Chasing lions to Tanzania.

Thursday, July 21

Serena Safari Lodge offers two game drives per day, one at 6:30 a.m. and another at 4 p.m. We chose to do the morning drive today in hopes of seeing some different animals. Specifically, we wanted to see some lions, who typically stay well hidden during the day. After driving for 90 minutes without luck, Victor got a phone call from another guide.

He was speaking Swahili, but we thought he was getting good news from the tone of his voice. When he got off the phone, he turned to us.

"They're almost in Tanzania," Victor said. "Do we want to go?"

Of course, the answer was a resounding yes. Lions had been spotted near the edge of the park!

"It's about 20 kilometers," Victor said as he turned back to the road and stepped on the gas. We bumped off along the dirt path at about 55 kph, instead of our usual 30 kph crawl that allowed us to admire each animal as we passed. We did see some new species on our way to the lions, including warthogs and several types of birds (secretary birds, Egyptian geese, white pelicans, flamingos and guinea fowl, to name a few), but they didn't deter us from our mission.

After a little while, I saw a sign reading: "Observation Hill, 7.2 km." I had picked these words out of Victor's conversation, so I knew that's where we were headed. If only the lions would wait until we arrived!

When we did arrive, we met up with several other vans filled with hopeful tourists in khakis, binoculars attached to their faces and camera lenses stretching toward the tall grass. Unfortunately, we were all disappointed. Victor and the other guides looked for the telltale lion's tail raised above the grass but couldn't spot any.

Disappointed, we drove away after twenty minutes of watching and waiting. Compared to the 141 pictures I took on our Wednesday game drive, I only took 29 today, but here are the best of those:

Welcome to the plains.

Wednesday, July 20

Today was the real transition between Rwanda and Kenya. Although there were differences between Kigali and Nairobi (size being the main one), they were both fairly modern East African cities. Today, we were finally seeing another side of Africa at Amboseli National Park in southern Kenya. We visited the local airport, where we hopped on a bush plane to fly us 45 minutes down to Amboseli, a national park located just north of the Tanzania border.

Our adorable baby bush plane. Look at the man on the far wing to get

an idea of how tiny it was.

On the way, we could see animals out the window, which got progressively more exciting. At first, right outside Nairobi, there was an occasional gazelle, but as we prepared to land in Amboseli, we saw elephants, wildebeest and zebras wandering the plains. A guide from our hotel, Serena Safari Lodge, was waiting for us at the runway when we landed. We paid our park admission fees and jostled off across the bumpy dirt roads to the lodge. I knew I was being “such a tourist” as I snapped pictures of every wildebeest, zebra and gazelle we passed, but I really didn’t care at that point.

This mama baboon carrying her baby waited at the side of the road

for our Jeep to pass before she began crossing.

When we arrived at the hotel, the staff greeted us with glasses of passion fruit juice and sat us down in the lobby for Mom to fill out her paperwork. That is one thing I have noticed is tremendously different between here and the U.S. – the service! Maybe I just don’t stay at as nice of places when I’m traveling in America, but the staff at the Serena Safari Lodge was unbelievably friendly and attentive. They pulled out our chairs and put our napkins on our laps for us at every meal, they kept our key at the front desk any time we left the room, and every time we visited the pool, someone was there within two minutes to serve us drinks. But the best part was that after you spoke with an employee once, that person would remember you and greet you personally every time he or she saw you after that.

Next stop: Kenya!

Tuesday, July 19

Today we transitioned from Rwanda to Kenya. At the start of the day, I only had four things left on my to-do list with Mom:

1. Avenir
2. Bourbon Coffee
3. Artists' market
4. Ride a motorcycle taxi

We had decided not to visit Avenir or the artists' market because we were able to shop at both the open market and Ineza, and Mom wasn't too keen on the idea of me riding a motorcycle taxi in Kigali. So that left Bourbon Coffee, which they had at the airport. Bourbon is like the Rwandan version of Starbucks, but they have the best African coffee! It's made with chocolate and ginger, which was strange the first time I tried it because I'm only used to having ginger with sushi, but it was so, so delicious. After coffee, we breezed through security (no need to remove your shoes or separately screen your liquids here) and boarded our flight to Nairobi.

 Kenya Airways wasn't quite as glamorous as Ethiopian Airlines,
but it was still nicer than most American carriers.

After arriving in Nairobi, we got a taxi to our hotel and settled in. It was already almost 5 p.m., which meant daylight was winding down quickly. On the drive to the hotel, I had gotten the disenchanted impression that Nairobi was like a dirty version of New York City, with a lot more people on the sidewalks and worse drivers. But we wanted to experience the city a little, so I put a camera around my wrist and we walked a few blocks around the hotel. It was kind of fun for me, because I love weaving through people and finding the quickest way to get through a crowd. (You should see me with my suitcase in a busy airport; it's like a game for me!) Fifteen minutes outside was enough, though, so we returned to the hotel for dinner and went to bed, anticipating our 5:30 a.m. wake-up call to fly to Amboseli.

Me in front of the Kenya National Archives, which was within view
of our hotel room window.

The myth of Hotel Rwanda.

Monday, July 18

I had breakfast at Umubano Hotel with my mom again this morning. It’s a wonderful buffet with assorted meats, pastries (including delicious chocolate croissants), made-to-order omelettes and eggs, fruit, potatoes and – my favorite part – African tea and coffee. I never came here during my program because the 10,000 franc price was a little expensive for me, but breakfast was included with my mom’s hotel room, so it was a good deal.

I had crossed a few things of my “Fun to do with Mom” list the day before (Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, samosas and the open market), so today I showed her my daily walk to the CNLG building. It’s a 35-minute walk, and the difference between leaving at 7:30 and leaving at 9:30 was quite a few degrees, it seemed. By the time we got to the building and I showed her the hospital down the street where we ate lunch, it was time for a drink. We stopped in a small supermarket, where I chose an Apple Fanta, one of the few Fanta flavors I hadn’t tried yet during the trip.

We were also very close to Ineza, which I thought my mom would be interested in both for the authentic Rwandan goods and the income it provides to HIV-positive women. I was a little nervous just walking into the house, as I had Emmanuel with me last time, but the women greeted us as cheerily as ever and took us to the back room with the merchandise. My mom purchased a blue and yellow patterned shoulder bag, and we were on our way again. I wanted to take her to Avenir to get a traditional painting, but I wasn’t quite sure where it was and we were already tired (again). As we were walking back to the hotel, the IGSC bus drove by with several students. We noticed because Tyler leaned out the window and yelled, “Muzungu!” This is the word for “white person” in Kinyarwanda, and I believe a few other African languages as well.

Sidebar: Lauren decided my new name was going to be “Megundo.” In fact, I asked her how to spell my name one day (trying to trick her into thinking it had an “h”), and she unhesitatingly responded, “M-E-G-U-N-D-O.” I thought that was pretty funny, which in turn prompted me to think of a new name for my blog: Megundo Around El Mundo! What do you think? (Atlanta interns, I hope you’re still reading this!)

Of course, I had to stop by this statue during the walk to rep ADPi. Go Alphie! 

Close to the hotel was the Kigali China Great Wall Restaurant. I have been curious about foreign interpretations of Chinese food since I saw a presentation about it at a Griffiths Leadership Society Conference I attended at Mizzou. Jennifer 8. Lee (no, the "8" is not a typo), a New York Times reporter and author of ­­­­­The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, talked about the strange ways “Chinese” food is prepared all over the world. I’m sure you’ve heard Chinese food in America is actually nothing like Chinese food in China, so we decided to see what Chinese food in Rwanda was like. We weren’t too hungry, so we stuck with chicken fried rice. The weirdest thing to me was that there weren’t eggs in the fried rice. Isn’t that just steamed rice with chicken and veggies?

Fun with Mom in Kigali.

Sunday, July 17

Today was my first full day with Mom in Rwanda! When she found out I had been accepted to the study abroad program in March, she mentioned wanting to visit Africa and the possibility of meeting up with me somewhere on the continent. It took a while for us to nail down our plans, but we finally decided she would come to Kigali for a few days, then we would fly to Kenya to spend some time at a safari lodge in Amboseli National Park. That way, I could get my meaningful, educational experience in Rwanda, but I could still do the "touristy" things like look at animals!

After breakfast, we went to visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center. We also took Kiela (who didn't get to go with us the first Sunday) and Tyler and Lauren, who just wanted to revisit and spend some more time at the memorial. I didn't think I would want to go back inside, so I brought my book (No Future Without Forgiveness by Desmond Tutu that I checked out of the IGSC library) to sit outside and read. But once I got there, I ended up walking through the exhibits again because I wanted to point some things out to my mom (like the chain that Bea's brother had been buried with). I'm glad I went through it again because I noticed some different things this time.

Apparently, the first the time I went through, I missed all the good stories. There was not much good that occurred during the genocide (obviously), but the memorial center did have a room dedicated to honoring those people who had saved lives during the genocide. One of the most memorable stories was about Frodouald Karuhije, a Hutu who thought the RPF was going to kill him. He dug a trench to hide in, but once he realized the genocide was being committed against the Tutsi, not the Hutu, he used it to hide 14 Tutsis from the genocidaires. His daughter and niece also helped by preparing meals and taking them to the Tutsis in their hiding spot. Similarly, Damas Mutezintare Gisimba saved people who had been left alive in the mass graves.

I was so thankful I went back through the center after I read these stories, considering they were the only comforting part of the enter memorial. I also noticed more tragedy this time, however. Did you know the number of foreign troops used in the evacuation of diplomatic staff and foreign workers would have been sufficient to stop the genocide? Neither did I. Or that after the Security Council agreed to established UNAMIR II on May 17 (about seven weeks before the genocide finally ended), the U.S. took over a month to provide the 50 armored personnel carriers it had promised? The French weren’t blameless, either (as we well know). In fact, they were partially responsible for the massacre at Bisesero. Over 50,000 Tutsis were hiding in these hills, until the French troops told them it was safe to come out. The interahamwe were waiting for them, and only 1,000 Tutsis survived.

I lost my mom somewhere in the memorial rooms at the end of the timeline. When I found her outside, she was pretty ready to leave. “I can’t believe you’ve been doing this for two weeks,” she said. I assured her we were not always surrounded by so many gloomy memories. We had been visiting cultural centers, learning about the government and enjoying our new friendships with the Rwandan students. But it’s true; the two weeks were hard, especially after we got to hear the personal stories of our own acquaintances there, including one IGSC student whose parents and six brothers and sisters were murdered during the genocide.

It was time to move on, then, so we went back into the city in the hopes of finding Aroma Café, a small shop we had visited one night for dinner. Tyler remembered its general location, so we had the cab drop us off at a familiar hotel and we walked until we found it. On the way, we passed the open market, which I had promised to show my mother. After lunch (samosas and a milkshake for me – yum!), the other students walked back to the apartments while I took my mom to the market. The kids loved her blonde hair. They followed us constantly, asking us to visit their stalls and holding up vegetables and other goods for us to evaluate. My mom wasn’t as timid as I was when it came to taking pictures, so I finally got some good shots of the market:

We (and by we, I mean Mom) purchased some decorative baskets to hang on the wall at home and a couple wooden bangles for ourselves. (I chose yellow and black, to show my Mizzou spirit during the upcoming fall semester.) By then, the time difference (nine hours from San Francisco) was starting to hit Mom, so we headed back to the hotel for a short nap before the closing ceremony that night.

The closing ceremony had been changed to earlier (originally it was the end of the third week), so Kiela and I got out our fabric to fashion some togas. Unfortunately, my fabric was not two yards. I guess I got swindled at the market! I found a couple wrap styles that could have worked, but then I learned the girls who had gotten traditional clothes made hadn’t received the finished products yet. I went with a sundress instead, as it was easier to wear and I wouldn’t be the only one not in “African” clothing.

Dinner was at a nice outdoor restaurant – wine included. After eating, all the students shared a little bit of their experience in Rwanda. I kept it short and simple: “I am one of those people who’s leaving early, on Tuesday, but had I known the wonderful experiences I would have and all the people I would meet and how much I learn, I would have scheduled to stay a little bit longer. But I am grateful for everything I have learned so far, and thank you all for being a part of that. And I can’t wait to come back some day.”

And we got T-shirts!

Ours loosely say: "How are you?" and "I'm fine."

Do you want sunscreen?

Saturday, July 16

"Y'all act like you've never seen a white person before."

I wanted to make that the title of this post, but I don't like it when the title doesn't fit on one line. (OCD much?) For those of you who don't know, it's an Eminem lyric, but I think it describes my day at the lake very well.

After breakfast at the convent, we piled into the bus to head to Bea's hotel, which was conveniently located across the street from the public beach. While Kiela, Tyler and I were changing into our swimsuits, everyone else left to find a spot on the beach (gee, thanks guys). We couldn't find them, so we staked out our own spot, and I got in the water right away. The Rwandan students had warned us it would be cold, but I didn't really believe them. There is a common misconception that California beaches are warm. Not true. At least, not in the top half of the state. Our water does come down from Alaska, you know. So every time someone tells me water is cold, I don't really believe them. And I was right; the lake was a perfect temperature. Cool enough to be refreshing but not so cold that I was uncomfortable.

What did make me uncomfortable, however, is when a young boy walked by as Kiela was helping me apply sunscreen and stuck out his hand. I was nervous that he wanted to put sunscreen on me, like Kiela was doing. I wasn't really sure what to do, so I just squeezed a little dollop onto his palm. He smiled and walked away, rubbing the sunscreen onto his bare head. That started a little line of boys who filed past as I gave them each a little bit of sunscreen. Then it was amusing, not uncomfortable.

Kiela and I did attract quite a crowd on the beach, however. Not only were we the only women we could see on the beach, but we were white and in bikinis. Scandalous! I tried to keep myself pretty submerged in the lake because I didn't want to offend anyone with my bare, pale stomach. This group of boys hung around for a while, and one even started singing Soulja Boy. Of course, Kiela and I began doing the dance in the water, and they all laughed at us.

 Yup, that's us. Shining bright ... awfully bright.

After a while, we felt a little uncomfortable with the large group of men who had congregated on the beach and were staring at us, so we went back to Bea's hotel, where she had graciously paid for us to go swimming in the pool. She also invited us to order a soda at the bar on her tab, so we lay by the pool with our feet in the water and sipped our Fanta (or Coke) until everyone else got back from their mysterious location on the beach.

By then, it was time to have lunch at a nearby restaurant and head back to Kigali. On the way, we drove right next to the border of Democratic Republic of Congo. So exciting! (This is one country we were told to stay away from.)

Border gate to Goma, DRC! 

We had a little break to nap and unpack when we got back to the apartments, and then it was off to eat again. (Sometimes I feel like all we do is eat!) My mom's flight got in while we were at dinner, so I dropped a note off at her hotel telling her I would come by after dinner. (It was like the days before cell phones! Quite the cultural experience haha.) When I got to the hotel later that night and called up to her room, she was already in bed. Apparently she asked if there was a note for her at the desk, and they didn't give it to her. But we made plans to meet up in the morning for breakfast at the hotel, and I headed back to the apartment to finish out our last official day of the program with my roomies, on the couch watching music videos.

Better than Harry Potter?

Friday, July 15

As you know from my previous post, I was pretty distraught about missing the Harry Potter premiere while in Africa. (I know, what a trivial complaint. Spoiled much?) But luckily, our gorgeous weekend trip that began today made up for that.

Unfortunately, the day started off on a sad note. Colbey left after our morning tea break to travel to South Africa, where he will be doing another study abroad program before school begins. I'm disappointed he didn't get to experience Lake Kivu with us, but I'm sure he's doing amazing things down across the continent!

Bye bye, Colbey! Have fun in Cape Town!

We visited the Gender Monitoring Office down the street from the CNLG building in the morning, had tea and then began the 3-hour drive to Gisenyi, a town on Lake Kivu at the northwest corner of the country. Our original plan had been to spend Friday afternoon at the lake and then visit Iwawa, an island that rehabilitates troubled youth by teaching them practical skills, the next day. Although IGSC had secured permission for us to visit the island, the Minister of Defense became concerned about American citizens visiting the island because one of their boats just got in an accident, and he didn't want to be liable if anything bad happened to us. When we left Kigali in the morning, we still didn't know if we would be able to visit Iwawa or not.

We also left a little later than planned, so Bea made sure we stopped to eat lunch on the way instead of waiting until we arrived in Gisenyi. This was an excellent decision, as we didn't arrive in Gisenyi until 5 p.m. The students were all staying at a convent right on the lake, and it was gorgeous. My first thought when I looked out at the lake was, "I can't believe I wanted to be home watching Harry Potter tonight." It was absolutely breathtaking, and the nuns set us up in quaint little rooms complete with bath towels and mosquito nets.

While we all wandered around the property and took about 1.37 million pictures of the lake, the nuns prepared some hot tea and biscuits for us. Lauren pointed out (very accurately) the tea tasted like Froot Loops, which might sound weird but was actually quite delicious. We then had dinner and bought a bottle of wine from the nuns for 2500 francs. Yes, 2500. That's a little over $4 in the U.S. Wow. And the nuns had made the wine themselves, which was pretty cool.

At one point, I said "murakoze" to thank the nuns for bringing us the food. Sister Francois got very excited and exclaimed, "You speak Kinyarwanda!" I quickly denied it before she could get her hopes up any further. "That's the only word I know," I admitted, which evoked a laugh from her.

I was pretty tired from the long bus ride, and we decided we wanted to be up early the next day to get to the beach as soon as possible, so I retired fairly early.

 This was the first view of the lake I had, which made me think, "Maybe this is worth missing opening weekend."

 And then the sun began to set ...

 ... and the view just kept getting better. What an appropriate location for a convent - who could look at this and not think there's a God behind all this beauty?

The U.S. Embassy reads Twilight.

Thursday, July 14

This morning was a little chaotic, as our post-tea break schedule did not go according to plan. In the morning, a man from the African Union spoke to us about the role of the AU in today's society. Unfortunately, like we've heard so many times before, the AU did not act to stop the genocide while it was occurring, but it has measures in place today to prevent another tragedy like it.

After our tea break, the schedule said we would have free time to use the library and work on our projects. Kiela and Colbey planned to go to the Kigali Genocide Memorial Center, which they missed last Sunday because they had still been en route to Rwanda. But some miscommunication and other problems led to the bus being M.I.A., which left them with no transportation. Additionally, Bea had scheduled a visit to a Catholic health clinic, which Colbey wanted to attend because he is pre-med. Basically, by the time anything got figured out, it was almost lunchtime. I decided to stay at IGSC and catch up on my notes and journal as much as possible.

After lunch, we visited the U.S. Embassy in Kigali and spoke to a political officer and a program officer from USAID. While waiting for our speakers, we sat in the library for a few minutes. It was there that I noticed there was a Twilight book on the shelf. Really? If I remember correctly, it was actually Breaking Dawn. Sad day. I'm comforted by the thought that maybe Harry Potter is in the British embassy!

Photo courtesy of SmugMug.

The embassy officers did not talk much about the U.S.'s role during the genocide but rather focused on what America has been doing since then to help Rwanda rebuild. The embassy has helped with the nation's changing needs by providing humanitarian and emergency aid directly after the genocide, then assisting with improvements in agriculture and AIDS prevention beginning around 1998, then developing justice and infrastructure beginning in 2000, and finally helping implement presidential initiatives beginning in 2004. I learned there are four government departments that offer jobs in foreign service: the Department of State, Department of Agriculture, Department of Commerce and USAID. New career path, possibly?

Also at the embassy, I suddenly realized that the graduate student on our trip was old enough to remember the genocide; she was actually graduating high school when it happened. I asked her what the public perception had been while the genocide was occurring. "We thought it was a tribal war," she answered. "We didn't think we should get involved." She added that by the time the atrocities were being broadcasted on the news every night, it was already late May (over a month into the genocide). It was only then that she and her peers started realizing something bad was happening, and they had let it slip by.

The day ended with dinner at Shokola, where we were able to order our own dishes instead of eating from the buffet we usually had at meals. I opted for the chicken quesadilla, "with onions, peppers, guacamole, sour cream and pico de gallo." I assumed this meant the quesadilla would have onions and peppers in it, with the other toppings on the side. As you can see from this picture, it was actually the opposite:

 

I felt a little lame for eating a quesadilla in Africa, but I decided I wanted to see what "ethnic food" was like in other countries. In addition to the strange switch in vegetables, the tortilla was very doughy, almost sweet. Overall, it was a good dinner!

Accio that box of tissues.

Spoiler Alert: This post contains details from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.

Photo via Pinterest.

So, I know I'm not finished with my Africa posts yet, but I finally saw the final Harry Potter film last night, and I just have to post now while it's still fresh in my mind.

Yes, I am a Harry Potter nerd. Not the kind who had exorbitant amounts of Harry Potter paraphernalia or who actually expected to receive a Hogwarts letter on my 11th birthday (I was always painfully practical, even as a child), but I literally grew up with Harry Potter and all his adventures.

My mom somehow found the book back when it was first released in the U.S. and brought it home for my brother and me from an airport. I remember us reading the back of the book and thinking: "Gee, Mom, a book about a wizard boy. How awesome." Little did we know then what this book would lead to....

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone was the first book my mom ever read aloud to my brother. As he got older, we would take turns on who got read the newest book first, racing through it in two or three days so the other person could read it and we could discuss together. As we got even older, my brother realized I was the faster reader, so I always got to read them first. Yay for me!

We also saw all the movies together, even if that meant sacrificing the opening weekend experience. Two years ago, I used my day off from my summer job to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince with him in Berkeley. Last year, we both waited until Thanksgiving break (a painful five days) to see the first installment of the Deathly Hallows.

That is, until this year. As you know, I was in Rwanda on July 15, and I was pretty torn up about it.

And my brother said he wouldn't wait me for me ... not this time.

So my roommates and I spent one afternoon watching YouTube videos of Harry Potter parodies, even though they each took about an hour to load. Here's my favorite (and I must credit the title of my post to this song):

My one (major) beef with this video: I'm sure "remember 2001" sounded better than "remember 1997," but that's when we found out he was The Chosen One. (Or actually 1998, here in the U.S.) Gah.

And finally, after all this ridiculousness (embarrassing example: While in Kenya, I was telling my mom about my mixed feelings about seeing the last Harry Potter movie, and I quoted the Half-Blood Prince when Hermione asks Harry how it feels when he sees Ginny with Dean, and he says "It feels like this, Hermione; it feels like this," and I legit started to tear up just thinking about it! My mom thought I was crazy....), I went to see the movie Monday night with my little brother and one of his good friends, Riley.

They had already seen it together at the midnight premiere, but Riley brought along her Harry Potter glasses for me to wear and Michael got some popcorn for us. And then it began. I was so excited tweeting about it that I missed The Dark Knight Rises trailer, which was apparently really exciting. One guy even came in just to see the trailer and then left right away. Hmm...

I held it together pretty well for the first half of the movie. But then Neville led Harry through the secret passageway into the Room of Requirement, and I was overcome with emotion. My brother gave me a weird look, as nothing sad had happened, and I looked at him through my tears and squeaked, "I'm just so happy!" (Cue Michael's "my sister's a freak" face.) It was all downhill from there. The look on Ginny's face when she saw Harry had returned to Hogwarts = tears. Professor McGonagall "protecting" Harry from Snape in the Great Hall = tears. Snape's memories in the Pensieve = lots and lots of tears (definitely the most emotional part of the movie, for me). And then, leaving the theater and realizing it's really the end of Harry Potter = more tears (to the utter embarrassment of Michael and Riley, of course).

I remember racing through the seventh book as usual back in high school but slowing down when I got to the last few pages because I knew it would soon all be over. At least then, I still had the movies to look forward to. Now I have nothing.

But I am so grateful my mom found the Sorceror's Stone before the American media kicked in and children everywhere became obsessed with the story. I was one of those obnoxious children who wanted to conform to the non-conformists, and I know if I hadn't read the first book before the franchise became popular, I never would have developed such an appreciation for it. Example: I refused to read Twilight for years on principle because I was sick of hearing everyone talk about how great it was. (I finally read them all. They're not that great.) So thank you, J.K. Rowling, for being such a large part of my childhood and now my young adulthood. Hogwarts will always be my home!

We won three dollars!

Wednesday, July 13

A lot of interesting things happened today, so I will try to be concise and break up this post with subheadings:

From Voiceless Women to Representatives in Parliament.

This was the title of Professor Bea Gallimore's presentation at IGSC this morning. Bea - our own professor from Mizzou, developer of the Rwanda study abroad program and a co-founder of IGSC - received her graduate degree in linguistics and has used that academic background to study women survivors of the genocide in Rwanda. I found this lecture fascinating, both as an admirer of language and a woman myself. Furthermore, I am doing my final project for this class on women in post-genocide Rwandan society, so the information was very helpful in giving me a foundation for my paper.

A highlight of the presentation for me was the revelation that there is no word for "to rape" in Kinyarwanda. Instead, Rwandans use other words or euphemistic expressions to describe the crime, such as kubohoza, which means "to acquire by force, to make free, to loot," and guhohotera: "to impose injustice on someone." I was appalled to learn that another word they use for rape actually means "to marry": kurongora. This led to a further discussion, in which I learned that women cannot take the active voice for kurongora, only the passive. Therefore, women can never marry, but they can be married. Sexist much? Similarly, the only verb a woman can take actively is gusambana, which means to make love. Unfortunately, in Rwanda it has the connotation of the f-word and is viewed as a dirty word for copulation.

This lesson was very interesting to me and made me wonder what linguistic rules we have in English that would be strange to people of different cultures and native languages.

Aid for women with AIDS.

After our morning lectures, several other students and I walked over to Ineza, a nearby business, to purchase some gifts. Ineza is an organization that helps women affected by HIV/AIDS to make a living by selling various fabric products. Emmanuel escorted us to the house where the goods were made and sold, where we saw about 15 to 20 women sitting in the living room sewing. They waved and greeted us as we came in, and two older women took us to the room in the back where the products are on display.

They had everything from duffel bags to luggage tags and oven mitts to men's ties, in fabrics of all colors and patterns. I purchased a laptop case with a yellow, red and blue pattern for 8,000 francs, which is roughly equivalent to $13. Considering the laptop cases I had been looking at in the U.S. cost around $20, I was more than happy to purchase a case that would both help these women generate income and serve as a reminder of my time in Africa. After I completed my purchase, the woman who collected my money (who didn't speak much English) hugged and thanked me. It was truly a gift to see how grateful these women were for our business.

This is the sign that was displayed outside the gate to Ineza.

Widows and orphans of the genocide.
 
Instead of returning to the CNLG building after lunch, we walked next door to AVEGA, an organization for widows and orphans of the genocide. (We had already visited the organization once, for a memorial service.) The speaker explained that AVEGA was organized by widows in 1995 to address problems they were facing after the genocide. They didn't have any property or anywhere to stay, and they basically had to start at zero to rebuild their lives. AVEGA offers the following services for widows and orphans:

1. Medical - AVEGA has started three health centers, including one at the location we visited. They offer assistance for rape victims and women with HIV, plus trauma counseling.
2. Social - Among other things, AVEGA helps secure assistance for elderly women who have no children to take care of them.
3. Justice/Information/Advocacy - AVEGA provides legal officers to help women secure property and assert their inheritance rights. These officers accompany the women to court when necessary.
4. Capacity-building - Some of AVEGA's income-generating projects include jewelry making, beekeeping and starting small businesses. These projects also help AVEGA make loans to widows.

During the presentation, the speaker had mentioned that though men could not be members of AVEGA (the organization means "Association for Widows of the Genocide" in French), there is one man on the national board, along with nine women. (The speaker himself was also male.) One of the Rwandan students from IGSC found this to be unacceptable. He kept asking the speaker why there was only one man on the board. I'm not sure why he was so focused on this detail, but finally, another IGSC student became exasperated and said, "It's a women's association!" The speaker also asked, jokingly, "How many men do you suggest we have?" I'm not sure why this discussion became so heated, but most of the students found it amusing.

Too bad I didn't have any USD.

After dinner, some students were really craving ice cream. Emmanuel, my roommates, another Mizzou student named Tyler and I headed down the street to purchase some ice cream cones at a small market. After we had our snacks, Kiela shared her desire to visit the Casino Kigali, located in a hotel not far from our apartments.

That's me, hiding in the shadows to the right!

Once inside, I was surprised to see the machines only accepted U.S. dollars. I guess American tourists are the only ones who like to gamble? Unfortunately, I wasn't carrying any American money on me, but Emmanuel had a $10 bill. He loaned it to Tyler to try his hand at video poker. Very quickly, Tyler had won about $3, to bring his total to $13. (Actually, he had $13.80, but the casino truncates.) We waved down an attendant, who spent a few minutes trying to convince Tyler not to cash out.

"But you only have $13," he told Tyler. "You've only won $3."

Tyler insisted that he knew that, but he didn't care. "I have more than I came in with, so I'd like to cash out." It took a little while - and a small fib about Tyler needing to leave because he has gambling problems - for the attendant to finally give Tyler his $13.

Oh, and as we left, the elevator shut on me. Like, the doors pinned my arms shut and didn't automatically open back up again like normal elevators. But obviously I lived, and I still have both arms. Success!