Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Farewell, dear boy


Farewell, dear boy. You came to my house so very often, just wanting to write and draw and be. Since you were three you could not hear because of meningitis. You lived in a world of silence, yet you spoke so deeply to me and all those around you. With a wave and a smile, you would usher my car by each day. You taught my children compassion. You taught my children love. You couldn’t tell Lian how much you were grateful for her friendship, but you made her bows and arrows that took hours to make. You showed her how to shoot from them. You made her smile. You rode bikes around my yard and laughed. You connected with my Aunt’s fifth grade class and without words explained how you really just wanted to play basketball. You loved doing math sums and were so proud when your grades at the school of the deaf placed you second in your class.

In your silence, you fought an unseen battle. The HIV/AIDS that inflicted your family was taking its toll. Your body just couldn’t fight the battle any longer. Your heart was stopping. Your kidneys were failing. And money or access couldn’t take the pain away. You fought harder than anyone imagined or asked. And you knew,  last night, that it was time to go as you said goodbye to your father when he left the room. He left still wanting to fight, but you knew. Somehow, across the oceans, my aunt was awoken in the middle of the night and prompted to pray for you. Without her knowing, they were prayers for the angels to take you and escort you into the highest place where you could truly live and be free.

I had the privilege today of picking up your father and taking him to you. There were no words spoken in the car. Only tears. And the only words I felt prompted to say were, “You are a good father. God is pleased with you.” And yet my Kinyarwandan couldn’t do justice to what I really wanted to say. I could only cry. As I lifted the shroud and placed my hand on your cold head, I could only say you were a blessed son.

And what can I say to them. My heart breaks for them. You are their third child to be taken away. One to malaria. One to doctor error. You to HIV/AIDS. Another miscarried and lost just two weeks ago. Your sister is left. Her name carries so much weight. Precious. She is precious. And we will care for her. She will start school this week. She will be loved. So many people love your family.
I loved your family and I know you needed to rest. Sleep in peace, dear boy.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Join Us in Launching IMPACT Rwanda


Please help support New Horizons Foundation and the local church in Rwanda to IMPACT the lives of neighborhood children across the country…with the pilot program launch in our neighborhood and surrounding community in Kigali, Rwanda.  We are seeking to raise $45,000 in order to launch this program in March.  Donations can be made online - just indicate it is for Rwanda (and not their Romania program). Many blessings, Jennifer

IMPACT (Involvement, Motivation, Participation, Action, Community, Teens) Program:

“To develop responsibility, young people need to have responsibility. To learn to care, they need to perform caring acts.”
Thomas Lickona, Developmental Psychologist and
Professor of Education at SUNY

Imagine a country devastated by the loss of one million people in 1994. Imagine being a youth growing up in post-genocide Rwanda. Imagine trying to rebuild a country from scratch. Imagine 67% of the population being under the age of 25, but the majority being unemployed. Imagine the trust issues and suspicion involved in working with people who still hold bitterness over the deaths of their families. Now imagine…
A youth movement that truly involves young people in real social change.  Imagine youth lobbying their city government to successfully shut down drug laundering businesses in their city. Imagine youth petitioning their mayor and gaining 1,500 signatures to get speed bumps installed on a busy city thoroughfare to protect innocent lives.  Imagine youth getting the first ecological outhouse installed in a key area of a National Park. Imagine youth raising money to buy a milk cow for an orphanage so it can be more self-sustaining. Now consider that through these projects youth learn important life skills like project management, problem solving, teamwork and computer skills.  Can you imagine this next generation of youth becoming change agents, problem solvers, expressing compassionate competence and entrepreneurial energies for the public good?  If you can imagine this, then you have just imagined the tangible achievements of IMPACT Clubs, but we need your help to launch this in Rwanda.

We began this conversation because we know so many youth in our neighborhood who are without hope and without the practical skills needed to further their education and earn a decent living. Seeking a funding partner, Jennifer brought this idea to a very large-NGO. They are so excited that they are seeking funding to launch it in 30 of their areas of development, impacting close to 1000 youth. Unfortunately, the two larger communities in which we know youth are not in those areas of development. We hope to see both happen. We are in conversation with the Pentecostal church in these two communities to partner with them so that this program can take root among youth we know personally. A Rwandan pastor and friend of ours has been spearheading this partnership. The trainers are ready to come. Yet in order to launch this program and impact 275 youth in our local community, we are seeking to raise an initial $43,500 to launch this program in 11 neighborhoods and impact 275 youth.  That is $13/month or $160/year per young person and the tangible projects they create will impact their entire community.

We don’t believe in reinventing the wheel. If something is proven and tested, then let’s see it work in areas where the need is greatest. This is our fourth year in Rwanda. We have built many friendships with the youth in our village, but we have to ask what will be sustaining when we are not here? Many of these young men and women are the “sandwich generation.” They have been lost under the educational transition from French to English and by rapid rebuilding of the educational system that will greatly benefit today’s 3-5 year olds, but not the 12-18 year olds. Over 40% of those under 25 are unemployed and less than 20% are finishing secondary school. We see a huge desire in them to improve their lot in life and yet the opportunities just aren’t there. We desire to see these innovative and impactful clubs started throughout Rwanda, in partnership with the local church. IMPACT, a model developed on the ground in Romania by my friends, Dana and Brandi Bates, is now not only the largest youth community service movement in Romania, but is recognized globally as a best practice by international youth experts

The IMPACT Program is a powerful vehicle of holistic social change; it is based on a field-tested curriculum and has four broad learning pillars.  The pillars come with a corresponding set of curricula: active citizenship, employability, social entrepreneurship and leadership.  Youth come to know firsthand that they can make a difference and be part of positive change.  The IMPACT model empowers youth to learn how to envision social change, brainstorm together and then write and implement strategic community service projects.  Projects that not only transform youth and their communities, but give them concrete employable skills. The development of moral capacity in the youth served by IMPACT is singularly preeminent, interwoven through the 4 pillars above.  Behind all of this are over 100 field-tested education modules, curricula developed and fine-tuned both on the ground and in consultation with global experts since 2002.  

We already have the trainers, the facilitators and the youth eager to participate. What we need is the funding. World Vision has expressed significant interest in taking this country-wide and has requested three years of funding from its headquarters, but this initial launch will need to be self-funded.
We look forward to partnering with you to impact the youth in our neighborhood and throughout Rwanda.

Please consider investing in a portion of the following:

Training Costs       $15,000 (covers translation/airfare/honorarium/meals and lodging for ten days for trainers)
Administrative/Salaries $23,000 (provides jobs for 12 people – 11 local facilitators and 1 regional coordinator)
Grants for Community Project Grants $5,500 (students can apply for a grant to accomplish their community project)
An online donation can be made at New Horizons Foundation. Just indicate that it is for Rwanda.



The New Horizons Foundation was founded by Dana and Brandi Bates in 2000, to promote top quality experiential education models that advance life skills among youth as a means for sustainable development.  Experiential education is about learning by doing, learning through a problem solving approach to education.  In addition to the IMPACT program, since 2000 NHF has operated the first and only adventure camp in Romania, VIATA.  VIATA utilizes the non-formal educational methodology of adventure education and service learning to develop youth.  VIATA has served over 5000 youth in the 10 years it has operated.  NHF recently celebrated 10 years of sustainable development work in Romania; there currently are over 20 fulltime Romanian staff and 3 American volunteers working with the Foundation in various capacities, as well as one staff member stateside.  There is much more information on the programs, awards and focus of New Horizons on the website:  www.new-horizons.ro.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Update on the Sewing Coop

The poor are always prophetic. As true prophets always point out, they reveal God's design. That is why we should take time to listen to them. And that means staying near them, because they speak quietly and infrequently; they are afraid to speak out, they lack confidence in themselves because they have been broken and oppressed. But if we listen to them, they will bring us back to the essential.”

Jean Varnier

My neighbors are poor. Very poor. The homes that buttress mine are built of mud and tin. There is usually one outhouse with three holes in the ground for 10-12 homes. The paths in between the homes are strewn with litter and washed out maize bags full of mud and trash that are used for stairs. Children play with whatever they find on the street. Their diet consists primarily of potatoes, beans and a green leafy vegetable that grows everywhere. I employee two of the women from this neighborhood. They now earn double the average wage and have the chance to learn English. Their children are now in school. Every week I have someone knocking on my door asking for a job. I so wish I had a multitude of jobs to offer. There are no unemployment benefits here. You don't work; you don't eat. But I can't, which was one of the impetuses behind enrolling 11 of the moms in sewing school for six weeks and partnering with Noonday Collection to purchase products they make. We are now less than three months away from graduation and I am in awe of what these women have accomplished and humbled by what they are teaching me.

We started the process of becoming a cooperative, but the way it works here is that you actually have to have be in operation before you are approved as a cooperative. One of the steps in becoming official is to elect leaders - president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer. Since our first step in meeting with the local chief last month to tell him we wanted to become a cooperative, I have not done anything except facilitate the gathering of the women and the relationship between them and Noonday. They have ownership. Today I hosted them all in my home once again to discuss who should lead. This is what I heard from the women prior to a vote:

Alleluia! Amen! - This is their official opening.

A leader must know her workers.

A leader must start work early. If she says to her employees to be there by 8 am, then she must be there by 7:30 am.

A leader must be sharp and know her product well.

A leader must give of herself.

A leader must serve.

After this discussion of the traits of leadership, they selected from among themselves in an open, democratic way. Some of it was practical, as in, the president must have a Rwandan ID card and not a Congolese (several of our women are from the DRC).

They chose all of their officers. They made a to-do list for their next step in becoming an official cooperative. And then they ended.

A woman, who was so shy the first time I met her, asked to pray. They all stood up. She prayed. There were tears. There were amens. There were alleluias.

I know their stories. These women have become my friends, good friends. These are women who have been broken. Who have been oppressed. Who had to flee from enemies and live like refugees in a foreign country. Yet, they sing and they pray with a new confidence and new hope. I took a deep breath, praying all the details of our business partnership in the States would work out, but when I opened my eyes and saw their faces and saw how far we'd come in such a short time, I knew....I knew....that my and their lives were changing for the better.



Saturday, December 31, 2011

2011 Family Newsletter

Wishing you and your loved ones a year full of joy, love and inspiration.
There are more people than a heart could ever hold, More places than you could ever see
The scrolling list of needs just grows and goes, 24 hours, 7 days a week
‘Cause we think about so much, And do nothing at all, Afraid that what we have to give is so small

You don’t have to save the world, All that hero talk is only superficial stuff
If you want to change the world, What you’ve got to do is show up, show up, just show up

We’re so used to an immediate response, So used to giving up when things don’t work
We know the long obedience is hard, No shortcuts will make it easier
‘Cause the journey is so long, But the difference is made, By the million small steps along the way

You don’t have to save the world, All that hero talk is only superficial stuff
If you want to change the world, What you’ve got to do is show up, show up, just show up

No great things have I done, No great things have I done
Only small things with great love, And love makes a world of difference, You don’t have to save it

You don’t have to save the world, All that hero talk is only superficial stuff
If you want to change the world, What you’ve got to do is show up, show up, just show up

Jill Phillips, Show Up
*************

Nathanael. Our 2 1/2 year old little boy is gentle, pure and strong. He loves life and has a smile and a hello for everyone. He spends most mornings with our house-helper, while Jennifer homeschools Lian, and as a result is our first bilingual child and understands everything in Kinyarwandan and English. He loves to talk, but we are still waiting for when we can understand him. He loves his Nanna and Poppa and is always asking to Skype with them. This boy can dance and loves to play the piano and drums. He is a wonderful brother and wakes up in the morning calling for Anna. As he is very social, we’ve decided to enroll him in Anna’s French preschool in January. He may understand three languages before he can speak one. He is a little fish in the water and loves the shores of Kivu as well as Shadow Lake in Vermont. He will truly melt your hearts when you meet him, as he has ours.



Anna. Our 5 year old is a creative spirit! It is so fun to see each of our children develop their own loves and talents this year. Anna’s highlight of the year was performing in Ballet Rwanda’s Nutcracker with her friends. She practiced every night and was poised and beautiful in the performance. We changed preschools on her again and she loves her new school, Le Petit Callines. In three months, she is already reciting poems in French. We also found a Chinese tutor, so the girls go twice a week to meet Lao Shi in this tiny apartment in a downtown alley where their teacher makes and sells tofu and soy milk. Jennifer has to speak in Kinyarwandan to the Chinese husband in order to communicate with his wife. Anna has also started playing soccer on a new international kids’ league. She was the only girl and the smallest player at first and we were so proud of how she overcame her fears. Her new best friend is Marcel Urquhart, who was adopted into our partners’ family this year. They are like two peas in a pod.

Lian. Lian has also really come into her own this year. A friend coaches the National Rwandan Tae Kwon Do team and offered to give Lian private lessons. Every morning she practices with her dad and in six months she has earned her yellow belt and blue stripe. She is now inspired to train for a competition next year. She attends 3rd grade homeschool with Mommy and has loved learning about Ancient History this year. Another new hobby this year is horseback riding. It has been another great joy to see her overcoming fears and learning to ride. As there is not much entertainment and we don’t own a TV, Lian is the queen of creativity and loves making up games, art projects and stories with her sister. Our house is usually a disaster as a result, but we love watching them bond.





Highlights for Dano and Jennifer.
Seeing Karisimbi Partners grow and highlighted by the Daedalus Experiment and New Times.

Taking the family on vacation in Amsterdam, Copenhagen and Legoland this summer, before spending time with Jen’s family in Vermont.

Annual Gordon reunion with Jennifer’s friends and their families.

Leading an orphan care training together in Kaziba, Democratic Republic of Congo for 32 caregivers.

Jen learning a new job as Communications Specialist for a USAID agriculture project.

Hosting Easter camp for 45 kids and then Christmas camp for 130 kids in our house and watching them all respond to the good news of Jesus.

Starting a sewing school for 11 moms in the neighborhood and working with Noonday Collection to purchase their products upon completion of their training.

Welcoming friends Mary-Catherine Lader, Melanie and Marissa Usakokol, Santiago Sedaca, Steve Beck, Peb Jackson and housemates Celine and Dar to Rwanda.

Facilitating adoptions for two Rwandan children.

Weekly Sunday worship and fellowship times at our home.

Wishing you and yours a wonderful New Year!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Need for Vacation

We are now in our third year of life in Rwanda. After a wonderful time with family and friends on the East Coast, plus a week’s vacation in Amsterdam and Denmark, we were ready to reenter life here. I have never craved vacation as I have until I moved here. As a child, our family rarely took vacations. I’ve tried to place my finger on it and I think I need to face the reality that sometimes life in a cross-cultural situation is just challenging, thus draining and thus we crave some distance.

What are the challenges?

Constantly known as the Muzungu. Even if I’ve sought to learn some Kinyarwandan and have immersed myself in the neighborhood, I am still the muzungu the moment I walk out my gate. “Chocolate, amafaranga (money)” are the constant requests. Even if I have been to the market a thousand times in a year, I am still the outsider having to barter for what I believe should be the fair price and not the price due to the color of my skin. And even though I seek to understand the cultural nuances, I will most surely end up offending someone because I did something that is not acceptable here, but I just hadn't learned that nuance yet.

Constantly expecting something to not go as planned. As I’m currently reading Little House on the Prairie to my five year old, I am struck with the reality that my living situation here is quite comfortable in comparison to life on the American frontier in the late 1800s. Yet, compared to 21st century America, it is not. Water can turn off without any warning. My neighbors often come to share water when the village well is dry. A new road in our neighborhood is a God-send, yet, I am well aware that this will mean a power outage of at least an hour to four hours for every day during construction, which can last weeks. So I never stock the fridge to capacity, even though it is only a third of the size of a standard American fridge, because I don’t want to risk losing food. Even in work, I can plan for two weeks to get invitations out for an event, but when the printer actually runs out of ink and then asks the customer to purchase it for him, that was never in the plan.

Constantly reminded that a little can go a long way. Every time I open my gate and see my neighbor, I am faced with the reality that my Bourbon latte could pay for her son’s three months of education. Do I have a coffee that day or do I help my neighbor? I have to say that I have stopped buying as many coffees out and purchased coffee for my own home. It saves a lot and allows me to spend more on those in my neighborhood, but sometimes I just want to enjoy that iced late. My children have lots of art supplies – there is not much to do here, which is a positive. My children have become very creative at creating their own fun. Yet, there is always the tension of how much do I just keep the supplies and toys for my children and when do I use them to bless other kids in the neighborhood. These are daily decisions that weren’t always as apparent to me in the States even though we lived in an inner-city neighborhood.

These are all tensions for which I am actually grateful as they are forever changing how my family looks at the world. Yet, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that sometimes they just get tiring and the shores of Lake Kivu cry out for perspective, beauty and fun. Thankfully, I am married to a man who loves to both work hard and play hard and is committed to seeing as much of the beauty of this country and Continent as is possible.

After two or three days away, I do feel rejuvenated. When I look out into the beauty of Lake Kivu, I stand in awe that I am here in the heart of the continent for such a time as this. When I return home, I have the energy to have tea with the women in my neighborhood and to dream and plan with them regarding their future employment; I shed tears as the house staff for the Karisimbi team pray over us and thank us for treating them like family; and I celebrate with the 12 year old deaf boy, Imanishimwe, as he runs to my house to tell me he is first in his class! It is a good life here. Sometimes I just need perspective.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Trip to Kaziba Orphanage, Congo

Our time in Kaziba was short and meaningful. All of my anxieties about being in Congo seemed to disappear as we drove up the beautiful escarpment leaving behind beautiful Lake Kivu and headed into mountains reminiscent of the Fjords in Norway. It didn’t seem that different from Rwanda, but it was. Somehow I felt safe and secure heading towards the orphanage, yet the reality is it is a lawless region. Vigilante justice is done towards those who commit crimes because the government cannot be trusted. Bribes are the currency of business and so there is no infrastructure, no industry sectors. Except for mining. And mining is lucrative for those at the top, as long as you close your eyes to what happens to those at the bottom. But this is what we heard, not what we saw….what we saw was… (For pictures of our trip please go to - http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150307917392926.413861.760487925&l=cd3eaef862)

A home…full of children…a home that a year ago housed children so malnourished that many of the newborns weren’t expected to live. The one year olds did not receive enough Vitamin D through milk and sunlight that their fontanel lobes were not closing. There were two caregivers for 32 children. That is when Holly Mulford met the children and adopted two twin baby girls. Through the generosity of friends and her own personal motivation, she did a formula drive that has ensured each child receives adequate formula every day. She got medical care for kids who needed it. She raised funds so they could hire more staff – they had 4 last year, now there are 17 women. She raised funds to build a wall around the property so that the home would be safe and therefore they built their own garden and are now supplying the orphanage with beans and maize from their own land. They just recently got chickens for eggs and will have a cow soon. Holly has helped facilitate several adoptions from this orphanage as well as she shares the news of these children who lost their mothers in childbirth. (If you are interested in sponsoring a child, please go to http://www.tumainidrc.org/.

We were there to do a training on building attachment between the caregivers and the children. I structured it around the parable of the Good Shepherd. I believe orphans will receive better care when their caregivers are honored and cared for themselves. So we spent a lot of time holding their hands, looking into their eyes, acknowledging their names, giving them gifts, showing them we see them – truly see them. Yet, there were times when I almost had to look away from their eyes because their eyes were crying out for love and it was almost too much for me to handle. I don’t know their stories. They wouldn’t share what they wrote or drew during our reflection time, but I know God spoke to them. When we talked about how the Good Shepherd walks his sheep through the dark and dangerous places they all began to sway and say, “Amen.” I cannot imagine their dark places. Yet, here they are caring for children and for many of them this is a lifelong commitment. They have been there 17 years, 25 years, 35 years. There are only three orphanages in the whole south Lake Kivu region. There are always new children being brought in. These caregivers are tired, but thanks to the work Holly has launched they said they now have confidence in the work they are doing.

We had them play…a lot…I think that is the best way to learn by experience. This was different for them, but they jumped right into it. Attachment games, sensory building games. Pure joy. We gave them blankets made by their “enemies” – the Rwandans. The irony of it is the manager of Amani in Rwanda lost her husband to Congolese soldiers when Rwanda invaded Congo in 1996. Here she was making 35 blankets for her enemy. But isn’t that how forgiveness happens? One heart decision at a time?

Yet, will what we did be implemented? To move from survival to development is the challenge of any work in a developing country. It is a complete mindset change. As I told the director, if they just spend 15 minutes a day in focused play it will actually save them time in behavior problems for the rest of the day, but he is so overwhelmed by what it takes to clothe, feed and bathe these children that he can’t see the forest through the trees. It is just hard to comprehend. But I believe Mama Lili got it. I believe she will use the toys and methods for discipline we discussed because I sense in her heart that she wants the best for these children.

I could have used a week there I think to really help with the implementation, but that is my struggle here. I have my own children to attend to. Three days was enough. They need their momma. They need their daddy. And when we returned, I held them close.

On a personal note, I struggle. The needs in Congo were overwhelming. The lawlessness prevents any good from surviving here. That is the difference between Congo and Rwanda. For all the critiques of Rwanda’s police state, there is law and order and so civil society can flourish. That does not exist in Congo. Just last week there was a change in regiments in the local Bukavu military base. The new regiment came and robbed the local bank. They shot a local man. Tons of eye witnesses, yet no one comes forward because there is no one to listen. And so my heart feels heavy for this country. My heart feels heavy for the children we saw this weekend. What is their future? I am not sure, but I pray that the caregivers felt cared for and will in turn love on these children.

I saw what I saw and I can't forget it
I heard what I heard and I can't go back
I know what I know and I can't deny it

Something on the road, cut me to the soul

Your pain has changed me
your dream inspires
your face a memory
your hope a fire
your courage asks me what I'm afraid of
(what I am made of)
and what I know of love

we've done what we've done and we can't erase it
we are what we are and it's more than enough
we have what we have but it's no substitution

Something on the road, touched my very soul

I say what I say with no hesitation
I have what I have and I'm giving it up
I do what I do with deep conviction

Something on the road, changed my world

Sara Groves

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Reflections on April 7

We have now lived in Rwanda for one and a half years. Last April, I could feel something change in the air as April 7, the anniversary of the genocide, approached. I wasn't sure what to expect. In some ways, life went on....for me....I was fearful of large crowds (and the US Embassy Warden definitely advises staying away from them at this time of the year), so I did not attend the memorial gathering at the national stadium. The streets were quiet. We do not have a television, so we were spared the telecasts reminding people of the atrocities that occurred during those 100 days. I tried to talk with our staff, but I could see they were struggling. So it was quiet. And we prayed. And life went on...for me...

Now I have more Rwandan friends. And I've realized that it is not a question of "Did you lose someone?", but rather "Who did you lose?"

I asked our househelper how she was doing yesterday. She doesn't like to talk about it. She simply said that in the month of April everyone becomes 1994 again. Now she can forgive, but it is still hard.

Just today, as part of my work in doing communications for a USAID project, I was interviewing four farmers up in the northwestern region of Musanze. This region borders both Congo and Uganda. It was encouraging to hear them share how their life has improved since joining a cooperative that is progressing. I asked them what their hopes were for their children now that they are seeing progress in their economic life. I expected to hear the usual hopes of education, success. Instead, what all four said to me in different ways was, "When you have seen and experienced what we went through 17 years ago, all you want for your children is for that to never happen again. You want peace and stability."

I returned home to an email from a friend. We had invited him and his wife to dinner this Saturday. We knew it was the memorial week and said if they'd prefer to postpone until next month, we would completely understand. I have known him for a year. He was actually our attorney for Nathanael's adoption and I have continued to work with him. He shared how he and his wife both lost their parents in the genocide and he lost four of his sisters and brothers as well. Prior to this, what I knew of this man was his incredible heart. He facilitates adoptions because he loves to bring families together. He does free legal aid for orphans on the weekends. Now I know why and my heart broke.

Another friend and colleague shared his story with us. It is one of incredible tragedy. They all are. He is the only survivor. We asked him if he would rather be alone this weekend or would he like to join us for dinner. He said he is usually alone during this memorial, so he would love to be with our family for dinner. How do we honor the family he lost and let him enter into our family at the same time? Lian's response was simple, "I'll teach him how to play Uno! That would be something fun for him."

I met a woman from our church this past weekend. She has written a book called Frida: Chosen to Die, Destined to Live. I read it in a day. I have read so many of these stories. Sometimes I ask myself why I subject myself to them. But in reading them, I find incredible stories of forgiveness and grace amidst incredible evil. I see the hand of God in the midst of a world that denies his existance. I find strength. And in reading their stories, I somehow feel I am honoring the lives of those who were tragically killed in this place I now call home.

Rwanda may feel very far away. But today, I would ask you to just offer a moment of silence for the almost one million people whose beauty and talents this world has lost. May we never, ever see such tragedy again.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Going to Congo - Would you like to help?

On May 20, Dano and I will be traveling three hours west of Bukavo, Congo to facilitate a training for the careproviders of 30 orphan boys and girls ages 0-6, with the majority being under 3. We are seeking to raise $1100 to purchase weighted blankets and sensory toys for these children. A friend of mine from college, Holly Mulford, and her husband, Michael, have lived in Congo for almost five years working with Food for the Hungry. They are the parents of four beautiful children, two of whom are adopted from this orphanage. Holly and Michael are moving back to the States in June and working hard to secure sustainability for this small orphanage.

Background on the orphanage - It is a small orphanage that accepts infants whose mothers' died in birth and fathers' are unable to take care of them. When Holly first arrived there, most of the children were chronically malnourished and all are severely delayed for lack of being held or any attention paid to assisting them with motor skills. Because of lack of space, the orphans are returned to their families (willingly or not) once they reach around the age of five. Holly did a formula campaign and did a simple training to teach the care providers how to mix the formula and the results in the children's health have been incredible.

The director is a wonderful man who is committed to learning better ways of caring for the children and Holly trusts him. Holly asked me to do a training that incorporates elements of attachment therapy and play therapy. While I am not a child psychologist, I have learned a great deal since adopting my three children and have sought to incorporate what I learn into how I interact with orphans here in Rwanda. The theme of my training will be "The Good Shepherd" because my first goal is help the care providers feel loved and cared for and then help train them in some practical ways to encourage attachment and sensory stimulation for the children.


My Request - I am working with a women's coop here in Rwanda, AMANI, to make 30 weighted blankets that are 58x58 cm each. Our daughter, Lian, was first given a weighted blanket by Dr. Karyn Purvis as a way to apply deep pressure, thus stimulating serotonin which helps relax the child. For children who have experienced trauma and have been without physical touch in their first few months, sensory processing disorder is a common result of this lack of touch. These blankets are one way of providing them with physical pressure that doesn't require an adult (and in this case there is one adult for every eight babies). We still bring my daughter's blanket with her if I know we may be in a stressful environment. It immediately calms her. It is also one item that the children can have as their own.

In order to get the needed weight, I have to fill each blanket with 1 kg of polypellets. These are the best material to use, especially in a place where the blankets will need to be handwashed. We cannot get these polypellets here and they are $7 per blanket +tax (cheapest I could find for 1 kg). I have a few friends coming back to the States who are willing to put these in their suitcases, but I need to order them right away. Amani is still giving me an estimated cost of the blankets, but I anticipate the final cost to be close to $30. I will know by next Tuesday what the exact cost is. I want to make 30 blankets.

In addition, I am wanting to buy the following: Wilbarger Therapressure Brushes ($80 for 24 brushes), which again help to stimulate neurotransmitters that release calming chemicals in the children's brains. Again, I have personally seen the benefits of these. I am also wanting to buy a tactile massage ball ($35) for the orphanage and a set of sensory play toys ($80 for 11 toys). And I need to get these sent with friends who are traveling here as soon as possible.

My Total Request: $1100.

Children's Hope Chest has agreed to serve as the umbrella organization for this orphanage until a separate 501c3 is established. We are currently working with them to set up a giving page for this orphanage and it should be up and running early next week.

As I need to order these supplies by next week in order to ensure they arrive in time to Rwanda and in time to make the needed blankets, I am seeking to gauge interest in friends who might be interested in supporting this effort. If you would like to make a donation, please email me directly at jennifer@jukanovich.com or leave a comment saying you want to give. I will email the donation link as soon as the page is created.

Thank you for helping us love on these children in a way that makes a long-term distance to their spiritual and physical well-being.



Sunday, October 24, 2010

Why I went to Swaziland



Why did I go to Swaziland? For the past six years, I have served on the board of Children’s Hope Chest, an orphan care organization that is doing amazing work in Russia, Swaziland, Uganda, and Ethiopia. In that six years, I have also become a mother to three incredible children – all through adoption. The issue of orphan care has become that much more important to me as I know first hand the effects of abandonment and neglect and it deeply affects my heart when I think that Lian or Anna or Nathanael could be one of these children waiting to be loved by someone.

And I want there to be faithful, honest, loving people who are that someone in an orphan’s life, rather than the sexual predators and vermon that literally wait outside the doors of an orphanage, vocational school or hut when these orphans are forced into the real world. So it encourages my heart when I meet more of these “someone’s” who are that safe and caring person in an orphan’s life. To meet a “gogo” (Grandmother) who appalled at the fact that Swazis who live next to a garbage dump were selling their children for sex so the family could have food on the table, chose to knock on every door and plead with the parents to find another solution. Turns out she was the solution. The need was a lack of money to send children to school. So she became their school. This gogo who has nothing herself in terms of financial means, started feeding and educating the children of the dump and now 250 children are at her carepoint every day. Children’s Hope Chest is now partnering with her and the carepoint has been matched to a church community in the States whose church members have now “adopted” all of these children by sponsoring them, visiting them annually and providing the resources needed to ensure these children are fed and educated above subsistence. This is why I wanted to go.

But I also left feeling conflicted inside because I have seen so much poverty and pain on trips just like the one I took last week. I witnessed it in my Seattle neighborhood and I witness it every day in Rwanda. I have been “over educated” when it comes to caring for the orphan and my heart and mind long to do more with that knowledge. I’m not sure what this year will bring, but I know my heart has not been broken for me to just feel good about myself for wanting to care for the orphan. My heart has been broken so it can bring forth healing.

We stopped at a homestead to learn more about what the Swazi people are experiencing on a daily basis. We were supposed to hear about the plight of the orphan. We were surprised to meet a 38 year old woman whose health has been affected by a stroke, that led to epilepsy. Ndomi. She and I are the same exact age. I noticed her foot was black and horribly deformed. As polite as possible, I asked the mom what had happened. Ndomi had been burned by oil years ago, leaving a gaping wound at least an inch deep and two inches wide on the side of her foot. Since access to a clinic is at least a day’s walk, the mother puts a salve of burnt ash as an old wives’ tale remedy. Without realizing it, the wound has become gangrene. Our team respectfully asked if we could take the woman to the clinic at our carepoint. She agreed and I found myself holding Ndomi’s hand for 45 minutes as the doctor poured hydrogen peroxide over a gangrene wound. Ndomi would look at me in fear as if to ask if she was really going to be okay and I would look straight in her eyes and tell her that I know it hurts, but she will be better. She squeezed my hand so tight. I sang “Be still and know that I am God” quietly to her.

I marveled at the inner strength and courage this woman had – a woman most of Swazi society deems unworthy – a courage to allow a group of strangers to put her in a car, take her to a clinic, pour painful medicine over her foot and allow people to poke and prod at the gangrene. A staff member then took her to the hospital so they could surgically remove the dead tissue and thus hopefully stop the gangrene from spreading. I don’t know if her body will make it.

What I do know is that she was seen, she was known and her courage spoke to me. Keep fighting. No matter how hard the pain. No matter how hard the wound. Keep fighting for those who cannot fight for themselves.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Truth about the Mosque at Ground Zero

This week has been interesting living on the African continent and hearing word of the uproar over the alleged mosque being built at ground zero and the church burning the Quran. Just this morning all Americans in Rwanda received an alert from the State Department advising us to be on alert if we were traveling due to anger building over the controversies in the US. We received this at the same time as prayers could be heard around the city for the ending of Ramadan, an official national holiday here even though a very small percentage of the population are Muslims. Thus I found my friend, Charles Strohmer's, opinion piece helpful as I tried to sift through my own feelings of all these things as a Christian, as an American, and as a foreigner. I am embarrassed by the church that is burning the Quran and I appreciate Charles' factual piece on what is going on at Ground Zero.
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There is no mosque being built at ground zero in lower Manhattan. Nor are Imam Rauf and his Muslim colleagues planning to build a mosque at ground zero. Given all the media obfuscation, I thought I should make that fact immediately plain. And there are two or three other crucial facts you should know. But first, it’s location, location, location, the three most important words in real estate. And where is the real estate in question located? Any fourth grader with a street map of Lower Manhattan could point it out. Ground zero is located in the large area bordered by Vesey St. on the north, Church St. on the east, Liberty St. on the south, and West St. on the west.

http://www.charlesstrohmer.com/writings/on-international-relations/the-truth-about-the-mosque-at-ground-zero/

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

My grandmother - a family history



We lost Dano's mom this year and in May we lost my father's mom, my Nanny, the matriarch of the huge Wolff clan. This past week, my family celebrated her life in the U.S.. It was very hard for me to not be there in, but I also know I had wonderful closure with her. My uncle, the historian of the family, wrote this beautiful eulogy and family history that I wanted to share. Nanny will be missed.

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A Eulogy for a Great Lady


We are here today to celebrate the life of Florence Mary Renk Wolff--she who has touched and shaped the lives of all here in this room and oh so many more during her long and productive life.

One feature of her life that always fascinated me was the long string of names by which she has been called over the years—Florence, Florie, Flo, Miss Renk, Mrs. Wolff, Toots, Hans, Nicole, Mom, Nicki, Mum, and Nanny. She started out being christened Florence Mary Renk when she was born in Chicago on February 17, 1915. There was war in Europe and the days of the horse and buggy were coming to an end. The new technology that helped to change us from an agricultural nation into an industrial one benefitted her as well because her father took up the new trade of automechanic. Her mother was born in this country too when her father came here to work in the great anthracite coal beds of northeastern Pennsylvania. His name was Clement Platek, and he died there in 1897, gunned down in a confrontation of miners and the strike breakers. As a result of his death, her mother Magdalena nee Czaja remarried a man named Topolski, and settled in Blue Island, Illinois. It was there Marie Platek met young John Renk, a Chicago native.

To her mom and dad, Florence became Florie and Flo, the former was her mother’s diminutive, and the latter her father’s. Early in life she suffered a crushing blow when her two younger brothers, Bobby and Arthur, both perished from the rampant respiratory diseases that plagued the US at the end of the war. This double tragedy had a profound effect upon the lives of John and Marie Renk. They not only doted on their remaining child but they also lost themselves in their own interests, Marie in cooking and John in mechanics. They sent Florence off to St. Gall’s Catholic school at 55th and Kedzie. There she became the darling of the good nuns, many of whom remained lifelong friends like Sr. Monica. She went off to Providence High School and there also was a top student and favorite of the faculty. To them she was forever Florence and Miss Renk.


Florie also had numerous cousins, many of whom looked up to her as a big sister. Margie Esser was the daughter of Mom’s Aunt Marie, an older sister of her dad, and Catherine Mackin, the daughter of Ottilia nee Renk and Harold Mackin. She was also close to her cousins Henrietta and Gertrude, daughters of Aunt Marie from a different marriage and on her mother’s side cousin Irene, the daughter of Aunt Stella. In recent conversations with Marge and Catherine, both remembered many happy hours with Florie playing paper dolls.


Music certainly ran on the Renk side of the family, and so it was not too surprising that young Florence took an interest in piano and singing. Her beautiful mezzo-soprano voice joined the Sunday chorus of Catholics at St. Gall’s church. The members of the choir became fast friends over the years. One of the baritones was a young man who lived on Albany Street. His origins were German, he having been born in Germany on April 18, 1909. He arrived here with his parents in 1910 as an uncle brought his dad here to be carpenter in his house-building company. This chorister was of course one Bruno B. Wolff, a 24 year old draftsman working for Bethlehem Steel. Their courtship was short and fruitful as they were married on August 19, 1933, at St. Gall’s, shortly after her graduation from Providence. She now had a new name Mrs. Wolff. The newlyweds went on their honeymoon in of all places, Chicago. Yes these were the dark days of the Great Depression. Bruno was lucky to have a job when so many stood in bread lines.

But they scrimped and saved first by living with Marie and John. Then all of a sudden not a year later on June 15, 1934, she got another new name, Mom. For unto her a child was born and they named him Bruno. Soon after followed Philip on August 29, 1935 and James on January 14, 1937. This was a lot of folks to cram into the Renk three-bedroom bungalow on Christiana Ave. With the help of a relative’s loan, Mom and Dad built a brand new house on the south side, which was then on the boundary of Chicago civilization, in Little Flower parish. We occupied it in December 1941 just after Pearl Harbor. I still remember our first meal there, baked beans with pork. These came not from a can but were home baked and wonderful to the extent I can still taste them in the hollows of my mind. The relationship between Florence and Bruno was highlighted by his calling her “Toots” and “Hans.”


Mom, as I still am wont to call her, while raising three young rapscallions, took up her singing career and pursued it in earnest with Madame and Maestro Bigali. But she still made sure that she had time for her kids. When we came home from Little Flower School for lunch, not only were we served a great meal, but like the lector in a monastery refectory, she would read to us some of the classics. Music was also a great part of our training as each Saturday morning we listened as Milton Cross introduced the Metropolitan Opera of the week.


On August 25, 1947, Mark Wolff was born in the midst of a thunder storm, and Maris came in 1950 on May 20 in milder weather. Mom realized at one point that raising all these kids, and spending time with her lessons and singing, she needed some help around the house. Thus, she came to hire a young lady in her teens, one Mary Anne Kane, who lived only two blocks away. She did a very nice job but wanted to move on to other things so she handed the baton to her younger sister Christine. Chris became like a sister to us boys and a daughter to Mom. She had the good sense at the end of high school to marry another neighborhood man, a naval reservist and budding scholar, Don Costello. After he got his PhD in English from the University of Chicago, he took a job at the University of our Lady of the Lake, otherwise called Notre Dame, where he stayed his entire career. They kept in touch with Mom and Dad even to hosting them in Europe where Don did some work as a visiting scholar in the 70’s.

Mom not only took voice but she taught voice as well and as was her personality she became fast friends with clients, especially Bernadette Ryan and Helen Lindenberg. Bernadette died an untimely death but Helen came out to New Jersey. Her husband, Bill, was part of Dad’s Jersey Crane Company before the Lindenbergs moved to Canada.

In 1952 Mom and Dad moved to NY, the hub for those who worked in classical music. Mom adopted another name at that time and made an appearance at Carnegie Hall under the name of Nicole Scott. Now in those days Nicole was not a common name for young ladies, but after she adopted it, we all know that in the ensuing years it became widely bestowed on infant girls around the country. Its diminutive, Nicki, became the cognomen of those involved in her professional life or those who first met her later in life.


On October 5, 1956, she got another name, “Nanny,” when Sandra Walters Wolff, wife of Philip, gave birth to Philip John the second. It was PJ, as he came to be called, that dubbed his paternal grandmother with the name Nanny. In my humble opinion, this was her favorite name as she soon became the grandmother of a large brood of 18 grandchildren. Three of those were Maureen’s kids prior to our marriage, but they were treated as graciously and lovingly as were her blood descendents. They remarked so to me in response to the sad news of May 19.

When Marc moved to Great Britain in the early 70’s, he became after a few years, quite British in his accent and so to Lin and their kids Mom became Mum.As she finished the days of her life she came to Vermont and under the loving watch of Philip, Ellen, Maris, and the caregivers of Copley Manor, she was able to enter her 96th year.


Now perhaps as she mingles in Eternity, she has gained her greatest name as one of the Saints above. If you need anything, she would be the one to ask; for she will prevail on our behalf with the Lord above as she did for all of us when she supported us here on earth. Thanks, Mom, for everything. And if I didn’t do the pictures right, please don’t yell at me.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

What we do in Rwanda

I hope this four-minute video (produced pro-bono by our friends at 4-minute Media) will give you a good sense of the work we are doing in Rwanda with Karisimbi Business Partners. If you're interested in financially partnering with us, please go to http://www.karisimbipartners.com/friends-family.html




Friday, May 28, 2010

An Artist You Should Know About



For Christmas this year, my husband bought me a beautiful peace of artwork by a local Rwandan artist. It is the only artwork hanging in our home and I love it. It is semi-abstract, which is different for me, but it depicts the beauty and grace of the people we came to work alongside. I hope you'll read more of Bosco's story and check out his work at www.bakunziart.com.


Jean Bosco Bakunzi (1985- ) Bosco, as the artist prefers to be known, was born at CHK Hospital in Kigali, Rwanda. He grew up in Kigali, attending two primary schools in the city. His father was Catholic and his mother Protestant, but he describes his father in a word as “modern”. This atmosphere undoubtedly allowed Bosco to develop freely as a child and laid the seeds for him later to become a self-trained artist.

When you first meet Bosco, he strikes you as an optimistic, carefree young man. However, his experiences in 1994, when both of his parents were killed, have sharpened his sense of justice and honed his desire to help others through his art. He lived in an orphanage for two years after the death of his parents. It was here that Bosco created craft projects with a volunteer from France as his first structured foray into the world of art. The Kigali native says that while at the orphanage he would use pen and pastels to make cartoons to express himself and his friends would follow his lead.

He continues to give art classes twice a week to the children who live at the same orphanage today. Bosco believes that creating art can heal one “emotionally, physically, and mentally”. He lives this every day as he uses art to help orphans deal with emotions and express themselves. Gisimba Memorial Center also gains from this young artist’s enthusiasm for children where he teaches arts and crafts to young people under a project called “Imena Art for Kids”. And one imagines that he also continues to experience healing through his own art.

After leaving the orphanage, Bosco attended two high schools in Butare, Rwanda. He was, however, drawn back to the city of his birth. In Kigali in 2004, Bosco started meeting professional artists. He began to talk to the artists around him about such things as mixing colors. He also began to absorb ideas and concepts from the world’s great artists such as Van Gogh and Picasso. After communing with Picasso’s great works both in books and on the Internet, he began to paint works in a palette similar to the Spanish artist’s blue period.

Bosco and some of his fellow artists founded “Uburanga” Arts Studio in Kimihurura, which takes its name from the Kinyarwanda word for “beauty”, and is a hotbed of fledgling young Rwandan artists. He also continues to develop his talents with his membership in Isoko Arts Rwanda, an association of Rwandan fine artists.

Bosco work takes a variety of forms: paint and mixed media. He describes his paintings as “realistic but abstract” as being about nature and people, “something with meaning”. Many of his paintings have a message about social justice for all, while others are about equality for women in particular.

One of his largest paintings, Women in the Market, shows women at the market with baskets and vegetables. He has beautifully abstracted their forms behind a grid of white lines he created by placing the canvas on the floor with strings stretched taught across it. Bosco also digs into his pigment with a comb, creating lyrical circles or even random scratches at times. The artist elevates the commonplace task of the women selling in the market to that of a noble act at the core of Rwandan society. The artist says “women are trying to be a noble” gender in Rwanda. He feels women and children still have not received the place that they deserve and he wants to communicate with them and inspire them.

His mixed media work can not help but make one think of the found objects of Duchamp or Man Ray. One of his most powerful works, Love and Hope, has two tires surrounded by swirls of different shades of green brushstrokes. The tires, utilitarian objects from every day life, here beautifully symbolize movement for the artist and for the viewer and the brushstrokes elegantly carry through with this idea. He said he was inspired to create this piece on a trip to Nairobi. He went with friends to talk about life and love.

Continuing in this Dada-esque style, Bosco creates amusing and whimsical portraits using pockets from pants for faces, and then cloth, bottle caps, nails, and wire for the details. Upon first glance, you notice the figure, and then with a second glance you notice the found objects used to make the form. When you realize you are looking at the pocket from someone’s old jeans in his work African Queen, (shown above) you almost laugh to yourself. They say the definition of humor is surprise or not finding what you expected.

That is true not only of Bosco’s work, but also of him as a person. If one simply read the details of his life, one might expect to find someone who is hardened against the world. Instead, one finds an artist who sees the good in the world and other people and wants to help amplify that through his art, his teaching, and his studio.

Valerie Ficklin, M.A.
Art Historian



Exhibitions:

Solo Exhibitions:

2009
The Feelings, Kigali International Airport
My Dream, Heaven Restaurant

Group Exhibitions:

2009
Saint Patrick’s Day Exhibition presented by the Irish Embassy of Uganda, Serena Hotel
Jazz Band for Peace: Celebrating Rwanda Commitment for Ending Violence Against Women and Children, Serena Hotel
East Africa Biennale (EASTFAB),Dar es Salaam, Tanzania

2010
Ivuka Arts Studio and Friends, United States Embassy, Kigali, Rwanda
Isoko Arts Rwanda Launching Exhibition, Laico Hotel Umubano



Bosco with Women in the Market, shot at his studio in Kimihurura in May 2010

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Adoptions are in a 40% Decline

I often quote Augustine when he says, "Hope has two daughters - anger and courage; anger at the way things are, courage for the way things can be." I have had some things happen recently that push against my optimism for the future of orphan care - people's personal agendas, government bureaucracies and inefficiencies, and apathy to name a few. However, I am also still naive enough - even at 38 years old - to believe that we can do more to care for the orphan, that people really do desire what is best for children, that systemic change takes time, but it is worth it. This blog from my friend, Tom Davis, cites that adoptions are in a 40% decline. Considering the fact that adoptions account for less than a tenth of a percent of all orphans worldwide, this is discouraging. My heart gets angry, but then I feel the courage setting in.

My heart is for the children left behind - for the little girl I held yesterday during my weekly volunteer times at Home for Hope. Many of the children seemed a little under the weather, that happens in orphanages with 100 plus children. But her face was so despondent. She would not engage at all. She just stood in the corner, crying quietly, with food dripping out of her mouth. She is four years old. I tried to get her to eat some of her food, but it wouldn't stay. She never moved. But when I held her, she wouldn't let go. And so I held her, I prayed for her, I whispered in her ear, "Uri umwana mwiza - you are a good and beautiful child" - "Imana urukundo - God loves you." I do believe in evil. I do believe there is an Enemy to God the creator. And every week, when I hold and rock these children, I whisper words of truth into their ears, claiming that evil will have no say in the hearts and minds of these children. But I also know so much damage has been done already. So I want to be about helping find ways to nurture the hearts and minds of these orphans who will never be adopted. I'll wrote more on this later, but if you haven't read any of Dr. Karyn Purvis' work, I encourage you to do so. These children need more than whispered words and weekly hugs. They need courageous people to take a deep breath and pray for the courage to keep fighting on their behalf.

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Adoptions are in a 40% Decline

With 150 million orphans in the world, we should be seeing a dramatic increase in the number of orphans who are adopted every year in the United States. But sadly, the opposite is true. Adoptions have been decreasing every year since 2004.

A new article in the May edition of Christianity Today says this, "Since 2004, these and other restrictions have resulted in a 40 percent decline in overseas adoptions by Americans—from an all-time high of almost 23,000 in 2004 to fewer than 12,800 in 2009, according to the U.S. State Department."

Although there are some incredible people who understand God's heart for adoption, they are still the minority when it comes to this issue. If 7% of those claiming to be Christians adopted one child, all 150 million orphans would have homes.

Second, the battle continues to rage over the lives of orphans around the world. Make no mistake about it, "our enemy, the devil, prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour," I Peter 5:8. Orphans are easy targets.

My friend Jedd Medefind from The Christian Alliance for Orphans had this to say, "The drop in international adoptions since 2004 does not signal a stagnating willingness among American families to adopt overseas, and he argues that evangelicals in particular have increased interest."

I would say this is absolutely true. With almost 1,500 people at Summit VI in Minneapolis April 29 & 30, people are more passionate than every about adoption and orphan care.

The reality is that we still have a lot to do. Orphans are worth the fight. We have to press through government regulations, fear, and spiritual warfare to care for the least of these. This is God's heart and it should be the heart of every Christian.

"A Father to the Fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families." Psalm 68:5,6