Once again, elation.
Where do we begin?
Yesterday morning. 8:30am.
After waiting for half an hour, we met with the local government executor, as well as the head of the National Park. Thank goodness for Jean Paul, who is so much more than just our cameraman at this point) and our driver Saddi, (ditto the Jean Paul comment).
No attempt by either official to speak to us, other than, significantly (and translated), to recognize that we’ve come from so far away to donate our money to help this community, and that he appreciated that. Jeff and I were absolved.
Enter Paul, the founder of our project who, after dropping off his clients to trek gorillas, arrived to step up and take the brunt of responsibility, as a Rwandan, for the oversight.
A lot of finger wagging, and a seemingly heated back and forth, and finally, with much relief, handshakes all around and full support of our endeavour, including a vow from the local head official to “kick the ass” of any porter who did not meet his obligation to the project. Harsh, but we were not in a position to comment, and grateful that our project had the official ‘green light’.
For the next incredible 6 hours, while Jeff and I amused many dozens of children and mothers with songs, bubble blowing and poor but funny attempts at the local language, the porters lined up patiently, in three different locations, to await the tagging of, believe it, 190 ewes and rams.
Our vet, and a handful of local volunteers, should be commended.
So tomorrow, miraculously, we have only 30 sheep left to tag.
No way to describe the collective joy.
And then, on the way back to our hotel, exhausted, a flat tire.
Love to all.
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Back in Kigali, the capital city, with all it's traffic chaos, but our little hotel is tucked away in a quiet residential area on one of the many hills, with a lovely garden that invites all kinds of birds and blocks out most of the city noise.
So our project is up and running. All the porters have a sheep, all the sheep are tagged and each group leader has signed the contract that will eventually be signed by all 199 porters. Not only do we have the support of the local government, but they actually sent out the National Park Warden and a representative of the mayor to one of our tagging locations for an impromptu commemoration. They are impressed with the fact that there is both agricultural and financial benefit. The project generates increased crop yield which means more to sell, and the income generated permeates into the economy, ironically, like fertilizer, benefiting other members of the community.
Speeches were made at each location, emphasizing, over and over again, that the sheep are not for eating, nor are their offspring. Given the poverty level, one can well understand an inclination to "put meat on the table" as one porter so eagerly expressed it, through translation of course. This project is all about manure- "ifumbire (ee-foom-be-ray)" in the Rwandan language.
The mayor's representative even went so far as to tell the porters that anyone who breaks the contract by eating, selling or giving away his sheep could end up in jail, a nasty place no one wants to end up in, as once inside you can easily get lost in the system, meaning potential months in lock-up. Jeff and I were, as you can imagine, put off by the severity of the threat, but it was explained to us by many, including Paul, that unfortunately fear = compliance. It will take a generation who have had access to education to change this way of thinking. It also reinforces the importance of the success of this initiative to ensure that further projects will be started.
Word of our project has spread, unbelievably quickly, throughout the local communities, and it seems that, no matter where we go, people have heard about the two white people who came to Rwanda, not to see gorillas and move on, but to buy 220 sheep. And each time, we are told how grateful they are that people from so far away care about Rwandans and how much life will improve for so many families. Many are now looking for ways to form collectives so that they too can get on the shit bandwagon. And all have offered to keep an eye on the porters and the health of the sheep to ensure success. Can you believe it, everyone from the Mayor down to the local residents are behind this simple start-up! Incredible what can be done for the equivalent of a week at an All-Inclusive for 4 people.
On a side note, our last night was spent at an incredibly interesting and educational Eco-lodge, started up a few years ago by a park warden. It is a series of mud huts, built in the pre-colonial style, and run by ex-poachers who once hunted, trapped and killed the local animals (including the endangered gorillas!) and have now, through education and opportunity, switched to protecting them and their environment. It was essentially no different than camping back home, with the added benefit of learning about the cultural history of the country in the days of kings (essentially a feudal system), traditional medicine from a shaman, recycling metal from the blacksmith, grinding grain and archery. But the best part was sitting around the campfire inside the king's house sharing stories and our hopes for Rwanda's future. And, of course, singing and dancing!
And I must mention that the bed in the royal bedroom was large enough for the king and 20 women of his picking. Now that's a king-size bed!
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Jeff and I took a bus to Butare today. A two hour ride, south this time, to a small university town, that is home to the National Museum and a Genocide Memorial unlike anything imaginable.
The nearby town of Musanze was once the home of a respected Polytechnic school. But in the spring of 1994, as word spread of the mass slaughter of Tutsis further north, over 55,000 Tutsi men, women, children and babies came from all over the surrounding countryside, with nothing but the clothes on their backs, seeking refuge here, believing there would be safety in numbers. Within days, they were surrounded by a small army of Hutu militia, who set up camp nearby.
Then the militia cut off the water supply and they waited. 55,000 people. Some crammed into a series of 60+ classrooms, half the size of any elementary school room at home, the rest, huddled on the school grounds. They were trapped. More than a week went by as the Tutsis grew weaker and weaker from hunger and thirst. Trapped.
Then, the militia stormed the school. Using grenades, bullets, nail-studded clubs and machetes...an unspeakably brutal slaughter. To cover their crime, bulldozers were brought in and massive pits were dug to receive the dead. When french forces arrived a few weeks later, they found an abandoned school (carefully hosed down to leave no signs) and what appeared to be an earthen football field where they set up volleyball nets for the soldiers “down time”.
Only when survivors came from around the countryside to tell of what had happened there, did they realize the truth that lay covered beneath their feet. The bodies were exhumed. While most of the 55,000 were reburied in a mass memorial grave, it was decided that there must be evidence of the horror that had taken place there.
And so today, we walked from room to room. In each, on table tops, with flowers and poems, lay the lye-covered, now mummified remains of men, women, children and babies, some with their skulls smashed in, others missing limbs, mouths open in silent screams. Room after room. Sorry, but you get the picture.
As we are all too familiar with those who would say that previous genocides in other parts of the world did not really happen, the government here is determined to preserve these bodies as historical evidence. Plans are underway for an hermetically sealed, clear resin memorial that will house these 200+ bodies, preserving their remains for years to come.
Why is it we, the human race, continue to find ourselves saying “never again”, again and again?
But I don't want to end on this note, as it only serves to perpetuate a negative image and fear.
That was 16 years ago.
Today, gorilla trekking in Rwanda ranks as one of the top 5 most unforgettable things to do. In fact, the opportunity to get up close to these gentle giants has drawn over 17,000 tourists from around the world so far this year; close to the legal limit of permits issuable and almost triple the number just 5 years ago.
And there hasn't been a single act of violence toward a foreigner here in 16 years. You can't say that about either Florida or Mexico.
Like Europe after WWll, or for that matter, the U.S after Katrina, or any country after a disaster, Rwanda has been bebuilding and transforming itself, achieving undeniably major successes in a short time, thanks to the diligence and guidance of a remarkable, dedicated president, Paul Kagami, exercising firm but loving leadership, and a people committed to his vision.
Here there is a distinct absence of the corruption that plagues most other African nations.Those in the know consider Rwanda to be the most stable of all African countries and the most likely to succeed at a time when many more frequently visited countries are imploding.
Rwanda is safe. Believe it. Or just ask anyone who has been here. It's the first thing they will tell you, followed immediately with, "and it's so clean!i" President Kagami has banned the use of plastic bags. Even duty-free bags are confiscated upon arriving at the airport. And on the last Saturday of every month, every citizen is required to give 4 hours of community service to cleaning up their neighbourhood. And it shows. Cross the border into any neighbouring country and garbage is the first thing you notice.
Rwanda is small and the major roads connecting towns and cities to Kigali are all paved. No destination is much farther than a drive to the cottage or camping back home. And outside Kigali there's no traffic. Just a constant flow of people walking or riding their bikes along the side of the road. And have we said, over and over, how magnificently beautiful this country is?
The land of a thousand hills.
The Switzerland of Africa.
