The women of the rug

Hello my dear friends,

Lots of come to my mind of what I should write in this blog post.  However, as I forgot I have a meeting with my mentor in 30m I am just going to throw down some information that I should have given long ago about my placement here in Rwanda.

Fair Children Youth Foundation was started by a man, Ellie, two years ago.  He had a passion and a desire to create a foundation that supported women, who then supported children - the future of Rwanda.  He has three schools: the deaf school, wisdom primary school and the nursery.  Visiting all three, I have my opinions about them all.

To begin, the Nursery is loud and crazy.  Picture young children running around classrooms, screaming, shouting, with snotty noses and who knows what kind of germs on their hands.  However, when they smile at you with their big eyes that have yet to see despair, hurt and disappointment, your heart melts.  The days are long... very long.  The only thing that managed to get me through my first visit there was the crackers they gave out at lunch time.  Oh, how I miss those crackers.

Wisdom Primary school is where I am at.  Milijana (from UWO), Naomi (from New Brunswick) and I are scheduled to be there from 6:30am-5:00pm on Mondays and Tuesdays.  Wednesdays we don't start until 1pm, although the head director, Vian, usually calls me at 7am to be in as soon as possible.  Thursdays we have off, however, Vian usually calls me in the morning to be there as soon as possible.  (Boys... always needing the help of women).  Fridays we are there at 6:30am again, but finish after lunch since the rest of the day is used for Sabbath preparation.  We are at FCYF to teach the children reading and computers.  Computers was quite a shock since we didn't know we were teaching that, since I have no idea how computers work, and they don't have working computers at the school.  Reading is also a hassle since most of the time the teachers just throw us into a classroom and say, 'teach.'  Well, what kind of reading? What level are they at? What kind of lesosn do you want them to have? Do we need to mark things? These questions fly through my head all the time.  And frustration ALWAYS surfaces since I am not a trained teacher and fear moulding the minds of the young.  However, we have learned to wing it.  We teach basic learning sentences, play hang man with them, have them write new words in their note books, mark them, and usually finish up with a game.  I tried to teach them 'simon says' so they could learn more English.  However, they didn't grasp the whole 'simon says' part so they just followed my actions.  The first day I did this we were preoccupied with these movements for 30min.  It's safe to say I never want to play simon says again. 

The teachers are absolutely wonderful.  They make us laugh and always make us feel welcome.  They use us to their advantage too.  The past week I didn't even get to a classroom to teach (which is a bit of a break), but instead was put behind a computer to type up their end of May exams.  Took FOREVER! However, I finally felt that my typing skills and (though minimum) ability with a writing program were used to benefit the school.  It's nice to be needed.  I finally felt that I was needed there.

The school for the deaf is wonderful.  It's an hour and fifteen minute walk so we are never placed there.  We did, though, go for a visit and I was absolutely flabbergasted at how smart these children are.  I never knew there would be so many deaf children in Rwanda.  They learn just like everyone else.  They gave me a specific name; pointing to their nose to show my nose ring.  The CHH (child head of house hold) is a program that meets at the deaf school too.  These are children who lost guardians and parents in the genocide and are now being taught basic skills (sewing, electricity, carpentry, etc) so they can survive on their own and support their younger siblings.  I have never met such inspiring people.  "The woman on the rug" are what I call the ladies who sew baskets.  They break my heart.  I look at their lives and how they live at the school, get up every morning at 5am to start pulling out their threads and needles so they can start their days.  They sit on their rug...singing, laughing, talking, working, thinking.  One girl just gave birth to a baby a month ago.  She is no older than 17.  A baby that was conceived through force.  Another girl is missing an arm.  It was cut off during the genocide and she was left to die beside her already murdered parents.  Moving into her Aunt and Uncles place, she was later kicked out because she was one too many mouths to feed.  Thank God for the warm heart of a woman in town, who can barely afford to keep herself alive, who took in the young lady as her own. 

These women have no future it seems.  Their lives are the rug.  Their lives are the baskets they make.  Yet, everyday they sit there - with cheerful song and hopeful dreams that one day their lives will be more than the rug they sit on for 12 hours a day.  I thank God for the options, the choices and the plans He has for my life.  I still can't seem to grip my mind around these women.  Is it better to live a life in hope of something better - not knowing all that the rest of the world has to offer? Or to know what kind of life is available in other parts of the world - but will never be able to reach it?

I ask myself this everyday...

Loving you all.  Missing you all.
-Steph