Muzungu

Last week, it took us two hours to make it from Kigali to Nyabiheke, one of the two refugee camps I will work in. Nyabiheke camp is situated in a small town, called Nyabiheke, along a dirt road that seems impassable without a Land Rover (it takes us about 30 minutes to go 8 miles on this road). The town is northeast of Kigali, en route to Tanzania, and the camp in the town houses about 5000 refugees. I had seen pictures of the camp from Ann Kao before arriving, but even still, I had no idea what to expect.

It turns out it was difficult to notice anything on the way into the camp because I was so distracted by the kids. Almost every single one along the way leapt to his or her feet and ran after the car, waving to me, yelling “Muzungu! Muzungu!” I would just wave back to them and they would laugh or smile or jump up and down.

When I got out of the car, I met Jessica in the training room; she was running a session for the anti-AIDS club in the camp here on HIV/AIDS and reproductive health, something that I will be in charge of when she leaves in three weeks. After I was warmly welcomed by Jessica, and given lunch they had saved for me (rice, a green vegetable like spinach, cassava (a banana looking potato tasting thing), and goat), I got a tour of the camp. I saw the pharmacy, the consultation rooms, the female and male wards, the nutrition center, the training room, the isolation room, and the kitchen. All the buildings are made of basic wood with green plastic sheeting as the walls, issued by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR). You will see all of those as soon as I can take pictures.

After the tour, I got to play a little soccer with the kids in the camp. They were laughing so hard at the Muzungu bouncing the ball on his head, but I don’t know why. I think it’s funny to see a Muzungu do anything around here. As I was walking away, the kids would not stop following me – I even tried to walk in circles, but that didn’t fool them. They were holding my hands and touching my arms, and I actually had to pull my hands away from them when it was time to leave. On the way back, I made sure to learn how to say “no more” in Kinya-rwanda for next time.

Unfortunately there is no word on my bag. And to make it even worse, I called the airport on Sunday to check, and the woman said “Oui, le baggage est la.” Yes, the bag is there. I thanked her and told her how glad I was that my bag had finally arrived. Oh yes, what a joyous occasion; we both rejoiced happily over the phone like two old friends. I have since thought a lot about this phone call, and even if I misunderstood her French, which I don’t think I did, we were clearly on the same celebratory wavelength regarding the arrival of my bag. Well, you guessed it, we went there to pick it up and it was not there. That meant back to not shaving and looking like a slob everyday when I meet new people, and back to applying Purell Hand Sanitizer to my armpits in lieu of deodorant (it doesn’t smell as nice and it burns a little bit, but it isn’t so bad).

Anyway, all is not lost here, and I am learning a lot already. I am starting to learn a lot about what it means to be a refugee - what do you think when you hear the word refugee? I thought of people as unfortunate, forced from there homes because of conflict, and that holds true here. But, what I didn’t realize is the lives these people led before they came here. Many, if not most, were self-sustaining individuals before they were pushed out by the rebel militias of the Congo. Last week at the training, I sat and talked with a nice guy named Felix. Back home, he told me, he was a teacher of science and technology at the local school. Now, I don’t know what he does, but he does not teach, as there is no school at which he could work in the camp. I mean, I think that we would be very similar to a lot of these people (in some ways, not all) if we were forced from our homes in the US (truthfully, I think that we would be less resilient). These people had pride, dignity, sustenance back home, and I think it is difficult for them to live in this place where those things are hard to come by.

Today I am in Nyabiheke again, but tomorrow I leave for Gihembe camp to have some meetings. I will be back in Kigali on Thursday night, so I can communicate Friday and this weekend. Thanks for reading.

PS – There is an ex-pats soccer team in Kigali that I might play on now. It’s called Muzungu United.