I felt the rains... again.

This afternoon, I was overwhelmed by how good God is.

As I went into English class at 4pm, the sky was clear, it was so warm outside, and it had been beautiful all day. By 4:30, it was clear that this was no longer to be the case. The giant clouds rolled in and absolutely darkened the sky. The other teacher and I left 10 minutes early to escape the imminent downpour and were still caught in it as the rain really started coming down. I had told a friend (a French woman who has lived here for over a year) earlier that day that I would visit her this evening, so I rushed over to her house to try and get inside before I was soaked through. Little did I know that she was camped out in her office waiting until the rain lessened.

So, here I am huddled on the lee side of the wall hoping that by this effort I would be spared a thorough dousing but completely failing at staying dry. For the record, there is no lee side of anything when it starts to rain in Rwanda. I looked around and saw that some kids across the street were calling me over to stand under the overhang of their house to wait out the rain, so I ran over to their house. Being the American that I am, I immediately figured out how to take up as little space and be as unobtrusive as possible in the very corner of the overhang. We can't have that now, can we? These kids called me still closer into the front hallway of their home where the mom put out a seat for me in this dry haven. For a while, I mostly just smiled at the kids and tried to figure out their names as I introduced myself. The storm was directly overhead now. There was a great crash of thunder/lightning that happened simultaneously. It shook me to my core and scared the dickens out of both me and the kids sitting next to me.

After about 15 minutes, the rain showed no sign of stopping. The mom came back out of the back room and started speaking to me in Kinyurwanda (I actually have no idea how to spell the name of the language, sorry). I didn't understand a word of what she was saying. She may have been asking me if I wanted something to eat, or she could have been asking me something about Jesus. It's a mystery to me. I was then handed a holographic picture that was one part adult Jesus and one part baby Jesus in the arms of Mary. Then I was handed a book that, from what I could pick up in the pictures and syntax, appeared to be a catechism. The mom would read a line, and I would repeat it back to her. I'm learning how to ponounce words even if I don't know how what they mean. We read through the Magnificat together that way:

My soul glorifies the Lord

and my spirit rejoices in God my savior,

for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.

That's just the beginning, but it was super fitting. I realize that Mary was chose to dear the child of God and she felt pretty overwhelmed to be chosen, but I think that being soaked to the bone and cared for by a complete stranger is also a pretty humble state. It was such a neat experience for me to share with this woman.

When the rain finally did abate, I had spent 40 minutes with this family, I said goodbye and thank you as best I could and ran back across the street looking like a wet rat where I was greeted with the use of a dry shirt and a large mug of hot tea with honey in it. You may not know this, but hot tea with honey warms not just the body but also the soul. This friend took care of me, just as the Rwandan mom had, and we shared stories of life. As she sent me back home for dinner, she sent me with her rain coat so that I wouldn't get doubly soaked on my walk home because, of course, the rain had picked up again. 

I skipped back and forth trying to avoid the big puddles and mud but feeling it wouldn't really matter if I stepped in anything because no amount of cold or wet could dampen my renewed spirit.

my BIG, FAT, RWANDAN visit

If you have seen My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding, then you are all set to understand this post. If you haven't seen it, promptly close your computer, go watch it, and then come back to read this post. You will definitely thank me later because it is a hilarious movie and you will now be armed with a number of excellent one-liners.

I went with Louise and Lydia to visit a nurse with whom Louise works and with whose daughter Lydia is friends. I was able to hang out with and get to know one of her older daughters who is 15. She said that she would help teach me Kinurwanda, which I definitely need help with. It is also nice to feel like I have a friend who is Rwandan. The visit began with a Fanta citron. Fanta is the catch-all term for every soda they have here, and, everywhere you go, people always offer you Fanta. I've never really loved soda, but you pretty much accept what people put in front of you as it can be rude to refuse someone hospitably providing for you. The Fanta was followed by an apple each, three or four plates of these doughnut hole things, three bowls of peanuts, and several bowls of pineapples. Each time, I would try to eat as much as possible of the one thing, and then the next food item would arrive. If I stopped eating for a time, my new friend would touch my arm, point to the food and say, "You should eat!" Believe me, I would eat if I didn't think my stomach were going to explode.

See, this is My Big, Fat, Greek Wedding. The mom asks if anyone is hungry, and, regardless of the answer, she immediately offers plates of food. This is also Jane DeHart. A typical conversation between my mother and one of my friends:

Friend: Hello Mrs. DeHart!
Mom: Hello! Are you hungry? What can I feed you?
Friend: Oh, I'm fine. Thank you though.
Mom: Ok. Here's a plate of cookies.

I always thought that this was just Southern hospitality, but perhaps it is more worldwide than that. I love the notion that perhaps Mom learned this particular form of hospitality from growing up in Congo, but regardless of where it's from or where it happens, I hope it always happens in my home wherever I live.

After eating my fill, I walked with my new friend out to the back of the house where Lyd was playing with her friend. I greeted their grandmother and watched them play for a while. Then we went for a walk. I would ask her about certain words, and she would tell me what they were in Kinurwanda. She laughed about why my cousins hadn't taught me any Kinurwanda. I told her that really I just have a poor memory for language (Sadly, I did not inherit the amazing mind for languages that my Grandfather has, but I think Erich got it, so it's still in the family).

It was a lovely visit. I loved getting to walk around her neighborhood with her. I hope that there will be more visits to come. Though, next time, I will remember to pace myself on the snacks because there are more lying in wait in the kitchen.

read only on a full stomach

A number of people have asked me what I've been eating, so I figured it was time to write a post about food. Sorry in advance if this is going to make your mouth water. Maybe you should go get a snack so you can munch while you read. You went right for an Apple and some Sour Patch Kids, didn't you? Yep. That's what I would have done. Now that you can snack and read at the same time, I'll break down what I've been eating by meal:

BREAKFAST
My favorite breakfast happens on mornings after soup night (I'll tell you about soup night later). There is part of a fresh loaf of bread left over, so I have two slices of fresh bread toast with a hefty amount of salted butter because Paula Dean knows what's up, and she and I share a love of butter. If there isn't bread, then a bowl of yogurt with homemade granola and fruit is a fine substitute. Then I have a serving, or maybe two, of fruit that has been in the fridge overnight, so it is super cold and delicious. It's always pineapple chunks soaked in passion fruit and sometimes papaya or mango slices and Japanese plum. Unless you've been here and eaten the fruit here, you just don't know. It's so much better than grocery store fruit. There's no way to describe it, but it's just the best. Then I grab a mug of tea (I like it without milk or sugar) and go sit by the window in my room to read or email or whatever.

LUNCH
There is always beans and rice or peas with potatoes and rice. Then there is always a fresh vegetable like cucumbers, tomatoes, salad (with lettuce from our garden), avocados, carrots, or some combination of those. There's one or two forms of cooked vegetables depending on the day. This usually includes squash, eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, carrots or cabbage. There is usually some form of potatoes whether that be french fries, scalloped potatoes or mashed potatoes on shepherd's pie (shepherd's pie always follows taco night, which I will tell you about later). Two days a week are what we like to call Cake Days. On these days, lunch always ends with - you guessed it - cake. These range from lemon cakes with glaze to chocolate cake with vanilla icing to chocolate chip zucchini bread to white cake with chocolate icing. Basically, they are all really delicious.

DINNER
Dinner has the most variation through the days of the week, so I'll just start with my favorite night. Soup Night. There are actually two soup nights throughout the course of the week, but my favorite one is on Mondays. The soup is a pureed vegetable soup that is thick and delicious. There is always a fresh loaf of bread (which means breakfast tomorrow is gonna be awesome!), a salad, and a small wheel of cheese. There is nothing wrong and everything right with that. I will likely do soup night at least once a week for the rest of my life with these exact parameters. Tuesdays are pasta night with white sauce, tomatoes and left over bread (sometimes pesto, too). Wednesday nights are taco night complete with ground beef, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, guacamole and homemade tortillas. Friday nights are pizza and a movie night. Yeah, you didn't realize when you started reading this that I get to eat pizza once a week. It's pretty stellar. Pizza night always comes with a salad and guacamole. Basically, salad and avocados are ubiquitous in my meals.

SNACK
Peanuts.

I bet you are wondering who makes all of this delicious food. Her name is Beatrice, and she is such an amazing woman. Not only does she make the most delicious food of all time (I don't know if survival is possible without her fresh bread), she always makes sure we don't leave for school without a snack for break time, and I'm pretty sure the sun shines a little brighter when she laughs. She and I don't actually speak any of the same languages (even though she is a boss and speaks Kinurwanda, French and Swahili, I and lacking and need to do my part on this language learning thing), I've learned how to say good morning and thank you and the kids will tell me what to say when I want to say something to her. She and I also share a good number of significant glances and emphatic faces that often convey the point. She is a dream and takes care of me so much.

crayons

Moses asked me a question today during class that caught me a little off guard. (I don't remember our conversation verbatim, but I can do it justice, so stick with me.)

"SJ, what do you call the color of your skin?"
"Most people call it white, but it's really more peach isn't it."
"Yeah, it isn't really white."
"Well, why do people call your skin black? It's really more brown."
"Yeah it is. Why is your skin white?"
"Because God made me that way, just the same way that he made your skin brown."

I told Moses that God made me white for a reason and that there were things that I could do, being white, that were important and that maybe only I could do. In the same way, God made him black and there are things that he can do that are important and maybe he is the only one who can do them. God had a purpose and a reason for creating us the way that he did.

[I grabbed two crayons, one a peach and one a brown]
"See, you are the color of that one and I am the color of this one, but they are both good."
[Moses held his crayon up to his arm as I held my crayon up to my arm]
"Look, SJ, our crayons are camouflaged."

That's what I like to call having a conversation about race and God's love while reviewing science.
Nailed it.

Tuesdays

I debated for a while about whether or not to write this post. It may sound like I'm tooting my own horn or that I think I'm super amazing or something (I mean, I know I'm cool, but I'm not that cool). Basically, I just want to write this humbly, so I hope that happens.

I've been spending one afternoon a week at a home for disabled children called St. Vincent's. There is an Australian missionary here who goes once a week, so I go with her and bring Lydia with me as well. It isn't the cleanest place in the world, but it also isn't the dirtiest. It isn't easy to see all the kids who need so much support, but I can't imagine that it would be any easier to see in the States or anywhere else for that matter. So, in light of everything, we play. And oh man, do we play.

This past week, I have the joy of hanging out with a little boy named Eric (the significance of getting to play with a little boy who shares my brother's name is not lost on me). Eric is blind and doesn't walk. Because he can't see, sounds and the ways you can feel sounds captivate him. He sat across from me, and we passed a soccer ball back and forth. Sometimes, I would roll the ball into his belly and he would bounce it back to me or I would beat the ball like a drum and he would throw back his head and laugh this deep, belly laugh. In fact, he laughs a lot at almost everything. It's impossible not to laugh right along with him. He loves the sound of scratching along the zipper of my rain coat. He loves beating the bottom of a bucket. When he did get upset, I'd walk around with him and sing him "You Can Close Your Eyes" by James Taylor. It's the same song that my mom would sing to me and my brother when we were little and the same song that I sing to my sweet Godbrother when I put him to sleep. Some classics are meant to stay. And I can tell Eric likes the song because he always hums along with me.

One of the greatest things that I get to see once a week at St. Vincent's is the way that Lydia interacts and plays with these children. She sings songs, claps, encourages and plays with so much grace and joy. At her age, I already loved hanging out with little kids, but I would have felt lost and awkward in the challenge of playing with so many kids who weren't like me and couldn't do the things that I could. Not Lydia.

These moments are so blessed.

I often really struggle to hear or understand God, but there is no clearer sound of the Lord than the laughter of children and there is no clearer picture of God than watching people care for each other and delight in one another.

He is here.

the hydrosite

This morning brought a new adventure. Caleb and the boys all got on bikes and headed out for the hydrosite. (Caleb's day job, among many other things, is the running of a hydropower site near Ruhengeri.) Lydia and I climbed into the truck, picked up Jesse (who actually knew how to get there), and headed out to the hydrosite ourselves. The plan was that the boys would bike there as it happens to be down a rather large hill from our house and then we would pick them and the bike up for the ride back up the hill to home. I'd never been to the hydrosite before, so I was excited to get to see it! 

I've asked so many questions, and while I still don't feel like I have the whole story on how this hydropower thing works, I think I've got the basics. There is some water. That water runs down this pipe thing pictures above. There is a turbine somewhere that the moving water turns. By turning the turbine, the water generates power. Apparently, the site produces enough power for the city we live in. Pretty neat, huh?

This thing is a channel that was built at the hydrosite. How this thing and the giant pipe are related, I'm not sure, but it's still pretty cool. Maybe this channel funnels the water into the pipe... 

It creates a lazy river that one absolutely must take advantage of. It's basically exactly like The Grand Oasis Hotel in Biloxi without the casino and all the people smoking. I call that a win.

Lyd and Moses supervised by Jesse.

Moses fights the current determinedly.

We nimbly walked along the sides of the canal. We all agreed that were we to fall, we would fall right so as not to fall down the side of the mountain. As no one fell at all, it ended up being an unnecessary agreement. After we were done exploring, we got back home by fixing seven bikes in the back of the truck as well as several people as well as a full cab of people. Real life tetris.