What happens next...

Muraho,

Wow, so as you can all see, my time in Rwanda was, in many ways, life-altering. Perceptions of God, myself, others, ministry, and the world were all changed in one way or another. Now, the question that I ask myself is this: Where do I go from here?

My time in Rwanda produced several possible future opportunities for me, ones that I had never envisioned for myself. The head of the Solace Ministries, for whom I helped complete a report, said to me that he would be thrilled if I stayed connected to the organization as it continues to expand in developing and implementing community development strategies for the community which has been put in its care. One opportunity related to the Solace project that has presented itself is the possibility of returning to Rwanda to help do pastoral/ministry training. One of my teammates, Joanna, and I came up with this idea after a fascinating meeting with the five pastors who attended our community forum that I described a few posts ago. The pastors shared with us that one significant need that they had perceived is that of spiritual and ministerial training for those in their community who are called to ministry. The closest theological schools are far away and it would cost too much money to fund their education. When Joanna asked whether the pastors would be open to having students from Regent come and conduct ministry training seminars, they expressed a great willingness and desire to see such an idea come to fruition.

I also discovered through various conversations with both national and foreign ministry leaders that, although Christianity is the majority religion in Rwanda, it is primarily cultural and has not truly entered and transformed the hearts of the Rwandans. Therefore, this sort of training is especially important so as to prevent the continued rehashing of merely cultural Christianity by those who are zealous for the Lord and yet have only been minimally trained in the gospel. One story that I heard several times while I was in Rwanda is especially compelling: In a pastoral leadership seminar, after the simple gospel presentation, 27 of the 30 pastors raised their hands to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior for the first time!

Then, there is the Congo. My heart for the nation has been growing steadily over the past year. The recent passing of my grandfather jump-started this development. My grandfather, whom I cherish and respect as one of my heroes, was a life-long missionary to Congo. He devoted his life to God and God called him to devote it to the Congo. He had such a love and heart for the Congo and its people. His integrity, perseverance, and devotion to the to that nation sustained by the power of the Holy Spirit translated into his pastoring a growing and fruitful mega-church in Kinshasa the capital. A former high-level member of the government even called my grandfather “the Billy Graham of the Congo!”

My interest and familial involvement in the country has grown as my extended family has endeavored to fulfill several of my grandfather’s ministerial dreams for the Congo. As I read about the DRC in preparation for the Rwanda trip, specifically about the intractable conflict in North Kivu, my heart for the country grew even more. Now, even though my trip to Rwanda is obviously over, my involvement with the mining project is still not done. I plan on writing a report on community development strategies and kingdom-based community transformation that I will give to Sandrali and Christian, the mine owners. However, after I have done that, I am at a crossroads. The mine owners would love to have me stay involved for the long haul. However, is this where God is calling me?

Regardless of these various possibilities, which as of right now are just that, I know one thing for sure, God has thrown open my blinders. I used to always say to people the following, “I know that God has called me to be a missionary, but I am not sure of where, when, with whom, for whom, and in what capacity.” However, as I discovered in Rwanda, I have always had a pre-conceived idea of what I thought God wanted me to do, despite my saying otherwise. I always envisioned myself working among an unreached people group, specifically one that is Muslim. I thought I would end up in a rural location in which it would be important to learn the indigenous language and/or Arabic. To be completely honest with you, I always envisioned my going to North/West Africa and/or the Middle East.

However, these opportunities presented to me are the exact opposite of my expectations. Both Rwanda and Congo are majority Christian nations. One speaks French, the other speaks English, along with indigenous languages.

Regardless of whether I take up any of these opportunities, end up going someplace completely different, or stay in the United States, God has made me see the blinders I had put up and has helped me take them off so that I am now more honestly open to wherever God calls my wife and me.

Please continue to keep us in your prayers as we beginning to prayerfully examine these opportunities. Also please keep me in your prayers as I prepare to go to East Asia in just a few short weeks! I will post a blog about that in the next few days. However, as of right now, thank you for joining me as I have processed and shared my time in Rwanda with you.

Murkoze!

Eric 

On a Lighter Note...

Muraho,

The past five blogs I have dedicated to describing significant experiences in Rwanda, my reflections on them, as well as descriptions the various projects that I participated in during my tenure in Rwanda. There were many more experiences that I have not described here on my blogs, but I hope that I have been able to give you a picture of some especially significant experiences.

One aspect of the trip that I have not given you very much detail about is my team. The team was very diverse. Although most of the team was from the East Coast, one person was from Colorado and another was a missionary in Indonesia. Of the ones on the East Coast, most were from Virginia Beach, though North Carolina, Maryland, and D.C. were all represented as well. We were all at different stages in our lives. Several were single. Two were newly married. Several had elementary aged children while others had children graduating high school. Some of us had just graduated while others had recently started our master’s degrees. Some had gone into the graduate program soon after undergrad while others had returned to school after many years to get a first or another master’s degree.

However, despite such diversity, or perhaps because of this diversity, we were able to connect well. There were definitely various personality conflicts, as can be expected on a trip like this, especially when we were working so closely together on time-sensitive projects far away from home. We truly developed a family-like feel during our trip and built friendships and connections that will, by God’s grace, last the test of time.

With such a great team, there were plenty of times of laughter and fun. I became involved in a prank war with several of the teammates which involved stealing each other’s things and culminated in barricading the doors to each other’s rooms. At one point, several of us managed to get hyped on a thrilling hunt of a gecko we found in the guesthouse. Because of my reaction during this time, I became known as the “gecko whisperer”.

As a team, we also went on several excursions, both for the purposes of relaxation after long project days as well as to experience and see as much of Rwanda as possible.

On our first Saturday, we drove several hours north, right near a fairly famous park that is dedicated to preserving the mountain gorillas of Central Africa. Now, from what I was told, tourists generally enter the park in the mornings to see the gorillas and are back at their hotels by the afternoon. In order to provide the tourists with something to do in the afternoons, the Rwandans built a “cultural village”. If anyone has heard of or been to Williamsburg in the United States, you will understand the nature and purpose of this village. The cultural village is basically a life size model of what Rwandan life used to be like before the advent of colonialism. The village is staffed by people who used to make a living as poachers in the nearby park. These people live there year round. When tourists come, they dress up in the traditional garb and basically play-act as the villagers of a Rwanda village frozen in time.

A tour guide led us through the village explaining the history of the model king’s hut (during which time our professor and one of the ladies in the team were selected as the group’s king and queen and dress up accordingly. It was quite hysterical!) as well as the role of the medicine man and the black smith, the method of churning milk into “lotion”, and we were able to do some target practice with a Rwandan bow and arrow.

However, the best part of the excursion came at the end when the men of the village, dressed up as warriors, did a dance for us. Then, our king and queen were brought out into the dance. Soon at least of the team joined in on the fun. It was hilarious and a much needed comic relief after several physically and emotionally draining days.

After the village visit, we drove south west and made a stop at a restaurant/resort on Lake Kivu for lunch/dinner. The view from the restaurant was absolutely gorgeous! The lake itself is very large and is one of the lakes that comprise the “Great Lakes Region” of central Africa. However, despite the beauty, there was a bit of a cloud over it all. We were within a few miles from the border with Congo. On the other side was North Kivu. Just that week, more fighting had broken out and refugees were streaming into Rwanda. We had even passed some along the way to the resort.

At the end of the trip, before we flew back to the United States, we had one last excursion. We had a brief, but fun one night stay at a safari lodge. The Akagera National Park occupies the northeastern corner of the country. From our hotel, we were able to see across the border into Tanzania. Once again, the view was absolutely amazing!

On our safari, we saw many baboons, several giraffes, impala and other types of antelope, water buffalo, some hippos, and several types of birds. We also had the privilege of witnessing two male giraffes fighting one another. Their fighting entailed throwing the head and neck at the other giraffe’s neck. It was quite intriguing and amusing.

But probably the greatest sight was the one elephant we saw. We were driving along on the dirt road. On our left was a river/lake of some sort and on our right was trees, bushes and other types of foliage. As we were driving, we suddenly came upon a solitary bull elephant on our right. We immediately stopped and stared for a second in disbelief. After a second or two, everyone came to their senses and dashed to get their cameras out. Fortunately, I had already had my camera out and ready, so I managed to get a perfect shot of him before he lumbered over ten feet to the right behind a tree.

I hope you enjoy the following pictures of the aforementioned events.

The Mountain Gorilla National Park in the distance

Cultural Village and View of Gorilla Park

Our "King" and "Queen"

Blacksmith at Cultural Village

Churning milk into "lotion"

The Dancing Warriors

Lake Kivu

North Kivu, DRC in the distance

Fishing on Lake Kivu 

Akagera National Park

Akagera National Park

Akagera National Park, Tanzania in the distance

The fighting giraffes

Confessions

Muraho!

Immediately following the end of the meeting, I took my place at the dinner table where the rest of my team was already sitting, ready to eat. I tried to focus on the food. But all I could think was “what do I have to offer? Who am I before man? Who am I before God? I am nothing.” I felt so small and so powerless. Any sort of pride or self-righteousness was shattered and I was left sitting in the midst of the glass pieces. The thoughts and feelings were intense and eventually I could no longer hold them in, being overwhelmed with a myriad of hurts, fears, regrets, shame, and struggles that I had been pushing down and bottling up. However, the experience at the meeting somehow broke through the walls I had created to contain my personal dysfunction. One of my teammates noticed the tears streaming down my face while I was eating my soup and she asked me what was wrong. At first, I tried to ignore it all and just say that everything was fine. But it was too late. Within another minute, I was weeping my eyes out and sharing with my team all that God had stirred up in me.

…

What is interesting is that, looking back on it now, it's having been a little over two and a half weeks since this event occurred, it is very difficult to remember exactly what happened, what I said, what I thought, what I felt. The worries and stresses of this life have such an amazing ability and power to overthrow any sort of “progress”, “revelation”, and “emotional upheaval.” However, even as I am writing this post, looking back on that evening and seeing my life now that I have returned to a very fast paced daily trajectory, I am able to draw out more from the experience than I even realized at the time. So here is my commentary of what I felt and thought then and what I have seen now.

…

Two, seemingly opposing, sinful attitudes came into full view as a result of the meeting and the aftermath of my breaking down at dinner. First, I had realized that for a while now, even in my darkest moments of despair or depression, even in my times of struggle and pain, I entertained a level of entitlement in my spiritual walk and my intellect.  I was quite something. I had an enormously blessed spiritual heritage. In some ways, I felt I had inherited a sort of spiritual “claim to fame”. My parents are missionaries. My grandmother is a missionary. My granddad pastored an enormous, growing, and influential church in the Congo. He has even been called the “Billy Graham” of the Congo! My other grandparents are honorable, generous couple filled with integrity, discipline, and wisdom, and who had been surrogate parents and provided a surrogate home for me throughout my childhood and college years. Both sets of my great-grandparents were missionaries. All of this amazing heritage I used to my advantage. I’d throw it out there every once in a while, just to make sure I was noticed and appreciated.

I was quite the somebody. I have had extensive cross-cultural experience. I have had a variety of ministry experiences. I have excelled in academics and fairly broad in my learning. My ability to express myself through various methods of communication were at least good if not laudable.

All of these things, this mentality, provided a veneer which overlaid the surface of a brewing perfect storm, the true crisis in my soul: the struggle for dominion and lordship over my heart and mind. Who or what actually headed up my life? Is it the people around me? Is it my past? Is it the world with all of its flighty trends and puffed up knowledge? Is it my reputation, my image? Is it vanity?  What I had discovered and continue to realize now as I am writing, all of those things occupied the throne of my life. Except for God.  God has been distant. Yes, I have given him my future and I gave him my past, but I realized I am in firm control of my present. This firm control has led to a spiraling loss of control and dysfunction.

The second mentality arises from this crisis. I have been gripped in the clutches of uncertainty, shame, and doubt, being tossed back and forth by the treachery of my thoughts and emotions. I have felt incapable of doing much of anything. Every thought, belief, or action had a myriad of other possibilities. Who am I supposed to listen? What is true? What is right? What is wrong? My shame has sprung forth from my inability to be the perfect husband and spiritual leader for my wife. Instead, she has been strong for us both, as I have so often been weak.

The walls of pride came crashing down when I was confronted with my spiritual and intellectual lack and shallowness at the meeting. Who was I to even think that I was entitled to anything spiritual or intellectual? Trevor demonstrated himself to be more diligent, intelligent, analytical, articulate, and broad in his knowledge. Sandrali had a spiritual battle plan laid out without any of my input, he had true humility, one which exuded spiritual authority, power, and revelation.

With the walls being broken, the chaos in my mind and heart flooded out. While it hurt for a while and was humbling, it was also remarkably clarifying. My muddled mind was finally released from the pressures within and I was able to see more clearly.

I remembered “that God is God, and I am not. I can only see a part of the picture He is making. God is God, and I am man, I will never understand it all, for only God is God.” I remembered that the Father created me, knows me, and loves me. I remembered that Jesus, the Son, died and was resurrected to save me in every way, to bring holistic, continual transformation to my heart and my whole life. I remembered that the Holy Spirit is here to guide me, to give me understanding, revelation, and discernment, and to empower me to face life here on earth in a way that glorifies the Holy Trinity.

I came to a new appreciation and understanding of those famous lyrics, I “was blind, but now I see!”

Murakoze my friends!

Eric 

Mining for Humilty

Muraho!

I was sitting in the guesthouse dining room, fiddling with my netbook in my attempts to secure the strongest wireless signal. According to my computer’s wireless connections listing, there supposedly was a plethora of viable options. However, my efforts to connect failed miserably.

Sitting across from me at this small, round table was my project teammate and roommate, Trevor. It was an hour after the time we were to meet with our two contacts. And they were late. At this point though, we were getting a bit more accustomed to the rhythm of Rwandan life, or African life for that matter. Trevor and I just had to sit back, relax a little bit, and wait. Which is why I was rather disappointed that the internet, a supreme source of distraction, was not available. So, instead, I had to wait patiently without it.

Unfortunately, I was not at all ready to do so. I was very antsy and rather nervous for the upcoming meeting. Trevor and I had never actually met the two men before. We had skyped with one of them for a short thirty minutes a few months prior. That particular call had been one of introduction, in order to launch the preparations for our project.

The project itself was fairly audacious: Trevor and I were to partner with the ownership team of a contract with the government of the Democratic Republic of Congo to develop three major mines in the North Kivu district, which is located on the border with Rwanda. The ownership team consisted of two, God-fearing men who had a mission: they wanted to holistically develop the district, which ultimately meant bringing in the kingdom of God to transform all areas of life in North Kivu. In order to do so, the owners were committed and also contractually required to devote 40% of their profits to develop infrastructure in the district. The owners were also committed to using 10% of the rest of the profit in order to develop the region in more overtly, kingdom-based ways, whether by supporting ministries, building churches and Christian schools, or the like.

This noble endeavor, however, had a catch. That catch was North Kivu itself. Although one does not often hear of it in the news, this region is one of the most chronically violent and volatile hotspots for conflict in the world. This noxious, smoldering mass of economic, social, ethnic, geographical, cultural, and political tension has had a very rough history under devastating Belgium colonial rule followed by complete neglect and mismanagement under the now-deposed strongman Mobutu Sese Seko. This already highly pressurized powder keg blew up in the aftermath of the Rwanda genocide when millions of refugees crossed over the border into the region. North Kivu became the battlefield for the next two wars after 1994, and even though the most recent war, which was the deadliest conflict since World War II, officially ended in 2003, guerrilla fighters and proxy armies of all various stripes continue to ravage the district. Although security has slowly grown better, the root causes for its volatility have still not been addressed.

This was the place the two man, Christian, mining company wanted to transform for the kingdom and glory of God!

Now, our roles in this project were never fully delineated. Despite the confusion, I decided that I would contribute by focusing on the community development side of the mining project. My research would especially come into play in helping implement sustainable, gospel-centered development strategies in the more rural, poorer, smaller, and marginalized communities of the district.

However, on day four in Rwanda, an hour later than the time we were supposed to meet with these two men, I was nervous. I had done some previous research and was hoping to conduct the rest of my field work in Rwanda in preparation of my report that I hoped to give to the mine owners. However, my teammate Trevor had completely outpaced me by leaps and bounds. He had decided to focus on helping the owners launch the mines, which I had not understood as being a necessity. He conducted hours upon hours of research on small-scale mining, loaning programs, the certification process of conflict-free minerals, equipment and budgeting, etc… and had formulated a nice report for the miners along with an USB disk with several megabytes of resources and information.

I, on the other hand, had nothing to show for myself whatsoever. And I was hurting for it. When I first realized how prepared Trevor was, at first, I was rather jealous. Then, I felt very humbled. I had become accustomed to being among those who academically excelled. However, in this case, I had completely missed the boat.

Then, finally (in the midst of my antsy-ness, feelings of guilt, shame, and jealousy) the mine owners, Sandrali and Christian, arrived. We exchanged warm greetings and I was able to speak in French with both of them, which was very exciting for me. Christian was more comfortable speaking in French than in English, so I continued to help interpret here and there throughout the meeting.

The meeting started with an overview of where the ownership team was. To my shock, they shared that they were very much in the beginning process of this whole project. Therefore, Trevor ended up being in a perfect position, since he had researched how to start and run a small-scale mine. He continued the meeting with his presentation. We spent the next hour pouring over mining details and documents. While it was very informative and important for the project, I could not help but feel rather worried and ashamed. In compared to Trevor, I had done nothing! Most of my work was to come after the Rwanda trip itself.

So I began to come up with excuses for myself so as to rationalize away my guilt and prop my pride back up. However, before going through my normal repertoire of excuses, a small voice in head merely said “Stop. No more excuses. Just accept it and humble yourself.” Wow. I just had to accept the fact that I had not measured up to the same level as Trevor in my work. There were no excuses. I just needed to accept the responsibility head on. I was fairly dumbfounded by this revelation since my habit dictated that I do otherwise.

Then, it came to my turn to lead the meeting. At this point, I was fairly eager to get my foot in the conversation and give the sense that I had something to contribute. So, after explaining why I did not have a nice report like Trevor, I scrambled to find something worthwhile to discuss. So, in order to make up for what was soon to become an awkward moment in the conversation, I interjected by stating, “So, in order that I might better be able to give you a good report, please tell me again exactly what your goals and vision are and your current plans in regard to community development and transforming the community by the power of the Holy Spirit?”

At this point, I had already thought that I had gotten a good piece of humble pie. But I was soon to realize that I was about to have the whole pie shoved in my face!

Sandrali proceeded to blow me away with an ambitious, spiritually rigorous plan to bring restoration and healing to the war-torn North Kivu. His whole vision was “rebuilding nations on divine principles.” He had a spiritual arsenal ready to combat the spiritual root causes to North Kivu’s dismal situation. As Trevor later told me, “He is truly a general in the Lord’s army!”

To say the least, I was completely floored. What could I offer these two men? Not only did I have nothing, it seemed like they already had a plan of action. What could I contribute?  

At this point, I was feeling rather low. Shortly, after this discussion, our meeting ended and Sandrali prayed over us. This final prayer was the last straw and completely shook me up. The very tangible love, humility, and authority that emanated from Sandrali completely rattled me. I could hardly hold in the tears when we said our goodbyes and arranged a time for our next meeting.

God is good!

Murakoze!

Eric 

The Voice of a Community

Muraho, my friends!

Over thirty white plastic chairs lined the yellowed-walls of the rather small room (it was probably no bigger than 15 x 30 ft.). Near the door which led to the outside there was a small, roughly constructed, wooden table on which there was a random assortment of desk paraphernalia. Seated in the chairs were my team and twenty-five other men and women all staring at me. I had been in Rwanda for a little less than week, and, there I was, about to start a presentation and forum that my team and I had just created the night before.

Welcome to Rwanda!

Now to give some context, at this meeting, I and my team were representing a Rwandan organization called Solace Ministries. This Christian organization was founded soon after the genocide to provide counseling, community, and services to widows and orphans, who bore the brunt of the aftermath of the genocide. However, within the past couple years, Solace Ministries had built a clinic in a rural area right outside of Kigali. They were then given the mandate by the government to provide health care for the entire sector (similar to a county), which included 33,000 people. They did their best to address the overwhelming health needs of the community and as we were to find out in our research, the clinic did remarkably well. However, they realized that they kept dealing with the same type of debilitating diseases that were easily preventable. Rather than merely treating the symptoms, Solace Ministries decided to attempt a holistic approach in addressing the issues of the community so as to deal with the root causes of the lack of health. This is where our team came in. Our role was to conduct field research in the community and help Solace transition to holistic community development model.

Now, before coming to Rwanda, I had merely planned to be an observer of this project. I had decided that it would be helpful for my community development research and observation if I also observed the team that worked with Solace Ministries. However, as I soon learned many times, nothing is ever secure or unchangeable in Rwanda. Plans, ideas, and expectations constantly change. In fact, within a mere 48 hours of my being in Rwanda, I was helping lead this six-member team.

Due to a lack of good communication previous to our arrival in Rwanda and some language and cultural barriers, it was very difficult for our team to get a handle on what exactly we were doing. Each avenue we took seemed to lead to a dead end. While we were able to gather some information, nothing ever truly solidified. We stopped by the Ministry of Agriculture, World Vision, the sector’s social minister’s office, and several other locations, but we were never able to find the quantitative data that we needed on the sector.

It was Thursday night, day three in Rwanda, and we were all completely exhausted. All that we had arranged at that point was do a visit at the Solace clinic and lead a community forum the next day. However, we did not know how the forum was going to be run or the goals and purpose of forum. At first, we had wanted to conduct a quantitative survey. But that idea soon fizzled as the logistical and language barriers became seemingly insurmountable. We were all exhausted and were, in some ways, at our wit’s end. So we took a little break and I decided to share with my team my experience in the Mosovu village earlier that afternoon (refer to my previous blog post, “The Road to Mosovu”). I shared with them the visual demonstration that I saw the missionaries use to illustrate a community with strengths and challenges that needed to be addressed. I explained how amazing it was to see the community take steps to move forward by problem solving on their own. As I finished sharing this, one of my teammates nearly yelled, “That’s it! That’s what we are going to do!” At first I was skeptical, but then I realized that we had finally developed a possible plan. Therefore, we adjourned our meeting, our having decided upon a strategy for the next day’s forum.

…

And there I was, standing in the midst of twenty-five community leaders. In this diverse group, there sat the appointed executive of the sector, four executive secretaries of the “cells” (There were eight cells in this sector), five pastors, two social workers, two “opinion leaders” (I am not entirely sure who these people were, I am thinking there were types of community activists), an agriculturalist, a social economic development officer, and several other leaders.

After a long round of introductions during which each person was given due attention, I stood before them and expressed our deep gratitude that they would all come together for us. I told them that we had come not to tell them what to do, but rather to learn from them about their community since they knew more than anyone else the depths and resources of their own community.

I then proceeded to share the story about the “see-saw” community, pausing every sentence to allow time for my interpreter, Agnes, to communicate what I had said into Kinyarwandan. Unfortunately I had forgotten to gather any sort of materials for my object lesson, so I instead used the random items that were scattered on the desk behind me. I built my make shift see-saw using a white-out bottle and a metal rod, and then used various other items to represent the strengths and challenges in the “see-saw” community.

What was amazing to me is how well it worked. While I am unable to actually get into my listeners’ minds and discern their thoughts, the people’s rapt attention, expressions, and reactions all indicated that I was succeeding in my communication of the analogy.

If I had tried to do something similar in a classroom or for a community in the United States, I would have most likely gotten bored looks or remarks regarding my “offending their intelligence.” However, in a culture that is orally communicated and driven by images and stories, my manner of starting the forum was entirely appropriate and even perhaps laudable.

After I finished my analogy, I then asked everyone to think of three strengths and three challenges in their community. My teammates passed out two sheets of paper to each person so that they could write their ideas down. After around twenty minutes, we had people share what they had written.

“Every child is given a chance to be in school, but there are conflicts about land ownership.” “We have good security.” “I love working.” “The community is poor.” “The soil is fertile, but the people lack agricultural skills.” “There is unity among the members in my church, but my people struggle with a lack of confidence.” “There is a lack of clean water.” “We have a very good country that gives us support.”

These are just a few of the things that I heard and eventually read from what the leaders had written. It was incredible to hear the insight and perception the people had of their community, its strengths, and its needs. What was even greater was to see everyone sharing with each other. In fact, one of the best things we did while in Rwanda was to get the community leaders together to talk about their community.

Once again, instead of telling leaders what was wrong with their community or explaining how to best run their development, we had empowered a discussion on the strengths and the challenges in the community. We did not supply the content, we just provided the space.

It was truly a beautiful thing to witness.

After at least an hour and half, the white plastic chairs that lined the walls began to empty. We said our farewells and thanked them graciously for hosting us in their community. It was truly one of the most inspiring parts of the trip for me.

Murakoze!


Eric 

The Road to Mosovu...

The road that we drove on

Muraho Friends!

It was day three in Rwanda and there I was in the back of a jeep careening left and right, mobilizing every muscle in my body in order to stabilize myself and prevent all but certain head injury if I failed. All that surrounded me were corn stalks, banana trees, bean fields, the occasional cassava plant, and the muddy, dirt, and very eroded road that we are driving on.

Yes, I was finally on my way to a Rwandan village.

I was very excited for this visit. Fortunately, the days in Rwanda were not all as heavy as the first full day that I described to you yesterday.  In fact, if there is one adjective that can describe the Rwanda of today, the word is "hopeful."

The corn stalks and banana trees

Now there are many reasons for such hopefulness, however, let me explain just one specific reason for this hope. This reason is the work being done by an organization called Discipling for Development. According to its website, D4D “is discipleship in its broadest and fullest sense; physical, social, spiritual, and psychological…a God-empowered, relational process, in which experienced facilitators assist the people of a community to grow in their ability to solve problems and to reproduce this process in other communities. Ongoing transformation of individual and collective thought and behavior results in personal growth and improvement of community (health, agriculture, water, and relationships) for the glory of God.”

Wow. That is a huge and bold vision. Part of my project in Rwanda was to observe this type of developmental model in action and to compare it with other development models, which was why I was a ragdoll in a blender of sorts, on my way to a Rwandan village.

However, on our way there, we took a bit of a detour. Brad, the missionary who was graciously hosting me, was taking me to meet and pick-up Ugiriwabo Jean-de-Dieu, the village pastor, who unfortunately lived an hour and a half by foot from his village church. We met him in a small, cement, un-painted “restaurant.” While I drank my Fanta Citron, Jean-de-Dieu shared his story.

Jean-de-Dieu

He had been the poorest of the poor. “Life was just very, very difficult.” He farmed but never had enough to eat, never enough to live on. He would normally reap a 200-300 kilogram harvest of whatever crop he was growing. It was never enough to eat, never enough to provide for his family of five. He never even had 100,000 francs ($175) at any one time in the bank.

The reason for this suffering? “Ignorance,” he said. “I was in this darkness that was completely surrounding me called ignorance; completely in the darkness of ignorance.”

But now, how things have changed! “I now have 800,000 - 1 million francs in the bank at any one time, all from my crops.” He has been honored by the government as an “exemplary farmer”. This elite group consists of 500 farmers chosen to sell seed to the government to support its seed bank program.

This transformation happened with the same land, the same resources, he had before.

Why? “All of this has come from the lessons we have been studying for D4D,” he said. “I am full, I am growing spiritually and I am growing in the physical realm. At home, I feel like I am at peace, I am calm. I praise the Lord for D4D!”

…

The inside of the church at Mosovu

Finally, we arrived at the village of Mosovu. The church in which we met was an oversized mud hut, overlaid with some cement, topped off with a corrugated tin roof. Crooked wooden benches were placed in rows in the church, all facing the front where a big drum sat.

From there on, I just observed while Brad translated the meeting into English for my sake. It was absolutely fascinating! The meeting started off with an Africanized version of a hymn that sounded familiar, but I could not place it since it was sung in Kinyarwandan. Then, Danzila, a D4D Rwandan co-worker, led the group in a Bible study on the feeding of the 5000 and Jesus walking on water.

Afterwards, another missionary who had joined us, Dave, along with Brad, did a visual presentation to introduce the committee’s agenda for that day. He had a block of wood and a small plank. He laid the plank on the block so that it could act as a type of see-saw. On the one side of the plank, he placed a bunch of flowers; on the other side, he placed a piece of trash. Then he put several rocks on both sides.

The committee meeting

“This is your community,” Dave said, pointing to the see-saw contraption. “There are strengths in your community, as represented by the rocks close to these flowers, and challenges as represented by the rocks near this trash.” He continued to explain and demonstrate that by moving the rocks on the one side, the see-saw would lean differently. This happened also when moving the rocks on the other side of the see-saw. Then he moved the rocks on both side of the see-saw in one direction, and there was an even more dramatic effect. Simple physics, right? What does this have to do with community development and whole life discipleship? But then we said the following: “Like on the see-saw, if you address the challenges in the community, the community’s trajectory shifts positiviely. Also, like demonstrated by the see-saw, if you improve and work on the strengths of the community, the community’s trajectory leans positively. Now, if you work on both the challenges and the strengths in the community, then the community will move even more strongly toward growth, healing, and development.”

It was fairly simple and even crude demonstration. But it was so powerful.

After this brief reminder of the task at hand, the committee got to work. They already had a long list of strengths and challenges in their church, split up among six categories. They were on the category of relationships. What are the strengths of the relationships in our church? What are the challenges? After an hour and a half of debating, they had chosen two strengths and two challenges that they were going to focus on.

Now it might be difficult to realize, but I witnessed an absolutely amazing thing. Let me put this in perspective. Here is a village that is in the poorer region of an already poor country. In this village is a church that once was one of the poorest churches in its Rwandan church network.

A committee member showing me his banana trees

However, instead of going the traditional route of waiting for Western aid and intervention and remaining stuck in the vicious cycle of dependency, these church community leaders had come together and were taking ownership of the trajectory of their poor community. Through the D4D lessons, they had learned that God had given their community gifts, strengths, resources, and talents. They learned that God had blessed them! God wanted them to use these blessings to the best of their abilities so as to bring positive change in their community. For there was definitely no denying that they were poor in some respects, but, contrary to both Western and their own previous perceptions, they were not as wretchedly poor to the point of complete helplessness. In fact, in so many ways, they were rich. However, they had been blinded to that fact and could only see their seemingly obvious poverty.

There were so many things that I or some other Westerner could have done to have tried to “fix” the community. We could have built them better homes, better sanitation facilities, better wells. We could have even trained them in better farming techniques and other income generating skills. But, none of these efforts would have changed their self-perception and worldview. Instead, we would only have been reinforcing this worldview through our hurtful helping.

To say the least, this was a very exciting day for me. I was able to witness the process of God bringing hope and empowerment to a poor rural community in Africa.

Murakoze!

Eric 

The Land of a Thousand Hills

Muraho! Hello!

Two weeks ago today, I returned from the beautiful Land of a Thousand Hills. After being rather overwhelmed with all the various things I needed to catch up on (I was two weeks behind in two summer graduate courses, as well as getting ready to move to another house in just over a month, etc!), I am making myself take some time to reflect and share with you, my friends.

My plan is to post a blog daily this week so as to recount to you some of my experiences, thoughts, and feelings.

Rwanda took me by surprise. Its indescribable beauty, the rolling hills that were covered in wisps of mist, the lush greenery, its lakes and rivers, its rich tracts of banana plants and corn, all of these things captivated me. With temperatures being in the realm of the 70s and 80s, it was neither too hot nor too cold. It was close to any sort of consideration of paradise.

Kigali, the capital, a city of red tin roofs nestled on the hillside, bustling with tranquil and peaceful activity.

I fell in love with the country!

However, my spirit was clouded by a dark, incomprehensible specter that constantly and painfully fluttered in the back of my mind. I had done my research before arriving in Rwanda. I knew of its painful history and especially that of its looming neighbor, the Democratic Republic of Congo. I knew how conflict in Rwanda had flooded its banks and brought about two large-scale wars in the Great Lakes region of Africa. One of these conflicts has been called Africa’s World War and is said to have ended at least five million lives. However, these facts and figures were merely flickering in the database of my memory as I instead drank in the heavenly refreshing landscape of beauty.

During our first full day in the city of Kigali, our team was shuttled in our make-shift tour bus/van across a bridge as we trekked over the hilly landscape to our lunch location. While crossing the bridge, I heard the tour guide remark, “From this bridge, this is where they threw many bodies…” What?! I was jolted from my state of blissful contemplation by that dark specter and wrenched to the harsh reality. This bridge was a bridge of death. A place of horror and indescribable suffering. It was where evil meted its torment and reaped its harvest. 


As the bus barreled over this non-descript bridge, I attempted to no avail to at least somewhat grasp the enormity of the tour guide’s remark. But how could I even situate such a piece of cursed fact in a mental context of one who has never experienced conflict beyond the bickering and infighting of fellow employees in a college setting and the gossip and power struggles within Christian ministries and churches?

My spirit continued to be clouded by the lurking shadow which demanded a response to the question: How did such earthly beauty produce the unspeakable carnage of hate, fear, betrayal, and ultimately, genocide?

We finally reached our destination: Hotel des Mille Collines, Hotel of a Thousand Hills. For those of who are familiar with the movie, this was the setting of the film Hotel Rwanda. This is where a hotel worker bravely saved over a thousand bereaved souls who were threatened with extermination during the fateful days of the Rwandan genocide. And here we were, about to have a nice, rather luxurious luncheon at a place where hope met fear and battled for supremacy in the hearts and minds of those who were once sheltered here. The irony.

From there we drove to the most emotionally charged site of our tour that day: the Kigali Memorial Centre. I will not dwell too much in my description. But it was a jarring experience to say the least. We walked through the building and were told by the tour guide and by the words, pictures, and videos placed on the walls of the center the story of the Rwandan genocide. 1,200,000 murders of Tutsis and moderate Hutus. Neighbor killings neighbors. Children being chopped by machetes. For the first time in my life, I was confronted with rows upon rows of human skulls. Only glass separated me from the remnants of a shattered life. There was a room dedicated to hundreds of personal photographs of the people killed in the genocide. There were clothes put on display with blood stains still apparent on the fabric. Each skull, each photo, each garment told a horrific story of how a beautiful life was lost. Then, there was the children’s section of the museum. Once again, photos of children and several plaques, each describing a child’s story: a name, an age, a favorite food, a favorite game, dreams for the future, and a description of the manner the child was murdered. These children were either hacked by a machete, killed due to the unwilling abandonment by their murdered parents, drowned, left in the fields to be taken care of by the elements and wild animals, and so on.

Outside of the memorial building, the atmosphere of horror and shock became that of eerie quiet and sorrow. I walked in a beautiful garden carved on the hill side. The garden was dotted with at least ten if not more, large, rectangular, cement blocks. These were mass graves. In all, at least 250,000 people are housed in these cold, cement blocks. There were fresh flower baskets and bouquets of roses and white lilies that were carefully and lovingly set on these blocks. The sign stated “Please do not step or sit on graves.” Wow. My spirit wept while my eyes stayed dry and my face stoic. I could hardly understand all that I was seeing and hearing.

My spirit heavy, I left the memorial and waited while the others continued to finish their tour.

While contemplating, I saw a group of bright yellow flowers. I walked over in order to brighten my countenance. Then I saw one of the flowers hanging directly over the gutter that ran next to the flowerbed. That is Rwanda, I thought. The beauty of Rwanda soaked in a muddy bloodbath. Now this flower is trying to bloom again. A beautiful, bright flower hanging over a dark, dirty sludge of waste and filth. And yet, still it bloomed.

And this was my first full day in Rwanda.

Murakoze, thank you for reading, my friends!

Eric