Take A Risk

I spoke to my hometown Rotary club this week (since I am now home for the holidays for a few weeks) and made the statement about how some people think it is really cool and amazing that I have packed up my life and moved to the middle of Africa....but most people deep down really just think I am crazy. Although most would never admit it, I know that is what they are thinking:) It doesn't bother me so much. After all, I am learning that might just be what life is all about. Taking risks. Living outside the box. Having a dream that is bigger than yourself. It doesn't always mean doing something so drastic, but it does mean getting outside of your stable, comfortable surroundings and doing something every once in a while that is a little risky.

Here is our new Bridge2Rwanda video of all of our team members who have taken a few risks and are witnessing firsthand the fruit of what God can do through that step of faith.

http://www.bridge2rwanda.org/borrowed-talent-2010-video/

Click on the video for full screen.

All in a week's work...

Sitting on the veranda of the US Ambassador’s house, drinking mint iced tea and looking out over the rolling city of Kigali at sunset, I listened as the Ambassador to Rwanda eloquently discussed his beaming pride in American ideals as well as the rapid progress of Rwandan society. To my right was my friend and colleague Blayne Sharpe, the Bridge2Rwanda Operations Coordinator and the only other semi-“ordinary” one in the gathering (and by ordinary I mean under 30 and not quite as accomplished as those sitting around us). To his right was an accomplished Northwestern University Business and Leadership Professor at the renowned, world-class Kellogg School of Business. To her right was a talented author and one of the top Executive headhunters in the US, who placed the likes of the CEOs in HP, United Airways, and JPMorgan Chase. She was visiting Rwanda to begin research on her upcoming book, the story of President Paul Kagame’s leadership and amazing turnaround of the country of Rwanda since the genocide. Sitting on the couches directly across from me were my bosses and the founders of Bridge2Rwanda, Dale and Judi Dawson. Both were once high-up investment bankers at Steven’s Inc., one of the top investment firms in the world, as well as successful business owners. Dale is well-known for his brilliance in entrepreneurship and being head of Investment Banking at Steven’s, Inc., and then for giving it all up to serve this tiny country in Africa. He has even been featured in several books for this bold and unexpected move (including being profiled in a book written by the author mentioned above). To my left was our B2R country director Tom Allen, once a respected California attorney representing the elite of Los Angeles, who left his ocean-front property on the prime spot at Hermosa Beach and moved to Rwanda to start a new phase of life. And as we all listened and conversed about the impact that we individually might have on the country of Rwanda, I couldn’t help but wonder: ”Is this really my life?, How in the world did I get here??”

So what did the rest of the week hold?
Well, let’s see…. I spent the majority of that week running around the city trying to coordinate a project to bring the first hearing aids to Rwanda, an event that will take place in March and will be assisted by a team of about 10 NFL football players led by Vikings running back Adrian Peterson.

During the week I also received a phone call from my friend and neighbor Jock Boyer, the first American to ride in the Tour de France and now coaching the national Rwandan cycling team. A documentary film is currently being produced on the story of Team Rwanda titled “Rising from the Ashes”, chronicling the moving story of country in despair to a country of hope through the lives of these cyclists, all of whom I know well from our English tutoring lessons.

While walking into the Serena Hotel (the nicest hotel in the country) one day for lunch, I almost ran into President Kagame as he was leaving and getting into his car. I just happened to get stopped in his motorcade and see his car passing by two other times that week.

One night that week I browsed the vibrant, colorful art in an exhibit by my good friend while discussing issues facing Rwanda with a crowd of gifted and capable professionals. The artist is part of a Rwandan artist’s colony, well on their way to becoming some of the top artists in Africa, and whom we are organizing to come to the US to exhibit their incredible work.

That weekend I attended the retirement ceremony for Bishop John Rucyahana, the legendary Anglican bishop who has been essential in the reconciliation efforts of Rwandan and author of the book Bishop of Rwanda, as well as the enthronement ceremony of his replacement Bishop Laurent Mbanda, former head of Compassion International for Africa.

A few days later I sat in the living room of the past President of Rwanda, drinking a mid-day passion fruit cocktail and listening to this former Head-of-State explain the complicated history of his country dating back to the beginning of colonialism.

And this was just one week!

In between all this running around with such high capacity, distinguished individuals, I get to do what I came here to do….serve the country of Rwanda. Often people have this perception that serving in Africa has to be in some remote village with no electricity or running water, handing out food to impoverished children with protruding bellies…and sometimes it is. But it also includes working with brilliant, talented, educated individuals to work towards the overall development of a country in all aspects. Sometimes our work is with the poorest of the poor and sometimes it is the richest of the rich; sometimes it is hard work and sometimes it is play….but all in all it is a fulfilling experience that brings about novel opportunities with new faces every day.

My Boys

Here’s an update on two of my boys whom I made recent posts about…John Baptiste, who recently had the hand surgery, and Zac, my little street boy.
John Baptiste is doing very well after his surgery, and his hand has recovered beautifully. He is now able to take vigorous notes in school, playfully throw a ball around with his friends, and perform other fine motor skill activities that the tumor prevented him from doing before. In fact, he and I actually made Rwandan television because of the surgery! The national television station heard about the story while interviewing the surgeon, Dr. Butera, and subsequently interviewed John Baptiste and me about the whole process. The media wanted to show an inspiring human interest story to Rwandans about the ability to make a difference in a child’s life. John Baptiste is now staying with his uncle in Musanze and attending a local school, so we often get visits from him.
Zac has also been showing back up at our house to visit. He assures me he is off the streets, staying with his aunt, and attending school every day. He says, “Streets are bad, auntie’s house is good.” From his report, he got a bicycle so that he could ride back and forth to school every day…a 50 minute bicycle ride. He is back on his regular HIV treatment from the hospital and appears very healthy and well-groomed. He wants me to come visit his aunt’s house very badly so he can “give me lots of bananas,” but I haven’t been able to make it there yet. Zac still has me wrapped around his finger with his sweetness…even though I know that he knows how to work that sweetness.
And funny enough, Zac and John Baptiste have become big buddies from meeting at our house. When the boys visit, they joyfully occupy their time at their favorite “muzungu” house by drawing pictures, reading books, watching movies, riding bikes around the yard….all of which are luxuries to them. And we also put them to work when we need help around the house…which they also joyfully complete. The other day we were preparing for a big dinner at our house for the Sonrise teachers, and Zac and John Baptiste came right in the kitchen and got to work. We didn’t even have to tell them what to do…they just started peeling carrots, washing dishes, taking out the trash, and mopping the floors. Betsy (my wonderful roommate) and I just looked at each other in amazement at these two young boys, cheerfully working without even being asked!

By the way…there are also precious, wonderful little girls in Rwanda. I just seem to have a soft spot for sweet little boys, and that seems to be all the stories that I post about!

My boys!

Beautiful Faces

Here are some pictures of the beautiful children from a recent visit to our village. I think I could bring a few home with me!

Ordinary Life

"We encounter God in the ordinariness of life: not in the search for spiritual highs and extraordinary, mystical experiences but in our simple presence in life."
Brennan Manning

Oh, how often I go searching for extraordinary experiences in order to encounter God...when He has been right here in the ordinary all along. The problem is that although I may come face to face with Him in those mystical, spiritual high experiences, those moments soon wither away, and I am back to my plain old simple life very soon. I love the fact that God reveals Himself most in the "ordinariness" of life...through the things that I see and experience on a daily basis. He is a God that shows Himself through the big, beautiful eyes of a child and through the brilliant colors of a sunset. Sometimes I just miss Him in the ordinary because I am so busy looking for extraordinary...

"...But the greatest of these is love."

Meet my sweet little friend Isaac (or as we like to call him, Zac). I met Zac a few months ago as I was jogging through Musanze late one afternoon. Zac joined me on the last leg of my jog, and I immediately fell in love with his bright smile and charming personality. He was clean, well-dressed, spoke decent English (better than most local children) and was just so stinkin cute that I wrongly assumed that he had to have a good family that groomed him, fed him, and loved him. So, I was confused when I asked him where he lived, and he pointed to the streets and said he slept under a tree. I asked him where he went to school, and he said “no school.” I soon came to realize that Zac was one of the street kids that hangs out at the town bus station. However, Zac was a different kind of street kid. He didn’t beg like the other kids, he didn’t have dirty clothes…and he still had this sweet innocence in his eyes. So, as I seem to have a habit of doing, I made a new little friend and knew that God was calling me to love on this sweet boy.

So over the following weeks, I got to know Zac pretty well. He actually became my little tag-along, showing up to my house most days, helping me run errands, becoming my basic Kinyarwanda translator, and assisting me with various tasks around the house. He reveled in the fact that someone was actually caring about him. I pulled Emmanuel (my former student and “adopted” little brother) in to investigate Zac’s story. I found out that Zac’s parents died when he was young, and he had been staying with an older sister and aunt in Uganda. They all moved to Rwanda a couple of years ago, and then one day about a year ago, he somehow got lost from them. He has spent the last year living the life of a street kid. He occasionally slept at a lady’s house, but she obviously did not really care for him as he wasn’t even being pushed to go to school. Primary education is free in Rwanda, so I knew the first thing I needed to do was get him into school and off the streets before he became so corrupted that there was no turning back. Emmanuel and I took him to the local Primary school to enroll him in school, and then took him to get a brand new school uniform and other essential school supplies.
Zac and Emmanuel. Emmanuel swears Zac looks just like him when he was a little boy.

Visiting our friend's new baby.

A few months passed, and I grew closer and closer to this sweet boy. I realized that he was not a perfect child, having no one guiding him, loving for him, or even caring where he was. I had to have serious talks with him about boundaries, about not stealing or begging, about going to school every day, about staying off the streets. I checked in to make sure he was attending school, took him to church, and made sure he was properly taking care of himself. I felt like a mom, trying to guide this child in the right direction and advise him on making good decisions in life. He even started calling me “mom”, bringing me small gifts, and drawing me pictures that said “I love my mather” when he came to visit.

Zac and one of my other boys, John Lambert.

After I had been out of town for a few days, Zac showed up at our house with a huge gash in his head (that had luckily already been stitched up). We learned that he had been caught in the middle of a street fight and was hit over the head by a wooden board. As we started talking to Zac about taking care of his wound, he shared with us that he had a blood sickness for which he had to take medicine everyday and visit the doctor regularly. Although he didn’t say the name, we knew right away that Zac was referring to AIDS. Unfortunately, I have been in Africa long enough to know this explanation. My heart sunk into my stomach, and no matter how hard I tried to stop them, the tears started flowing right in front of him. I have become close to several children who have this sickness, and I thought surely God would not let this happen again. Surely He had brought Zac into my life so that I could get him off the streets, help to shape him into the next great leader of the country, and watch him live a long and healthy life. Surely the world wasn’t this cruel and unfair. I was even in denial about it, so I took him myself to get tested at the local hospital. When they showed me the results, they showed me a book with about 100 names written in blue (indicating negative) and one name on the page written in red. It was Zac’s name. It was a heartbreaking and shocking thing to read, even if I did already suspect the results.

From visiting us so often, Zac also became close with our house staff, especially our joyful, energetic housegirl Janviere. Around the time that we found out he was sick, Zac called me crying because the lady he had been staying with kicked him out of her house only to sleep on the streets again. Without even thinking about it, Janviere said that Zac could come home with her and stay for as long as he needed to. Here was our housegirl, recently married and only 28 years old, offering to take into her home a street boy who was HIV+. She didn’t need to ponder it for weeks, she didn’t need to think about how hard it might be to care for a sick child, she didn’t need to think about what a burden it might be….she simply opened her arms and welcomed him into her home indefinitely. She told me that the signs around Rwanda say: “Take every child as your own”…so that is what she did.

Within a couple of weeks, we also found out that Zac had not seen a doctor in months and had not been taking his treatment. So Janviere and I took him to the hospital to get him back on regular treatment. When we walked into the doctor’s office, to our surprise the doctor already knew him and had been wandering where he was. He also told us that Zac’s aunt had recently been to the hospital and was looking for him. The doctors and nurses then helped us locate his aunt, and the next day, Janviere took Zac back to his aunt and sister who lived in a nearby village. We don’t know the whole story of how or why Zac was separated from his family. He may have even run away on his own. But in the end, the best thing that could have happened was to get him reunited with his family.

I learned a priceless lesson through Zac, maybe one of the most valuable I have learned while being in Africa. You see, it is one thing to know from the beginning when someone has this illness. Not that it changes the absolute tragedy or sadness of it, it just makes it easier (that being a relative term in this situation) for you to accept knowing it from the start. It is completely another thing to get to know and love someone first, and then find out that they are sick. But, nothing had changed for Zac; he has had this illness since he was 2 years old. The only thing that had changed was my awareness of it... and my willingness to accept it and still love him unconditionally, even if that meant that I might be more heartbroken in the end. It’s not that I might love him a little less because of his condition; it’s that I immediately found myself pitying him and thinking that I should not become so attached because circumstances like this are too difficult and hopeless to face. Occasionally I find myself unconsciously wanting to distance or disengage myself from certain situations because they are too hard, and I realize that many times it may be selfishly to protect myself. So this situation with Zac got me thinking about how I am called to love and serve the people around me. And I came to the realization: I don’t give love based on conditions. I don’t give love based on whether a child is sick or healthy, whether they have a future or not, whether they do good or bad things. I don’t give love so that I can see a return on my investment. I don’t give love because of the world’s fairness or despite its unfairness. I don’t give love based on how I might feel or how it might affect me. I give love just to give it. Because that is what I am called to do. No other reason.

I have seen Zac one time since that day we took him to the hospital. His aunt’s house is too far for him to come visit us regularly. I miss seeing his sweet face and bright eyes, but I know that he is right where he needs to be, reunited with his family. And I know that God brought this little boy into my life not for me to teach him but for him to teach me a valuable lesson about love.

"Keep your fears to yourself, but share your inspiration with others"

The quote above and the quote below have both been hanging on the back of the door in my room since I arrived here in Rwanda last year. I guess they were left from the last girl who lived in my room...but I love the words and often reflect on its powerful message. I recently attempted to convey a similiar message about how my time in Rwanda has affected me (see blog post on August 8, 2010), but I can't quite articulate the thought like GK Chesterton.

"What we need is not the old acceptance of the world as a compromise, but some way in which we can heartily hate and heartily love it. We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce surly contentment. We want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent. We have to see the universe at once as an ogre's castle, to be stormed, and yet as our own cottage, to which we can return at evening" GK Chesterton

Goodbye Emmanuel!

We sent Emmanuel off to South Africa to go to school...I felt like a mom sending my child off to college! (See my blog post on July 21 for more info on Emmanuel.) My mom and Judi Dawson sent him bags full of clothes, school supplies, and everything he might need to survive high school in South Africa. Here are a few pics of his going away party and his last night in Rwanda.

Eating at Republica for Emmanuel's going away party!

Our artist friends from Ivuka, Emmanuel and Innocent, gave him paintings to decorate his new room.

Emmanuel ready to go to the airport!

With Dale and all his bags.

Saying goodbye to my little brother...sad and happy moment.

"Where everybody knows your name..."

I have been living in Rwanda for over a year now, so naturally people are starting to recognize me as a local around here (not that I stick out or anything). The town Musanze, where I have spent most of my time, is the most populated area of Rwanda, which is well known to be the most populated country in all of Africa. There are literally people covering the town at all hours of the day...but very few white people besides several other non-profits and the tourists passing through. So I love it when I go for a run in the mornings, or to my favorite restaurants, or to the local market…and everyone greets me by name. Or when I am sitting on my front porch and neighborhood children (and adults for that matter) come peer through the blue front gate to say hello. Or when I am driving down the two mile stretch to school with the windows rolled down and every few seconds I here “Anna!” yelled out from all directions by the local children. Or when the moto-taxi (motorcycle taxi service...with literally hundreds of drivers around here) driver says“Thanks Anna” as I pay him his 300 francs. Or when random numbers constantly call my phone just to say hello, with me having no idea who the caller is (ok, maybe I don't love that!). I not-so-politely asked one of those callers the other day where he got my number, to which he responded that some children were giving it out:)

One of my favorite, most random events in the last year happened a few months ago when all of my roommates were hanging out in our Musanze house one Saturday afternoon. This man, who our guard mistakenly let in the gate because he said he was “friends with Anna,” just walked right in our door and sat down with us in our living room, greeting us like we were old friends. All of us sat in shock, until I finally asked: “Who are you??” To which he casually replied: “This is my home!”, “You are my wife!” (pointing to me), and “I am the President of Rwanda!” His face seemed quite alarmed that we did not recognize him as our roommate, husband, or the President of the country. So we sat in astonishment at the absurdity of the situation for a few more minutes as this man repeatedly professed how much he loved his wife Anna and how honored he was to be the President of this fine country. Finally, Museveni graciously ushered our friend out the door. We soon came to know him as the harmless town crazy, Joseph, whom I still see walking the streets frequently. And he always greets me: “Hello, my wife.”

In America, I might have been alarmed at random people calling me at all hours of the day and a crazy man convinced that I am his wife…but here in Rwanda I just find it harmlessly humorous.

I am a small town girl at heart, so I like being in a place where everybody knows my name.

Family

A great pic of our Bridge2Rwanda team! (most of us) Griffin's family came to visit and took all of us to eat at one of the best restaurants in Kigali. Love my Rwanda family:)

All my children...

Taking all my "children" to school on the first day of class for the last term of school!

Surgery for John Baptiste

Last week I added yet another amazing experience to my list of amazing experiences in Rwanda. I was privileged to take a 12 year-old Rwandan boy from a remote village to have a life-changing surgery in the big city hospital. John Baptiste, an energetic, brilliant, and wide-eyed boy from my favorite village, stole my heart about a year ago. He showed me his hand when I met him, which had a large and slowly growing “lump” on his right metacarpal. It appeared to be a cyst, and I made sure that his family was seeing a doctor at the local hospital in Musanze. A couple of months ago, we had a visiting veterinarian who looked at the supposed cyst and informed us that it was definitely not a cyst but probably a growing bone tumor, one which was too serious for local doctors to treat. We also found out that John Baptiste had lost most function of his right hand, including the inability to write or take notes in school. In a culture where note-taking is the fundamental skill in the educational system, this also greatly affected his performance in school. I just happened to have the perfect connection at the best hospital in Rwanda (which just happens to be my new employer…I’ll write about that next!).

I met Dr. Alex Butera when I first arrived in Rwanda at visiting day at Sonrise High School where I teach his oldest son. I became friends with this brilliant doctor, as he welcomed me into his family and helped get me connected for a Speech Pathology job at King Faisal Hospital in Kigali. Dr. Butera is the Medical Director of the hospital and is considered one of the best orthopedic surgeons in East Africa. So, I knew just who to contact when I found out that John Baptiste had a bone tumor and needed surgery quickly before the tumor could completely eat away at his hand. Within a couple of weeks, Dr. Butera worked John Baptiste into his overbooked schedule for a surgical removal of the tumor.
Here comes the fun part….along with Tom Allen (B2R Country Director and my dear friend), I got to be right alongside John Baptiste through the whole experience. We asked for permission from his parents, who gladly granted, to take him to the big city of Kigali and care for him while he had the procedure. John Baptiste lives in a very remote village on the top of a mountain and has never been outside of the small local town of Musanze. So the journey began as I drove him on the two hour trip from Musanze to Kigali….definitely the longest car ride he has ever been on, as proved by the sudden carsickness that fell upon him. He could not quite understand why the car was making him sick. Every ten minutes he asked “Are we there yet?” and every small town we passed through he asked “Is this Kigali?”, as he had no concept of a long car ride and definitely no concept of a big city. When we finally arrived in Kigali, his eyes widened and jaw dropped at the towering buildings, honking cars, and sights of a modern, busy African city. He marveled at the shooting water fountain in the town center as he questioned: “What is THAT?”…”But where does the water come from?” The only water source he is familiar with is the large lake that surrounds his village. More “novelties” came as we explained to him how to use a toilet, the purpose of ice, and the comfort of a real bed. Tom and I laughed and cried as we experienced all of these painfully familiar things with John Baptiste for the first time.
We checked him in to the pediatric ward of the hospital, where he met several new friends and played in a playroom with real toys for the first time in his life (and watched movies for the first time!). Two special friends…Imable and Marie…had both been in and out of the hospital for years with chronic heart conditions. They all took great joy in trying to teach the muzungu girl Kinyarwanda!














Tom, Blayne, and I hanging out with John Baptiste and his new friends at the hospital.

Early the next morning we wheeled him into surgery. Since Dr. Butera is a friend, he allowed Tom and me to scrub in and observe the surgery. Dr. Butera worked carefully and precisely to remove the tumor (which is most likely benign), protect the muscles and nerves, and restore the use of John Baptiste’s hand….all while explaining every detail to the onlookers peering over his shoulder. The surgery was a great success, and John Baptiste woke up in high spirits, greeting and thanking every nurse, doctor, and passerby as the anesthesia wore off. There is one particular thing that I love about John Baptiste….he has the most expressive face I have ever seen. Many Rwandans hide expression and emotion well behind serious faces. Not John Baptiste. His eyes and facial expressions say it all. And when he woke up from surgery, his face was full of pure joy. At several points during this whole process there were tears of gratitude in this young boy’s eyes, as he knew that this surgery would allow him to continue to succeed in school (by being able to write again) and gave him hope for his future once more.




Getting ready for the surgery.














Wheeling off to surgery in the elevator...another novelty!
The tumor exposed...I know this is a gross picture, but kind of cool!

Dr. Butera and I after surgery.

Waking up after surgery.

John Baptiste spent a total of three days in the big city of Kigali. He experienced many things for the first time and probably ate better than he ever had in his life. Now, he will go back to life in his village. He will probably continue to live in complete poverty for a while. But, now he will have a little of something that we call hope. He has seen a whole new world and the possibilities that are out there. He knows that education and hard work are his opportunities to that outside world. He promised us that one day in the future, when he has completed college and has a good job, that he, too, will reach out and help a child in need.

One happy boy!
Many thanks to Dr. Butera for his kindness and medical expertise in treating John Baptiste and to Tom’s friend who helped to cover the cost of the surgery.

A Whole New World

These words of the famous “Aladdin” song kept running through my head this last week as I experienced the Middle East for the first time. Not just because I was reminded of the familiar movie scenes where Aladdin runs through the market or flies on a magic carpet or rides a camel in the desert…but because it truly was a whole new world. Kelly and I were on a break from school and decided to visit the luxurious Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, also known as the center of commercialism and industry in the Middle East. We both dropped our jaws in culture shock as we took in the over-the-top luxury and wealth in this city. The city is filled with skyscrapers of intriguing architecture, mosques outlined in gold and jewels, massive shopping malls with pricey designer stores…quite a stark contrast from our life in Rwanda. Dubai has basically been built in the last 15 years, so everything is brand new and nice. Not to get on a soap box…but it is also somewhat disturbing coming from a place where there are starving children surrounding you. Someone told us that around 2/3 of the population in Dubai has diabetes because of the rich foods they overindulge in and the capabilities of getting literally anything they want at any time. In Rwanda, I’m sure around 2/3 of the population suffers from malnutrition.

Despite the outlandish luxury, this really was an incredible place to visit for vacation. We saw the tallest building in the world and the most expensive hotel ever built. We visited a sheiks palace, an indoor ski resort in a shopping mall, a restaurant made of ice, and manmade islands in the shape of a palm tree and the world. We enjoyed the relative comforts of home, including McDonalds, Chili’s, Starbucks, and a movie theatre (keep in mind all of these are luxuries for us living in remote Africa). We ate Lebonese food, Thai food, Japanese food, Mexican food, Indian food, Arabic food…pretty much a tour of the world. The most authentic experience was the desert safari, where we went sandbashing (quite an adventurous ride in an SUV through the sand dunes in the middle of the desert), rode a camel, decorated ourselves with henna tattoos, and ate a local flavor barbeque while being entertained by belly dancers and other Arabian cultural dancers. Overall it was a great vacation and a new cultural experience!

Kelly and I on a Dhow Cruise.

Dubai Creek
Indoor ski resort...crazy!

Getting a henna tatoo at an Arabian barbeque.

Camel ride in the desert.

My new friends....and our sandbashing driver!

Trying on the traditional wear....it was quite hot in there.

At Chill Out, the ice restaurant...literally everything made of ice!

The tallest building in the world!

The gold souk (market).

Visiting one of the largest mosques in the world.

At the mosque...I kept getting in trouble for my hair showing:)

"To live is to be marked. To live is to change." The Poisonwood Bible

People always ask me to tell them about my life in Africa. And I usually have the same response….I just can’t explain it in words. I fumble over my words realizing I cannot give the experience justice. I have read countless books on the subject of Africa, and there is one thought that is often mentioned. Africa changes you. It is an undeniable fact if you spend any considerable amount of time here. Whether you love it or hate it, it gets in your blood and changes the way you perceive the world. It changes the way you view people and the way you view God.
Today is the anniversary of me being in Africa for one year. One year has flown by. It has changed me beyond what I can even describe, but I will try. At first, of course, everything seems so foreign. But just like everything in life, you learn to adjust. And then one day you wake up and realize that it is just normal. So now this foreign land of Rwanda is my reality.

I have also read that there is something about Africa that brings you to life. The natural breathtaking beauty of the land; the brilliant white smiles of the people that greet you every morning; the vivacious colors of the fabrics, art, and culture; the energy of the traditional dance and the power in the beat of the drums; the hustle and bustle of the thousands of people walking the streets of town and working the local shops; the welcome open arms of friends who take you into their home as their own family; the various smells and sounds of the chaotic but lively market; the grand volcanoes that tower over the untouched terrain; the contentment in a leisure afternoon tea and rich conversation with a friend, not constrained by time limits; the joy and sparkle in the eyes of a beautiful child untainted by the desire for earthly possessions; the thrill of riding on the back of a motorcycle through a lush mountainous land; the hope of a young boy who has a fearless determination to change the world; the strength of a country to move past their dark history and into a bright future… these are the things that bring me to life in Africa. The people enjoy life not for the possessions they may obtain or the ladders they may climb, but just for the simple fact that there is a life to be lived. There is such a raw beauty about this continent. It is simple yet profound. Life presents a new adventure every day.

But Africa, as we all well know, is not all joy and color and beauty and contentment. It is a continent that has suffered greatly for many years. Suffering beyond what most of us can imagine. Rwanda, in particular, is a place where pain and horror are familiar acquaintances of the people. It is a place where millions of children still bear hunger pains everyday and where easily treatable diseases claim the lives of innocent people everyday.

One of the hardest things for me to find is my response to this all. I wish I could say that I am always perfectly compassionate and respond in the most sensitive and appropriate ways. However, there are days when I am completely annoyed by the beggar who follows me around town wanting my change, days when I feel overwhelmingly guilty that I have white skin and was born into a family of privilege in the United States of America, days where I am extremely infuriated by the social injustices of this world, and days where I am just hopelessly heartbroken by the devastating need around me. But each day, just like in the US, I have to choose to face the day. No matter what I may be feeling that day, I have to get out of bed and face the challenges. Whether that is facing the boy on the streets who shows up at my house every morning because he has no one else to turn to, a student who is suffering from severe post-traumatic stress from the horrendous memories of watching her parents die 16 years ago in a genocide, or a 5 year old orphaned girl who was born with AIDS and will never know the love of her mother… I can’t any longer just pretend these things don’t exist or that they only exist in a far away land. They are reality. They are here at my doorstep, and I must face them head-on.

But each day as I face these challenges, I also feel blessed beyond belief. There are countless stories of hope and success. There are people who have rocked my world teaching me about the capabilities of the human heart and the limitless boundaries of the human strength. There are instances everyday where my faith is strengthened through a simple conversation and where I am awestruck by the beauty of the scenery that surrounds me. The bubble of my narrow world has been burst, and I now relish in the freedom that comes from escaping a life of comfort, security, and familiarity. I came to Africa with an overwhelming sense of needing to save the world and these poor children of Africa. Oh, how wrong I was in my thinking. Now I know that God does not need me to be in Africa, but rather I need to be here.

And so I can no longer go through life overlooking the simple joys and abundant blessings OR ignoring the disturbing injustices and cruelties of this world. I must face both realities and gracefully learn to balance the two. And so here I am, this white skinned, blonde haired Southern belle in a foreign land learning to do just that.

So that is how I can sum up my year in Africa. It has changed me.