SJ takes on the UK

I have to admit, I didn't leave my friend's apartment for the first 24 hours I was in Edinburgh. The great outdoors was just a little too daunting. I curled up on the couch with Jane Eyre and Mr. Rochester (How can I never have read that one before?), and I blissfully ignored real life.

I feel very incoherent and confused a lot of the time. I'm not sure that the things I'm saying make much sense. Rosy wanted me to buy something to have change for the bus today, but I was so overwhelmed by the choices available, and I didn't understand what I was supposed to do. The fact that it's still light outside at 930 is so mind blowing. I've added "How was Rwanda?" to the list of questions I hate most. It joins "Where have you decided to go to university?" "How do you plan to use that Anthropology major?" and "Can you come kill this cockroach?" (The answer is No, I can't.) Everything from the Lebowski Pub to chocolate cake makes me miss my friends and family in Rwanda. How do you sum up eight months of experience that was actually across the boards in every respect? The truth is, I really don't know what to say. The truth in my answer would open up about another hour's worth of conversation, and, unless you've put a cup of coffee in my hands, I probably don't have the energy or emotional capacity to get me through that hour. I promise to answer eventually.

There are definitely positives that are very much helping with this transition. I can walk down the street and not a single person will look at me or talk to me. I ran for an hour along the water the other day and saw five people. Then I stepped in a massive pile of dog doody. You can't win 'em all. I've had chips and salsa as my snack the past few days. I can drink the water out of the tap and the internet is blazing fast. Buses involve lots of personal space. Bathroom are huge. I'm excited to be in my bed in a few more nights.

The past week, I've spent time in both Edinburgh, Scotland and Belfast, Northern Ireland. I've been soaking up great accents and so much information. Aside from that 24 hour layover I had in London one time, I've not been to the UK before. In Northern Ireland, I wandered around the Ulster Museum and learned so much about The Troubles and saw an awesome display of World War I posters. There was a really cool exhibit of art from and inspired by The Troubles. It's a solid reminder that prejudice and hate take so many forms and none are ok. That is a time and place in history that I never learned about. As a matter of fact, I don't think I realized that Northern Ireland was its own entity until I met someone from there. I got to see where the Titanic was built, I ate an Ulster Fry, I kissed the big fish, and so many other neat things.
 

NI staple. The Ulster Fry. Soda bread, potato bread, egg, sausage, "bacon", and tea.

Rosy said I had to kiss him for luck.

St. Anne's Cathedral downtown Belfast.

The approach to Stormont, NI's Parliament building.

This guy's name is Carson. I should really know why he is in front of the Parliament building, but my information retention is rather shot at the moment.

We caught the ferry and bus back to Edinburgh for a few more days of adventures. I saw the castle and the stone commemorating my mom's favorite author. I got to learn some Scottish history at the National Museum of Scotland, we went up on Calton Hill and up to Arthur's Seat. We spent today at the zoo, and I ate fish and chips for dinner. I tuck myself in every night with a hot water bottle because I am finding it very hard to deal with the fact that it's nearly June and still this cold.

From Carton Hill. Who knows what I'm pointing at...

The view from Arthur's Seat.

This place is so gorgeous.

Those craggy rocks were surprisingly difficult to scamper up.

I will join my pillow, mattress, and duvet in two more days.

Unmet Unexpectations

I think I got this title from a conversation with Ellie Poole, but it perfectly captures the way that I think about this past school year spent in Musanze, Rwanda.

I did my absolute best not to have expectations coming into this year. That way, I figured, I wouldn't be disappointed, and I could be more flexible and open to what was going to happen. It turns out that I, instead, had anti-expectations. For example, I didn't think I would have any friends (aside from Lyd and Moses, of course) and assumed that I would spend a great deal of time by myself.

This is one of those beautiful moments where God smiles down at me and says, "Just wait. You have no idea what I have in store for you." And man, was He right.


I have been blessed by friends the likes of which I can only pray everyone would be able to experience in his or her lifetime. We spent this past weekend in Kigali motoing around to various places, eating Chinese and Indian food (because, you know, what else are you going to eat?), bowling and dancing like no one was watching (only lots of people were watching considering there were white people moving around). I have spent time in church, Bible Study and prayer with these people. I don't know how I will ever be able to part with them. I've been corresponding with a family friend from home, and he wrote this in his last letter: "You will be amazed at the richness of memory and reaquaintance, so buck up when you leave. You will be back in person or in word. I sometimes wonder is God gives us this blessing in recompense for the pain of separation in His name." Had I even tried before getting here, I would not have been able to conceive of friendships like these that will stay with me for forever. The Lord shakes his head and grins, "Just wait. It's not over yet."

Moses and I spent countless hours learning really cool stuff, like what happens when you focus the sun through a magnifying glass and how an inclined plane affects the kinetic energy of an object. How to tell the difference between nouns and verbs and why it's important to get creative when you write. We laughed and we argued and we curled up on the couch to read. And still God knows that's just part of it.

I have lived the past 8 months in someone else's home. I carried my weight as best I could, but I have been provided for and cared for in ways that I didn't even realize were happening. I've picked up endless factoids that will serve me in conversations for the rest of my life. I've honed by badminton and foxtail skills. I was brought into the lives and homes of three families and fed amazing food and loved so well.

The beauty of this place overwhelmed me on so many occasions. Even my walk to work every morning was hills and graceful landscapes backed by huge mountains covered in sheets of green. I got to stand on top of those mountains and look out over so many tiny towns and roads.

The Lord pats me on the back as we walk together, "See, child? You don't want to be the one calling the shots. You never could have come up with all that." All I can do is shake my head and laugh. He's right.

breaking rocks

There is a woman that I see every day on my way to and from work. She has a large pile of rocks that she sits atop and one large base rock as her workspace. Her whole day is spent hammering mid-side rocks to break them apart into smaller rocks that will be distributed as gravel. She likely has more skill than I do and has long since ceased to smash her own fingers. So, she sits, every day, breaking rocks. It's rather unremarkable, and yet, it's a job.

I think that's the kind of job I would like to have. The gravel she makes is likely all over this city. It's at the gates of homes and businesses. It matters, even if only in a very small way, and she will never know all the places it's gone.

In August, I will move to the neighborhood of Church Hill in Richmond, VA to intern with a Christian non-profit called Church Hill Activities and Tutoring (CHAT). You may remember that I was a summer intern at CHAT about two years ago, so it is not entirely an unknown to me. CHAT serves the youth in a low income neighborhood building relationships and improving education and literacy.

I'm going to go to Church Hill and break rocks (figuratively). I'll likely have a small impact, and I won't know where all the things I've done and said will go. It's rather unremarkable, and yet, it will matter.

The Lord has provided for me in some pretty incredible ways throughout my life, and this upcoming year will be no different. I have never wanted for family, friends, shelter, food, or anything really (except maybe that Barbie car I cold drive around the lawn, but that one is on my parents, not the Lord). One way that I will really have to lean on God's provision this year is that I have to fundraise to cover the cost of CHAT employing me. I've done some fundraising before, but it's scary and weird every time. However, I have no reason to think that God will abandon my efforts now.

If you would like to partner with me and be a part of what I'm doing this coming year with CHAT in Richmond, feel free to contact me or my mother (who can then put you in touch with me). I'd love to share with you what I'll be doing and explain why I'm doing it.



Now, I just need to process leaving here and get ready for this big new adventure. I leave Rwanda on Saturday. That's less than a week away. This is gonna be real.

Muzungus in the Mist, Pt. 2

All of the photos in this post are thanks to Mary Clayton. She is an incredible woman and my resident photographer. Really, she planned and orchestrated the whole trip because she is that cool. So blessed to have such a wonderful friend!

We made it through the border and hopped on motos in Uganda. One of us is really excited about this, and I'll give you a hint: It's not me.

Words to live by from my moto.

Our beautiful little shack named Gorilla with bathrooms round back. Looks like home.

But really it looks like home. Anybody see those hydrangeas?

Sunset before the big hike.

Sabinyo. You beautiful bear of a volcano.

A map of the park where Sabinyo is located. Altitude: 3634m.

We're ready! And adorable!

It took about an hour to get to the base of the volcano.

Through a bamboo forest.

First snack rest: we already look haggard but still excited.

There were incredible views at every break in the trees.

There was this crazy moss growing on the trees. 

It looked like New Orleans home with Spanish moss.

Climbing ladders like a champ.

We hiked all along that ridge.

First peak. Roger's hat is really cool and Jesse's has a neck flap.

Apparently, I was thoroughly un-hat-prepared.

The boys are in the hole that marks the border between Uganda and Rwanda.

I wanna say that Mary is in Uganda, and I'm in Rwanda.

Unbelievable to be among the clouds on the volcano.

We made it to the second peak! 

Obligatory jumping photo.

You can see the ladders up to the third peak.

Then the ladders became stairs that were sometimes vertical.

Third peak Snickers. Life doesn't get any better than this.

We are all in the hole that marks the convergence of Uganda, Rwanda, and Congo. 

Technically, Roger is still in Uganda.

I happen to be in Congo.

Nailed it.

Muzungus in the mist, for real, climbing back down the stairs.

It was an incredible hike and an unreal experience. 

I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Muzungus in the Mist, Pt. 1

( I did not come up with that title, but I can't remember who did.)

After many delays and postponements, we finally made it over to Uganda to hike Mt. Sabinyo this weekend. This will be the story part of our adventure, and the next post will be the picture portion. Mom, I am warning you right now, there are parts of this story you do not want to read. Spoiler: We all survived.

Sunday afternoon, Louise graciously drove us to the border. After being swarmed by money changers and people hoping to transport us for the next leg of the journey, we made it through and caught motos to the place we were going to stay. (Mom, stop reading.) Because Uganda has far less rules than Rwanda, we were able to save money by sitting two to a moto and also there were no helmets. (Mom, I know you just read that even though I told you not to. Sorry.) Because there were two of us on each moto plus the driver, that meant we were three deep on the motos going up and down very rocky dirt hills masquerading as roads. How the driver was able to balance all that weight is a complete mystery to me, and I don't even get that close to my friends, so it was an exercise in letting go of my personal space expectations. The good news is that we only fell off the moto once!

We made it to Amajambere Community Camp, the rustic and oh so amazing place that we stayed, just before dark. We ordered an excellent dinner of beef stew and mashed potatoes and played a game of euchre while waiting for the food to arrive (I will win one day). It's been so long since I've had mashed potatoes, and they were so delightfully salty. They were so delicious and helped me carb load for the big hike. The hostel-style cabin where we stayed was everything I ever wanted. There were candles in the place of electricity and really nice bathrooms outside. Don't tell anyone, but we took one of the blankets off an extra bed and laid out under the stars for a while. The sky was so clear, and there were no lights for miles around, so there were many stars both stationary and shooting to be seen.

Uganda is an hour ahead of Rwanda for some reason, so when we woke up at 615 to go eat, it really felt like 515. That was a little brutal, but I killed that morning with kindness and smiles. I threw down some eggs and toast, and we made our way to the park entrance gate, aka next door (well done Mary Clayton on some excellent planing). We has a short briefing and then hit the trail. It took about and hour, a swamp, and a buffalo for us to get to the base of the volcano. Thankfully, I am well-versed in swamp wading, and I hardly noticed my very damp toes after a few minutes because goodness knows I am not coordinated enough to actually keep my feet dry.

Sabinyo means old man's teeth which is the perfect way to describe the way this volcano looks. You can Google it or wait for my picture post, but, regardless, you will definitely see how it got its name. The hike spans three peaks of the volcano, which means that you end up hitting all three peaks, and then go back across the first two. I can just imagine God reaching down as a potter into clay and thumbing deep ridges into the side of the mountain. It is an intense hike. The volcano also has mass in three different countries: Uganda, Rwanda, and Congo. The third peak actually has parts in all three countries. There are loads of places on the hike where we had to climb ladders at varying angles, some of which were vertical. There was even a set of stairs to get to the third peak, and some of those stairs went vertical for short spans. It was weird to be on a ladder above a ravine and know that were you to fall off the ladder, you would likely be toast. Jesse noted that it would be the perfect setting for a kung fu movie. The student has now become the master. We are grasshoppers no longer.

There really is no way to describe the absolute awesome that were the views of and off this volcano. No photo and no word could ever capture it. I will try with some pictures, but I could never do it justice. I wish everyone I know could somehow see it through my eyes, but that can't be. I will forever hold it in my mind and be able to share it with the other three. Part of the beauty and the majesty of it all was having three incredible friends to hike with. People I never tire of talking to and laughing with. People who, when I stopped in awe of what I was seeing, would stand right next to me and be blown away, too. God has been so incredibly good to me, and I have experienced many wonderful things, but this was the single, most awesome nature thing I have ever seen/done. It didn't rain, no one was injured beyond sunburn, it was altogether a perfect day.

If you read my post about our hike on Bisoke, you will know that I experienced major hypoxia, so I was pretty worried about what would happen on this hike on a higher mountain. However, Mary and I have been training for a half marathon, so my body and mind were much better prepared to work harder at a higher altitude. It was still odd to feel my heart racing so fast, but I never felt my brain was compromised, and I never struggled for air. This was one of those moments where I had to stop and thank God for health and strength and a body that is able to do incredible things.

I have to give you a snack break-down. Mary and I are the queens of snackage. On our many stops, we were sustained by Pringles, apples, roasted cashews (Mary roasted them like a boss), and laughing cow cheese with crackers. A very special snack was saved for the third peak: snickers. It was exactly what I needed. Between all of those snacks and loads of water, we made it through the nine and a half hours of hiking back and forth across the peaks and up and down countless ladders.

We managed to make it back in perfect timing to catch our super squished, helmetless motos back to the border (Sorry again, Mom). This ride was much easier maybe because it was more downhill than up. Jesse and I stayed upright this time and the other two bailed, so I would say everything was pretty even. We made it through the border as smoothly as could be hoped for, and finished our journey home with a friend whose car's headlights don't work. That last drive in the dark really rounded out the perfect weekend adventure. And it all happened in the span of about 28 hours. We done did it.

Kibogora

My great aunt and uncle are in Rwanda and working at a missionary hospital in Kibogora.. The older kids were home from boarding school, so we all went to Kibogora for Easter weekend. It's on Lake Kivu and is shockingly gorgeous. 

The long car ride was eased by anti-motion sickness medication and an excellent playlist. My cousins are keeping me musically current because, goodness knows, I am so far out of the pop culture loop at this point. When I get home, it's gonna be like the opening scene of Mean Girls. Our major stop on the way there was at the only ice cream shop in Rwanda. It happens to be in Butare and right between us and Kibogora. Ice Cream? YES PLEASE.

This is the gorgeous house where we spent the weekend. The compound was made for missionaries who are working at the hospital, so there are many houses all with incredible views of the Lake. There are many gardens full of produce and herbs and guava trees abound.

Aunt Lydia and Uncle Bill brought us all chocolates for Easter from A Southern Season (I love that place), and I was greeted by this little pig cutie. It actually took me a while to eat it because it was just so adorable!

We had a swing outside.

 

I ate way more than my fair share of guavas. 

Some of them are super pink inside...

...and some are pure white. Both are delicious beyond words.

Saturday night, we were invited to join one of the missionary families who lives at Kibogora for movie night. I had never seen The African Queen, but my mother has often talked about it, and, given the high volume of old movies consumed at my house, it's a mystery to me why I never saw this one. An incredible dirty Humphrey Bogart rescues the tight-lace missionary Katharine Hepburn as the Germans are rounding up Africans to add to their World War I troops. Their escape plan is to float down the river on Bogart's boat, The African Queen. It's a classic, and you should all watch it if you haven't seen it already. I was mainly struck by how dirty and gross Humphrey Bogart is the whole time. I remember him as the suave, fedora-ed, nightclub owner of Casablanca. Let me tell you: this was nothing like that.

The missionary retreat center, Kumbya, is a short drive away from Kibogora, so I got to swim in Kivu every day and spend delightful hours soaking up as much African sun as possible. My great aunt and uncle brought over some of my grandmother's ashes, so we were able to have a small service to commit her ashes to the lake. It is a comfort to know that part of her earthly body has been given back to a place she loves so much. The water carried her back to Zaire. 

On our way back to Musanze, we were able to stop in Kigali and see a movie. This was very exciting for me because I so enjoy movies and haven't gone to see one since the summer. Bright lights, big city. I went with the older kids to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Basically, it was awesome. It was also refreshing to see so many things America to prepare me for my return. 

twenty years

This week is Spring Break for our school, which means that I have slept in everyday until the blissful hour of 6am. Yeah... I can't really sleep in because my body is in the rhythm already, but I can refuse to leave my bed until 730 or 8, which I cannot do on a regular school day. Our Spring Break coincides with Genocide Memorial Week here in Rwanda. On Monday, I was able to attend the big meeting that kicked off the whole week. Everyone gathered at the district offices, walked over to the memorial that's behind my house for a short ceremony and laying of flowers, then walked to the stadium for a series of speeches and singing. I did not understand a word of what was said, but the grief was palpable.

In no way am I comparing my experience to that of genocide, and I praise God that I have never experienced anything like that, I just need to write something out. The biggest total loss I've experienced was due to Hurricane Katrina. We were living in New Orleans. Dad was actually deployed in Baghdad at the time, so Mom packed Erich and me and the pets up in the van and we went to Northern Mississippi. I had a duffle bag of clothes and a few things including my homework that Mom kept telling me to complete to turn in to my teachers on Monday because we were going back as soon as this storm blew through, right? Well, it didn't just blow through. Our one-story house held 8 feet of water for weeks. The thing is, I was never homeless or hungry, my whole family was safe, there was hardly a hiccup in my education as I was back in school the next week. We switched cities and started again. It was certainly hard, but we were provided for every step of the way.

Each year that passes, I miss New Orleans deeply. I miss New Orleans as a home, the people I love there, and the music, food and culture that make it such an incredible city, but the tide of grief seems to ebb a bit further out to sea. Could the pain of genocide ever be like that? It's been 20 years, and, for individuals, the pain and grief seem to be as visceral and real as they ever were. Don't get me wrong, there have been incredible steps of reconciliation for this nation and its people, but that's some painful stuff. I don't know that it will ever fall away.

I was two, a baby, when it happened. There are people my age here who have lived with unimaginable loss for their whole lives, my whole life.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come.