Yes the sights and smells of village life took me right back in after Christmas. But first, Christmas in Rome…
I can’t really explain how great Rome was. Every single thing was a step up from life in Rwanda – I was with Kiley and my mom, I had hot showers, I made food in a clean kitchen (no rice and no goat), my bed was huge and the sheets were perfectly clean, I drank wine and beer, I got up from bed and walked to the bathroom without putting on shoes, I walked to a café and had a cappuccino, I ordered whatever I wanted at restaurants without worrying about a return of the wretched stomach mushrooms, the list goes on.
It was a needed break from the life we live here in Nyabiheke. I joke a lot about the physical conditions of Nyabiheke, but in truth, I really don’t mind them. I have gotten used to the bugs and the food and the dirt (actually that is starting to scare me a little). What I did need a break from was being surrounded by constant desperation. After not too long, you sort of get the feeling that you can’t do enough to help these people, and it can be discouraging. It can be mentally exhausting, and I am not even actually in the camp as a refugee. Imagine how hopeless the refugees must feel sometimes. I guess it felt nice to be somewhere where I wasn’t trying and expected to help people in need (although Kiley and mom did need me to handle directions wherever we went).
This was also my first time to Rome, and what a great city it is. We saw the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Vatican, Circus Maximus. But more importantly, we spent time just wandering around, something we can’t really do in Rwanda. In fact, a few times we were wandering around and we happened upon some of the most famous and historic sites in the world. That is what made Rome so memorable. By the way, my trip to Rome was all made possible because of the Darrows, some of the most generous people I have never met. Jessica was an intern with ARC when I arrived in Rwanda, but she left to continue her PhD program. It was her parents who let me use the apartment. I am still trying to figure out a way to properly thank them.
On the way back from Rome, I had to fly through Amsterdam, then to Nairobi, and then to Kigali. Well, so pleased with a great vacation, I forgot that people who work for airlines don’t believe in logic. You guessed it; my bag was lost again, not once, but twice. I missed my connection in Amsterdam because of a late departure from Rome, and had to spend the night there. Amsterdam was freezing, and I needed my jacket in my bag. When I went to retrieve my bag for the night, they said that the bag never made it to Amsterdam. Amsterdam to Rome is like a two hour flight, I mean, is it really asking so much for an airline not to lose my bag?
I acted angry like the rest of the customers that we had missed our flight, but secretly I was not so upset at the thought of spending an extra day in a first world city. The next day, my flight left at 8:00pm, so I had the whole day in Amsterdam. I walked along the canals, and eventually made my way to the Van Gogh Museum, which was having an exhibition on expressionism. After the Van Gogh, I went to the Anne Frank House, which was interesting but sad. For those who don’t remember, Anne Frank was a Jewish Dutch girl living in Amsterdam. She and her family hid in a secret annex of their house until somebody ratted them out, and they were shipped to concentration camps. The whole family died with the exception of the father; even more sad because it goes against all fatherly instincts of protection for his family. The most chilling part of the house was to see that Anne Frank was really just like little girls all around the world – one quote from her diary said something to the effect of “I don’t know why father insists on his business making pepper. I think that if you are going to make something, you might as well make candy.”
My one day in Amsterdam was like a nice preview of the city, and I hope to visit again. I arrived in Nairobi only to find that my bag had been lost again. Strangely enough, I wasn’t surprised at all, just resigned to the fate of my bags on every trip I take. I went through the usual hoops of filling out forms and describing the bag to the airline people, and the bag arrived in Rwanda shortly after I did. Not as bad as last time (which took a month).
It was nice to come back to Nyabiheke and see everyone, and great to get back to work on the HIV program. But, there were no transition moments back into the village life. On only the second morning as sat down for breakfast, someone announced that the bread was old. I assumed they meant stale, and Theodore offered the solution of making it hot (toasting the bread). The housekeeper put the bread into a frying pan and brought it back out as toast, not bad. Well, it wasn’t until about halfway through my second piece that I realized that “the bread is old” actually meant “the bread has green mold growing on it because it has been in the fridge for weeks.” I paused for a moment and looked around at everyone eating, I laughed, and then I continued eating. This is what I mean when I say that I am starting to scare myself. A little mold never really hurt anyone, I think.
From that point, I had only a few weeks left, so it was time to prioritize what I want to do before I leave. The other HIV Intern and I are trying to create an HIV Program Guidebook, which will outline every aspect of the program. Therefore, in the case of staff replacements or new intern arrivals, it won’t take three months for people to understand the program. Secondly, I am making a big push for the soccer field to be finished. We are trying to stretch the money to build a basketball court and volleyball court as well, but I really want the soccer field to be finished before I go. We employed about 90 refugees for about two weeks, but the terrain is so rocky that we need to call in the tractor. That should come this week, and the field will be finished as soon as the goals go up.
These plans have been slowed by a sort of emergency we’ve had in camp for about two weeks. When Nyabiheke Camp was opened in 2005, ARC knew it had to supply water to camp for the population every day. According to the Sphere Standards (a set of guidelines created by collaborating NGOs that outlines minimum requirements for people in disaster or emergency settings, including water, sanitation, food security, nutrition, shelter, etc), each person requires 15 liters of water a day to be used for drinking, cooking, and hygiene. Therefore, ARC searched the local valleys and eventually dug a borehole which extends about 80 meters into the earth. This tapped the water table in the earth, and a pump supplies water to the camp where it is stored in giant tanks (8 tanks, 10,000 liters in each). There are numerous water points (faucets) where people can fill up there containers with water to bring back to their homes. And in accordance with the Sphere Standards, these water points are to be no more than 500 meters from any one house, and people are not to wait more than 15 minutes for their water.
Now the pump to the borehole is broken, and there is no water coming into camp. They can’t walk to the store to buy water, and they can’t walk to the river or stream to bring some back. This is an emergency.
UNHCR and ARC have been working together to get water into camp everyday in a giant truck, but two of the trucks assigned to this job have already broken down. One is leaking out all the water onto the ground. It is hard to imagine for us, but imagine a situation, or let’s say a 10 period where you had little to no water. You would be panicking. The problem for these people is that there isn’t always a solution they can take into their own hands. If they were in their village, they would probably have a meeting of elders or leaders and come up with a solution. They might solicit the government at the district level to help solve the problem. But here in camp, they don’t have the means to make decisions about these things, so they are left waiting for someone to help them. It can be really disempowering for them. I think about it like when people get old and they start not being able to do things or make decisions for themselves. It infuriates them to no end to lose their freedom and independence.
As it stands right now, we might have to dig a completely new borehole. What is clear is that transporting water in everyday is not working, and something needs to be done fast. Unfortunately this situation is not all that uncommon in the life of a refugee.
So, that is the word for now. As I said, I have only about two weeks left, then my family comes for one week, and then we go home to Boston together. Happy new year everyone and thanks for reading.
