got stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. The city was definitely a contrast to Arusha with the intense traffic and the fact that it has more than one stop light! Nairobi is a much more developed city in the sense that it does give you more of the urban feel similar to NY or Philly, especially in the downtown area. It was not as nice/ new as Kigali though. The people downtown all seemed to be in a rush and eager to get somewhere and there were many taller buildings (mini skyscrapers) and an open market in the center of town. We spent about an hour at the market and it proved to be a somewhat overwhelming experience. At first, we were able to peruse the various goods such as clothing, jewelry, shoes and decorative items but since we were “muzungus” we soon became surrounded by local guys trying to sell us various items. After some bargaining and hustling on my end, I managed to get 2 scarves, a pair of earrings and a purse for less than $10.

We witnessed another shocking incident while we were at the market. As we were standing outside, we hear a lot of yelling and see a man running frantically down the street. All of a sudden a mob of people start chasing him. According to the local people this is a common occurrence and it happens when someone steals something. In what is called “mob justice” the culprit is chased by police and anyone else that wants to join in and teach this guy a lesson. Once he is caught he is beaten pretty badly (there have been accounts of people dying as a result) and then taken to the police station for further punishment. A far as human rights are concerned this tactic is not as bad as when used to happen to thieves in Kenya. We learned that in the past, thieves were burned alive in public by putting a tire around them and setting them on fire. All I can say, is that would be a big deterrent for me and I will never steal anything, not even a piece of gum, in Kenya!

During our weekend in Nairobi, we visited a local organization called “kazuri” meaning small and beautiful. This organization helped to assist single women in poverty, most of them who live in kabera, one of the largest slums in the world. Women are trained to make beads and an jewelry out of clay and can then work for the organization to get money to pay for necessities and to send their children to school. The women work 8 hour days and get paid on an hourly basis and receive healthcare for them and they families. The center employs over 300 women currently and there is a waiting list of over 100 women that are eager to participate in the program. The jewelry that is made at Kazuri is shipped to places all over the world so as they get more orders they are able to bring in more women and train them to be a part of the program. After visiting Kazuri, we went to a giraffe park where we were able to pet and feed the giraffes. They can be pretty feisty at times and take the food right out of your hands. From there we visited the “Bomas of Kenya” where we learned a little more about the tribal cultures and saw how the typical villages were set up complete with a watch tower, 1st wife’s hut, 2nd wife’s hut, the boys hut and the granary. Most of the huts were made out of straw, sticks and mud. We ended the “touristy” part of our day, watching traditional dances of the local tribes.

All in all, our trip to Nairobi was great and the best part was that no one was robbed!!! On Sunday, after attending church at Nairobi Chapel, which I really enjoyed because it reminded me of my church back home, we boarded the shuttle and made the journey back to Arusha. This time the trip only took 6 hours for which I was very thankful. I got home just in time to take a shower and try to scrub all of the dust off of me before the power went out. Oh, TIL! This is life!!! And life is great!

My B-day Party- Tanzania Style (with pictures)

The dance crew and the ladies!

Elizabeth, Fabia, Michelle and one of the delicious burgers hooked up by Victor.

Tanzanians are big on gifts at parties which I appreciated very much. I got a lot of traditional fabric to get some dresses, skirts, purses, etc. made.

ICTR friends.

Beautiful smiles!!! Look at Lago's straight, white teeth!

Representing IPCR! thanks ladies for a great party:)

Our friend Seriely who's wife just had a baby that we wants us to name. Talk about pressure.

Our funny French friend, Michel, from the ICTR!

Me and Diana, another intern at the ICTR.

Me, Melissa, Pamela and Michael.

2 of the house ladies at our apartments looking all jazzy!

Divas!

Me, Michael and Novica who is from Bosnia and always has something inspirational to say although the stories tend to be a bit lengthy.

Michelle and her infamous funny face!

My birthday this year was celebrated in grand Tanzanian style at the Arusha Institute with the help of our Rafiki Alfred. He has connections so we did not have to pay a rental fee, just a small fee per person that attended the party. Our idea was to invite everyone we had met here so far for a nice get together where people could just chill and enjoy themselves. We invited an array of people from the ladies we buy our fruit from, to the house ladies and guards that work at our apartments, the guards at the ATM, other interns and people at the ICTR, our professor and of course the usual IPCR crew. We ended having about 50 people attend the party and it was great. Alfred's homeboy, Victor who is a chef, hooked up some beef kabobs, burgers, chicken, salad, potatoes, and bananas. And the party didn't stop just because the power went (even though we were reassured by the club contact person that the power never goes out on Sat. but TIL- This is Life:) People continued to talk, eat and enjoy themselves. We are had a performance from the local dance group called "contagious" who do hip hop and breakdancing. They performed by candle light without music and were still the bomb. The party ended about 9pm with people still filing in up until the last minute. It was a great day and I appreciate all my girls here (Melissa, Eunice, Shoko, Victoria, and Michelle) for making it special. I never knew getting older could be so much fun!

The party wouldn't be complete without Rodley- our professor's son:)

Our friends that guard the ATM we frequent, when it is working.

Dance performance by "Contagious" a local dance hip hop/breakdance crew. They represented even without music:)

My PEACE sign birthday cake. Amani!

Our friend Lei Lei who we buy all our fresh fruit and veggies from.

Eunice's Letter to the Brother who Robber Her (This is deep)

There is not much that separates you and I, is there? We are both made out of the same type of material – you and I bleed, feel hungry, feel joy, feel sadness, and so on. Yet the environments in which you and I have been raised sometimes convince us otherwise. We are human – it seems as though we have to use labels for everything. How else do we process everything we go through in life? So we come up with labels, good and bad – there are so many social constructions of our identities, it’s easy to forget sometimes. You are Tanzanian and I am Chinese-American. You are male and I am female. You made the decision to sprint by and take a mzungu's bag. Let us move on.

You know I’ve been thinking a lot about pride in one’s people and country. Now don’t get me wrong – I do not want to create this false sense of dichotomy between you and I just because we are from different countries. But after conversations with your fellow Tanzanians who work at the UN, I do not sense much pride in the home country. What I drew from my conversations with one particular Tanzanian UN staff is that, things like the condition of a holding cell or robbery are considered normal here – if not normal, at least expected. Why must the norm or the expected be disrespect for our fellow brothers and sisters? If that’s the norm, then I would rather be crazy. “If I’m crazy it’s because I refuse to be crazy in the same way the world’s gone crazy.” (Boolean: Peter Moran of the Catholic Worker movement, and Shane Claiborne) So, as I reference Shane: “Is it crazy to say we should help provide water access for the 1.2 billion people that need it, or is it crazy, like in our churches, we’re debated whether or not we should get a heater for the baptismal while people don’t have water?” Did you know that about America, brother? Did you know that there really is this type of discrepancy on this earth you and I share? It’s quite heartbreaking, isn’t it?

Perhaps we could learn from each other. Perhaps I could learn your story and you could learn mine. I think that’s what Jesus is all about. I think Jesus is all about going out and talking to the people who don’t look like us, speak like us, dress like us, think like us, or live like us. After all, that’s what he did. Even if you have never heard of this Jesus, have you ever heard of anything as crazy as that? Perhaps if we start sharing, – from individual to global and back – then Tuesday night instead of your unsuccessful endeavor to find money, we could have been sharing a meal together. I think that type of situation requires both of our parts, brother. And neither you nor I are perfect – we still have lots to learn and more room to grow. As long as this type of community may be called idealistic or crazy, there will always be more to do. Let’s help each other along.

Updates

I am writing this blog at 1am on a Tuesday night because I cannot sleep so I thought I might as well do something constructive :) Since we returned from Rwanda, things have been moving pretty fast. Here are some key points to update you on what has been going on:

- We finally got moved into our new apartment in the same complex. We now have a roomy 3 bedroom. Our 2 classmates have joined us so now there are 5 women living together and the 2 guys in our program have an apartment near us. 5 women and one bathroom might seem like an impossible situation for many to handle but so for it has been working out just fine. We have managed not to get on each others’ nerves and when we need a break or need to get away, we have other friends we can visit.

- We also started classes this past week. Our first class is International Law taught by a lawyer that used to work for the Tribunal and our ex-supervisor at the UN. This class is proving to be very challenging as he expects us to think like lawyers and is surprised by the lack of knowledge we have about the topic, despite having previously taken classes in International Law. Eunice and I gave a presentation on the first week of class to which he responded, “that was good expect you should have included this, this, this and this but you were the first ones to go so hopefully the rest will get better.” We knew we were going to be the guinea pigs for this project that we only had 2 days to prepare for but I am thankful that we got it out of the way. We still have a paper to write and an exam to prepare for in addition to all the reading he has given us so I was glad that this is one less things to worry about.

- Eunice, Melissa and I have been continuing to do morning devotions and pray together. We even had “church” service at our house on Sunday because it was raining really hard (1^st time we have seen that much rain since we have been here) and we could not get a ride. We pray and help support each other and I feel that we have created a deeper sense of fellowship, accountability and community through this time together which helps us to cope with things we cannot control.

- One of those things that we cannot control is a situation that happened today. Eunice and I were leaving work at about 6:30pm and despite warnings time and time again not to walk home after dark, we ignored our instincts and did it anyway. Just as we were debating whether we should take a dala dala home, a guy ran up and grabbed Eunice’s purse and took off into the woods (just like people told us they would do). We stood there in shock and some people stopped and replied “pole” as they often say here, “sorry”. Thankfully we were not hurt and from past experience we do not carry much on us so Eunice did not lose anything valuable. We were a little shaken up though (this is evident by the fact that both of us are up at this hour). For some reason, this incident seems to be bothering me more than the incident at the restaurant, which was much more of a scary situation for me. One thing that is really bothering me is wondering why this happened and I am starting to question God, whereas I do not feel I did that with the incident at the restaurant. I also feel angry that this happened to Eunice. Not that I wanted it to happen to anyone else, but those that know her, know that she is one of the most kind, selfless, and caring people that you will ever meet. I am also angry that this is just the norm here and that you have to live your life with this being the norm. Writing the blog about Rwanda right before this though also helps me to put it in perspective. Living in a society where muggings are the norm is a lot better than living in a society where genocide was the norm. I am still trying to process everything and understand how I am feeling which I think it will take some time.

Rwanda, Rwanda- Land of a Thousand Hills

I spent this past week in the capital city of Rwanda, Kigali. Rwanda is called the “Land of a Thousand Hills” due to its beautiful hilly landscape of the mountains and lush green lands that surround it. My experience in Rwanda was one that I will never forget. It was an experience that for me was filled with happiness, sadness, anger, excitement, disappointment and hope. After studying about the genocide in Rwanda for the past couple of years, actually being there and experiencing the aftermath of it myself was a life changing.

The highlight of the trip was the people that we met. Upon arriving at the airport, we met a friend of Melissa’s, whom we have nicknamed “Peace” and sometimes refer to as “King Julian” from Madagascar because he made us laugh and “loves laughing”. Peace is one of the most amazing people that I have met in a while. Despite the struggles he has faced in life and continues to face, he has the most humbling, kind, and forgiving spirit. Peace lost many family members in the genocide and was recently fired from his job as a journalist because he refused join the political party that is controlling the government. Peace spent the whole week with us and was very patient as we asked him 50 million questions, some that were very intimate about his experiences during the genocide. He accompanied us to the Genocide Memorial Museum and 2 genocide sites where thousands of people were killed. I am grateful that Peace took the time to spend with us this past week b/c I don’t think we would have had as great of an experience if he was not there. A benefit of knowing Melissa who knew Peace, was also meeting his friends who were equally as friendly and welcoming. We met his roommates, his cousin and other friends. Everyone wanted to make sure that we had the best time in Rwanda and did what they could to accommodate us.

Throughout our time in Rwanda, we met other locals here and there that Peace conversed with. At one of the genocide sites, we met 2 young ladies that were living in child-headed households and taking care of each other due to losing their parents during the genocide. We also met a little boy in the same neighborhood that was thoroughly excited to receive a pen from Eunice. As he ran away, Peace said, “He is so happy, he is running because he is happy!”. At another site, we met a woman who had recently been attacked by some men with a machete to the head and left to die. She survived but was too afraid to speak out against her attackers for fear of further violence.

As we left the airport the first things I noticed was a drastic difference between Arusha and Kigali. Since the genocide, Kigali has drawn a lot of international attention. I wonder how many lives could have been saved if Rwanda was able to draw as much attention during the genocide. As I observed the nicely paved roads, the new buildings, fancy hotels, upscale coffee shops, malls, and fancy supermarkets, I was really excited because it is more of the type of lifestyle that I am used to in the US. My excitement soon faded when I realized that all of this development came at a price, namely 800,000 people were killed during the genocide in 1994. My thought became even more disheartening when I realized that violence was still continuing today, despite all of the progress that the country is making and everything that I had learned about the reconciliation process in Rwanda.

During our time in Kigali, we stayed at St. Paul’s Guest House. St. Paul’s is also a church that was instrumental during the genocide. Many people sought refuge there and the pastor of the church was able to keep the people in hiding and saved many lives. In stark contrast, St. Famille, the church right next to St. Paul’s was also a church people fled to for protection, however, most of the people there died because the pastor was conspiring with the Interharmwe militia. Today, the church has been reopened and people fill the church each morning for worship service. We attended one of the services and while it was encouraging to see people progressing and getting back to “normal” life, it was also a weird feeling to be in a place that had been a part of taking so many people’s lives. We asked Peace how the church managed to reopen and thrive again and he explained that one of the reasons was because people thought that another genocide was eminent so they were convinced to come back to church and get saved so that if they died they would go to heaven. That was a perspective that I never would have thought of and it is something that I am really struggling to understand today.

The Hotel de Mille Collines was another place we visited that felt strange to be in. This was the hotel that the movie Hotel Rwanda was based on. Many people also sought refuge here during the genocide and most of them managed to survive thanks to the efforts of Paul Russesabagina, one of the hotel managers. Today, business as usual is conducted at the hotel and it is even undergoing construction. We went there for lunch one day and it was strange because images from the movie kept popping up in my head as I thought of what a safe haven this was for the people that were able to hide there.

We also visited 2 memorial sites in Nyamata and Natarama where massacres occurred. These sites are living reminders of the genocide that took place as they have been left in the same condition that they were 15 years ago. Clothes, shoes, belongings, and even bones of the people who were killed are still there. Words cannot describe what it feels like to see these type of reminders of the capability of mankind to treat one another with blatant disrespect and disregard for human life. At these sites, no one was spared, not women, men, children or babies. I had a hard time at first trying to convince myself to actually go into the churches but then I looked at Peace and he helped give me that courage. If he, (a person directly affected by the genocide and the aftermath of it) could do it, then I, (a person who has never had to really experience pain and suffering in her life) could do it.

People often talk about the poverty line and what it means to live below or at the poverty line and this was a concept that was illustrated for us in Kigali. Michelle took a picture as we were driving one day that showed old shacks and very basic houses on one side and luxurious new houses on the other side. She remarked that a good description for the picture would be “poverty line”. You could literally see the drastic distinction between the neighborhoods that appeared to be so close together. Peace explained that one thing the government was doing in the name of development was to “buy” up peoples’ properties and then use the land to build these new houses designed for foreigners and high ranking officials that could afford them. The people that were moved out of these areas could certainly not afford to live in the newly built houses and many were forced to relocate out into the villages. This immediately reminded me of the re-gentrification movement in Atlanta where many of the projects are being torn down and people are given money to relocate but similar to the situation in Kigali, cannot afford to move into the newly built houses. This does not help relieve poverty; it only spreads it out instead of it being more concentrated. The similarities of what I saw in Kigali and what is happening in Atlanta and other cities throughout the US was really baffling but it also showed that we are more connected than we think.

The visit to Rwanda is one that will stick with me more a long time and one that I hope I will continue to reflect upon. The people we met and the fact that we felt very comfortable and safe there, made the trip so much more enjoyable. The insight that we gained from being able to bear witness to some of the aftermath of the genocide, both positive and negative, helps to give me a better framework and understanding of the social life of post-conflict societies. However, I don’t think that I will ever be able to fully understand the depth of the circumstances, struggles, hopes and fears that the people of Rwanda will have to contend with for generations to come.

I leave you with a list of things that you can see/do/hear in Kigali that you do not see/do/hear in Arusha:

- Traffic signs, traffic lights, and crosswalks (Arusha has one stop light and I have not seen any traffic signs)

- There is a quietness that fills that air in Kigali. Arusha is very noisy in comparison (i.e. dogs barking, the call to prayer 5 times a day, horns and music constantly blaring, people shouting- these are all sounds that were a lot less frequent in Kigali)

- Hills (these were evident in all of our walks and drives around town. You could not go anywhere without going up and down a hill.)

- Kigali has much more development, paved roads, new houses and buildings, more of a metropolitan feel than Arusha. In contrast, Kigali seemed a lot less touristy than Arusha.

- In Kigali we felt very safe. People constantly ensured us that it was one of the safest cities in Africa and that it was OK to walk after dark which is something we could never do in Arusha.

- On the other hand, genocide memorials and museums are ever present in Kigali but not in Arusha. It is strange how a city in a country that has lived through a genocide is safer than a city in a country that is known to be one of the most peaceful in Africa. Tanzania does not have any history of war, conflict, ethnic strife or genocide whereas Rwanda has suffered from several genocides throughout history.

- Purple flowers were planted all throughout Kigali as a symbol of grief and morning.