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Dispatch #13 from Rwanda (cont.)
I've come to love this place, but it can get to you. It really is a difficult place to live - power
outages, no guarantee of running water (either hot or
cold), street kids begging for money, an old toothless
woman sitting on the steps of the post office begging
for money, the same man trying to sell me more of the
same candle holders of which I've already bought half
a dozen, men trying to sell me bags of hot, hot
peppers or oranges or whatever's in season, the
minibuses that seem to actually aim for you as they
barrel down Butare's main road, the stray dogs that
are frequently shot in the middle of the night, the
sheer poverty and underneath it all the legacy of the
genocide.
But it is also these same things which I'll miss. But
I'll especially miss the people. It is after all the
people that leave the strongest impressions, that
touch your heart, that drive you crazy, and that drive
you to do what you do - they inspire.
Like Leopold, a second year student and future
filmmaker, who, in the midst of exams and finishing up
coursework, put together a 35-minute documentary on
street kids. He had a screening of the film for me,
his "best friend," and several others. The documentary
is incredible.
And Collin, a third year student, who after consuming
a few beers at our end of semester gathering made a
list of reasons why I was a good teacher and why I was
a bad teacher. Apparently, I was bad because I made
him want to cry and to give up. But ironically I was
good because, according to Collin, I made him work
hard. "She never gives up so I didn't want to either,"
he explained.
And Angelique, one of the 6 TV journalists that I
worked with a couple weeks ago. I had to conduct the
workshop in French as all of the journalists were
Francophone. I hadn't been prepared for that, but I
still somehow managed to muddle my way through (and by
the end of the week was actually quite proud of
myself!). Angelique and the others were incredibly
patient helping me find the words, through sign
language, pictograms or miming, when none came to me
I hadn't been sure sometimes during the week about
Angelique's commitment to journalism though she had
been at TVR for 8 years. She ended up as one of the
strongest students and shocked me when she began
crying as we said our goodbyes. She couldn't even look
at me.
And countless others, many of whom lost part or all of
their family in 1994, but who have a burning desire to
become journalists in spite of, or perhaps despite,
the legacy of hate media in this country and the role
radio played in the slaughter of almost one million
people. There is still hope here and that, in part, is
what has kept me going these past four months.
I guess I have made an impact here. Sometimes you
never really know if you're making a difference. For
me it appears I have. I've received a number of emails
thanking me for inspiring them, for pushing them, for
teaching them. I thank them for inspiring me to do the
best that I can.
I feel like I can now leave Rwanda in peace knowing
I've accomplished so much. But I also know there is
still so much work left to be done. And I know that I
will be back....just not sure when or how.
Be well, be safe
Michelle
Well, shortly after I wrote my dispatch Sunday I had a
relapse. After a number of tests which came back
negative and putting me on malaria medication to which
I have responded, it was decided that I did in fact
have malaria....so there you go. Definitely never a
dull moment.
I'm doing pretty well. Still quite weak, headachy and
shaky but the drugs are helping tremendously!
Today I went to visit Alphonsina and her siblings. I
brought along one of my students and we're going to
try getting at least some of them back in school. I
trust Leopold, my student, to help with this and I
hope we'll have some success.
That's it for now from the Land of a Thousand Hills...
over and out!
best,
michelle
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