The Wandering Kohawk

León, Nicaragua
Welcome. My name is Mitchell and I'm a proud alumnus of Coe College and currently reside in León, Nicaragua. Most of this blog is about my travels over the past few years Enjoy!

Foyer Life

For the genocide memorial week, Rwanda and notably Kigali, are pretty dull.  We took the opportunity to visit the Salesians’ lake house at Lake Muhazi and had an amazing time.  It was a much-needed vacation and I enjoyed much sleep, reading, eating and daily swimming.

We spent one day challenging nature (taking a break from the daily bags tournament) and had to both swim across the lake and also climb the giant hill by the house.  This is the view from the peak!

Panorama 10

When we returned home vacation was immediately over, with school beginning and the student returning to live at the center.  Our director, Father Frans, suggested that we all take a stint living with the boys in the Foyer to see how life is there.  (You must pronounce foyer with a French accent to get the full effect, “foy-ay”).  I started in the room with the younger boys, aged around 10-15, and Chris started with the older guys, 15 and up.  The kids have a busy schedule, waking up at 5:30 and a day full of studying, school, study halls, manual work, sports and prayer.  By the time the lights are off at 9:45 I’m normally asleep before they are, and haven’t done half of what they have!

Being in the foyer has been a great experience so far (I have since moved upstairs with the older guys).  The kids love seeing us around and are often surprised to learn that we wanted to come live with them.  They can’t really understand why we would give up our comfortable living conditions and good meals to come live in a crammed room with 60 other people and eat the same thing for every meal.  But this type of experience, hanging out and trying to be a good friend/role model/guy to the boys is exactly why I came here, and I’m enjoying it greatly!

DSCN1644 A table of the little guys at dinner.

DSCN1646 Jean Bosco chowing down.  Most of the little kids eat more than I can at dinner, yet all of them are super skinny.

DSCN1655 

“Kahunga na Ibishimbo” (Corn meal and beans) is the staple at Gatenga.  Its not bad, but eating it for every meal gets a little old.  On Sunday and Wednesday nights they boys get rice instead of kahunga (a great improvement) and Friday night is the real treat with the “Matoke” (bland banana) substitution.  It is best eaten with the fingers, but sometimes I do slip a spoon in my pocket.

DSCN1662

The boys, especially the smaller ones, crave male attention, and, as all young boys, prefer this attention in the form of fighting, laughing, throwing and spinning.

DSCN1671

In the Salesian tradition, every night before bed the boys get an evening talk, or a “goodnight.”  I have been put into the rotation and give the goodnight every couple weeks.  Last week I let the boys style my hair (they are fascinated by it) and incorporated a moral lesson.  Octavian on my right is translating my English and attempted French into Kinrywanda.

I Have Seen the Bodies

Last week was Genocide Memorial Week in Rwanda, commemorating the nearly one million people killed here in 1994.  Normally when I think about the genocide it is in terms of how it affects life here today, like how a child with no parents has a poor chance at going to school, or how the government uses the genocide for political means.  Genocide is part of history, and a fact of life that one can become callous to, if not careful.  Occasionally, however, I am reminded of the personal tragedy of genocide,  meeting a boy who has seen his parents killed, or talking with a friend who has literally, no family.  Another such instance is when I visit a genocide memorial.  There is a particularly strong memorial outside Kigali where thousands were killed in a church.  They have the bones on display and the clothing of all the victims is hung from the rafters, giving genocide a very personal touch.   Another such memorial is in Murambi, in the southern part of Rwanda.  I visited this memorial in February and have decided to share my journal entry for that day.  I’ve debated whether or not to do this, but I feel I can share some of my most private thoughts and emotions for the sake of demonstrating the horrors of genocide.  Be warned, this post was written in a time of strong emotion and contains some vulgar subject matter and some of my most pessimistic thoughts.  It is titled:

“I Have Seen the Bodies”

February 21, 2010

The only thing I want to write is the phrase that keeps running through my head “we’re all fucked up, we’re all fucked up…”   Today I visited the Murambi Memorial Site.  This is where the French Army set up a base in 1994 and where 50,000 Rwandans fled to for protection.  Then the French Army left, leaving sitting targets of 50,000 people to die.

FIFTY THOUSAND PEOPLE

The particularly unique part of this memorial is that they have calcified some of the bodies to preserve them.  Today I actually saw the bodies.

I have read stories, talked with survivors, seen the graves and even bones on display… but the bodies.  This was new.  Seeing small children’s bodies, I could see the small children who I greet on the walk to school every morning.  I could also identify the elderly women I sit behind in church every Sunday.  Literally putting faces on the victims, as expected, evoked strong emotions: sadness, pity, guilt… Mostly though, I am angry.  Angry at the individual who could kill an infant, angry at the French and the rest of the world who bailed out, angry at a social-political system that could allow this situation to develop, angry at humanity.  What kind of fucking animals are we?

I like to believe that human beings are good, but today may have totally fucked my view on humanity.  I got queasy killing a cow last week and they have the stomach (and the balls) to kill 50,000 people?  I understand killing in a moment of rage, killing an individual who has wronged you or killing in defense.  But killing a race?    Killing for days?  What’s it like to take a lunch break from killing people with machetes?  Killing babies?  Killing elderly women?

I’m absolutely mortified that a member of my own race, someone with a similar DNA pattern to mine, can hack off the head of a small child that they have never seen before.  Does this ability exist in the darkest depths of my own self and every human?

Politics, sociology or psychology aside, I’m afraid for humanity.

We’re all fucked up.

Do you know somebody who knows somebody?

Sometime I think I will have to leave Rwanda. I think, furthermore, that that time will be before 2011. That being said, Father Frans (the director of the center) is getting nervous that he won't have a volunteer working on the farm after I leave.

Granted, I'm not a farmer, but being from Iowa I understand the basics and know how to drive a tractor, which qualifies me. So... are you, or do you know any good Iowa (or not) farmer (or not) boys who might be interested in coming to Africa for a year?

Experience is not really needed (me) but it could help. A desire to work hard, take initiative, interact with kids and explore a new culture are needed. Any age would also work. Chris is the youngest volunteer and Mark is the oldest volunteer at 63. In fact, we often talk how interesting it would be to have a retired Iowa farmer come here and volunteer for a while.

The program I volunteer with, the Salesian Lay Missioners, is a great program and I would encourage anyone to investigate because it covers many logistics and finances that can otherwise be prohibitive to volunteering. (If you're interested in this route, there is a discernment weekend in Chicago at the end of April for my midwest homies. More on the East coast in June) If you don't want to use this program and just show up, that's ok too!

Please please please, if you are even remotely interested, or know someone who might be contact me. I'm having the most amazing experience of my life and you should think about it.

You can email me at mitchelljlincoln@gmail.com

(I'm tagging random people in the Facebook version of this so the word spreads faster!)

The Joke That Wasn't That Funny

I attempted to have fun and play an April Fools joke on my blog this week. A combination of bad humor and a technical inability to tell people that it was a joke made the attempt not really funny at all. I know many people love me and care about me and were concerned. I'm very sorry if I caused you to worry or stress on my behalf. Yeah, that was just kind of dumb, I'm sorry.

April Fools!

So I'm not getting kicked out of Rwanda. However, I didn't make this story up either. In Rwanda people (especially loud NGO workers or government officials who don't follow the official party line) are regularly asked to leave or flee on their own for political reasons. There is an especially messy law about "Genocide Ideology" which enables the government to detain any person it suspects of having any genocidal thinking. This law is broadly and conveniently interpreted. I'm going to stop now, before I really do get into trouble (internet monitoring is real also) and wish everyone a happy Easter.

Sorry Mom.

Some troubles

I have been away from my blog for a while because it has been causing me a little bit of trouble. In my last post I wrote the phrase "benevolent dictator" which apparently doesn't go over well with the Rwandan government and raised a very big red flag with their internet scouring technology. I've had a few chats with the immigration office and recently they informed me that as of this week they are revoking my visa. I'm fighting with everything I have and the Salesian Provincial of Rwanda is even getting involved, however, I face potential arrest if I am not gone by Saturday, when my visa "expires."

For the time being I will be visiting the Salesian community in Kampala, Uganda. I'm pretty sure this may be an attempt to get something from me or the Salesians on the side of the Rwandan government, so there is hope of my return, but nothing is certain.

When I arrive in Kampala I will post more information, but as long as I am in Rwanda I must be careful how I use the internet. Happy Good Friday I guess.

Today I changed my toothbrush…

While this may seem like an unremarkable event in practicality, it symbolizes that I am halfway through my year’s supply of toothbrushes (two).  Yes, March 3 is exactly six months since I started this crazy journey by missing a plane in Moline.  While I like to think I’m the same person, I hope that I have maybe learned something, acquired some new skills, made an impact on somebody’s life or, if nothing else, have gotten a decent tan.  So I thought I’d take this moment to share some reflections… with the entire internet.  Enjoy.

The first thing is that I have learned is to live as a minority.  The strange looks in the street, the “muzungu” call from children and adults alike and having people talk about me without understanding have all taken getting used to.  I have always hated racism, and I don’t think this has changed my feelings, but definitely given me a new perspective.   However, its different.  “Minorities” in the US tend to be seen as poorer “lesser” people by racists.  Here, however, I am simply seen as the rich outsider, almost “better” than people here, if I can say that without invoking too much implication.  I would also challenge any person who thinks the United States should adopt an English-only law to live in a place where he doesn’t know the language.  It can be the most desperate, lonely feeling one can feel while surrounded by people.

Speaking of language, I have realized how bad we Americans are at learning them.  Most Africans and every European I have met here speaks at least two if not four languages.  I understand the practicality of it for them, and lack of necessity of it for us, but it can make a guy feel kind of dumb at times.

There is no baseball in Rwanda and this makes me sad.  On that train of thought, I really missed Hawkeye football and tailgating this fall, and could kill for a Busch Light in a snowy parking lot right now.

I’ve written this before, and I’ll write it again.  The privilege I have had in my life simply because of where I was born stares me in the face every day.  Thinking of the disparities of food, health, education, peace and lifestyles has drastically altered my view on life.

African culture suits me fairly well.  Schedules are “suggestions,” it is rude to discuss anything with a person unless proceeded by a short conversation about how they are doing, how their day has been, etc.  Every day is a concern about immediate needs, so a person doesn’t plan for tomorrow, rather, one lives for today, in the present, an attitude I am trying to live by.

These same things drive me insane, however.  I am frustrated by missed appointments and sometimes just want something, not a life story of formalities.  I read a book which sums up the African mindset very well, as people relying on “micro-solutions rather than macro-systems.”  This means that instead of waiting in line, which is a great Western macro-system, people rush a bus door to find a micro-solution to their problem of getting on the bus.  The examples of this are endless, but as much as I like to claim myself as a relaxed guy, I am learning that I really like my order and “macro-systems.”

There is something about the innocence of little children and their unconditional love that I had to travel halfway across the world to fully appreciate.  I hope this travels back with me.

I’m really starting to question the merits of development aid.  But this is a topic for a later discussion.

There is definitely some farming left in my blood.  While I am almost a generation removed from full time Iowa farmer, I can really appreciate the hard work and sense of satisfaction this profession provides.  Its a simple life, working the land, praying for weather and harvesting the crops, but inside me somewhere something in my blood has been awaken.

I feel very liberated by not earning a paycheck.  My basic needs are taken care of, I work out of desire to work, not a need to please a boss or to grind it out for payday.  While money makes life more comfortable, not having an abundance has its perks as well.

Genocide is a terrible, awful thing.  I’m still trying to think about how to best put into words my experiences, thoughts and reflections on this topic, but I’m not sure if they will ever materialize.

I live in a country with what some might call a “benevolent dictator.”  My Western mind didn’t like this at first, but I’m beginning to feel that maybe in some instances peace is a fair tradeoff for true democracy.

I have argued in many papers, presentations and debates that the developed world’s impact on the climate hurts the developing world the most.  Maybe its coincidence, but in the last few years (including this one) Rwanda’s centuries old seasonal rotation has been drastically changing.  Its good to know that at least some of my ideals are being reinforced.

Thanksgiving and Christmas are best spent in the Midwest with family.

I’m pretty sure I know where AIDS came from.  But I heard some different opinions on the radio a few months back (it was created as a weapon by the US to limit population control, for example).  This made me realize how much my perspective of being an American really affects the way I perceive information.  Its good to take a step back and look from a different view (just ask my European friends about US Foreign Policy!)

I am the de facto soccer and basketball referee.  Its good to know that wherever I officiate in the world, people still like to argue with the ref.  Or maybe I’m just a bad ref.

Its fairly likely that I will spend a majority of the rest of my life shaving and wearing a tie every day.  I’m OK with this, but I’m also very happy never doing either!