Today was a pretty hard day. A 16 year old girl died at the orphanage. I went to the funeral and bariel. I just couldn’t help but think what a grim life she led. She was born right around the time of the genocide, possibly became an orphan because of it. Then she spent the rest of her short life in the orphanage. No parents to love, and guide her. She then died never knowing what a loving family felt like. Being Christian makes death easier for me to handle because I believe this girl is no longer suffering and has been reunited with her parents who have told her they love her and would have done anything to be there to watch her grow from a baby to a little girl to a beautiful young lady.
May angels lead you in.
Monday, March 21, 2011
Rwanda 2/7/11
Today I did a home visit to my dear friend Immaculée. She lives so far away from any and everything. It was quite the trek there and I ran out of water, so walking in the blistering heat was not the most fun thing I’ve ever done-but totally worth it. The lady taking us there was so funny, every time I would ask how much longer (I admit I was acting like a 5 year old child) she would say five minutes. Uncle Fester was getting quite upset at this point, and said if we weren’t there in 5 minutes she would have to carry him the rest of the way. Luckily for her sake we got there in a timely manner. Anyway, when I first told Immaculée that I was going to come visit her, she started crying because she was so happy. When I finally got to her house we sat down, she only had a little wooden bench so I sat on the concrete floor. She told me all about her life story: She was married to a Congolese man at age 16. They had two children together, but he started sleeping with other woman and passed on the HIV virus to her. At the time he was a soldier in Congo, and he died in a battle. So now she has 2 young children, HIV, and no husband. I will say this over and over again, but she is one of the kindest women I met there, so happy and full of life.
On the way back home I decided to try to be a Rwandese woman and carry my pack on my head. I must admit I was quite successful and walked for many miles with it on my head, much to the amusement of all of the villagers we passed. One man even commented that I’d make a great Rwandan wife!
**Funny side note: One day while drawing blood at the clinic I kept trying to get the next in line to come sit down, so I would say “umva” which I thought meant next. Every time I said it people would just stare at me, and I was getting so frustrated. A little bit later Tim informed me that “umva” does not in fact mean next, it means listen… Guess that explains all the stares I got from everyone.
On the way back home I decided to try to be a Rwandese woman and carry my pack on my head. I must admit I was quite successful and walked for many miles with it on my head, much to the amusement of all of the villagers we passed. One man even commented that I’d make a great Rwandan wife!
**Funny side note: One day while drawing blood at the clinic I kept trying to get the next in line to come sit down, so I would say “umva” which I thought meant next. Every time I said it people would just stare at me, and I was getting so frustrated. A little bit later Tim informed me that “umva” does not in fact mean next, it means listen… Guess that explains all the stares I got from everyone.
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