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 21^st 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.

To Know Him is to Know Peace

This is a posting I just wrote for our Karisimbi Partners blog. You can read more about our work with Karisimbi Business Partners.

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We were only there to deliver a gift. What we received in return was nothing like I expected.

All three Karisimbi Partner families have always believed in committing the ‘first fruits’ of our labor, which is why it did not seem strange to want to donate a portion of the first company paycheck. It was not a huge amount, but somehow it just felt right to give a tenth of our earnings to an organization that honors those trying to rebuild after the genocide. In particular, we wanted to support an organization that encourages entrepreneurship. We decided on Amani Ava Hejuru, an organization committed to helping marginalized women in Africa find peace with God and one another. They focus on relationship-building while giving the women sewing and marketing skills. Their products represent excellence.

We wanted to buy three beautiful baskets made from fabric scraps. It seemed symbolic –first fruits are gathered in a basket, and our first fruits would support the business of women making baskets. Our donation could buy three baskets with surplus funds for purchasing a quilting machine that would allow them to produce more products. I communicated with Grace, the Managing Director, and was invited to their workplace. Upon arrival, their workshop appeared to be a small garage converted into a space for eleven sewing machines. Greg and Kristen Urquhart came as well (we have all since decided that the next time we present such a gift, we must all be present). We said some brief remarks and went to leave. Beata, who manages the store, asked if she could sing us a song. The drumbeats started. Her beautiful voice rang out. The others joined in. Hands began to raise and bodies began to sway. Three of the women began to dance the traditional Ingonza dance. Translated from Kinyarwanda, the following words filled that small space with such joy it moved me to tears. “Your husband cannot give you peace, your neighbor cannot give you peace, your friends cannot give you peace, your job cannot give you peace....only Jesus can give you peace.” In a way, this is a Christmas message… one that they sing and feel all year long.

These are words sung by women who lost their husbands during the genocide in horrific ways – often at the hands of their neighbors. They know what can and cannot give you peace. Where we thought our gift was small, to them it was another way Jesus was showing his love to them. And they celebrated that recognition through song and dance, completely uninhibited. I felt I was standing on holy ground. My three-year-old daughter, Anna, was hugging my leg as she listened. I said a silent prayer that she would remember this and someday be able to receive the gifts in her life with the joy and peace these women embodied.

We have the privilege of access – access to education, resources, networks. With this privilege comes responsibility. These women have received the gift of life – a second chance. Rwanda has received the gift of a second chance. We have the privilege to serve with what we hold in our hands. We also have the privilege to receive what this country extends to us.

Just some reflections I had to get on paper....

It has been fifteen years since the genocide. Rwanda has made tremendous strides toward healing, redemption. I am given the privilege of living in this country – from my front veranda, I can see lush mango, papaya and avocado trees, and the green valley. My children play with Danyire, Jiye, Samuel, Francine, Pierre, JoJo, Benita, Jadit, Christian. The rains pour down in the afternoon, bringing life to the red earth. It is a beautiful country.

I went to a meeting the other day at the Free Methodist church in Gikondo. Good people. Incredible hearts for the handicapped, the widow, the HIV-AIDS victim, the youth. We walk past the old church, being remodeled for a new Bible training center. 165 people were killed there. In cold blood. By their neighbors and friends, sanctioned by their Bishop. I am asked to see the future. To help with the future. Yet, the past is right there in front of me and I find myself fighting tears, seeing ghosts. The dead still speak.

Our security guard and gardener returns home from an evening out. He asks me for permission to return home to the North next week so he can pay his school fees and receive his diploma. He asks me in broken, yet understandable English sentences. I have been paying 8,000 francs ($12 USD) a week to study Kinyarwandan and I still can't have a two sentence conversation with Zechariah. He could not speak more than three words of English three weeks ago, but each night he studies a worn out 1970s textbook the gardener across the street lent him. And he can talk to me. I envy him.

Our househelper, Consolee, can barely stay awake by 3:00 pm. There are no Starbucks runs here. I tell her that she can take an hour break – I had assumed she would. One can't assume. I am the boss. I direct the program. If I don't make it clear that she can take a break, than she doesn't. I want to kick myself for not recognizing this earlier. I ask her when she studies for I know she goes to school six days a week after working for us nine hours a day. She says she wakes up at 3 or 4 am to study, before getting her five children up and ready for school. Her mother died when she was 16, so she had to quit school. Now she is determined to finish. I let her go early that day.

I met a woman on the plane. We are becoming friends, having weekly playdates with our daughters, taking Pilates together. She is Rwandan, but has only spent four months in Rwanda until now. Her family fled in 1959, so she grew up in Uganda. Her family returned to Rwanda after the genocide. She studied in the United States. Her family is of the elite. She asks me when I adopt if I will adopt a Hutu or a Tutsi. I don't hesitate to say, “It will not matter to us.”

The genocide is still the point in time by which everything else is defined here. The country wants to move forward. It is moving forward. I walk by people on the street and wonder what their story is. The number of crippled people here is staggering. No one needs to ask why they are maimed. I truly cannot begin to fathom the depths of the evil done by people to people. It has been fifteen years. My life here is good. We are doing good things to help build the economy. We will be forever connected to this country through our son's blood. My heart cries out for healing for this beautiful land. My soul is humbled by the people I meet. My mind seeks to grasp all I can learn so I can understand the stories of these people through their own language. It has only been three weeks. Time, time....

Listen and Learn

These are the two words I keep hearing in my heart and mind as I live life here in Rwanda. It has been three weeks and if you know me, you know I am a doer. And now I am in a land with plenty of needs for which there is plenty of "doing" to be done. I am friends with so many people who are great "doers" and for whom an immediate need on the street requires immediate action. Yet, I continue to hear the whisperings of "Be Still."

I attended a Bible Study today with other Westerners and the theme was on...yes, "Being Still." The author of the study said the Hebrew word for this expression is "rapah" which literally means to relax, be lazy, be discouraged, be slack, weak." When I've heard or read these words before in Psalm 46, I never viewed them in a negative way. I always thought it mean to just be quiet, relax. But this Hebrew word implies so much more...it requires one to literally give up control. That is what I feel I am to be doing...to give up control of what my ideas are for my time in Rwanda.

"But, wait," I cry. "There are street children and orphans and widows...your word cries out for them, so I should do something now." And, yet, I keep hearing....just listen and learn.

So I have been here three weeks now this evening. While we're still lacking certain furniture and comforts of home, I feel quite settled into life in Kigali. So I want to know what is next. Dano is busy with Karisimbi and I am thrilled by how that is going, but my heart is for the orphan and I want to know what I am supposed to do for the orphan. I met with a wise woman today who has lived in Rwanda for five years and works with African Enterprise. I told her of my struggle and she was so encouraging to me today. She said, "The best thing you could do right now is to listen and learn because you're not just listening and learning for opportunity, you're listening to the culture."

The guys have commented that they are so glad we had several months to just meet with business leaders, organize our thoughts, meet with the leaders again, reorganize our thoughts, meet with them again, etc., because now the final product is so much better and the clients have tremendous buy-in. Every day the guys learn something new about a potential client or Rwandan politics or business and with each lesson comes a better focused direction for our company. I believe that is what is happening with me as I seek to discern how to best serve here.

So I have decided to just start meeting with people who are doing orphan care work, to hear their hearts, to see the needs, to simply be present. I'm starting to see and believe that so much "good work" that is often done is often done too quickly. It is still good work, but it could be so much better if the idea and heart behind it were given time to "Be still."

Dossier in the Hands of the Minister

OK....now we wait...our dossier was delivered to the Minister of Gender and Family Promotion yesterday. Hard to believe we may have our son within a couple months.

Dano is off to Rwanda tonight!

Dano and the Crocketts leave for a 12 day trip to Rwanda tonight. We've started a "cause" on Facebook called the Jukanoviches and Crocketts in Rwanda. We explain about the incubator we plan to launch in this cause. We hope you'll consider joining our cause.

http://apps.facebook.com/causes/255545/16087822?m=cc366e79

The girls and I are holding down the homefront and will spend four days in Bend, OR visiting my best friend, Suzanne Baker. Twelve days is a long time without their dad, but we are thankful for modern technology that will hopefully let us see each other via video a few times during his trip. This is an exploratory trip to meet with Rwandan entrepeneurs, business folks, government leaders, potential investors and others who've heard about our incubator and want to help us get to Rwanda to launch it. Kerry will be spending a lot of time exploring life in Rwanda - visiting the school, looking at potential houses, hanging out in the markets, etc. They have the 12 days packed with meetings. Please pray for safety and health and a very fruitful time.

Help us get to Rwanda!

Bridge2Rwanda has offered to accept donations on our behalf to get us to Rwanda. Once we are in Rwanda, we will be setting up a for-profit organization and we are meeting with private equity funds to get this established. However, there are immediate moving costs for two families to move to Rwanda by this summer or early Fall. Thank you for considering this.

https://secure.bridge2rwanda.org/donate/

Just indicate these gifts are for the Jukanovich/Crockett business incubator. Thank you.