what do you want to be when you grow up?

This is a question most of us are used to hearing. We have been asked this question since we are little - our answers represent our dreams, our aspirations, our hopes for our own future. The question also suggests that we have a choice - fireman, doctor, rock star, etc. Anything is possible.

Poverty can be defined as the absence of choice. Injustice can be defined as the removal of choice, one from another. Without choice there is no hope. Without hope there are no dreams or aspirations.

I wouldn't have thought to ask most of the people I met when I have traveled in Africa what they wanted to be when they grew up - such a question would have been absurd and insensitive to their circumstance. Prior to being asked the question there needed to be some way to restore hope - to provide options, to provide choice. 660 high school kids, sleeping in vastly overcrowded dorms, two to a bed, are working on just that -creating choice for themselves. As are the women who walk 100's of kilometres with their hungry and sick children - to seek food and medical attention so that their kids may just have some options. A young man, inticed into the army or rebel forces with the promise of a uniform and a gun - tools of choice for the desparate.

When I ask my boys what they want to be when they grow up, what I really want to hear is the limitlessness of their possibilities - I want to hear their visions, their dreams, the confidence they feel that they can be and do anything.

If I want that for my own kids, then what difference is there for those others, my neighbours. What must I do first, so that I can ask them that question. Imagine sitting with a 13 year old girl in Goma, Congo, who has had the chance to go to secondary school. Who wasn't distracted from her studies by hunger, sickness, or the threat of attack. What would her answer be?

Or the boy, who for his known life has moved from place to place avoiding the conflicts that threatened his family. Now, back in his native country, he is pleased to see his mother gaining strength as the medicines attack the TB she has been afflicted with. He also smiles as he puts on his school uniform and runs his hand over the excercise book that he has been given. What is his answer to the question now?

We in the west need to see our role in the absence of choice for millions around the world. The Governments we vote for and support, the products and services we buy, how we spend our time and resources - all have an impact on whether or not it will ever make sense to ask kids in the poorest places on earth what they want to be when they grow up.

step off the curb

A rainfall in Bukavu, Congo is like a snow day in Vancouver.  The roads, such as they are, become a quagmire of thick mud making the slightest incline virtually impossible to gain - especially for the bald tired, overcrowded mini-vans.  So, it was into one such day that we chose to drive out towards the edge of town to visit a hospital.  On our return we arrived at the junction of three roads, all on a slight uphill.  It was chaos.  Not only were the mini-vans stuck, but truck drivers, believing that foot to the floor would somehow - magically - cause traction - instead the rear of their vehicles would swing out into oncoming traffic.  However none of this dissuaded other drivers of all manner of cars to inch forward, or slip in beside others - basically filling in all the gaps and insure nobody was going anywhere.

Thus we sat, on the verge of completely abandoning the Toyota in favour of walking.  Then, from the side of the road came a guy, a bystander.  He took charge.  If space became available, he made sure it wasn't simply filled by another car, he looked for ways to decrease the gridlock.  He had a stern expression and shouted if need be.  But, not after too long, the cars began to move.  We had our turn and were soon leaving the hill behind us - with a last wave to our new best friend - but he was too busy with other cars to notice.

I've been thinking about that guy, and the metaphor of his actions.  For two weeks we visited villages, schools, hospitals. We went from Presidential Palaces to UN tarped refugee camps.  What sticks with me most though, are those people who are giving of themselves for others.  The 'ex-pats' who have left behind career and comfort to be there to provide hope.  The Rwandans, or Burundians, or Congolese that are selflessly giving of themselves for their countrymen.  Like our friend who stepped out into the middle of the road, in the mud, and took charge - with no gain for himself - and helped us get on our way - these people I met have stepped out into the middle of these villages, schools, hospitals.

If I resolve anything from this trip, its to not remain on the curb and watch the gridlock - but instead step off the curb, into traffic, and work with whatever I can to bring hope.

Thanks for reading.

dancing in the back with Jo

Early this morning we gathered with the staff and many of the patients from Heal Africa for morning prayers. I took my spot at the back of the church along with Jo Lusi, head surgeon from Heal Africa, and my good friend. Much of the service was either in Swahili, or bad english. I was happy to be out of the fray. Then a group of women, a choir made up of women who are either waiting for or recovering from fistula surgery, rose to sing. Their song, a beautifully harmonized Swahili tune, was about that eternal life was all about dancing - no preaching, no God sitting on his throne - he would be up dancing. The song was pure joy, from a group of women who have experienced anything but.

Next we all stood and, those who could, sang another amazing African tune in swahili. Soon Jo was dancing, and with little encouragement I joined him. We danced, Jo showing me a move, then me making him laugh with mine. It was a moment in time that I won't forget. It was a moment in time where this present eternity makes perfect sense.

This is the contrast of being in Africa. There are times when one is witness to the unspeakable horrors of violence and poverty. Then there are others when you get to dance and sing. Both of these make up the character of the places we have been over the past ten days. It often doesn't make sense. However, I am becoming better and better at living with those questions - not avoiding them, not distracting myself from them, but also realizing, answers to them are elusive.

As we left the church this morning, my hand in Jo's, I told him I really enjoyed the dancing. He responded with a bit of instruction " when you dance, moving your hips side to side is ok, but we say no to forward and back"........

its not making sense

At dinner this evening we experienced an earthquake - it was short but violent. not enough to cause damage, but enough to rattle nerves. Last February an earthquake toppled buildings and took lives. In 2002 a volcano erupted north of Goma and lava flowed burying half the city - including the Heal Africa hospital.

Earlier we visited Panzi Hospital. Much like Heal Africa Panzi works with women who are victims of sexual violence. We met two young 15 year old girls who were waiting for fistula surgery, one of them for the third time.

Nothing makes much sense here. There is no equity even in the misery this area suffers - they have far more than their fair share. I can somehow rationalize the 'man made' issues like violence - its the fault of someone - but add to that 'Acts of God' and it falls apart for me.

On days like today I need to re-read what I wrote yesterday...

We have just two more days in the field before beginning our travels home. There is certainly the sense of being 'full' - but I am glad to be heading to Goma to familiar people and places.

hope

I am sitting at the FHI house in Bukavu, DR Congo. with my friend Kristee Watson from North Vancouver. Kristee works here as the Grants Finance Manager for FHI. We have just come from 'The Rendezvous' a new ( in fact it opened today) coffee shop in town. Its run by Renee, an American who has grown up in Bukavu with 2nd generation Missionary parents. The shop is staffed by students and widows. The intent is to provide these folks the means to go to school. Behind the glass cabinet are donuts, cookies, cinnamon buns, etc. our Cappuccinos are made on a "Mr. Coffee" expresso machine, with heated up milk that has been shaken around to make froth. both the coffee and cookies taste great.

I was in Bukavu 4 years ago. Back then I wasn't able to walk the streets or spend anytime in town. Military or rebel militia roadblocks would appear overnight. We were searched at gun point. I was woken by machine gun fire. Now I am hanging out in a cafe with young and hopeful congolese.

Its easy to lose hope in these countries. If its not the government, its the lack of rain, its the price of grain, its the rebels, its the disease, its the 98% unemployment, its international apathy. But, then you see small signs, things we take for granted - flowers planted in school yards, a freshly painted front door, or a small coffee shop in the middle of what was, and what might be again, a war ravaged town. Behind each of these signs are people who refuse to give up and/or give in - they see beyond the circumstance, they seem to know there is more than this, and they can be part of that more.

As we sat over our coffees people were coming in, by themselves or in groups. I had the sense that everyone who arrived felt like they belonged. Even the seller of extension cords and twine or the guy who brought flowers for the tables. This in a place where Kristee carries a radio at all times and knows the protocol in case of attack or if an evacuation is necessary. A place where one doesn't dare walk any distance after dark - and the threat of armed bandits robbing homes is an ever present danger.

The FHI office in Bukavu is the largest project by scope of any of the FHI fields worldwide - slowly moving from food security, keeping people fed, to helping them help themselves through fish farms, work-for-food employment building roads, water and sanitation projects ( there's currently a cholera epidemic in Goma), and seed distributions.

Its easy, when looking from 50,000 feet, to lose any sense of hope that Congo can find stability or have a positive, long term future. But, then again, you can't see flowers, or for that matter people coming and going in a community coffee shop, from up that high.

knowing

why come all the way to Africa? - why come back to places I have already been? I found the best answer to that question on the wall of the Kigali Genocide Memorial yesterday - "If you knew me, and really knew yourself, you would not have killed me". Absolutely profound in its simplicity. In 1994, 1,000,000 people were killed in 100 days, another million were killed in the subsequent 3 months. I had no idea at the time. I didn't know Rwanda. Subsaharan Africa has the distinction of having the poorest of the poor on the face of the earth. Most live on less than a dollar a day. Before I came here I had no idea.

In the faces of the people, in my interactions with them there is a strong sense of joy and resilience, in the face of crippling conditions. If I was in their position would I smile? Had I been a Hutu in 1994, would I have risked myself, and possibly my family, to not only abstain from killing, but actively work to protect those who were being attacked? I know the answers I want to have, but I hesitate, because I am not completely confident in myself - I still have work to do in knowing myself.

Being here, dancing with kids, visiting with those who are working for justice, hearing the stories of those being chased from country to country for decades and now settling with nothing - I am confronted with the challenge of knowing myself as I get to know these others. That is truly the answer as to why I am back in Africa.

We leave Rwanda tomorrow morning and head to Bukavu in the DR Congo. Congo is hungry and angry - we will be spending the next five days with those who are feeding and seeking justice.

a day of stark contrast

so I got a call at 11pm last night that today's plan had changed and we were to be up, packed and ready to go by 7am. dutifully I was.... We got picked up promptly at 9:15am and headed for the meeting with the President. The meeting happened with little to report - very much pomp and ceremony. We left his office and I took off my tie and rolled up my sleeves - now we got to go out to the rural areas and get on with my favorite part of being in Africa. There was just one little issue, there was no diesel in town to fill the vehicles we needed for our drive. We had to wait until some materialized - evidently it would work in our favour that we had just spent time with the President. While we waited we decided lunch was in order and found that Jean - who works for Food for the Hungry in Burundi, his wife runs a great Chinese restaurant - go figure, and in fact his wife is chinese - go figure. It seems our Burundian friend Jean had studied in Russia and China, and there met his wife. So, once at the restaurant my fellow traveler John Weston was able to use his Mandarin to order lunch - this just after he was conversing with our driver in french - unbelievable.

Lunch was great, and once over we left to discover that our drivers were successful and the diesel delay only set us back a couple of hours. So finally, bags loaded, people loaded, we were off on our two hour drive to our destination of a small village on the border of Rwanda and Burundi. About 45 minutes into the drive our rear tire exploded, fortunately without incident. A bunch of muzungu ( foreigner in Swahili) changing a tire on the side of a road draws a crowd. that accomplished, we were off again. and after about 2 hours we arrived and Rubura - a rural community - where we were to have a look at the Health clinic and attached hospital that serves over 250,000 people in the area. The big issue is malaria - 170 new cases a week - no nets in the community or in the hospital itself. Once through the hospital, and after being inundated by all the kids - we headed off for our final visit - a small refugee community of 23 families who had returned from Tanzania. They had fled Burundi in 1972 for Rwanda during the beginning of the civil strife in Burundi. Then in 1994 at the outset of the genocide in Rwanda they fled to Tanzania. Finally in 2005 the Tanzanian Army chased them out of Tanzania and back to Burundi. They have nothing. The Gov't has given them housing on a remote hillside. Very little land to to grow food. Water is a good distance down in the valley. They are very hungry. They have planted a little soybean, but the dry season is coming and its doubtful they will harvest much of a crop. We stood and listened to their stories as the sun went down. I met a grandmother Veronique who is raising her four grandchildren as their parents had died of Aids.

Finally, it was time to go. We left them in the dark with their problems and hunger. There are plans to help them through food aid, and through othe programs, but all those are still in the works. Arriving at these places is my favourite part of these trips, leaving them is the worst part. I can feel like a voyeur on their misery. I can feel helpless. I certainly feel foolish. All that said, I know why I am here, and glad of it. How else would the story of these people, of Veronique, ever be heard if someone didn't come and listen. How else could the staff here raise the needed funds unless people come and 'get it'.

We are now staying overnight with a wonderful British couple who work with Food for the Hungry. they are working on agricultural projects - specifically coffee - helpful for building economic opportunity for the people here.

Sorry for the long post, but the contrast between our morning visit with the President and the late afternoon visit with refugees seemed worth noting. Tomorrow we head to Musemma, a community I visited last time. I look forward to seeing familiar sites and maybe even a few faces.

thanks for reading.

T.I.A.

This morning the schedule called for us to be dressed in shirt and tie and ready by 8:45am for a meeting with the President of Burundi to discuss the country's situation. I got a call at 7:30am, plans have changed, we are now visiting one of the first ladies projects, but still wear a tie. I arrive at breakfast to find we are being picked up 1/2 hour earlier, and no tie required. We got picked up at 9 and drove to the residence of the President. There were no instructions or explanations. We sat patiently until the first lady appeared, and after a quick prayer we were in the vehicles and off. The convoy of 11 vehicles was led out by two motorcycles, followed by a pick up full of armed cops, then the 'protocol' car ( not sure what that is), her excellency's car, her body guards car, 4 of our vehicles, then a Landcruiser full of military guys with lots of guns. Unbelievable. We drove at high speed out of the city and beyond. I had heard someone mention the drive would be an hour. Turned out it was 3 hours. We did stop once for a pit stop for her excellency - the rest of us had to wait....

After 3 hours we arrived at our destination. As the drive became longer and longer I started thinking - "well at least there will be kids to dance and sing with at the end of this" - our destination was a very large, very flat, piece of dirt....the first lady has great plans to build a hospital, orphanage, old folks home, school, vocational school, hotel, and sundry soccer fields and playgrounds. There are needs in that region for all those facilities - except maybe the hotel - but what was uncertain was whether or not you could get water, how one dealt with sewage and drainage, oh, and how it was going to get paid for - I guess that's why we were invited.

Finally as the group shifted from one area to another, and the soldiers moved their perimeter positions my friend John and I found a tree.

We ate a great lunch then back another 3 hours to town, and that was our day. I was exhausted yet felt like I accomplished nothing. T.I.A. - This Is Africa. There is a different measurement system here, for everything from time to achievement. Today's achievement was spending time being interested in someone else's idea. Even if it didn't make much sense to me, it obviously does to her, and she must have felt good about having these people from half way around the world come and have a look at it.

A follow on from yesterday's post - I realize I made a leap in logic from the President singing in church to the fact that he must care about his population. My error is not filling in all the blanks - by a desire to keep the posts short. The example of him singing was simply confirmation of a number of other things the President has said, and done - including risking himself by actively pushing for peace with the rebels he spent years in the bush fighting - that provide a composite picture of a man willing to be vulnerable and to risk himself for the sake of his people.

So, better get to bed, as the plan has us up and out at 8am with ties on, for a meeting with the President....sound familiar?

hymn sing with the President

As mentioned, we were up early this morning to drive the two hours to Bujumbura to attend church with the first lady of Burundi. As we pulled up to the church, the soldiers with the truck mounted machine gun, the black Mercedes, and the guys in black suits with walkie talkies suggested that she may have brought her husband.....we were ushered to the front as special visitors and sat right beside the President, well, right beside the security guy who was beside the President. The service was somewhat typical of my African church experiences, funky band with tinny keyboard ( played constantly through prayers, sermons, etc) sketchy guitar, lots of impassioned singing, and enough sermons to last a month of church....just over 3 hours - all in the local language of Kirundi.

while this type of service is not my normal cup of tea... this was strikingly different in one regard. At one point in the service the President was invited up to give, what I thought, would be the obligatory speech by the 'important guy'. Instead, after a few words he cracked the hymn book, queued the band and led the congregation in a rousing version of....whatever it was a rousing version of. Part of the song was him singing, then the group responding. Unbelievable, here is the President of a Country with 7.6 Million people which is struggling against a rebellion that threatens a tentative peace, showing incredible vulnerability and humility. In other words, he was acting like a human being - just like everybody else in the room. It was such a contrast to what I had come to know from African leaders - there was no bravado, no arrogance, no airs. It gives me hope.

Africa needs leaders who are human first. Leaders who can connect with those who don't have guys in black suits managing their every move. Leaders who can articulate their country's biggest issues - in the case of Burundi - food security, education, health care.

Over the next few days we will wander amongst those who have nothing, not even the confidence that they will be safe overnight. We'll meet people who don't have food to eat, who don't have the chance of going to school to better their circumstance, who don't have health facilities that can support their HIV/Aids, Malaria, or the variety of other medical concerns. But what they do have is a President who cares. That is more than most Africans can say.

sleeping horizontal

after 3 planes, 20 hours flying then 6 hours driving we get to sleep lying down. We have arrived in the middle of Burundi. After a late dinner I am wrestling with a french keyboard at the hotel - a special kind of torture for sure. As soon as I was off the plane I understood why I was back here. The light, the smell, the warm greetings - all so familiar and welcome. The roads have improved since I was last here, and the borders seemed more relaxed. What remains the same are the roadblocks, truck accidents - yup we passed two large semi's on their sides but no injuries - and the rising tension that comes from driving at night.

We are a group of 5 Canadians, all seasoned travelers, led by a very lay back Ben Hoogendorn, the President of Food for the Hungry Canada. After all the travel we anticipated a late morning start tomorrow, but I was just informed that we have been invited to church with the wife of the President of Burundi - the service starts at 9 and we are 2 hours drive away! So not only do we leave at the crack of dawn - we need to be in shirt and tie!

I am very happy to be here, and anticipate yet another life altering trip, but right now I can't wait to lie down.

Peace.

preparing to go

Its been about a year and a half since I have been in Central Africa. My last trip took almost a year to figure out. I can no longer only be a traveler in these places. I can't simply take good photos, show sympathy, and move on. This trip is about figuring out my true relationship with those countries, and the people. I have no real anxiety, just anticipation. I leave tonight, have one day in London, then meet my friends to fly to Kigali. From Kigali we fly to Bujumbura, the Capital of Burundi and spend 4 days in a couple of communities there. Then back to Kigali and have a look a some 'social commerce' programs. On Saturday the 7th we fly to the border of Rwanda and drive into Bukavu, in the Democratic Republic of Congo to visit with a friend Kristee Watson. Monday morning the 9th we take a fast boat up Lake Kivu to Goma and spend our last couple of days at Heal Africa with Lyn and Jo Lusi. Of course, this is Africa, so that schedule may all change.

I will try to post as often as I can.